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slashersidewhore · 1 year

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Slashers! S/O hurt by a victim pt.2

Slashers x gn!reader

Includes Billy Loomis, Bubba Sawyer, Bo Sinclair, Lester Sinclair

Requested? Yes

Warnings: beefy murder boyfriends, hurt/comfort, minor angst, injuries, blood, fluffy shit

Billy Loomis

It was partially his fault, he was careful but didn’t always think everything through

That’s why you were currently in the clutches his supposed to be victim, knife held to your neck, you could feel warmth from your blood seep down the blade and beneath the collar of your shirt. Struggling only made the situation worse, although you couldn’t help the small gasp as more pressure was applied to your current wound

Feral. You’d never seen Billy’s eyes filled with such a look of utter insanity. He’d done despicable things, ruined lives, played with people like they were just there for his entertainment, but this, seeing you so close to the edge he sent so many others, was the final straw to snap whatever piece of him was remotely still human

He fingers clasped the knife tighter in his grasp, curling around the hilt and wishing he could drive it into your captors jugular

“They ain’t part of this!”

Brows pushed down, mouth pulled in a snarl, he went to take the risk and lunge before a choking sound cut the tension rising in the kitchen in half, your body stumbling towards Billy by instinct, comforted by the way he dropped the knife with a clatter and wrapped his arms around your body, hurried to get you as close as possible

Stu stood at the other end of the tiled floor, half smile glimmering as he stared down at the man he’d just disposed of from life

You curled further into your boyfriends chest, unable to shake the fear you’d felt moments before, still able to feel the cold metal pressing into your flesh. One of Billy’s hands worked it’s way up your trembling back, cupping your face as to direct your eyes to his. They were warm, vacant, yet warm when they landed on your wide eyed expression

“That’ll never happen again, you hear me? Never.”

Letting you push your face back into his neck, the killer began rubbing soft circles on your spine, cold gaze frozen on the still body mere feet away. If looks could kill, the man would have several more stab wounds, each more painful than the last

Billy’s eyes fell to the blade he’d planned on using, head tilting ever so slightly as he pondered how it wouldn’t be out of his way to inflict a few lacerations across the face that even would dare to breathe beside you

Bubba Sawyer

Bubba didn’t like you being around victims, during times where he was killing he got reckless, so dazed in his mind and it constantly worried him that in such a state he could mistake you for another and cause you harm

That being said, mistakes happen

Bubba was standing in a bloody puddle, leaking from the headless body beside him. Loose, brown curls fell in his face as he shook his head held by his rough palms, almost cradling himself. He’d been fooled by one of his potential victims, ending up with him alone with a dead body, and someone missing who knew too much.

The others were gonna rip him a new one, he didn’t even want to think about the look on your face. You’d look at him with such pity, you had yet too thus far, but he just knew that expression was soon to fall on your face. How couldn’t it?

The negative wave of thoughts dragging Bubba down were sliced through by a piercing scream, a chill running down his spine before he realized who’s voice it was who made such a sound, he’d recognize it anywhere

No amount of debris, rickety stairs, tables or chairs could keep Bubba from getting to you, all knocked from his path as the lumbering, masked man ran the fastest his legs would go, chainsaw alive and buzzing in his ear

Bubba didn’t even take a second to pause as he took in the scene, still running full force like his life depended on it. Anguish filled his veins, the victim was straddling your cowering body, arms raised to protect against their assault of punches, they were screaming something he didn’t care to hone in on, focused on getting the offender off and away from you

All he saw was red, on his arms, the creases of his hands soaking into the soles of his boots, digging past the fabric at the knee of his pants as he knelt down, pushing the limp, torn and mangled body from atop of you. Fingers trembling, Bubba paused as you sat up in shock, clothing and skin flushed with blood. Scooting until your body was closer to the man, you crumpled into his embrace, letting you arms fall limp, nose digging into his shoulder. Calloused hands clutched the shirt on your back, tugging you closer, you could feel his soft, unintelligible mutters and whimpers pliant into your collar bone

The two of you just sat there, not wanting to be away from each other for even a second after such a close call

Bo Sinclair

Unlike Bubba, Bo likes you beside him nearly every minute. Yeah, sometimes he’s an asshole, but that’s just one of the traits you’ve come to accept as part of the man you love

It was between the moments where you weren’t stuck to his side, or sitting off within his view, that you realized you were at your most vulnerable, unfortunately we all have a lesson that teaches us such

“Where the fuck are my friends?”

A rough, gritty voice yelled from behind you, catching your moment of silence off guard, spinning around, your heart dropped to your stomach as your eyes landed on what you recognized as one of Bo’s victims standing with squared shoulders, but what made it worse was the fact they were holding a gun

The stranger only seemed to seethe with further rage at the look of your confused face, mouth opening and closing like a fish, eyes wide as the gun raised and their finger went to the trigger

Right as the blaring ring of a shot went off, you were thrown to the side by a heavy weight, body landing on the ground with a dull thud and two large hands blocking the bulk of the impact, hands that were gone from your body a second later, dark shadow leaving frame quick as light as loud footsteps echoed after it

“You son of a bitch!”

You knew that voice, rolling over to gaze at the scene right at Bo tackled the victim to the ground, straddling their body and delivering punch after punch, unable to see his face but hearing the loud curses and violent statements he let fly recklessly

Concern, wide eyes found your similarly large ones, knuckles torn and clothes splattered with red. The mechanic practically folded down into you, forehead coming to press against yours, Bo’s thumbs pressed into the skin under each of your ears, tilting your chin up

“Are ya’ alright baby?”

You could only nod, frightened to think you’d nearly been shot, yet comforted by the warm embrace of the killer, his usual stoic gaze softened, searching you over for any scrapes or cuts. Lips press to the crown of your head, you could lightly hear his inhaling your scent, sighing from the exhaustion of the ordeal

“You’re never leaving my sight again”

Lester Sinclair

Lester doesn’t get himself caught up with Bo and Vincent’s business most the time, in fact as much as a talker the man is, he does like to keep to himself

That’s why it’s a surprise when you’re chilling in the passenger seat of the mans car, mindlessly flipping through a magazine, when an unfamiliar voice enters the warm, afternoon air

“Listen buddy, my friends have been gone for hours and you’re the last person they saw, start talking”

You can see out the pickup trucks window the back of someone facing Lester, their fists clenched as he drops the current task at hand. His gaze darts to you, over their shoulder, and it widens when the stranger whips around, hand on the car door handle, throwing it open

“Get out, I’m taking the car”

Your arm is roughly grasped at the bicep, stumbling over your feet when you’re tossed to the leaf covered ground, wincing at your knee slices against a rock. Eyes squeezing shut at the pain, you didn’t even notice the quick steps of Lester behind you, his shadow looming over yours on the ground as a howl of pain became present. In seconds, the once standing stranger slumped to the ground beside you, cold eyes glazed over, a rather vicious yet precise cut to the base of their throat

“Aw darl’, yer knees all cut up”

Lester mumbled, squatting to your height as he looked over the damage, eyes big and clearly worried. Unsettled, that was the best way to describe the look plastered across the mans face, mouth pulled in a deep frown. Still in shock from being so manhandled out of your seat, you wrapped your arms around his neck, nuzzling the underside of his jaw. Never mind the dirt and sweat that caked his skin, it was comforting at this point

“Never lettin’ someone push ya around like that again, ya hear me?”

His rough palms rubbed the expanse of your back, glancing down at the body still inches away growing colder by the minute

“Let’s take care of that knee”

Requests open!

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slasher-male-wife · 6 months

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Only his: Bo Sinclair x GN reader

I got a domestic Bo fluff idea and after deleting my initial idea I got something I'm so excited to share with y'all. This is pure romantic fluff about Bo so if you're an angst lover sit this one out.

Warnings: Brief mention of religion and brief mention of violence

It’s a quiet morning. A rare day Bo decided to just take off completely. He’s always doing something around town or luring in victims but today he’s completely free. You’re free with him too. Today is a day where you can just breathe and love and relax. You’re watching the sun rise from your window as you lay on Bo’s chest. He often pulls you close to him after he has a nightmare. It took awhile before he even admitted he intentionally pulled you over to him, but he can’t deny it now.

“You know I picked up a copy of ‘Pride and Prejudice’ from a victim’s bag. It made me think about marriage. I know you’re not the most religious person but I think marriage sounds nice.” You say softly, running your hands over your hair to push it out of your face. “I always had fantasies about a beautiful wedding when I was younger. I guess I just got reminded of it when I picked up that book.”

Bo stays silent but he runs his hand up then down your back, repeating this motion over and over again. You can tell he’s listening to you. He won’t admit it ever but he’s a big softie for you now. You’ve worn him down to a point he can be a bit more open with you.

“I never thought I was gonna get married. I just never thought I’d have anything past a one night stand or a friend with benefits. But marriage does sound nice.” You chuckle and look up at him from where you’re laying.

“I forgot how much of a manwhore you were before you met me.” You say teasingly. The first time you ever called Bo a manwhore he didn’t talk to you for the rest of the day until you apologized. Lester told you one time he called Bo a man whore and Bo almost broke his arm when he twisted it, granted that was when Bo was 20. But now Bo laughs and pushes your head down on his chest to shut you up.

You laugh too and move your head to the side again to watch that sunrise. It’s silent in the house, but a comforting silence. It’s a time where you don’t have to worry about any victims walking in and interrupting you. Either of his brothers pulling him away for something. This time belongs to you and him, this time is yours to share. This time with him is more valuable than anything you can own. This time and love is yours, truly and wholly yours to share with him.

“If things were different Bo, I’d love to marry you. I’d marry you with no ring, I’d marry you even if we couldn’t have a ceremony, I’d marry you no matter what.” You pause for a moment and wrap your arms around his neck, “I love you.” Bo pauses.

“I love ya too.” He whispers, almost like the words are too valuable to share with anyone but you.

A week later you’re sitting with Bo in his shop while you flip absentmindedly through a magazine. You have developed a routine over the almost two years you’ve been living with Bo. Every time he comes in here to work on this car you join him. Sometimes you talk, sometimes you help him. You’ve actually learned a lot about cars through this.

But today isn’t any different. Bo is mumbling something to himself and he eventually sets down the tool he was using.

“I need some grease. Do ya mind gettin’ that jar in the back for me darlin’?” Bo asks, wiping off his hands. You get up from where you’re sitting and you shake your head.

“Not at all.” You say before walking into the back of the shop and searching for the jar he was talking about. You’ve practically memorized where everything in the shop is at this point. But today you can’t seem to find where this jar is. You look around the whole back, then again, and again, and on your fourth time looking around you still can’t find it.

“Come on, where are you?” You check behind the shelves and boxes and in every possible place this could be and you still can’t find that damn jar. You groan and give up before walking back over to Bo, “I don’t know if it just decided to leave or something but the jar is,” You notice Bo’s hands are surprisingly clean and he seems a bit nervous, “gone.”

Bo doesn't show that he’s nervous, or most of his emotions really. It took him months to even tell you when he was feeling upset. While he doesn’t look nervous, you can tell he’s nervous. He walks over to you and presses a kiss on the top of your head.

“You know I’m not good with words.” He says, reaching into his pockets and pulling out a ring. “I remember what you said before. I know my mama would’ve loved you. I want you to marry me.” He says, holding up the ring to show you. A large, toothful grin grows on your face and you nod your head, positioning your hand so he can put the ring on.

He slides it on and it’s a little loose, but you can’t even tell because of how strong your heart beat is. Your eyes start to water and you look down at the ring.

“Oh come on now don’t cry.” He says with a chuckle, trying to downplay the moment. You playfully swat his chest and look up at him, your smile still wide.

“I…You’re…This…” You say as you try to gather up your words but all you can do is wrap your arms around Bo and start to cry happily into his shoulder. You feel his arms wrap around you too and that just makes you cry even harder. “All I want is to be yours. Even when you’re gone I’ll still be yours.” You say, your smile quivering with your tears.

“It’s funny you think death can get you out of this relationship.” Bo says with a chuckle. You swat his back this time and look at your ring again. The world is too small for the amount of love you feel for your husband. The world is too small for someone as lovely as him.

#bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x you #bo sinclair x y/n #bo sinclair x gender neutral reader #slasher x y/n #slasher x reader #slasher fanfiction

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kerokreature · 1 year

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Some Sinclair Headcannons because I have brain rot

These are Sinclair Brothers and Reader who cooks for them a lot

Enjoy

Absolutely lost his shit when he found out you know how to cook and cook well because of his little domestic fantasy

Begs you too cook for him and the family like. “Please Darlin’ can you make another pot roast.” “Please sweetheart can you just fix me something and bring it down into town?”

He’s a southern boy, which means you will absolutely absolutely be making him shit like okra? But especially since this Louisiana he’s going to lose it when you make things like Jambalaya, Crayfish, Étouffée etc

If you bake on top of it he’s gonna lose his shit.

Like I think he kinda subtly has a sweet tooth and especially likes snacks

So if you like bake cookies or something he can just munch on during the day? Game fucking over.

He’s going to be such a flirt when you’re cooking or baking

He’s going to be downright dirty bab out it

Regardless of gender he’s going to call his little house wife, emphasis on his.

He’s the most likely to gift you his mom’s old recipe cards

Lester

Coming in with the excited “Shit you can cook too!?”

Loves anything you make

Prepare to work with some road kill, boy straight up said it’s a waste of meat

But road venison is good as hell, you’re gonna be making deer steaks 10/10

He’ll be so gentle about his requests. “My possum do you think it’d be too much trouble to make some soup”

When you make it he’ll shower you in praise and gentle kisses, he’d be so excited, he would eat every bite

He’d be over excited if you ever packed him a lunch like

He’d just give you that big lop sided grin, turn those soft eyes on you and kiss your forehead. He’d be so so touched

He’s a good respectful southern boy so he wouldn’t go in your kitchen while you’re cooking.

If you also bake boy would he be excited, I picture him losing his mind for cakes especially

Like a rich chocolate cake that’s really spongy and some coffee?? Oh yeah that’s the life

Vincent

He would think it’s beautiful that you cook

He would love to watch you cook, he’d likely sketch you doing so

I feel like he’d bring you cookbooks and recipe cards

He’d be so delicate if you let him help, carefully handing you herbs and spices and watching the perfect mixture you’re creating

Even if you’re a chaotic ass cook (see: author) he’d think you’re perfect, that it’s even more of an art form that you can be so messy and make perfect food

He wouldn’t ever allow you to say something didn’t turn out right. You are not allowed to doubt your cooking, your art . He won’t have it.

He’d be gentle in shushing you, sighing at you that it’s perfect, and he’d make sure you saw him eat every last bite.

I don’t think he’d request things per se unless you asked him what he wanted and then he’d probably sign his response after some thought.

He’s shower you in affection over what you make him, and likely make you something as a gift in return

He doesn’t have as much of a sweet tooth as the other two but he’d still love if you bake

I think his favorite would be Beignets.

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small-sinclair · 1 year

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Hehehe I love you’re writing, here’s another request, angst with a happy ending

7. I told you that I fucking loved you and you stood there and laughed at me (angst prompt list)

9. “I love you doesn’t begin to express what I feel for you.” (Fluff prompt list)

Reader confessed their love, Bo laughs (it’s out of disbelief reader doesn’t take it that way) reader leaves, Bo comes home in the evening, obviously dude sucks at his emotions and they argue and then Bo ends up word vomiting a love confession too, little kissy at the end :3

Ooooooo. This is a nice one! Had to think about this one for a moment, but I think I have something for this :3

Bo x grey reader

What a Fool

Tw: sfw, confused Bo, mention of future killings, mention of murder/using a person, lovely Bo at the end,

When you told Bo how you felt in the garage, he had to take a double take on you. He looked at you in a mixture of disbelief and... hurt? Why does his baby blue eyes look so hurt when you said you want to spend the rest of your life with him?

"Say that again, honey?" He asked, wiping his hands over his pants, oil stains on his face. He was working on a 2004 Jeep today, and the motor was giving him trouble. "I think the heat is gettin' to my head."

"I said," you take a breath, "I love you, Beauregard Sinclair." You felt butterflies fluttering around your stomach and head. The way the golden afternoon light touching his skin and his wrist made him look like a saint. "I love you so much it hurts sometimes."

The corner of his lips twitched as a goofy smile cracked. At first, you thought he was happy, but when he started laughing hard and held him stomach, your confidence fell. He looked at you, trying to keep a straight face, and laughed harder.

He wiped a tear from his eye. "Oh, y/n--what? Did Lester put you up to this? Goodness me, darlin'. You're the funniest human alive." Bo turned back to the jeep. "What a joke."

That was the straw that broke the camel's back.

You burst into tears, turning on your heels, and left the garage. You didn't mean to start crying, but a cry escaped your mouth as you ran out the garage, pushing Lester aside as he brought visitors to the station. Lester raised a brow at you then looked back at Bo, who was following you behind, confused as ever. The group--two girls and one guy--watched as you ran up the hill towards the house. You want to throw yourself on the closest thing like a Disney princess does in a moved when their love denies them. Is this what it feels like to be broken hearted?

One of the girls didn't stop watching you go until Bo said, "Don't mind 'em. They're actin' funny."

"I don't think they are, mister," the blonde said. "I've seen a broken hearted person, and that one," she thumbed over her shoulder, "just lost all of their love all at once."

The red head girl nodded. "Yeah, man. The hell did you do to them?"

Why don't you mind you own business? Bo wanted to snap, but he had to keep the good southern charm on. Maybe they won't do anything about it?

"It don't matter," Bo said, waving it off. "Y/n just said they love them."

Lester's eyes lit up like a puppy being given a bone. "Really? That's great!" He had the biggest smile on his face. "They were real nervous about it but I told 'em 'at y'all love 'em, too, Bo!"

Oh... no. "They weren't lyin'?"

Lester's not one for violence, but... "Wha did ya tell 'em, Bo?"

Bo's blood ran cold as he covered his mouth. Man, did he feel like a prick. "I thought they were jokin' an'--"

"Don't tell me you laughed at the poor thing!" The blonde said in disbelief. "Please say you didn't?"

"Yeah, I did." Why is Bo talking to the people he's going to kill? "I thought they were jokin' an' Les put 'em up to it!"

The man shook his head, clicking his tongue. "That's cold, brother."

"Ain't your brother," Bo snapped, pacing back to the counter then towards the group, covering his mouth. "Really fucked up 're."

"Yeah! Crashed and burned seems to sum it up," the red head said. She nodded at the door. "You should go after them and say your sorry."

The blonde nodded in agreement as she checked her phone. "Yeah, mister. If you go now, you can beat the rain." She then held up her phone. "Cause, like, it'll be cheesy as hell if your run through the rain to get to them."

Lester had to nod in agreement. "Yeah. Super cheesy."

Then the man held up a hand, asking, "But do you feel the same about them? Like, do you love them?" He shoved his hands back in his sweatshirt. "Because if you say it and not mean it, it'll be Oversvile for you."

"Brendon's right," the blonde girl said. "Because that could make this worse and you might lose a friend." She then looked at the red head and asked, "Remember Will did that, Macy?"

Macy, the red head, nodded. "He played me like a fucking room after that, Percy." She then looked at Bo. "You better figure it out, man."

Bo chewed the inside of his mouth as he placed his hands on his hips, thinking. What did he think of you? Sure, he would laugh with you, talk with you, sleep and hold you. Part of him wanted to kiss you when you dragged him outside to watch the fireflies dace over the wildflowers. The way you spun in the flowers as you tried to catch stars in your hand and held yourself so soft and gentle around them, your smile always warm. Cracking up laughing when Jonesy jumped up to lick your face made his heart swell like no other. Every time he was around you, he felt so calm and lighter. Bo's heart ached when you would curl up closer to him at night, hugging his wrists and scars with so much love. He hated when people looked at you wrong, and he hated when you were taken away from him just to talk to a group of people. When you fell down the spiral stairs and hurt your knee, he wanted to bend over backwards to make you stop crying. He hated to hear you cry, to see your sadness, to see your frown... He hated seeing you run out of the station, holding her face, crying. It felt like a bullet to the chest.

So, why did he laugh? What made him think that it was a joke?

Then it hit him: Trudy said it and never meant a word. The only love he's every felt was... was with you.

"Oh, shit," he said under his breath. "What did I do?" He then looked up at the group then at the door. He heard the soft rumbles of the thunder and flashes over the sky. Fuck the killings, fuck the group... he wanted you. Sweet, perfect, beautiful you.

Macy seemed to be reading his mind. She stepped aside, and held her arm out as a path to the door. "Well, get after it then!"

That was all he needed to hear. He hurried pass them and started up towards the house. The group be killed or not, it doesn't matter. You were in that damn house alone crying. What a fool he is! A damn fool! Here you were, in the shop, looking nice than normal, all dolled up for him, just for him, to ruin something that's been building up in his chest for weeks!

What a fool Bo Sinclair is.

*****************

"I'm an idiot, Vincent!" You sobbed in your pillow. He sat on the edge of your bed and rubbed your back. "A dumb, love, stupid-stupid idiot!"

You scared him when you slammed the door, causing him to drop his coffee mug of tea. It hurts seeing you cry, but it hurts more knowing your crying over his dumb twin. Vincent just wanted to hit Bo with the tow truck--

"Y/n?" Bo called from downstairs, closing the door. "Darlin'?"

"Go-go away!" You chocked out, yelling back down. "I-I don't wan-wanna talk to-to you!" You heard his boots coming up the steps as rain pattered against the glass. You hugged your pillow tighter as you cried.

When Bo saw this scene, his knees didn't feel right and he felt sick. He did this to you. He made you cry. Goods, he's like his father--

Vincent glared at Bo as he stood. His hands moved quickly. 'Talk to them. Y/n's hurt. Fix it.' He stops at the door then looks back at Bo. ‘Fix. It.’

Bo took a deep breath and nods as he brother past by him, his eyes lingering over your crying form. He took careful steps in your room and sat on the edge of the bed. He folded his hands as he listened to your tears. The hallow pit in his chest caved in faster as you flinched away from his hand touching your knee. He hated himself more. He hated himself more than anyone.

"Hey, darlin'," he hummed softly, his voice echoing inside his chest. "Wanna talk to ya."

"Why?" You sniffed. "What? You wanna laugh at me more?"

Those words were like daggers in his heart. "No, no, y/n-- I didn't mean to laugh."

You turned on your side and sat up. You brought your legs close to your chest. He brought his leg up on the bed and shook his head. "I told you that I fucking loved you," you wiped your face, "and you stood there and laughed at me, Bo."

Thunder rumbled against the roof. "I didn't mean to, honest."

Your eyes were so red and puffy that he didn't want to look at you. "What am I to you, Beauregard?"

"What do ya mean--"

"What. Am. I. To. You?" You didn't mean to sound tired or angry. You didn't mean to curl your fingers into a fist. "Tell me. What?" You used your arm as a tissue to wipe away the snot. "Do you see me as a play thing? Want me in-in the basement like the rest?"

He felt disgusted. "No, no!" The near thought of you strapped down in some place horrifying like that nearly broke him.

"Then what am I to you?" You snapped, making him jump at the suddenness. "Am I a joke? A dumb person you thought it'll be fun to play with?" Then something clicked and your mind didn't want to go there, but it did. Your body started to shake. "Are you waiting for the perfect moment to kill me?"

Lightning flashed over his eyes, his blood running cold. Your voice being defeated. Your heart breaking in his hands all because he laughed? Calling them a joke? You. Perfect you. Breaking for a damaged Bo. Why? Why are you doing this to him? His arms reached around you and pulled you into a tight embrace. He held your head against his chest, his hand covering the back of your head protectively. You could hear his heart hammering against his chest.

You struggled against his grip to wiggle free, but it felt so safe, so loving. Luckily, your struggling failed as you cried in his arms. He hushed you softly, kissing the top of your head.

"Wanna know wha' you are to me?" He whispered as rain pattered like bullets. "Yer my first thought every morn. My last thought every night. Yer the reason I git outta bed to mak' coffee. I-I fucking live to hear ya say 'good mornin' ' to me, and it drives me crazy when ya don't say it." He held your head up and cupped your cheek. You were looking up at his beautiful eyes. Those baby blues that made you hit the ground harder. "I thin' 'bout ya when I work on the cars. I thin' 'bout ya when I smoke, wonderin' if yer cooking or bakin'. Shit," he couldn't help but chuckle at thought, "I've said yer name out loud with my last name: Y/n Sinclair." He blushes. "An' it has a good rin' to it, yeah?" You found yourself nodding. He rested his head in your hair, smelling the flowery shampoo you used this morning. "I don't know what ya did to me, and I like it, y/n," he looks down at you. "I like ya a lot."

"So," you hiccuped. "You love me?"

"I love you doesn’t begin to express what I feel for you, darlin' y/n," he answered, laughing. There's a sparkle in his eyes when he asked, "Mind if I show you how much I love ya?"

You managed a nod as your cheeks flushed red.

He leaned down, brushing your lips gently with his rough thumb, and kisses you. His lips were cracked, but they felt like the softest pillows under you. The storm under your skin calmed when you pulled yourself closer, running your hands over his shirt sleeves, tugging him closer. He held your back up as he deepen the kiss. He took you in as if you were the last glass of cold water in July. His head spun as the thoughts of you twirling in the ran sent his mind a blaze, taking you as you were, putting his mama's ring on your finger to forever call you his.

"I love you, Beauregard Sinclair," you breathed against his lips.

He smiled against your skin. "Say it again?"

"I love you, Beauregard Sinclair." And you would say it until your dying breath.

#bo sinclair #bo sinclair x y/n #bo sinclair x gender neutral reader #bo sinclair x you #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x gn reader #house of wax (2005)#house of wax fandom #house of wax fanfic #house of wax fanfiction #house of wax 2005 #house of wax #beauregard sinclair #slasher x y/n #slasher x reader #slasher fanfic #slasher fanfiction #lester sinclair #vincent sinclair

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gh0stlyr4bb1t · 8 months

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✨🚗My Head-canons for Bo Sinclair with a short and chubby grungy s/o💕🚗✨

Characters used/mentioned: Bo Sinclair, Y/N A/N: I might write a Vincent one, I understand why so many people adore him💕 TW: bo being bo, a bitch lmao (he's a bit ooc), a very small mention of PTSD (I have it and I have strong feeling that he does too but he refuses to acknowledge it) A/N: Y/n is gender neutral lmfao, The relationship is established and very very deep in (not marriage levels but almost)

Headcanon 1: He can and will steal borrow anything to spite you with love, your favorite Nirvana shirt? It's his Nirvana shirt now. Which is just his size and it hugs oddly nice on his chest and torso, yes he does in fact wear it so you can ogle at him all day, if you ask him why, he'll just chuckle at you

Headcanon 2: Uses your lighters all the time, why? he wont tell you, he'll smirk and scoff at you, turning his head away to light a cigarette only to wink at you with a sly smile because he's a bitch

Headcanon 3: Makes fun of your music taste, you listen to Nirvana? he hates that band not really... But if you listen to KoRn or Slipknot or Metallica- He will be shocked and will stfu for the rest of the day

Headcanon 4: the kind of mf to deny being a personal attention whore AS he is wrapped up in your arms snuggling into you as if you were a pillow for him and him only. Then he'll bite your thighs and chest to show you his way of affection because he's a rat

Headcanon 5: This bastard will make out with you for 6 hours and then walk away as if nothing happened. Yes you will ask what the kiss was for, he will not answer you unless you fight earn the answer, the answer was "no reason... jus' wanted ta see your face become red fer me~"

Headcanon 6: You know how to act? amazing! now you can help out dealing with the tourists! Now stand there and look pretty as Bo does everything else- What? one of the tourists made a nasty commit about your body? they're dead now. No Vincent isn't going to make them into a statue. They don't deserve to be displayed in the House of Wax.

Headcanon 7: At night this man will PRAISE you, he will unironically call you pet names like 'honeybun' or 'bunny' simply because he thinks you're so cute and lovely, these pet names will soon become frequent and more- gentle when he refers to you, he will become more cuddly

Headcanon 8: If you are an artist he will demand a drawing of him from you, no questions asked, when or if you do this mf will be giddy and giggly like a child. Will hang it up in his room and admire it, not because it's him but because you drew it for him.

Headcanon 9: He has PTSD and has frequent flashbacks, you're there to try and ground him and comfort him. Most of those flashbacks are in night terrors usually, but there's times where he's awake, he's dazed, he's confused and tired. He will need that support from you at all times.

Headcanon 10: LOVES TO HOLD YOUR HANDS, his big and calloused hands are perfectly bigger than your small, soft, and dainty hands. Loves to kiss them and nuzzle his face into them as he flutters his lashes at you teasingly

#house of wax #bo sinclair #bo sinclair house of wax #house of wax 2005 #bo sinclair x you #bo sinclair x gender neutral reader #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x y/n #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher x reader #slashers #slasher fanfiction #slasher headcanons #slasher fandom #slasher #slashers x you #slashers x s/o #chubby reader

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emmyfairy · 10 months

Text

Sound of Rain

Bo Sinclair x reader

guys I’m so soft for him 😩 feedback welcome!

not my gif

Rain was pattering down on the roof, the tinny sound echoing inwards towards the kitchen, melding with the soft snores of a dog, scraping of firm hands whittling a chunk of wood, and the shuffling of sleeves against canvas.

The temperature was a bit cool as you stepped outside, a slight humidity hanging in the air, a calmness caressed your being as your eyes settled onto what you were searching for.

Bo sat in one of the porch’s creaky chairs, posture relaxed and settled, cigarette in hand, beer on the small table next to him.

He looked peaceful, a look he didn’t often sport regrettably.

You let the door clack behind you, wanting to alert the man of your presence, though, you could never startle him, he’s always been far too aware of his surroundings for that, especially with you. He could sense whenever you’re near, he says it’s instinct, you say it’s love.

Luckily he acknowledges your presence with him on the porch, tilting his head back, not looking at you, but opening up his bubble of calm.

You find yourself in the chair next to his, the table in between the pair of you, no one says anything, choosing instead to listen to the rain.

After a few minutes of listening to the pitter-pattering, and watching the droplets splash, you turn your gaze towards Bo. Your eyes trace the lines of his face, handsome angles you know well, jaw less tense than normal, curls soft and pliant without product.

His eyebrow closest to you quirks, a silent question, he was fighting a small smirk from forming, he’d never admit it but he loves when you watch him like this, it makes him feel loved.

You give a small hum, not wanting to say the wrong thing and ruin the aura of the moment.

Turning your eyes towards his drink, finding parallels between the falling rain and the dripping condensation on the glass, you reach out to take a sip.

The taste is a bit bitter on your tongue, but knowing he had already drunk from it made it sweeter.

He doesn’t say anything, simply raising his cigarette to take a puff, knowing he’d give you anything you could ever ask for, no matter what.

The rain begins to beat down heavier than before, a mist ricocheting from the drops hitting the wooden floor in front of your chairs.

Bo shifts, and you can’t help but feel a sadness creeping in, knowing this moment of perfection was ending.

You watch him, as you do, he reaches out, flicking his cigarette away, and gulping down the last dregs of the beer. Placing the empty glass back down onto the table he stands, eyes burrowing into yours, until you stand as well.

Tilting his head as he looks at you, Bo seems uncharacteristically soft, not that you were complaining, but it isn’t often he lets his guard down so much, especially outside of the sanctity of your shared bedroom.

You’re broken from your thoughts when the man wraps his large hand around yours, warmth spreading from the heat of his palm despite the cold glass he’d just been holding.

“C’mon darlin, let’s get ya to bed.”

#bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair fanfiction #bo sinclair imagine #slashers x reader #slasher x reader #house of wax #house of wax fanfiction #sinclair brothers #bo sinclair x gender neutral reader #my wiritng

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scuddisher · 1 year

Text

RATHER BE THE HUNTER THAN THE PREY

Well aware that you are about to succumb to your demise, you beg for one final wish from Bo—that he doesn’t let you die a virgin—and he is almost too happy to oblige.

RATING — MATURE & EXPLICIT (18+) PAIRING — bo sinclair x gender-neutral! reader GENRE(S) — drabble, smut WORD COUNT — 2.6k WARNINGS — mature content, kidnapping, intense situations, use of restraints (chains), use of a weapon (knife), possessiveness, petnames used (baby, darlin, babydoll), dark! bo content btw SMUT WARNINGS — sexual content, dub-con (consensual), virgin! reader, mild praise kink, finger-fucking, dry-humping, dacryphilia, creampie, no use of protection, size kink (bo is biggg), drooling, loads of dirty talking because…it's bo and he seems talkative & loud to me! RELEASE DATE — JAN 3RD, 2023

AUTHOR’S NOTE — had a dream about this and immediately had to write it out. kinda got lost in this lmao. also i’m new at writing for slashers & dark toned fics in general, so please go easy on me! not edited <3

NAVIGATION | SLASHERS MLIST & RECS

The hefty clunk of the metal restraint is what pulled you from the lulled-over state, fading images of the inside interior of the man's gas station replaying in your mind until it all began to make sense again. His southern accent, that charming smile, and his sudden display of attraction led to you being hit over the head—Bo had you right where he wanted you.

His calloused fingers ran through your hair, pressing into your scalp to feel the heat radiating from your tense state of being. That Cheshire grin on his lips, it was beyond intriguing, but not as much as the surrounding space. Pictures of gruesome scenes displayed on his wall, multiple women having been tortured and played with according to the evidence he had purposely placed within eye level of the chair you were contained to.

"Like my work?" He spoke so confidently, as if his set of morals only made sense to his brain—and your opinion wasn't necessary in response to his question. "Not as good as my brother’s, I'll give it that."

His head tilted as he spoke, the hat clinging to his brown locks slipping slightly from the amount of sweat that had collected on his forehead. The action of pulling you along through the pathways of the small, abandoned town showed clearly by his physical state. The smallest bit of sweat showed, stained under his arms as he lifted his hand to fix his hat.

By the duress on your form, marks of his fingernails digging into your skin as he dragged you along, he seemed almost tired by the way he stepped closer to you in a slow motion pace—but he wasn't finished with you yet.

"But my work is much more fun." His smile widened to show you his teeth, straight and lightly stained, a darkness in his eyes that sent a chill down your spine.

It wasn't the restraints on your limbs—wrists and ankles held against the cold metal chair with you on full display for him—that made you lightheaded, but what was to come.

You had put together long ago that something was different about the small town, off and wrong. But the bite of your tongue helped you keep your cool, only until now had you kept in mind just what type of people you were dealing with in the confined space. You knew it from the moment something had gone wrong with your car that stopping in the middle of nowhere, town or not, was dangerous—and even more-so when those inhabiting the place appear extroverted considering their living conditions are plagued by few tenants.

You couldn't complete a full word, let alone a sentence. The way you shook, rattling the metal chair as if an earthquake was occuring, it only fed Bo's desires.

Had he not been the second face you had seen in the town, collected and calm with a lingering smile that made you feel safe for a moment's beat, you wouldn't be here now.

The blade of the knife attaching to your throat instantly stilled your movements, shallow breathing finally giving your ears a chance to hone in on his words.

"Now, now—there…" The way Bo spoke made it seem like he had dealt with a hundred shivering and whimpering people in his life and this was nothing new. "Can't have you witherin’ away on me so soon, darlin', hmm?"

The blade was dulled, making it that much more devious as he plucked at your skin cells in a threatening way. His voice could only coax so much of your nervous responses, hot tears slipping down your cheeks and falling onto the scars along his wrists as he hissed. "Cryin’ like a little bitch won't help either, now will it?"

For once, the man was awaiting a response. Your quieted state gave him the power to make you answer him, your hands tightening around the metal restraints in tandem with your head shaking slowly.

"Good." His voice was just above a whisper. "Good…"

His blue eyes seemed to turn darker by the second. His prowling state looming over you, legs helping him wander around to the front of the chair so he could stare at you face to face—it made your limbs return to their shaking to see the blade pulled from your skin and now in his distant hand.

"You're good at this." From his gently spoken words, it seemed like the words playing in his head were accidentally being said aloud. His racing thoughts, feral glare, and clutching fingers around the knife gave him the appearance of a predator looking at its prey. "Very, very good at this, baby."

Your mind raced along with his, attempting to remind yourself that he seems used to this. Used to your smaller state, used to the gritty appearance of your own blood and sweat soaking into your skin, and even more used to your trembling limbs soon falling into the hold of his rough hands once the knife was placed on a small table next to the chair.

He was effervescent, watching you stuck in the same chair he had seen dozens in before. His head bobbed, tongue leaving his mouth to lick his drying lips as his eyes caught sight of the way your clothing hugged your frame. You watched the corners of his mouth rise, blinking in your direction before meeting your gaze.

"Got a little dirty from the chase, didn't you?"

Your quick nod made him cackle under his breath, almost a hiss and a sign mixed together—mild attentiveness in the way you respond to him so quickly since showing you what he could do with the knife. He was being entertained, but his patience was getting cut shorter by the minute.

Once his hands had found your shirt, you knew what was to come. The use of someone, toying and prodding at them—Bo claimed a devilish smile at your wide gaze, knowing well that you knew what was occuring.

"Don't worry, babydoll—" You wanted to whimper, to show some sign to him of your innocence, but he already had his plan playing out in his mind. "—I'm a real good fuck."

"B-Bo—" His name leaving your mouth made him bite down on his bottom lip, face moving in closer to listen to your words carefully.

He couldn't help the way his brows raised, interest partaking his mind in a split second. The man seemed caught off guard, the sudden use of his name—only said to you once while greeting—was new to him. Especially considering that you had remembered it, he almost could hold back his smile.

"Yes?" The tone in his voice raised, gesturing for you to carry on with your sentence. Whatever you were to ask, it would certainly bring him joy.

"I-I—" But as your words returned to a stutter, his brows furrowed in annoyance.

"I-I-I—" He was mocking you, his high-pitched tone almost annoying to even yourself. The man loved games, playing you like he'd get a prize at the end—but now you were simply postponing his own release.

He grabbed at your wrists, pulling at them so violently that the restraints threatened to cut at your skin worse than the knife would have done. The man had officially lost his patience, tugging at the metal chair until the locks once confining you to the seat opened and your body was pulled upwards into his hold.

"What do you want? Huh?" His voice was loud, guttural and that of someone who had no compassion. "Cause you're wasting my damn time!"

The heat of your body against his drove him even harder to not break then and there, your frame cradled into him and fitting perfectly. His chin had to lower towards his chest just so your eyes could be leveled, the arm wrapped around your waist tight and his hand on your wrist even tighter.

"If you don't speak up, you'll never speak again!" He spoke through gritted teeth, eyes shining in the dim lights of the room below the station. Although his voice's tone had simmered down to above a whisper, you knew you were running out of chances.

"P-Please…"

His eyes squinting in annoyance was nothing but harsh, almost just as mean as his shaking head was at your words.

"I know I am gonna die."

Finally, you have caught on. It was those few words that made his face release, the smile slowly returning to his lips.

"I don't wanna die a v-virgin. Bo, please—"

"A virgin?" That whispery voice he had, like he couldn't believe the words coming from your mouth. "A virgin."

"Bo—"

"You want me?" His tone had turned dark once more, his step against your frame making his thigh connect with your lower half. The hiss of your tongue made him blink slowly, the cogs in his brain turning faster and faster with ideas of what to do with you.

"You had never been touched? Not before my hands…" The man seemed to fall deeper and deeper into his desires, his racing thoughts now in his frontal cortex and beginning to consume him. As you shook and shivered, you felt the heat of his tongue sliding across your lips—the scent of his breath now in your nostrils as he licked at your mouth. "My tongue…"

He was fading from reality, falling into a dominant state that urged him—and made his jeans tighten more as he thought and poked at you. It wasn't until you blinked, felt the warmth of his face leave your own that you could take in the pleasurable instance before you. His hand had taken your own, slowly moving down towards his thick pair of jeans, and falling along the shape of his hardening cock restrained by the pants he wore.

"Feel that?" Bo, always wrapped up in his own pleasure and need for release, was finally coming to terms with the fact that he had someone innocent and fresh to the world of sexual actions in front of him. "That's how hard you've made me."

"Bo—" You saw the way the lines in his forehead became more prominent when you said his name, and even caught sight of his cock throbbing against his jeans a second after.

"Keep sayin' my name so pretty, and I just might fuck the daylights out of you, darlin." He beamed with every word, his own hands beginning to trail around your frame.

He felt the clothes on your body, raising the bottom of your shirt to feel at your skin. The hiss that left him when he came into contact with your chest, felt at your hardening nipples—it all made him move in closer to you for friction. He wanted you just as badly as you wanted to feel something deep within you.

"Well—" The button of your pants was undone, his own popping open by a quick flick of his thumbs. As more and more skin of the two of you was exposed, the man seemed to need to suck in more air into his lungs. "Since you asked so nicely."

It only took a beat for him to have you spun around, back flesh against his front and your ass rubbing against his length soon pulled from the hold of his clothing. You could feel every bit of him, inch by inch. And as your mouth watered, it was just as quickly pooling from the corners of your mouth as he ripped at your underwear to run his fingers through the wetness created by your own curious pleasure.

He lifted his fingers away from your torn clothing, raising them towards your face to show you the slick wetness strung between his digits. "And this is what I've done to you…"

With every grin Bo gave you, you felt the pulse of his length against you. The moment you saw him smiling in your peripheral was the same time you felt his fingers returning to your wetness, digits slowly slipping into you and creating squelching noises from his rough pace. You could feel the callouses from his work, feel the coolness of his fingers turn hot as he fucked you with them, and even hear his deep panting in your ear as he ground himself against you.

Your head was spinning with pleasure, the breath knocked out of you from the sudden loss of his fingers. It was only for a second that you could see behind you, watch as his wet fingers wrapped around his own length and coated himself with your wetness, but the image alone had you bucking your hips against nothing for a sooner release.

"Look at you. Like a dog in heat…aren't you?" Your nodding made his sentence fade out, the smile once on his face lowering as he pulled at your hips with a harsh grip. "Do you want my cock that badly?"

Now his voice had turned back into a whisper. You couldn't even nod fast enough, the tip of his cock at your entrance taking the breath you needed to moan as he entered you. Deeper and deeper, it almost seemed as though he wouldn't fit.

"Fuck…" He winced at your tightness, panted at the sight of himself slipping out and back in slowly, and laughed a deep chuckle at the sight of light splatters of blood covering his cock from your virgin body taking him first. "Fuck!"

You couldn't speak, garbled sounds of moans, groans, and whines coming from you. Your sounds were nearly covered up by his loud groans, his thick cock railing into your body making your limbs run sore. Just as you fell forward, arms catching yourself on the metal chair that once held you down, you felt the pulsing of your walls working their magic on the man who had never felt the insides of a virgin.

Bo, the calm and collected man you had known for a short period of time, was losing himself with his cock inside of you. His pants were frantic, moans and groans colliding in his throat and making him create animalistic sounds.

"You—You're, ahh—fucking so good. So—So good for me." The man was a mess, his mind so clouded with pleasure and white that he nearly missed your walls clenching on him, an orgasm arising from you. It was the first orgasm caused by someone beside yourself, and you were a mewling mess along with him.

"Bo—Bo I—"

"Come on my cock." He had finally found his stance, his heavy boots planted on the old floor as he brutally thrusted his hips until the pace of his lower half turned frantic. Racing for his own release, the man was using your limp body like a pocket-pussy, not even the least bit concerned about the red marks turning into bruises along your skin from his rough hold.

"You're mine—m-mine…" The man had officially lost himself within you, the thick ropes of his cum painting your insides making you let out deep breathes and suck in even larger ones to combat his form falling against you on the metal.

As he last few drops of his cum spurted into you, he pulled his length from your walls—wincing at the feeling of the cold air against his hot skin as he pulled his jeans back up his legs and stretched.

Your body, tired and used to completion, finally had its fill. Your blinking eyes couldn't help the small tears still falling down your cheeks, Bo catching the droplets on the pads of his fingers as he pulled you backwards into him.

"Don't cry—" He spoke in a hushed voice, praising you for taking him so well. "You did so well for me. You got just what you wished for, right? Shush—shush your cries babydoll."

Even with the warmth of his hug from behind, it couldn't divert your gaze from the floor—your eyes set upon the metal drains along the tiled flooring. This was death as a building, as a town, and as a person—and Bo was just playing with you.

"I think it's time I get my own wish granted, don't you?"

© scuddisher — all rights reserved. do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my works without my permission. do not post my content on other sites, especially claiming them as your own! reblogs and feedback are seriously appreciated <3

#bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair smut #slasher smut #slasher fic #slasher fucker #bo sinclair imagines #bo sinclair scenarios #slasher imagines #slasher scenarios #slashers #bo sinclair x gender neutral reader #slasher x reader #bo sinclair x you #slasher x you

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skylarsblue · 10 months

Text

✦Bo Sinclair Fluff Alphabet ✦

A = Attractive (What do they find attractive about the other?)

Bo’s a bit superficial, admittedly. It’s not something he can really deny, nor does he try to. He’ll readily admit to a few past flings that were insufferable, but pretty. It’s not hard for him to be lured in by plush curves and some simple sweet talking. Deep down, he’s a lonely man with a hard time finding connection.

I will say he’s a bit of a chubby chaser, for one. It’s not required but he certainly likes his plushness. In general though, though he’s got vanity, he’s not picky. Pretty is pretty, there are many kinds. Be it a nice ass, a doe eyed gaze, or an alluring voice.

What’s harder to understand is what he looks for in personality. Again, he won’t be actively looking for a deep, intimate connection on an emotional level. It sort've just…happens. He’s not sure how and he probably tries to resist it. But this is where it stops being about what he wants and more so what he needs. He needs someone with a lot of patience, some sternness, and the ability to read between lines. He’s not good at expressing how he really feels, sometimes he doesn’t even know what he’s feeling, so he doesn’t know what he should do about his emotions. That’s where you need to be able to notice and take action for him, even if he bitches about it.

B = Baby (Do they want a family? Why/Why not?)

Bit of a 50/50 here. He’s never thought too hard about it, because he didn’t see a need to. He never planned on getting tied down in any form, and he definitely doesn’t see himself as the fathering type. But, while he’s unaware of it, he has a soft spot for kids somewhere in that hardened shell. Bo just doesn’t know it’s there. Be it of his own blood or a bundle of joy left on his doorstep in a woven basket. At first, he’s terrified. He leaves, he isolates, he panics. But it doesn’t take much more than an innocent giggle and a wide eyed gawk to get him softening. Somewhere in his ribs there’s a child aching for the care he and his brothers never got. He can’t get a do over, but he can prevent it from happening again.

He raised his brothers, he loves them beyond words. Being in charge of a baby was basically what he was when Lester was born. Even if it scares him to death, he could be convinced.

C = Cuddle (How do they cuddle?)

Bo will swear up and down he’s no cuddler, and he’s an absolute fucking liar. It’s just hard for him to find a cuddling position that doesn’t feel too restrictive, which is why he thinks he’s not into it. But he’s starved for gentle contact, and he enjoys the rare feeling of safe peace. During the day, you’re only likely to get subtler stuff. Getting to sit across his lap, letting you mess with his hands, hug his arm, etc.

But at night, no matter how far away on the bed he starts, he ends up in your vicinity. One of his favorite positions, aside from classing spooning, is when he gets to lay on top of you. Between your legs with his head on your sternum, listening to your heart. It’s one of the few times he lets himself stop being on edge, to fully relax. Bonus if you run your nails along his back and shoulders. Hum a lullaby if you feel like it. Best sleep he’ll ever get.

D = Dates (What are dates with them like?)

He doesn’t really take you on dates. Not that he doesn’t like them or anything, he just doesn’t often have the time or energy to take you places. Especially if it’s early on. He’s got trust issues, for the first few years he’s worried you’ll run. But that doesn’t mean it never happens, unlike the case with most slashers, he has the means, money, and the lack of a wanted poster on a bulletin somewhere.

He probably won’t go for anything fancy, it’s not his style and it makes him uncomfortable. He’s a vain humble man, an oxymoron. The town outside of Ambrose has its local diner, its little shops, a bar. These are the typical places he’ll take you. If it’s an anniversary and you show you want something more conventionally romantic, he’ll take you to Baton Rouge or a picnic, depends on your preference.

E = Everything (You are my___ (e.g. my life, my world)

“My do-over.”

It sounds insulting at first, but that’s not how he means it. Bo has been in a routine his entire life, and every stage, every routine, has always been with big negatives. As a child; he’d act out because of the treatment his parents gave, they’d “discipline” him, he’d do it over again. As a teen; he’d get into trouble, weasel his way out of it, do it over again.

But what he’s never gotten is an actual restart on life. He’s never gotten to, in his soul, start over. He’s always been carrying all his bad decisions and pain with him. So, when you show up, and give him a break in the pattern, it gives him the ability to get a do-over. Nothing will change on the outside, not immediately anyway. However, on the inside, he feels different. You make him feel like a different man even if his behavior hasn’t changed.

F = Feelings (When did they know they were in love?)

It’s hard to say. He knows his attraction to you is deeper than normal, but the concept of love scares him. It’s a bit too new, a bit too vulnerable. Still, he can’t help but enjoy it. It’s slow to set in, slow to be put in place. He’ll rarely, rarely, say it, and when it finally hits him that his feelings for you aren’t going away, it scares him away. But he comes back. It’ll at least take two years to properly be set, but you’ll see the signs near the end of year one. If you’re observant, that is.

G = Gentle (Are they gentle? If so, how?)

Bo is all sharp metal and stinging cuts. He’s never been treated gently and his hands show it, both in scars and in his grip. It’s not that he really means to be rough with you, not in a way that’s unenjoyable anyway. You’re obviously a very different situation than anyone else, so while he knows how much pressure to apply to your throat, or the crease of where your thigh meets your hip, his gentleness is unpracticed. It’s shaky and uncertain. His gentleness comes from inside, allowing you to see him more as himself than the mask he puts on for strangers, or the hardass he pretends to be for the sake of his emotional safety.

It’s in long glances with admiration behind the pupils. In the slope of his shoulders as they come at ease beside you. The hand he rests possessively on your lower back when you’re in the kitchen. It’s in the moments you catch him at his weakest and he doesn’t run away, but to you instead.

H = Hands (How do they like to hold hands?)

Bo’s not much of the hand holding type. He prefers his hand in your back pocket, around your waist, or you hugging his arm. Still though, every now and then it’s that little bit of contact he needs, without being too much. Usually when driving. He’ll lock your fingers together, feel the skin of your palm press against his. Especially if your hands run cold, he’ll always make a comment about it, blow hot air on the back of it in order to warm your hand up.

I = Impression (What was their first impression?)

The same as everyone else, really. Likely finding you attractive, another pretty face he’ll have to shoot at. His opinion only changes when he sees how you behave, how the others around you treat you, how you treat him as a stranger. It’ll start to shift. He’s met nice people before, even let a few go because of their situation. Like a single mother looking for gas or a young teen boy on the run from his parents.

He could justify why he’d let you live, what he doesn’t understand is why he can’t let you go either. Not just because you could tell the cops. But something deeper in him aches at the thought, that long loneliness that he’s been denying for so long.

J = Jealousy (Do they get jealous?)

He absolutely is a jealous man. As confident as he can be, he hates gawking eyes running over you. He’s possessive, and while you’re not an object, he does feel like he owns you in a certain way. You can have your free will, but he’s stamped his name on your heart, and he intends to put his initials everywhere he can reach. He won’t show it all the time, it’ll start subtly. Cracking his jaw, a glare, a little less southern kindness in his act.

God forbid someone come onto you though. It’s not jealousy then, he’s enraged at the audacity. He’s a murderer, one with little to no morals and a severe lack of empathy. But he draws the line at you. Doesn’t matter if he’d a hypocrite, if he had behaved in a similar flirtatious way with taken individuals before you. With you, no one gets any leeway.

K = Kiss (How do they kiss? Who initiated the first kiss?)

50/50 based on time, but most likely him. If your timeline includes heavy resistance on your part, he’ll initiate it. It won’t be sweet, it’ll be a move for power, even if he’s gentle. If your timeline includes you being more willing, and open, then it’ll likely be you. This way, you can make it sweet. Convey the kindness you have to him again in unspoken words, allow him to melt against you for once. It’ll be the only kiss he actually remembers.

L = Love (Who says ‘I love you’ first?)

Definitely you, and he won’t believe you at first. No matter when you first say it, or how, he’s taken aback. He thinks you’re exaggerating or you’re outright lying. Aside from brotherly love, no one has ever loved him. Not earnestly, not honestly. They may love what he can do, what he can provide, his face. But he knows at the core of his soul, he’s rotten and covered in razor wire. He understands no one wants to hold something that hurts them. But yet here you are, cradling his heart covered in razor blades, letting your blood fall down the arms he leaves kisses on in the dark, when he thinks you’re asleep.

He’ll say it back after you’ve shown him you mean it. You haven’t walked away, you haven’t hated him, you haven’t dumbed him down to the untalented version of his twin. You’ve stayed, and you’ve cared. He says it softly, almost uncertain if the words can leave his throat. But he means it.

M = Memory (What’s their favourite memory together?)

Coming home to you after a long day and seeing you seem like you’re enjoying yourself. Like you’ve settled into the home, like you’re no longer a prisoner and instead a member of the family. Lester & Vincent were in the same room, chatting, though Vincent silently, and laughing with you. At ease around you like he was, you at ease with them in return. With a warm meal on the stove and a pleasantness in the air. He can see you at your brightest. He swears that day you made the world slow when you looked at him, smiling, beckoning him in on the conversation.

N = Nickel (Do they spoil? Do they buy the person they love everything?)

Usually he does so on dates. Though dates are sparse, you never come home without him spending at least 200$, half of which went to you specifically. Does he bring you a gift home every day? No. But he knows when you deserve a spoiling, and he follows through consistently. He also struggles saying no to things you want, within reason. Suddenly, 200$ seems like a small price in comparison to your joy. Don’t think you get away without a little comment though.

“You’re a real spoiled brat, ya know that? Better thank me, at least”

O = Orange (What colour reminds them of their other half?)

Bo’s not one for caring about colors. He knows his favorites are black and denim blue, but that’s about it. Still, the colors that seem to invoke emotion in him, that bring you up in his mind? The colors of the sunset. Pinks blending into purples, and eventually a deep blue. It brings him a sense of peace, and it reminds him that it's the end of the day, so he can come home to you. Listen to you rattle off about something, or sit in silence with the aura you bring into the room. Especially when the dipping sun hits your face just right. Every time it happens, it makes his breath catch in his lungs. And every time he wonders how someone so awful as him got someone so celestial as you.

P = Pet names (What pet names do they use?)

He’s a Southern man, he’s got a surplus to pull from. A classic “sweetheart”, “hun”, and “baby” are frequent. Sometimes he throws in a “sweet thing”, or thang, if we include the accent. Darling missing the ‘G’ and sugar make an appearance now and then. But he’s also likely to give you at least one fond nickname based on something you two have discussed.

“Anyone ever tell ya you look like a lil rabbit? Cute lil’ bunny, eh? Oh don’t get shy on me now, you had all that talk a second ago!”

As for ones he enjoys, he prefers them simple, nothing that’s over the top. “Love” & “babe” work best most of the time, but he’s got a soft spot for being called “sugar”. One that he pretends to hate but he adores? “Lover boy.” Call him that, trust me.

Q = Quaint (What is their favourite non-modern thing?)

Bo isn’t really for new things anyway, aside from maybe TVs. Even his cars he prefers are old. He’s a pretty firm believer in the “quality back then was better” idea. Still, his heart always goes back to old cars, trucks specifically. He’s a simple man, he wants a simple truck that’ll do its job and last him years. He’ll never understand the hype behind sleek sports cars and shiny leather interiors.

R = Rainy Day (What do they like to do on a rainy day?)

Rain doesn’t do much for him. Unless it’s a heavy storm, he’s gonna do what he needs to do, albeit in a slightly calmer mood. He finds rain calming, even if he’s not super fond of the mess of mud Jonesy tracks in the house. Storms however, especially heavy ones, worry him. It's not that he’s afraid of lightning, and they’re far enough from the water to not have much worry of any flooding. It’s because Lester hates thunder. On these days, he tries to make an excuse to go see his baby brother. When you catch on, don’t comment, but encourage. Lester always appreciates it and it helps you see Bo’s softer side to being a big brother.

S = Sad (How do they cheer themselves/others up?)

Bo’s self destructive, we know this. He doesn’t cope well and he doesn’t like people giving him advice on how to handle his emotions, even if he needs it desperately. On a rough day, he smokes more, he might crack open a beer, but worst of all? He hides, metaphorically. He gets loud, he snaps, he hurts the feelings of people around him because he’s upset. And apologizing isn’t his forte. The longer he’s with you, the calmer he gets, and the more likely he is to direct his anger out, but not at you and his brothers. Coax him into a rant, while he goes on about his gripes, do small things to make him comfortable. Slip a drink in his hand, sneakily place an ice pack on his sore bruises, gently play with the hair near the nape of his neck.

By the end of it all, he’ll be tuckered out. Ready for a little couch nap and maybe some lovin’, if you’re alright with him laying on your lap, that is.

T = Talking (What do they like to talk about?)

Bo’s actually the quiet type. Unless he’s angry, he doesn’t say much unprompted. He can carry a conversation though, and he has his subjects that he’ll gush about, you just have to bring it out of him. Aside from rants on cars and some random history facts from his phase as a teenager, he likes to talk about what you bring up. If you’re the talkative type, he enjoys the long conversations with all the topics you seem to pull from thin air. Lighthearted debates and such. But if you’re also the quiet type, he’s more than happy with silent company. He doesn’t need words to be entertained.

U = Unencumbered (What helps them relax?)

His hobby of fixing up cars, a cigarette, the occasional beer at dinner time. Laying on you at bed time seems to work really well, he goes as limp as a corpse, almost like his limbs are weighted by how relaxed he gets. Petting Jonesy helps, but he only does that if no one’s looking. He had other things that worked, up until someone ruined it for him.

Piano, poetry, and photography were all things he used when he was younger to ease himself. Each time though, criticism and comparison to Vincent killed his passion for it. He could pick these things up again though, should he have someone the encourage him

V = Vaunt (What do they like to show off? What are they proud of?)

He’s cocky, let’s be honest. He likes to show off his looks, since it's one of the few things he’s always had over his brothers, according to others. He doesn’t flaunt things like his truck or the rings he wears, although he takes pride in his appearance. Best bet he’s proud of having you beside him though. He brags a lot. To the point that the people at the bar he visits are sick of you before they even meet you.

“I dunno why the bartender don’t like ya, hun. Just don’t worry bout it, she just don’t know you like I do.”

W = Wedding (When, how, where do they propose?)

He takes you out to a picnic on the back of his truck, sent a rare prayer to the lord that the weather will match his plan. You’ll probably notice how stiff he is, the tenseness in his muscles is impressive. He’ll drive you two out to a little pasture out of Ambrose, a patch of land surrounded by trees, likely near a large pond or lake. He made sure to do it in Spring, having convinced himself that doing it on the same day he got that first dream would give him better luck.

He sits with you and slowly relaxes as you coax him out of his shell once more. Like you did all those years ago. Showing what all that barbed wire around his insides is hiding. He’ll get to reminiscing, ensure to make you laugh. When he stops talking, it worries you. He’s just as worried. He had a speech rehearsed, he forgets it all the second his fingers touch the velvet box in his pocket. Still, Bo will manage to stutter out some paraphrased lines, keeping his gaze down. His confidence is gone, and he feels like he’s five again, begging for the approval he feels he doesn’t deserve.

But then you say yes, you say it with enthusiasm and raw emotion. Suddenly the world has air again and he can bring himself to smile, allowing you a glimpse at his soul when he gets the ring on your hand. The ceremony won’t be anything but a church service in the next town over, in his tux, you in whatever you chose. Only his brothers and Jonesy will be there, but it doesn’t matter to him. As sappy as he feels, it doesn’t feel like a bad thing.

X = Xylophone (What’s their song?)

Middle Finger - Bohnes Cowboy Casanova - Carrie Underwood Wrecking Ball - Mother Mother

Y = Yes (Do they ever think of getting married/proposing?)

Bo has never seen himself as the type to get married. He’s never considered it really, not until you come along. For a long time, he still doesn’t think about it, until a dream hits him out of nowhere in the Spring and it tips the first domino. Whether his brain put you in a tux or white lace, it doesn’t matter, his heart palpitates all the same. It scares him. So, while the thought is now there, it still takes years for him to actually consider doing it. When he sucks it up and buys a ring, it takes him another five months to actually plan and go through with it.

Z = Zebra (If they wanted a pet, what would they get?)

He’s not much of an animal person. Jonesy was found by Lester, and Vincent was the one that convinced Bo to let her stay. He still swears he doesn’t like the dog, but he’s brutally beaten a man to death with his bare hands for kicking her. Simply put, if he had to pick, he’d be a dog person. Pitbulls specifically.

#slasher community #slashers #slasher x reader #slasher fucker #bo sinclair #slasher #house of wax #fluff alphabet #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x gender neutral reader #bo sinclair x you #house of wax 2005

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weirdwizardofoz · 1 year

Text

Attempting GN reader x Bo Sinclair

NSFW

TW: Bo Sinclair, spanking, crying, if I missed anything let me know, not long just trying things out.

Send requests to my main account @gen0c1de and follow.

It was too much.

The pain.

The pleasure.

It was just too much.

The way your cavern was filled to the brim and stretched made your vision foggy.

You couldn’t think.

Couldn’t speak.

Could barely breathe.

Only groan and moan as your hole was abused while you lay on your stomach, gripping the pillow for dear life.

“Say my name.” He said, and you tried, you really did.

“Say.”

Thrust.

“My.”

Thrust

“Name!”

Thrust

“B-Bo!” You barely wheezed out. Choking on a moan as he tore into your insides like a man starved all his life.

Your cheeks and the corners of your eyes burned from the salty tears that had been flowing.

Smack

“Good slut.” Bo growled, grabbing the chunk of your ass he had freshly smacked.

Your bottom was already covered in marks that no longer looked like a hand print, just a blob of red, welted and bruising flesh. Each smack resulted in a moan, every squeeze a groan. It hurt. But it felt so… so good.

“G-gonna… ah… gonna cum…” he snapped his hips into yours, teasing, taunting. “Please let me cum… pl- fuck! Please Bo…”

He licked up your earlobe.

“Go on, cum fer me.” He nipped at the tip of your ear.

His low and raspy southern accent made your eyes roll back. You swear you could get off to him voice alone. Your hole fluttered and spasmed, tightening around his shaft as you reached your climax, slowly falling off the edge of another release.

How many times did you cum? More than three, you know that much.

He picked up the pace, abusing your soft spot more and more, drilling into you harder and harder.

“‘M gonna fill you up nice an’ full… ya want that? Want me ta flood this little hole of yours?” He knew you wanted it.

“Yes please…” all but a whisper, a whine, the only thing your fucked out brain can form, the only begging he will be able to pull from your dumb self.

That was all he needed, his movement falter, breath against your ear shuttering as he slams into you, grabbing your hips and holding you against him. His cock twitching inside you as he shallowly thrusts more. Shoving his seed into you while riding out the euphoric feeling you give him.

Your walls twitch again as he subconsciously groans in your ear. God he had ruined you… hadn’t he…

“You did great hun… was I too rough? D’ya need anything?” Peppering kisses on your back and shoulders in a way of comfort.

“Water… bath… cuddles… please…” you reply in between pants, knowing full well you won’t be getting up on your own.

#slashers #slasher fucker #slasher x reader #slasher x y/n #slasher x you #slashers x reader #slashers x y/n #slashers x you #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader smut #bo sinclair x gender neutral reader #bo sinclair x y/n #bo sinclair x you #bo sinclair smut #requests are open

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avintmich · 3 months

Text

Truth?...

#art #i love him #the best boys #slasher x s/o #slasher x you #slasher x reader #slashers art #slashers x reader #slashers #house of wax 2005 #vincent sinclair headcanons #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair #bo sinclair x gender neutral reader #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair #house of wax

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adalwolfgang · 11 months

Text

Hands

Bo Sinclair x Fem!Reader

Requested By: @charliedawn

Warnings: Pet names like (darlin',sweetheart, sweetness,sugar,pretty girl), Bo Sinclair is a little ooc.

Bo was working on a recent victim's car. Scrapping it for parts to give to Lester, to sell in the town a few miles away. That was one of the many ways they used to make money to keep Ambrose up and running, and to provide food on the table.

"Mornin'!" You chime as you walk into the garage, holding a case of beer.

Bo smiles to himself when he hears your voice. He slides out from under the car, wiping his hands on his mechanic suit as he gets to his feet. "What is ya doin' darlin'?" He asks as he walks over to you, taking the case of beer from you.

Your face flushes a little when you feel his coarse hands graze yours. Bo didn't seem to notice yet. He sets the case inside the mini fridge resting on a workbench. Not before swiping a can and cracking it open, taking a quick swig.

"I..." You clear your throat, "I saw you were running out of beer, so I picked some more up for you from the town over."

"Well' thank ya' sweetheart, I preshate' it a lot." He says with a toothy grin. Placing the can on a stool nearby before resting a hand on his hip. "Ya can take a seat over' on thet' bench if ya want, or if ya wanna do sumthin’ ya can separate this here box of bolts by size. Can ya handle that?" He offers, pointing to a box full of diffrent sized bolts and nuts.

"Uh yeah sure! Thanks." You say sheepishly, taking a seat on a stool near Bo. He grabs the box, setting it in your lap. "Tell me if ya need anythin' okay darlin'?" He says with a small smirk before going back to the car, pulling the hood up and fiddling with the engine.

You start separating different bolts and nuts by their sizes. Occasionally sparing a glance to Bo who has his back to you. Your eyes staying glued to his hands every so often. You don't notice the small smirk appear on Bos face as he sees you staring out of the corner of his eye.

"Ya alright sweetheart? Yer mind mind seems t’ be somewhere else?" Bos voice breaks the silence, causing you to drop the box of bolts from your lap, them scattering all over the place. "I-...Sorry!" You scramble to the ground quickly, trying to collect the many bolts and nuts rolling around on the floor. You reach for one that rolls towards Bo, who squats down a grabs it just as you do. Your face flushes as you go to pull your hand away but Bo quickly stops you. He softly but firmly grabs your wrist with his coarse hand, yanking you up with him as he stands to his full height.

Pulling your body flush against his he speaks, his voice gruff. "Sumthin’ ya’d like t’ tell me, sugar?" A cocky smirk plastered on his face as he leans close to yours. His breath hitting your face. "Sumthin’ ya’d like to’ see?" he asks as his eyes trace all over your face.

"Uhm...." You try looking anywhere but his face, feeling like a child caught stealing candy. Your situation gets worse when his free hand grabs your chin firmly, forcing you to look at him. "Ya like my hands? Don'tcha purdy girl?" He says it more as a fact then a question.

At that point, your brain stops functioning completely. Your words becoming gibberish as you try and think of what to say. Before you can though, he collides his lips with yours. Both of yours's teeth clashing together. He lets out a noise of satisfaction at the taste of your lips. The kiss is long and passionate as he doesn't pull away for anything until you do, in need of air. Even when you do, his lips chase yours as he gives a small pout thats quickly replaced with a toothy grin. "Ahv' been wantin' t' do that for so long Purdy' girl'"

Your eyes grow wide as your face turns warm. "You have..?"

He keeps ahold of your chin as he kisses the top of your head. "Yes' ma'am...Didnt know how or when t’ tell ya but...Ah couldnt' ‘xactly hold myself back when' I noticed yer googly eyes on me. Speshuly' my hands." He murmurs into your hair with a teasing tone.

A/n: edit made 10/10/23. Made changes to Bo’s dialogue because I honestly cringed at how I written it originally.

#x reader #reader insert #house of wax #bo sinclair #house of wax 2005 #bo sinclair x reader #slashers x reader #bo sinclair house of wax #bo sinclair x y/n #bo sinclair x gender neutral reader #bo sinclair fanfiction #bo sinclair x you #bo sinclair fluff #bo sinclair x female reader #house of wax (2005)#house of wax fanfic #house of wax x y/n #house of wax fanfiction #house of wax x reader

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bella-goths-wife · 10 months

Note

Parent slashers with their newborn child?

Parent slashers with newborn child reader

Michael Myers

Michael found you abandoned in an alleyway, and shockingly didn’t kill you

You were crying which he found annoying but when he went to you, you opened your big eyes at him and the monster melted away

He picked up in your baby seat with both hands and had you facing him, completely unaware of how to hold a a baby

He takes you back to the myers residence and you continue to cry which annoys him to the point he has to go out and kill someone to relieve stress

He returned to find you gone and was furious as he search for you

The neighbour lady had found you after she heard crying from the abandoned home, and she took you to her house

Michael stumbles across you when she sees the neighbour lady changing you and feeding you

From watching her he leans how to hold, feed and change you before he kills her and takes you back to his home

He finds his old crib in the basement and pulls it into the bedroom he sleeps in

When he goes out to kill, he leaves you in the crib for long periods of time because as much as we all like to romanticise parent Michael, he would definitely be a neglectful parent

He tried to take you on one killing spree by carrying you in the portable baby carrier but one of his victims distracted him by grabbing you and running

This caused the other victim to get the police involved and Michael gets brought to the asylum

You are taken into social care until Loomis offered to have you in his care, so he could use you to test Michaels morality

Loomis scheduled you to be with Michael for a day once a week and honestly it was the highlight of Michaels week

He’d hold you to his chest and refuse to let you go or to let anyone touch you

When it came time for the session to end, Michael had to be physically subdued so they could get you out the room

Eventually Michael escapes and kidnaps you but he would be captured again a few months afterwards

This cycle would continue until your teens, you even saw Loomis as a secondary parent figure at that point

It was like a lethal custody battle

Bo Sinclair

You were a product of one of Bo’s many one night stands

Your mother was a woman in the village who got pregnant and when she told Bo, he begged for her to get an abortion

She refused and he refused to be in the baby’s life, your mother was exceptionally happy about that

One person who did want to be in your life was lester, so he stayed by your mother until she gave birth so he could know his niece or nephew

Once your mother gave birth, she was ordered to have bed rest so lester offered to babysit you during the day

So lester brought you to all his duties, including taking you to the house

Vincent met you and instantly fell in love with your chubby cheeks and your baby hands

Bo was less ecstatic about having you in the house and would visibly avoid you

That was until lester went for a nap and left you in the portable crib in the living room

Bo walked in and saw you before trying to slowly back away like you were some wild animal, it was too late and you began to cry

Bo called for his brothers to no answer so he picked you up awkwardly and rocked you

You giggled at him and out your hands on his cheeks

Bo didn’t want to admit it, but that warmed his heart slightly

So the next time you came around, he was much more involved

His world shifted and he was no longer the most important person in his life, you were

He begged your mother to let him have custody of you, she refused and said that it was too late for him to step up

He felt jealous of Lester being able to see you every day, and it all got worse when bo stumbled across you calling Lester ‘dada’

That was the last straw, he killed your mother and had her body made into a wax figure

The courts awarded him custody and now he was fully involved with you

He had to have Lester teach him a few things but he took good care of you for the most part

He grew less and less interested in you as time went on

so even though he was now legally your father, you still secretly call Lestor dad every once and a while

Vincent Sinclair

You were one of Bo’s various abandoned children, but unlike the others your mother died in childbirth which left you under the care of Bo

Bo didn’t give a shit about you and would constantly leave you crying on the couch

Your crying would disturb Vincent’s artistic flow so he got angry and stormed up stairs to take care of the problem

He awkwardly rocked you until he realised that Bo hadn’t fed you and that’s why you were so fussy

Vincent gave you some baby formula and watched in awe as you giggled at him and made grabby hands at him

From that moment, vincent decided that he was your father and not bo

He would keep you downstairs with him at all times and even built you a crib but you mostly just co-slept with him

Bo didn’t care that Vincent had taken you, the only time he interacted with you was to yell at you

Vincent quickly shut that down in one of the only times he stood up to Bo

You grew with Vincent keeping you close at every moment, sure it was suffocating sometimes but it was better than the alternative which was Bo

All in all, Vincent was a good father to you

Thomas Hewitt

You were brought into the world when the hewitts kidnapped a young woman who was pregnant and her husband

The hewitts hesitated but thought as long as the baby wasn’t born, it wasn’t killing the baby because the mothers body would do that when she died

But she had to go and give birth while under captivity, the stress triggering labour and eventually ending with a crying baby

Your mother bled to death and the family eventually ate her and your biological father

Luda may refused to kill you, it went against her strict Christ fearing beliefs

So she insisted she would raise you as her own

But Luda may was an old woman, she didn’t have the energy to raise another child

So she passed on the responsibility to thomas who did most of the child care

She taught him how to hold a baby and how to feed them

He eventually found himself enjoying holding you and loving you

He grew into the title of ‘dada’ pretty quickly

The family deluded themselves that god had sent them a new Hewitt to pass on the family traditions

Hoyt tried to get Thomas to use the cry it out method for your crying but Thomas refused

When Hoyt forcefully removed you from your crib that Thomas had in the basement for you to get you to stop crying, thomas snatched you away and used his physical strength to threaten him away

Hoyt left you alone after that

Asa Emory

Asa saw that his cover as the kind, friendly professor wasn’t cutting it anymore

People were getting suspicious, hateful even

So what better way to make yourself look harmless as being a single father

Or even better, an abandoned single father

One of his favourite ’pets’ had been pregnant at the time and had given birth to you

How coincidental, so asa took you in and spun the story that the mother abandoned the two of you

I’m reality your mother was being tortured to death in the abandoned hotel

At first he just wanted to hire a team of nanny’s to deal with your care, but something changed

When he held you after your birth, he saw something

He saw his future, his legacy

He would raise you to be his carbon copy, you would continue his traditions

A part of him loved you, but another just saw your survival as necessary for his

He takes your care into his own hands and takes you everywhere with him

He granted your mother the privilege of holding you before he slit her throat, she would only stunt your progress if she was involved in your life

He was possessive over you, he refused to let anyone touch his legacy

If you were a boy, he would view you as more lovable because you could carry on the family name of Emory

If you were a girl, he would still love you and teach you but he would expect you to carry children in the future and he would try for a boy

If you were a girl he would also view your dating life as his legacy as his grandchildren need to continue his rich blood, he would hand pick you a male spouse no matter your sexual orientation

You would need to continue his line

Tiffany valentine

Tiffany was impregnated by Chucky before he died, and at first she resented the idea of being a single mother

That all changed when she felt you kick in her stomach

Your tiny feet giving her a feeling of butterflies wings as she smiled and held her enlarged stomach

When you were born, she cradled you close to her and laughed as you opened your eyes and she saw that you had your mothers eyes

She moved the two of you into the trailer and decided to go cold turkey on killing, she couldn’t leave her precious miracle alone now could she?

She would co-sleep with you because she couldn’t bare to not have the bonding time with you

She wouldn’t let anyone touch you, you were her miracle and she couldn’t risk you being hurt

She keeps her dating minimal and casual because she doesn’t want to have her time with you as a baby disturbed by outside influences

When Chucky reappeared, she was at first happy that you would have a father figure in your life

But after Chucky laughed in her face and threatened you, she took you and ran away from the doll forever

But Chucky seemed to have a change of heart when he realised that a game of ‘hide the soul’ would be a fun game to play with his dear child

Otis driftwood

Otis became your father through one of his victims

His victim thought it would be a good idea to seduce otis and then escape

It surprising worked well enough for her to fall pregnant

She attempted to run when she found out but she was hunted down by mama firefly and baby

They were elated to be an aunt and grandma

Otis was scared shitless

But family doesn’t abandon family

You were born and your mother was killed and her head was kept as a present for you when you were older

People told Otis that holding his child would make him feel like a changed man, but it didn’t

It just worsened his already terrible habits, but now he excused them as protecting you

He held you, and he fell in love

You were amazing, your big eyes stared at him and he was mesmerised by every movement

He even found himself cooing at you before he stopped

He isn’t massively involved in your care because mama and baby handles it

But he’s a weirdly involved father in other aspects such as education and affection

He’s an affectionate father when your a newborn

Whenever your not crying or being cooed at by other family members, your in his arms

He likes to sleep on the chair in his room while holding you in his arms

He loves when your tiny fists yank at his beard or hair, he finds it adorable

He kisses your forehead a lot and adores your giggles when he does

He truly loves you

When victims come over to the house, he always has an eye on who’s close by

He keeps you close to him and kills anyone who attempts to touch you, even in innocent ways

He vowed that when your older, you would learn the firefly ways

Baby firefly

Baby one day decided she wanted to be a mother

She saw what joy she brought mama firefly, she wanted that for herself

She found a man in a bar and got herself pregnant

Unlike most women, she enjoyed pregnancy

She felt close to you, you were growing inside her

You were a miracle that had taken plant in her womb

She had the support off mama and surprising Otis who offered her the baby daddy’s head and a baby shower present

You were born in the firefly residence as baby screamed and cried her way through labour

18 hours later and she held you in her arms, her bundle of joy

She had a crib made out of previous victims bones, another gift from mama this time

She would sometimes just watch you sleep peacefully, she just thought you were amazing

She would find the crying and the late nights irrationally annoying but she claimed it was worth it to see your chubby face in the morning

She’s pretty neglectful, but she tries her best

She spends most of her time killing people, which leaves mama to take care of you

But she still tries to be involved and plays with you whenever she remembers you exist

She would grow less interested in you as you grow but she would still find you amazing

You were still her baby no matter the age

When she’s caught and taken to prison, she can’t bare the thought of you being in another woman’s arms

When she gets back she kills your foster carer slowly and torturously

She would hold you in her arms while they were still bloody and would revel in your giggles

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suvidrache · 8 months

Text

Making Him Things

age in bio when interacting. minors do not interact.

Word Count: 287 | Read it on AO3

Summary: S/O loves to make him things. Featuring: Vincent, Lester, and Bo.

Vincent Sinclair absolutely loves everything that you make him. He would have all of it on his desk. Displayed in the museum with "do not touch" signs. He'd have some of it in his bedroom. Sometimes, he frequently moves your stuff from the museum to his room. He wants to display it for the world to see, but at the same time, he doesn't want them ruining it, and so sometimes your stuff is there, sometimes it isn't. He would also make you items and display it in the museum or give it to you.

Lester has a full room of your stuff. He started off by putting it in his room, but over time, the stuff became more and more, so he placed all the things that couldn't fit in his bedroom into the spare room. He leaves the door open because sometimes he just stands in the doorway and admires the things that are there. He gives you anything cool that he can find or anything that he finds that reminds him of you. He wishes he could do better, but he knows that he isn't a great artist - he'll never be Vincent.

Bo loves the things you make him. He has it everywhere. His room, the shop, and various places in the house that he frequents. He enjoys seeing your work and adding to his collections. He would ask Vincent to make you items and then Bo gives them to you, as if he bought something for you or maybe even made it for you. He can't make things. You both know that. The best he could do is fix up a car and give it to you, but he wants something more special.

Tag List: @fluffy-little-demon, @queendeeshorrorimagines, @eli-chris / Join my tag list here!

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small-sinclair · 1 year

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Hey! I saw you posted the A/B/O prompt list, so I bring you

“I got into some trouble today. I sort of punched an Alpha in the face when he touched me. Long story short, there’s a couple of officers at the door who would like to talk to you about getting control of your Omega.”

With Bo Sinclair, he obviously is all like “I’ll teach them a lesson!” To the officers but as soon as that door shuts it’s praise and kisses to the reader (reader can be gn)

Thank you for being my first ask! :D Never wrote for an a/b/o prompt, but I think this turned out well!

Alpha!Bo x gn!y/n

Tw: hints of sexual assault, strong words, mentions of past abuser

Tarts and Swears

"Let me talk to him? Please--"

"Those Sinclair boys should keep you on a leash."

As much as you wanted to snap at the officer, you knew that you were in more trouble than you wanted. It's not your fault that you're in this mess! Clearly, the other Alpha knew you were claimed by the ungodly amount of marks on your neck and shoulders. Shit, everyone could see them when you were in town to get fresh fruits for that fruit tart you promised to make for Bo and Vincent! You always bragged about it, and, because he's such a star, you were able to go to town to get the items for the tart. You made sure to were a cute shoulder flare shirt with strawberries on it (Bo's favorite fruit), and a list with everything you need. Yes, you never leave Ambrose without Lester, but you promised Bo you'll be careful! You promised...

Now, you're coming home in the back of a cop car with your bike tied to the roof, knee scrapped, and your favorite shoulder shirt dirtied and ripped. It'll take more than Dawn soap and a good wash to get the mud stains out. But the worst part? You didn't even get the chance to buy anything for the tarts!

"Just let me talk to him," you said in a sigh. "I think it'll be best if he hears it from me." You felt so defeated as you stepped out of the back of the squad car, the bruised Alpha stepping out of his truck. Gods, what a sleaze ball. He was the one that cornered you and tried to--

Swallowing hard, you raised a hand to the door and opened to go inside, officers following in along with the Alpha.

"Bo?" You called, noticing the T.V. on in the den and the smell of something spicy in the kitchen. Vincent must be cooking chili tonight. "Honeycomb?"

From above, boots patter on the wood and a shadow cast down the steps, getting closer and closer, until your Alpha stopped halfway on the landing. Though you've seen him many time ins his work uniform, seeing the sleeves tied at his hips and white, greased stain shirt underneath made his sweaty curls glow like a halo made from mud and oil. Confused eyes glossed over the two officers then the blue eyes lit in flames when he saw the unknown Alpha in his living room. You thought you heard a low growl coming from him, but it might be the wooden steps as he stomped down, fists falling tightly until his knuckles turned white. You could feel the other Alpha smirk at this, his ego growing bigger by the minute.

You left your spot and stood between the officers and Bo, your hands slipping onto his chest. You could smell the anger boiling over as his eyes snapped down at you then at the officers. Over his shoulder, you saw Vincent stick his head around the corner. He leaned against the doorway to watch the show (or step in if things get out of control).

You cleared your throat and said nervously, “I got into some trouble today."

Bo scuffed. He might've as well punched you. "I can fuckin' see 'at."

"I sort of punched an Alpha in the face when he touched me." You breathed out, touching his arm. You felt his energy shift as when he noticed your hurt knee and torn shirt. Before he could get a word in, you said, "Long story short, there’s a couple of officers at the door who would like to talk to you about getting control of your Omega.”

Vincent stiffened as soon as he smelt the scent of the other Alpha on you, and he could see where his hands were. He clinched his jaw tightly as his lone eyes glared at the man, who was being guarded by the two officers. Bo caught on as if he could read Vincent's thoughts, and, oh, how he hated the smell.

Icy blue eyes look up from you to the officers. "'S true, Andrew?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Andrew (the one on the right, the smaller one with no wedding ring) answered. "Dustin says he got hurt by 'em. Gotta control 'em, Sinclair."

Bo bit his lower lip and looked at his brother, who was gripping his sweatshirt a little too tight. "Yer tellin' me 'at my little darlin'," he pushed you to the side as gently as he could, but he was firm, "hurt him? Are we talkin' 'bout the same Omega, right?" He then gestures to you in disbelief. "I mean, look at 'em! Pool noodles for arms and damn chicken legs. Wha' happened? They barked at ya wrong?" Bo didn't mean to laugh, but it was just so damn funny to him! How could a little thing like you do any harm? He could tell there was a lie somewhere, but this is an Alpha's world, and an Omega's word means nothing.

"Just want an apology, Sinclair," the Alpha--Dustin--said. "'At's all I want."

"Ya ain't getting it," Bo answered, crossing his arms. "I only smell you on 'em." Then he took a deep breath, narrowing your scent in the air. It traveled around the officers to Dustin's bruised cheek. You did a beautiful right hook, but he didn't show his pride for you. "Not the other way around."

Andrew shifted his weight, uncomfortable with all of this. This was wrong, all of it! He's known Bo since kindergarten, and they shared snacks and math test answers throughout high school! Yeah, he and his twin are a bit out there, but who wasn't it? He promised to be lawful and right for all, and here he was. This was eating him from the inside out, and you almost felt sorry for him.

But if he wants to stay in the den, stay in the little pack who took him in no matter the methods, he has to follow the rules like a good dog. A good boy... just like his mother told him when he learned about this world. "You can say it an' not mean it?"

"Andrew--"

"Arron, we're 'n someone else's home askin' fer an apology fer something that-- the Omega had every right to hit 'im! An' ya know 'at!" Look at that... Andrew found his voice for the first time.

You look between him and the others, Bo stepping in front of you as if there was going to be blood shed. You closed your eyes as you gripped the back of Bo's shirt, letting out a low whine just for him to hear. You wanted this to be over and done with. Yo knew you'll be locked forever and never be left free. You'll be chained to the floor as punishment like by the Alpha before. The things your Alpha before did to you was enough to make Bo's stomach flip.

Bo's shoulder straightened. "Andrew," he said firmly. "Don't worry. I'll teach 'em a lesson on manners." Your heart shattered. But... but you were so good. He saw what happened! Shit, he could smell it from two miles away! "As fer you," he nodded at Dustin, "git off my lan' an' never look back."

Dustin rolled his eyes. "Then keep that thing on a leash."

Bo bit down hard on his teeth as he watched the officers leave. "Vincent," Bo said, his voice making you jump. "Go get y/n's bike off the car."

As Vincent past him, he stopped and looked between you and Bo, who gave a silent nod on not letting Dustin leave this town. He wanted him alive. Breathing. Just so he could take all of that away.

Andrew was the last to leave, his green eyes cast down at the wooden floors. "'M sorry, Bo."

"It'll be fine," Bo answered. He stayed firm but... "I hope ya fin' yer path, Andy."

Andrew swallowed the lump in his throat. "Thank you, Alpha." he closed the door behind him, leaving you and Bo alone.

The house never felt so silent until now, and you wait for him to start yelling, to call you careless and a disappointment, asking you if you knew better or not. You wait for the sting of a hand to cross your face like the Alpha before him did, and you flinched when he turned to face you. His shadow towered over you like raves over the dead, and you might as well be dead. You had a good run at being alive in this town. You've been running on barrow time in a town known for time limits. As you felt a hand lift your head, you didn't realize you were crying as you looked at your Alpha.

"Y/n?" It was just you and Bo... why do you feel like eyes are watching your next moves. "Sweetie-belle, did he push ya? Hurt ya?"

You found yourself nodding. "I-I was so scared, Bo," you didn't mean to sound so pathetic, cringing at your own voice. "I-I said no but he didn't--" You finally broke as you feel into his chest. His arms wrapped around you protectively, tight and warm. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, Bo--!"

"Shh, shh, darlin'," he whispered, rubbing your back in gentle circles. "Ya did good. You stood yer' ground an' fought back jus' how Vince and I taught ya." He kissed the crown of your head. "You did so well."

"But-but the tarts--"

"Those can wait another day, yeah?" He finished. He had you look up at him, a hand brushing the tears away. "Ya did so well with standing your ground." You never seen how warm a smile could be until you met Bo Sinclair. How safe and protected you were when he and Vincent are around. "'M so proud of you, y/n." He lowered his head and stole a gentle kiss from your lips, tasting faint cigarette and mint.

He searched your eyes, his ocean blue eyes mixing with a bright hazel nut and gold. He kissed you again, deepening it this time, holding you as if you were going to fade from his arms like dust if he ever let go. He should've been more careful with you, more protective and went with you. Seeing you hurt, knees scrapped and perfect skin damaged was enough to drive him, but to hear you apologize through tears as if it was your fault? Ambrose has seen blood shed before, but it'll see Hell cracking underneath the church floors after he's done with Dustin. Putting you on a leash? Where does this prick get off?

And I bet he ever ruined your favorite shirt, y/n, he thought bitterly to himself.

He pulls away from your lips and let you nuzzle into his neck. "I swear, darlin', you'll never see him again." His grip tights around you. "I swear to you."

#bo sinclair x y/n #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x gender neutral reader #bo sinclair x gn reader #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x y/n #vincent sinclair x gn reader #vincent sinclair x gender neutral reader #house of wax fanfic #house of wax 2005 #house of wax #house of wax (2005)#house of wax fanfiction #alpha!bo sinclair x reader #slasher x y/n #slasher x reader #slasher fanfiction #slasher au

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kerokreature · 7 months

Text

Kinktober Day 1: Predator/Prey

Okay I’m a bit late to this but here we go! Day one of Bo Sinclair Kinktober!

Content Warning!:

DubCon/NonCon Play, Chasing, Hunting, AFAB body, GN Pronouns, Bo being Bo, YN!Doesnt speak, Themes synonymous with genre

Enjoy~

Run Rabbit

Your heart was pounding in such a feverish rhythm it felt like it would hammer out of your chest. The quaint town of Ambrose had become a maze you couldn’t make sense of. You’d been down these streets before you knew you had and yet every building was blurring together. The town was dark, all of the lights off, the air chilled and damp from the recent Louisiana rain, it was so thick with cold humidity it was like breathing the fog itself.

Another right turn, and then a left, then a right- you were running in circles now. Every so often you could hear other footsteps, the hum of a tune, the lyrics, “Run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run…” in a low voice full of mirth and sweetened with a southern accent. You could feel eyes on you even when you knew he wasn’t there, or was he?

At your back? Beside you? Just around that corner?

You knew better then to hide, knew better then to stay still not that your parasympathetic response would let you. God why was the air so thick?

Your lungs were starting to burn when you saw him, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall of a building, watching you with that god damned smirk.

You were caught.

You turn on your heel but it doesn’t matter, it never would have mattered you were in his arms now, your vision blurry as he brought you to the ground stroking your cheek as he hushed you. You didn’t even know you were screaming, you couldn’t feel yourself fighting your twisted lover.

“Too late Rabbit, I got you.. shh-sh-shhhh I gotcha..” his lips were pressed to the shell of your ear and you could feel his breath.

Sweat stuck his hair to his forehead, he must have been running too, or maybe the night air was really that damp.

His hands pressed to your frame, holding you down as you let out shaky breaths into his shoulder. His laugh made your chest swell and your stomach flip, it wasn’t mirthful, it wasn’t merciful, Bo’s laugh was downright dangerous.

Fingers pressed under the hem of your sweat and humidity soaked sweater, you didn’t realize how cold you were until it felt like his hands were burning you. He wasn’t being gentle as raked his fingers over the soft flesh of your stomach, gliding up to your ribs. Goosebumps broke over your skin as he laughed again.

“Yeah you like that, don’t you Rabbit?” He asked, his voice heavy, his breathing starting to be too.

You could feel his member throbbing through his jeans, pressing to the plush of your thigh. God it was warm, throbbing, so unbearably close to your entrance.

His hands roamed your body hungrily, agonizing over your frame, his fingers trailing over each detail of your body.

He removed his hands only when he heard the sweet whimpers you let out, your mouth agape as you damn near mewled.

“You telling me it’s time to claim my prize?” He asked, hand Roaming downwards to go to his Jeans, removing his belt and giving you an opening.

You start to squirm again, trying to escape him, trying to get away before the predator could truly claim his prey.

The belt was around your wrists and an instant, restraining you with such force you could feel the welts forming. He let out a cruel chuckle, his eyes focused on your face again. He’d freed himself from the confines of his jeans successfully, his throbbing member bare against your clothed entrance, it ached for him.

He had you flipped over in an instant, your ass in the air. Bo balanced his knee on the belt, keeping your hands confined as he stripped you from your jeans. There was no hesitation, no moments tenderness as he dove into you, hilting inside until his cock was against your cervix. He let out a signature low groan, leaning down to press his lips to the back of your neck.

“Good rabbit..” he growled, low and rumbling, the sound filling all of you just as he did. He let out one more chuckle, giving a slight thrust before his teeth found the flesh of your neck, sinking in hard enough you could swear you were bleeding. The predator won, he had claimed his prey.

#house of wax fandom #slasher fandom #slasher community #house of wax #house of wax 2005 #bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #bo #house of wax headcanons #slasher headcanons #bo sinclair fanfiction #bo sinclair x gender neutral reader #bo sinclair x you #bo sinclair x female reader #kinktober 2023

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