the-bo-sinclair - Tumblr blog

the-bo-sinclair · 4 years ago

Note

Look if requests are open now I would like to humbly cash in one (1) Lesbian who gets adopted by the Sinclair’s for whatever reason. I’m just so gay and I want those boys to big brother me cuz that’s soft™️

let’s go, lesbians!

they remember their mother always said she wanted a girl, but she got too sick before she could try again for a forth child

so when you roll into ambrose, with a feisty ‘hold-your-own’ attitude that made you click instantly with lester and bo when you spoke to them, well the Sinclairs got an idea

and now here you are, an official member of the family, and to be honest the boys now have a hard time imagining what life was like without you

bo and lester are Peak “no one messes with my little sister but me”

and make no mistake, they love to mess with you

teasing you, ruffling your hair, noogies, the whole nine - you wanted brothers, you got ‘em - for better or worse

but yeah, even if you were older than them you’re their baby sis now, soryr #notakebacks

vincent is the non-little-shit sibling; your safe harbour to go to when the others are being particularly insufferable

you spend a lot of time downstairs with him, watching him work and bitching about your brothers and he nods along in understanding

is probably a bit too overprotective, but he just loves you lots and he’s lost so much already

it’s probably his clothes your most likely to borrow when you haven’t done your laundry in a while/you don’t have a lot of clothes of your own because this ‘move’/’adoption’ was a bit spur of the moment - his shirts are surprisingly comfy

plus you can get that sweet Butch Aesthetic going if you pick the right articles out

asdkjlfgh always tries to hook you up whenever new victims come to town like “Hey any of you ladies, perchance, a Lesbian? cuz if yall think i’m attractive (and I am) then my sister is gonna blow your mind-”

you beg him to stop doing this

he does not

but vaguely on this same train of thought, if you were the same type of suave lady killer (not necessarily literally) like he was, he’d probably love taking you with him to bars outside of ambrose to cruise for chicks

it’s just nice to have company sometimes you know-

vincent

gets visibly flustered every time you compliment his art, but also really enjoys the praise - he hasn’t heard it since his mother…

he likes to make you things - now that he has someone other than his brothers, someone new who can appreciate his work more

king of comfort

heart break, period cramps, one of your other brothers took their ‘playful teasing’ too far and pissed you off? let him cuddle you - he gives the best cuddles 11/10

hair braiding!

if you have long hair too you guys take turns

lester makes fun of you sometimes but that’s just because he’s jealous he can’t join in with this short, messy ass birds nest

lester

the most playful brother - the one most likely to roughhouse with you, which is refreshing because the twins sometimes treat you like you’re made of glass

the brother you have affectionate nicknames with like ‘asshole’ and ‘shitface’

you two haven’t called each other by your real names in so long

slugs you on the arm a lot - at first you bruised really easily from it, but now you’re so used to it it hurts as much as a mosquito bite

which is ironic, because lester is a pest

they attacc, but they also protecc

if any visitor poses a threat to you, attacking you on sight because they think you’re apart of the town’s little abduction and murder scam, they will be shown no mercy by any of the three

this, oddly enough, goes double if the visitor in question mistakes you for another person in trouble and tries to take you away from them

get your hands off their sister before they get cut off

(they get cut off anyway)

family movie nights at the cinema!!

took a while to get used to sitting amongst wax covered corpses, but i mean once you get over that part it’s actually a pretty nice time

lester talks a lot during the movie and throws popcorn at the scenes he doesn’t like

bo also talks during movies, but you wouldn’t know that during these movie nights because all his words are instead directed at lester telling him to knock it the fuck off with the popcorn because bo knows he’s the one that’s gonna have to clean it afterwards

vincent and you share a tub of popcorn, usually finding the other brothers’ bickering more entertaining than one of the ten movie reels the theatre has and plays on repeat

family dinners

you all take turns cooking

lester always ‘forgets’ when it’s his turn but no one calls him out on it cuz his food is fucking nasty and he can’t cook for shit

it’s nice to sit all together at the table, and laugh and joke and just be a family

even though everyone’s table manners leave more to be desired

bo is somehow the most civil one at the table; it’s a shock

you quickly become and incredibly important fixture in their lives

your room is upstairs next to bo’s, who always checks on you before he goes to bed himself

vincent likes to get up early - usually even earlier than bo (because he barely sleeps, let alone at ‘normal’ hours) and he makes you breakfast for you to come down to

lester constantly invites you to come with him when he goes out of town for supplies, because he knows that - like him - you can’t stay cooped up in ambrose all the time, you’re not used to it

the brothers care for you so much and can’t imagine their lives without you

you’re there now, with them, and they won’t let anything change that

205 notes · View notes

the-bo-sinclair · 4 years ago

Note

Could you write something with Bo and a shy girlfriend please?

o worm?

loves it loves it LOVES IT

bitch??? LOVES IT

cannot emphasize that enough

this smug motherfucker - not only does he love to fluster you oh so easily, not only does his ego get a nice boost when you croon with the simplest smirk thrown your way, but it plays into his inner need for a powerplay

he’s got you wrapped around his finger - he loves the feeling that he gets when he can affect you so easily - and he loves the feeling of control over you it gives him

lives for flustering you

if your face aint heated up he’s not doing his job

“Bo… stop teasing me…” / “Not a chance, sweetheart”

won’t let oyu bury your face in your hands either, he’s got your wrists in one hand while the other cups your jaw so he can take in every bit of your expression

he eats the shy, submissive look on your face right up

still loves showing you off

wouldn’t push you out of your comfort zone (too much) - not enough to make you cry or something, but enough that as you walk down the streets you’re clinging to his arm

you’re just the cutest, sweetest lil’ thing, how can he not show you off? he’s just gotta show everyone what the hell they’re missin’ out on

not that he ever wouldn’t be handsy, but with a shy partner expect that shit to get cranked up to 11

hands everywhere all the time - especially in front of others

loves seeing you get all embarrassed or shocked, giving out lil yelps when the hand that was resting innocently on your back wanders down to squeeze your ass

Bo! you’d try and scold, smacking his chest with your hand - not that feels it, but it’s cute of you to try - and he’d just pin your hands to his chest and pulling you into him lips for a silencing kiss

loves to amp up the PDA when visitors come to Ambrose - that REALLY makes you flustered

introduces you as his lil’ missus (even though you never actually got married, but one doesn’t question Bo Sinclair) and gets right to letting his hands blatantly wander across your body as he makes idle chit chat with the new-comers

def pulls you in for a full on make-out session when you walk up to him, and kisses up and down your neck as the visitors awkwardly try to explain what happened to them and they need some help, Mr. Mechanic, if you could just-…. stop that for a second-

everyone is uncomfortable except for Bo, who is having the TIME of his life

bruh it’s even better in the bedroom

the bo sinclair motto

only thing better than playfully teasing you in public is teasing you between the sheets - and not in the edging kind of way

loves how no matter how many times you do this, you seem so meek and shy to reveal your gorgeous body to him, or how red your face gets when he sings his praises against your skin, or how you bury your face in your hands on in a pillow when he worships your body as you wriggle beneath him

Still so shy for me, baby girl? How many times have I seen this pretty, wet pussy/cock already? He’d question teasingly as he kissed his way up your thighs, making you moan in embarrassment all the louder

loves to give you lots of gifts !!!!

your reaction is all the payback he needs in return, he assures you

though, all your grateful little kisses you dot his face with aren’t too bad either

vastly prefers when you wear skirts and dresses

not only does it play into his little white-picket-fence-50s-style-nuclear-family fantasy, but you bet he’s gonna give you lots of dirty compliments about how gorgeous your legs look in those clothes

not to mention the easy access it gives him to your sex

bet your bottom (badumts-) that he’s gonna sneak pinches all throughout the day - at least until his patience wears thin and he pins you to the counter, pressing into you from behind as he flips the skirt fabric up to reveal yourself to him

when you get all pouty and angry at how much he teases you? that just encourages him, lol

you look??? so cute??? asjdhskjhg, you trying to be threatening???

Sorry, darling, you’re about as scary as a kitten.

it just makes him wanna pinch your lil’ cheeks!

aw!! look at you, all flushed and pouty!

his thumb is gonna tease your jutted out lower lip, and if all that’s not enough to get you to forgive him, then he’s just gonna have to take that lip of yours between his own and work harder, now isn’t he?

a real man will go the whole mile to appease the missus, after all

the only - and i mean ONLY - time he’ll let you hide your flustered expression is when you use him to duck your head against

your hands? no. a pillow? no. turning around? no.

burying your face against his chest, or the crook of his neck? Big. Fucking. Yes.

his arms immediately wrap around you as he holds you close, inhaling your scent as he presses a kiss to your head - he doesn’t want you anywhere else

269 notes · View notes

the-bo-sinclair · 4 years ago

Photo

open the damn door.

this is my truck!

2K notes · View notes

the-bo-sinclair · 4 years ago

Photo

Lemme get out of this jacket and tie and I’ll grab the fan-belt

1K notes · View notes

the-bo-sinclair · 4 years ago

Text

ʜɪ! ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ᴅᴏ ʙᴏ ꜱɪɴᴄʟᴀɪʀ ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴇꜱ? ɪꜰ ꜱᴏ, ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ᴅᴏ ᴀ ꜱᴏᴜʟᴍᴀᴛᴇ ᴀᴜ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴄᴀʀʟʏ ᴀɴᴅ ɴɪᴄᴋ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴇᴇᴛ

your soulmate’s scars appear on your body | virgin!fem!reader

18+ | smut; softish!bo; drugging; consensual kidnapping; blissful ignorance; references to past abuse; loss of virginity; fingering; blood; pain kink;

You wake slowly. Mouth dry and full of cotton, every body part heavy even your eyelids that you’re forcing open. The room is nice, more than nice, it’s beautiful. Lace curtains wafting in the evening window, the blankets your fingers begin to curl around are soft, though no where near as soft as the mattress. Every piece of furniture it elegant, walls a muted pink that makes the dancing lights of colors from the stained glass lamps even more extraordinary.

“I never thought my scars could be pretty but,” the whistle is low and drags your gaze slowly to him, standing in a doorway that leads to peeling wallpaper and darkness, “Been waitin’ a long time for you, darlin’.”

You want to sit up, but you can’t quite shake that weight quite yet, “Is this all for me?” you try instead, watching him step inside and close the door quickly behind him, as if whatever was out there would leak in if he left it open a second longer than needed.

“Not a whole lotta good left in this place. Thought I could make at least one place for ya, if ya ever managed to show up,” taking careful, calculated steps across the room, as if he weren’t quite sure what he was supposed to do.

He knew what he would do if this were- but it isn’t. It’s you and you’re different. You have to be. The desperation begins to fade into the edges of his deep blue irises, so you smile because there isn’t much else you can manage.

“I like it. Think it’s the nicest room I’ve ever had,” your throat is rough and you try to clear your throat and only make it worse, “Water?”

It’s clear he isn’t used to being kind, the water slips down your cheeks and chin when he helps you drink it, clumsily, from the bottle, “I got something I gotta do, alright? But you, you just stay here alright? No matter what.”

You nod, finding each movement easier and easier as the seconds passed, but you weren’t going to stop him from wiping the droplets lefts against your skin away with his thumb. And that’s it. He’s gone just as fast as he walked into your life. It shouldn’t make your heartache, you barely know him, but the world’s decided he’s yours and so you’ll let it.

Instead you focus on moving. Seconds become minutes that meld into several hours. You can hear the shouts, the screams, when your legs are strong enough you even consider moving towards the window. But you said you’d stay here. You make your way towards the closet door, painted a soft cream collar that had been painstakingly edged into the pink around the frame. Your fingers drag through beautiful fabrics in floral and fruit patterns, varying in sizes. Not knowing. Ever guessing. Preparing. You know the sensation. And while once again his representation is physical, yours lives within the walls of your mind.

It seems like the next logical step, stripping out of your old life and into the new. There are a few in your size, all of them beautiful and finally settling on one you slip it on. There aren’t shoes or a dresser, dashing the thought of undergarments from your mind. Your eyes turn towards the door then the window, knowing that whatever was happening beyond these four walls must be terrible. There’s a short bookcase, you crouch in front of it, fingers dancing along spines until you’d found something that might occupy your attention.

It didn’t. But at least it was something to hold in your hands, to attempt to read. Nothing drowns out gunshots, you know that well, so your mind does it for you as it always has. You lean back against the headboard, slipping the book on the nightstand and letting your eyes close. It’s easier to imagine when you have a face, a voice, the familiar feel of his hands.

Pink and orange tint the curtains and the door of the room now creaking open. It doesn’t jerk you awake as every sound has done before but rouses you slowly. It’s the fingers along your calf that pull you from slumber completely and yanks you back into the world of living.

“You ain’t got many scars of your own,” he says, skin slick with sweat and blood, he looks so different from that man in the church.

He’s dark, the air around him is heavy, “Not all scars you can see,” you say simply, sitting up slowly and leaning forward to run your fingers along the molten skin of his wrist you knew so well and was still somehow new, “I don’t care about them, you know that right?”

You’ve only been kissed a handful of times and it had never been like this. It was hard and imploring, his teeth sharp against your lip and his tongue soothing it quickly before slipping beyond. You don’t know what else to do except melt. You should ask about your friends, you should worry, but the universe had entwined your soul with theirs, it was him. Bo. He pushes you back into the mattress, hovering over you while rough fingertips explored your face, shoulders, arms, until they dipped beneath the flouncing skirt of your dress.

You gasp, no one’s ever touched you there except yourself and some battery operated friends, “Careful, there, darlin’, I might think you’ve been savin’ this all for me,” you don’t quite know what to say because it wasn’t like you had been intentionally but it had always just made sense- “Don’t you lie to me, girly,” a fingertip prodding at your entrance forcefully.

“I-I’m not,” you manage to push out before he’s stolen your lips again and pushed his fingers harshly into you.

It’s a sudden, painful stretch that thrums something deep in the pit of your stomach. You hum against his lips, low and needy, your knees curling around the denim of his jumpsuit. He doesn’t expect you to like it, you don’t expect to, but you’ve found it’s better not to expect things. You hadn’t expected him and here-

“Oh my god,” the words ripped suddenly from your throat when another finger slide beside the first and stretched you wider than you’d ever dared, pushing farther it threatened to pull the words from you again.

“I know, darlin’, I know,” he hums against your lips, “Really were made for me, weren’t ya?”

His voice, desperate, animal, it sends a rush of heat and wetness around his fingers, making his cock throb against your thigh. He moves quick or maybe you’re just too caught up in it all, just that the head of him is pressing into you. There’s no asking or taking, he needs you. Just something real and pure and all for him, just for one second. It hurts, more than his fingers had, a deep, hard stretch that makes you want to scream. But you don’t. The tears are ready to slide down your temples. But they won’t. It hurts so good. You don’t know how to say it when he bottoms out and forces the last of the air from your longs. You ache around him, desperately. His fingers wrap around those scars that match his own, holding you tight against the mattress, before pulling back and slamming forward. Hard.

It’s not a scream. Or a moan. It’s something else, long and heady that hits every synapse in his brain. All you can do is lay there and enjoy the sudden onslaught of pleasure. His lips beside your ear, panting, grunting, too far gone to formulate any real thought beside need. He needs you. He’s been waiting for you. Desperately.

You’ve only ever brought yourself to release, you don’t expect how suddenly you fall over the edge. How he drags himself back against your desperately clamping walls and pushes himself back into your ever tightening cunt. Over and over while you tried to catch your breath and creams fading into ragged pants and desperation for more.

“Ain’t fair how fuckin’ good you feel, darlin’,” the words mumbled against your lips while he ground down against you, it’s a different feeling, a fullness that threatens to lengthen your orgasm, “Next time’ll be more fun, promise.”

The head of his presses hard against your cervix, the pressure is too much. This time it’s ragged, drawn out, coming from a place inside you that makes you growl and roar. Legs locked around him, fingers clawing him closer, needing more-

“Bo, please,” gasping, every nerve electrified, “Pleasepleaseplease,” you have no idea what you’re begging for, only that he must.

He does. Pressing hard, deep, grinding against you while his arms slipped tight around you. Arching your back, cradling your head close, until he shattered right along with you. You’ve never felt heat inside yourself like that, it’s addictive, and is exactly what you need. Gripping him tight as he his oversensitive cock twitched and bobbed as you milked him for every last drop.

When he pulls from you, the whine is impossible and makes him chuckle. Both of your eyes drawn to the red tinted puddle that had begun to stain the skirt.

“Now I know your size, I can get you more,” leaning forward and kissing you hard as he put himself away, “Coupla more things and I’m all yours, darlin. Forever.”

Just like it was supposed to be.

163 notes · View notes

the-bo-sinclair · 4 years ago

Text

18+ | exhibitionism-ish; cockwarming; implied overstimulation; quickie; skirt reference

you sat on his lip, eyes glued to the screen, trying not to make a sound just like he'd told you to do. equal parts punishment and an attempt to earn a reward, there was no saying no. it forced him to nurse one beer the entire movie. bo didn't like that, didn't like the movie lester had picked, and he made sure you paid for both offenses. finding reasons to adjust his hips, pull you tighter than push you away. all while buried inside you, tucked under the sundress he'd picked just for occasion and the throw blanket he'd let you have once he realized the skirt was far too short to get away with it. you're not totally positive you are now. because normally you chat, instead you're zoned out and there's a disappoint in the youngest sinclair's eyes that's only eased when you feign tiredness.

bo had jutted his hips harshly in response to that.

"charley horse," had been your quick response to the sudden gasp and the way your leg shot forward.

the youngest sinclair might miss his older brother's smirk but vincent knows his twin better than that. doesn't know what he's playing but sure he is. enough to send you sympathetic looks across the room. if only he really knew what was going on underneath the frayed quilt.

the night ends with lester grumbling about being forced to clean up and vincent slinking away to do whatever it was he did when there was no one around to keep him entertained. it's only when the house quiets and the empty can clanks on the card table serving as a makeshift side cabinet, does he offer you any relief, chin dropping on your shoulder and lips brushing against the column of your neck.

"ain't easy on my either," your nerves stutter and your hips buck, you can feel his lips cirl into a smirk, "feelin' ya all warm and wet around me. punishing us both, darlin', so i really hope ya learned your lesson."

you don't trust your voice but the short nod you give won't be enough of an answer, his fingers curling around your hips is proof enough of that.

"'m really sorry," words slurred, laced with that neediness that he always manages to drag out of you, "promise to be more careful."

"always good for me in the end," he comes in your ear followed by a grunt as he finally drove his hips up into yours.

you shriek, breath coming in sudden gasps, fingers tangled in the quilt. he just holds you tighter, jostling you up and down in his lap. you tighten around him.

"just like that."

so close to the edge.

"show me how sorry you really are, sweetheart."

you slump forward, moaning, whimpering, every part of your body tense till you're sure even your marrow will ache after. you need him. your release. everything. and he gives it to you. pulling you back hard against him as he pushes up over and over, spearing through you even when every muscle relaxes and you're nothing but a limp doll. twitching and falling into the sensation you'd been chasing since he'd sat you on his lap.

"there you are."

you're sure he likes you better this way.

"my perfect little fuckdoll."

237 notes · View notes