#the way bo just pushes him outta the way

[its-wabby-stuff]

So everyone’s been punching back for @somerandomdudelmao post. If you know, you know, and if you don’t where have you been? And I saw one of the reblog’s today of Casey and Donnie and it got the cogs in my brain running. So here is a potentially possible outcome for the future:

———————

Here’s the thing. Casey knew the fight was over. They had won and the Krang weren’t here anymore. Of course, the entire event hadn’t come without its own consequences. Most of downtown New York had been destroyed. People had been injured and people had died. The government had stepped in to take care of most of the tragedy. And the event itself made international news.

But Casey didn’t care about most of that. He wasn’t even sure what most of it meant, just the ramblings he heard from the family as they recovered. They hadn’t left the lair since that day. They couldn’t afford too. The city was in a state of panic, and all of them had sustained injuries, the worst of which being Leonardo.

He had been asleep for days. It was vital for recovery, Casey knew, but the whole thing made him incredibly nervous. Casey felt like a little kid again, sitting on a chair with his knees up to his chest, just watching him. Donatello rarely left Leo’s side either. His own injuries meant he needed attention, and with Leo out, he had the best medical expertise on the machines they’d hooked him up too. Casey often asked questions, which Donnie was eager to answer. That much was the same.

Casey had long since changed out of his resistance garb, being offered a variety of clothes from each of the boys. He never let go of his mask though. That was much too important to him. Gifts and reminders from all the people he loved most.

He was alone today. With Leo. Donatello had entrusted him with enough information for any sort of emergency. But it meant he was allowed to think. He fiddled with the mask in his hands, tracing the markings he had painted on and the scratches it had received out on the field. He let his legs fall into a cross-cross as he slipped the mask onto his face and turned it on. Uncle Tello had left many tidbits of information, recordings and plans for an eventual future where we had won. Not even in his wild imaginations could he have imagined that future in the past. And now there were a million things Casey wanted answered that weren’t saved on his Uncles little device. He had a favorite file, however. One he’d rewatched a million times before.

“Is it working?” He watched Uncle Tello tilt up the camera. Behind him were all the people he loved: Sensei Leonardo, Master Michelangelo, robotic Uncle Raph, Commander O’Niel, and himself.

“It may be older than us, but it still works,” Uncle Tello replied.

“The little red light is blinking right?” Master Michelangelo flew over, looking at the camera upside down with amazement. Uncle Tello pushed him outta the way.

“Despite its primitive nature, it seems to be completely intact. Nothing askew. It’s quite impressive. Great find, Casey Jones.”

Sensei scooped up the kid and ruffled his hair.

“There’s not much storage space left on the card, so we better make it short and sweet. How about a picture? For my archives.” Everybody gathered close together as the timer started counting down. “Everybody say: Genius Built Apparel rules!!”

The video stopped there. Paused on a picture of all of them together. Casey couldn’t help but let out a couple tears, hidden by the mask. It might have been the apocalypse, but it was familiar and comforting, and here, they had all been happy.

“Am I interrupting something?”

“Unc- Donatello!” Casey looked over, his view still obstructed by the photo paused on his screen. “No, no everything is fine, I was just-“ he pulled his mask off and wiped away whatever remnants of tears he had before he looked up at the turtle who had just entered the room. He didn’t have any of his tech on, using his wooden Bo staff to assist his walking, and his bandages had been covered by the presence of an oversized purple hoodie. Casey stared at him, “reliving old memories. Un- Donnie, are you feeling alright?” Casey stood up, panic ever present on the boys face.

Donnie just gave a perplexing look in response. “Are you?”

“I-“ The Krang are gone, Casey. This isn’t like when Uncle Tello got sick. This isn’t the same. There’s no way the Krang would’ve- could’ve. They couldn’t have. How would they? Tears fell down Casey’s face as he sat back down.

Donnie regretted asking the second he had. He wasn’t any good with this sort of stuff and he had clearly been crying before and now he was crying again. There was something on his mind. “I’ll go get Mikey-“

Casey grabbed Donnie’s hand, and his immediate response was to pull away, but he suppressed the urge when he felt how clammy Casey’s hands were, and how they shook just a little. “Uncle Tello, you- you aren’t going to die, are you?”

Donnie had never heard Casey call him that before. And he said it softly, and nervously, not even looking him in the eyes.

“You think a quarrel with an alien species is enough to get rid of me?”

Casey didn’t say anything. In fact what Donnie said didn’t seem to help the situation any at all. And Donnie was starting to put all the little pieces together. Something had happened to him in the future. Something not good.

“Casey, did something happen to me in the future? Did-“ he wasn’t sure if he should ask it but his curiosity took ahold of him, “did I die?”

Casey lurched forward and wrapped his arms around Donnie. Which was a surprising response, but all he needed to know the answer was yes. Despite how quickly it had happened, Casey was incredibly gentle about it. His hands still shook a little as he rested his head into Donnie’s chest.

Honestly, Donnie was a little upset by all this new information. He hadn’t survived the apocalypse, and he had been close to Casey Jones, who had to witness his death. He couldn’t imagine how crazy this entire week had been for Casey. Donnie still wasn’t sure what exactly caused this reaction from him, but slowly, he leaned down, grabbing around Casey’s back and hugging tightly.

Casey let out a breath and hugged tighter, absolutely collapsing, shaking incredibly and crying into Donnie’s favorite purple hoodie. Keep it together, the hoodie can always be washed. For once, Donnie didn’t need to wonder what to do, because this felt like enough. And no words needed to be said.

Only in Casey’s wildest dreams was he able to hug Uncle Tello again. He knew Donnie was never a big fan of physical affection but he’d always seemed to make an exception for him. Old or young, and for a minute it didn’t matter that this wasn’t the Donnie he knew. It didn’t matter that they were now the same age, or that Casey was actually taller. Or how he could feel Donnie loosening and trying to end it. No matter how long this moment was, it would never be long enough.

———————

Ahahaha. I don’t even know. Thanks for reading. Likes and Reblogs appreciated!!

#I dunno I’m literally making this up as I go #wabbystuffpost #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise donnie #rise casey #Donatello #casey jones Jr #ptsd #I mean surely that would bring up some memories #I have a hard time knowing when and how to stop so sorry if it ends up rub you #abruptly #honestly because life doesn’t ever stop and there are always moments in between it’s super hard to stop writing sometimes #I know what happens before and after this #but I just wanted to capture one moment #Donnie went to get his hoodie because he was cold #and he also brought in some food for Casey which he couldn’t see and didn’t notice #rise of the tmnt #cass apocalyptic series #Leo saved Donnie from the physical affection when he woke up just after this #I could prolly draw this #but sometimes it’s easier to write

[small-sinclair]

Could you write Bo x insecure S/O (but like super duper extra fluffy). Idk why but Soft Bo is legit the best and not enough ppl write him like that.

Headcanons or dabbles - anything would be great, I trust that you know best. Anyways, thank you xoxo

Hewos! Hope you like vampires🩵

Bo x plus size fem!y/n

Contains: blood, biting, killing, she/her pronouns used, body shaming (not from Bo), not sure if I like the ending

Welcomed readers: @fluffy-little-demon, @sketchy-rosewitch, @lovely-cryptid

Bo POV:

Bo watched carefully as the new group in town moved through the streets. They were calling out for someone, but wax doesn’t talk back… it never has talked back unless you listen carefully. Still, Bo watched from the shadows in his black suit and tie, his fingers fidgeting with his father’s sun ring. He was busy thinking who was dead, who was art, and who was food.

Then Bo saw her in knee-high jean shorts, bright yellow t-shirt with cute butterflies on it, and a ball cap over her hair. The breeze carried her scent, and it sent shivers down his spine; he found her.

He found his wife.

Reader POV:

As soon as you and your friends entered the House of Wax, a smile crossed formed. Not was the air conditioner running at high to beat the heat, but there was a stair case made out of wax. The art was beautiful and bright, and it was paused in the 70s style.

“Y/n, wait!” You turned your head at Liza. “Look! It’s you!” She and her boyfriend started snickering as she pointed at a pig’s head on the table. “They knew you were coming!”

You hugged yourself as you shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah, funny, Liza.” You move farther into the museum and looked at the waxed bookcase. “All of this is made with wax,” you whispered to yourself.

“Bet you wished it was made outta chocolate!” Marty, Liza’s boyfriend, laughed, his friends joining you.

You bit back your tongue and kept looking at the art and pieces. Under you, the floor creaked and cracked.

“Hear that?” One of his friends whispered, making you pause. “Oh, it’s not an earthquake— it’s just y/n walking around!”

Guess we know what broke the camel’s back.

You spun on your heels and hurried towards the door to find that mechanic—

When you opened the door, you bumped into a strong chest and stumbled back. You looked up to see a man dressed all in black with smoothed back from grease, and you could smell smoke and oil over his clothing, but it had a old country boy feeling to it.

He was startled that you were running out as soon as he was about to lay out his words for you in sugar, that was until Liza shouted, “Look out for Rhino!” Then they laughed you out, pushing past him and took off to the car shop.

He looks between your run and at the group. As much as he wanted to rip out all of their throats with his teeth, he decided against it. Instead, he put his fingers in his mouth. His whistle echoed throughout the building, and it silenced the laughter. Their eyes looked at him as he loosened his tie and pulled down his cuffs. His ocean blue eyes shimmered as they faded to a burning fire red, eyes twitching in anger. How dare they say that about you…

His boots echoed as he walked into the room. He turns, closes the door, and locks it. “Vincent!” Bo snapped, jolting the group’s shoulders. He takes off his jacket and throws his tie. His red eyes burned brighter, a snarl leaving him as he watched the group coward away.

As soon as he saw Vincent, he felt his fangs showing. “Now, we don’ take kindly t’folks like yourself.” As he talked, his boots echoed as he walked towards the group. They looked like cowardly sheep by the way the moved closer together. Bo could’ve laughed at the way the bigger one was trying to protect Liza. “Be a shame, though. To waste good food lik’ yer-selfs.”

“You’re-you’re a—“

“Aw, sweetheart,” Bo hummed, his drawl heavy as he and his brother corner the group. “Vampires lik’ us are rare. So… consider you lucky to see us.”

Vincent placed a hand over the mouth of one three men and lifted his mask. Long, pearly fangs showed before his bit down hard on his neck. Bo smiled as their screams echoed.

Let the games begin.

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

You were crying in the church next to the waxed statues in the pews. You found out that they were bodies real fast, but you didn’t seem to care much as your cries echoed around the church. You didn’t know how long were you crying in a ball behind the casket. You heard the whispers and murmurs on the tape reply twice already.

Then you hear the door open and boots clicking towards the casket. “Darlin’?” The man called. “Darlin’? Ya in here?” He didn’t wait for you to answer as he rounds the coffin and finds you curled into your lap crying. He frowns and sits next to you. “Now, why is a beautiful creature like you cryin’?”

“I’m-I’m not beautiful,” you cried. “I’m fat and ugly and-and—“

“An’ t’right size to show some lovin’,” he interrupted, saying those words like it’s a fact.

“You’re just saying that to-to be nice,” you sniffled. “You don’t mean it.”

He chuckles and leans back on his mother’s coffin. “Nah, honey. Can’t lie in front of my mama.” You glanced at him, and your eyes grow wide as you saw his hands and neck covered in dried blood. “Mama didn’t raise a liar,” he drawls. “I swear to ya, honeybee,” he glanced at you and flashed you a smile. His white canine s longer than normal… but you weren’t afraid. “I think ya t’prettiest thin’ I’ve ever seen. Shit, ya put ol’ Ms. Ambrose to shame.”

You laughed at his comment and shook your head. “Bet you charm all the ladies.”

“Yeah, I do,” he answers, “but I reckon I found myself an angel righ’ here.”

You look at him up and down. “Are you… flirting?”

“Am I doin’ good?” He leans forward and looks up at the altar. “I hope ‘m doin’ good.” He looks around and sighs softly. “I bet you saw the people…”

“The waxed graves?” You wiped your eyes. “Yeah. But it doesn’t scare me. I just… just needed to cry. Besides,” you lowered your eyes, “I’m a rhino.” Then you rolled your eyes. “And a southern vampire is going to kill me.”

Bo shook his head and moved to be kneeling in front of you. He took both your hands and said, “Darlin’, what do you want?”

“What—?”

“What do I need to give ya?” Bo asked again. “The stars? Moon? Shit, ‘ll give ya my dead-beating heart! Anythin’ just to see ya smile.”

“How about your name?” You asked, feeling how sticky his hands were from blood.

“Bo,” he said, bringing up your hand and kissed it. “Bo Sinclair.”

“Y/n,” you said, smiling. “I’m y/n.” Then your smile fell. “You going to kill me now?”

He shakes his head. “Be a shame if I did.” He stands and offered you help. “Wanna take you home, sugar. Wanna show you off to every person an’ my brothers. You’re just so damn cute an’ beautiful.”

You looked at him and the blood on his chin. “Promise?”

“Cross my heart,” he whispered. You didn’t hesitate as you took his hand. “I’ll treat you so right everyday.”

“Everyday?”

Your hopeful eyes, your voice… Bo is falling apart for you so fast. “I swear to ya, y/n. Now, come on— Vince’s wanna t’meet ya.”

#bo sinclair #house of wax #house of wax 2005 #house of wax (2005) #house of wax fanfiction #bo sinclair x reader #house of wax fanfic #bo sinclair x you #bo sinclair x female reader #bo sinclair x y/n #house of wax x reader #house of wax x you #vampire!bo #vampire bo sinclair #vampire!bo sinclair #house of wax au #bo sinclair fluff #cliff answers #cliff answer

[ventiswampwater]

do you think Bo really fucking loves orange juice or was he just looking for quick sugars to counter the blood loss?? also why did he think to do that. does he think getting nailed with an arrow to the chest is the same as donating to the Red Cross?? does he know what the Red Cross is??? whose waffle is that?? how do u just leave a waffle in there?? I bet he cooked it once and it wasn't cooked enough. so he pushed it down again for another round and then it got burnt. and he looked at it and said "dadgummit not again" and left it there to be someone else's problem. and it was the last one and Vincent came upstairs and all the waffles were gone except that one. and he sighed and looked at it for a long time. and when he saw it again in the toaster while he's fixing his damn face and his dumbass sweaty brother is like "lulul god n mama n stuff" Vincent was like. I've never seen the ocean. I bet I could drive to the ocean in, what, four hours?? buy a box of waffles on the way home. this bitch is still talking. you know he talks to himself all the time. he does an Elvis impression in the mirror sometimes. it's not good. I'm gonna do it. I'm going to the ocean. motherfucker drank all the juice too. goddammit. I hate this fucking family. wish I was adopted like Lester. "there's two more." yeah I know. idiot. there were six. what have you been doing?? having sexy garage time?? christ you suck. how are we related. where's the guy with the crossbow I'd like to have a word. he needs to work on his aim. I'll put you in a headlock and let him practice. fuck you're sweaty you smell like ass. stay ten feet away from me please. yeah whatever I'll help you I guess. already been helping but it's fine, mr. never-leave-here-without-me. mr. mayor of wax town. I crush the seniors at bingo at the country club every Wednesday and you haven't even noticed I'm gone. too busy playing every single role in Our Town by yourself. moron.

JDSFHJFHSJHFSDJHFJHFJD MEG

BACKWASHING INTO THIS ORANGE JUICE!!!!

HEATHEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

when I watched this movie for the first time last year I entirely thought that man FULLY picked up a jug of lukewarm tang off the counter and just slurped it down. bc I missed the sound of him opening the fridge jsfhjhdsfjhdsf. and I was like GODDAMN THIS SET DESIGN IS OFF THE SHITS THIS IS REALLY HOW MEN BE LIVIN. HJFDSHJHFDSJ LUKEWARM TANG ON THE COUNTER

he's so stupid dumb delirious in that scene I've watched it 37874949328 times. just like. immediately deciding to YANK that shit through his arm hsdghgfsdhgfdhs. all of the blood that was channeled directly into his murder boner in the previous scenes has made him lightheaded and he is not THINKING CLEARLY hjdsjhfsjdhsd the fact that he doesn't think to snip it off. just PULLS that THANG straight through his stupid dumb idiot arm!!! the nerve damage!!! he is so sexy for that I love a dumbass man more than anything fr

VINCENT PONDERING THE LACK OF EGGO WAFFLES BC BO WAS TOO BUSY SEDUCING HIS TOOTHPASTE STAINS IN THE MIRROR TO NOT BURN THE LAST ONE JSDJDFHJFDS

sexy garage time is taking me out jhsdajhdsajhajsdhjdsh imagine all the years of vincent being responsible for the majority of the killcount bc bo goes oogabooga I want sum fuck on my silly goofy sex swing in my gas station jsdhjfdhsjfsdhj

vincent's turning wade into a wax sculpture and chopping dalton's head off and javelining a pole through paige's head and meanwhile. bo is blasting marilyn manson and having unsuccesful murderfuck preamble in his stupid basement jfdshjfhdsjhfdsj

BO JUST STINKING OF SWEAT AND VOMIT AND BLOOD and vincent tryin to maneuver himself away from him sdhjfdshjfdsh like bitch!!! I tried to check on ur fuckin injuries!! and u told me to GIT??? like I'm a dog???? and now ur sweaty diseased sickly self is leaning over me tryin 2 talk about how sexy u are and what god took away from me??? fuck outta here lmao

dsjhgfjdshjfdsh vincent playing bingo is so fuckin funny to me I'm cryin

#this is the magnum opus. these are divine words !!!! PPL!!! #hdfsjhfjhjfdshjdf this is sending me to the moon #the elvis impersonation jsdfhjhfdjhdfs thank yaaaa thank yaaaa very muuuuch #and it's just so horrendously bad and awful djshjdajsda #ilysm this ask is gonna be screen-printed on my cerebral cortex forever fr #sinclair brainrot hours

[shinozaki-ayumi]

whats ur opinion on the whole 'corpse party is just a never-ending constantly-remixing timeloop' thing? i personally appreciate it because it lets you view character developments not just between one game(and its sequels) but multiple versions of a game/manga.

take yoshiki for example, in the timeline from C-P -> Musume -> CPBCRF/BoS -> 2U -> BD and all its timeloops inbetween.

c-p yoshiki raises SO many red flags (for example the whole attempting to murder satoshi out of jealousy thing... in TWO separate endings) so to see him be... kind of the straight man now shows how The Incident, their experiences, and the loop melts and morphs them-- even though time isnt REALLY passing, theyre still growing and changing.

additionally its how i justify naomi and satoshi growing a bit softer and more timid (can you have PTSD if it hasnt happened yet? the answer is yes!!) and ayumi growing a bit more coarse (SHES SO SICK OF TIMELOOPS!!) yuka doesnt change lol she learns nothing ♡

idk sorry if this is outta nowhere or weird! but ive heard a bit about this theory and wanted to know ur opinions on it since i enjoy the way you interpret copa :}

Not weird at all I love talking about CoPa!!! :D

Long response so it's under the cut!

So I REALLY like this theory. I'm weirdly picky about how I interpret Corpse Party canon though, so for me, there's two versions of the story. One of them, and the one I tend to base my personal headcanons and general understanding of the characters on, is JUST the "correct" ending route of Blood Covered. That's the one I hold as the "real" story, I guess? I always liked how neat and tidy it wraps up, to the point that I don't even like to acknowledge the following events (aka Blood Drive lol). I think it works really well as a standalone, almost traditional ghost story (AKA appease the spirit and everything is ok, minus some Emotional Trauma).

BUT since Book of Shadows is a thing, time loops are baked into Corpse Party canon. So I have a second, alternative view of the series that functions similarly to what you described!! In which every wrong end in Blood Covered, all of 2U, and all of Book of Shadows actually happens, as a symptom of the time loop ending in chapter 5. I like to imagine that eventually, out of pure (subconscious) frustration, they push through it and only AFTER experiencing all the "wrong ends" do they get the "correct" ending and appease Sachiko, allowing them to move on to Blood Drive. They just don't know it on a conscious level lol. Granted this kind of breaks the rules set by the games (since Satoshi is aware of the time loop occurring in both Blood Covered and Book of Shadows), but uh...

What I hadn't really considered was adding in all the endings from Corpse-Party 98 and the mangas... While I think I still personally prefer limiting my personal "canon" to the PSP era onwards, I definitely think it makes sense to incorporate the entirety of the very extensive Corpse Party library!! CP98 in particular sticks out to me because I love a lot of the really dramatic endings in that game and I kind of wish they carried over to the PSP remake lol. And like you said, adding CP98 to the overall timeline really lends itself to interesting character development... Considering the ending in that game where Yoshiki disappears (or potentially kills himself?) after Ayumi dies to the anatomical model, my heart kind of aches at the thought that after seeing her die so many times over and over again he eventually becomes the ultra-protective version of him we see in the "canon" endings of Blood Covered and Blood Drive :')

So I think I may start at least incorporating the original game into my understanding of the time loop canon!

#but seriously guys it's never weird to ask me about corpse party #i could talk about it forever #headcanons and story interpretations and all that stuff is fair game :') #new tag: #emma talks about corpse party

[burning-fcols]

"You're not gettin' outta this angel, we're talkin' 'bout this whether you like it or not! Helpin' me with my heat was one thing, but if we're gonna keep doin' this shit, you gotta tell me what I can 'n can't do, no fucking bullshit. I find out you lied t' me, saying you liked somethin' when you don't just t' make me happy, we're fuckin' done with this, you got it?" //theeeyyy seem like the pair we need to get trauma out of the way pretty Quick lmao - ✧ ˖ ˙ 「 @ʜᴇʟʟꜱ-ꜰᴠʀʏ 」 ˙ ˖ ✧

「 ☆ 」 Frankly, Angel should have known something like this was coming. Since the start Husk has been a massive pain in his ass... and while now, Angel can understand that it comes from a place of surprising care, that doesn't make it any less of an issue. If anything, it's somehow WORSE because he has to watch his tongue around the other man. Terrified of saying something genuinely harmful that he can't take back. Lord knows he's already lashed out enough in confusion-stemmed fear panic... Yet, for some reason, Husk refused to relent. Like right now.

Stubbornly REFUSING to let Angel walk away from a conversation he'd rather not be having. Fur bristling as he bites back a growl, all four fists clench at his sides as he skids to a stop against his will. Were it anyone else lecturing him, the spider would be halfway down the street already. With a curse on his lips and a middle finger on his hand. But it's not... It's fucking Bo Husk, and damnit that means Angel actually feels obligated to listen. Doesn't mean he has to AGREE with anything, but it's hard to brush someone off when they've seen him at his most vulnerable.

Which is why he tries to keep others from SEEING that.

❝ Y'know, it seems like we do an awful lot'a talkin' 'bout things I'd ratha' not. ❞ Angel irritably retorts, spinning on his heel to face the feline. He knows why this is... and loathe as he is to admit, it HAS helped. Being pushed to face things he's been running from for decades is the best and worst thing Husk has done for him. The asshole. ❝ What? You expect me ta make ya a fuckin' list? Want me ta go through ev'ry fuckin' kink there is? Do you even KNOW how much horny shit there is you could do ta me? ❞ Angel does... and that's the issue. He's never had to consider his own opinions when it came to what happens to him. Never let himself mull through it all; think TOO intently on what he does and doesn't like. Instead, his focus was on finding something decent in it... or blocking out what he couldn't sugar-coat.

It's not like it would matter whether he didn't want something. So why go through the trouble of knowing JUST how much he hates what's happening.

❝ Fer fuck's sake, Husk— Isn' this what safe words are fer? Jus' do whateva' you feel like doin' an' if it's a problem, I'll TELL YOU. ❞ Unlike the venom Angel would have spat at the bartender before things became... complicated, he sounds more exasperated ( and desperate for the conversation to end ) . ❝ 'Sides, you ain't gonna come up wit' anythin' that hasn' already been done ta me. So stop fuckin' overthinkin' this an' just DROP IT. ❞ 「 ☆ 」

#hari don't look #burning-fcols #⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀɴᴛʀᴀ; ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴍʏ ʟɪꜰᴇ ❞ ¦ 「 Angel Dust IC 」 #⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ᴍʏ ꜱᴏᴜʟ ᴛᴏ ʙᴜʀɴ; ᴀɴᴅ ɪ'ʟʟ ʙᴇ ʙʀᴇᴀᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪᴛ ɪɴ ❞ ◌ ᴍᴀɪɴ ¦ 「 Angel Dust 」 #hells-fvry #⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪꜱᴇ ᴏʟᴅ ʙᴀʀᴛᴇɴᴅᴇʀ ❞ ¦ 「 Husk 」 #♡ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ᴀᴛ ʟᴇᴀꜱᴛ ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪ’ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ; ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴀ ʟᴏꜱᴇʀ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ ❞ ¦ 「 Angel Dust and Husk 」 #⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ꜱᴏ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪꜰ ɪ ᴍɪꜱʙᴇʜᴀᴠᴇ? ɪᴛ’ꜱ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏʙᴏᴅʏ ᴄʀᴀᴠᴇꜱ ❞ ¦ 「 Answer 」 #⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ꜱᴏᴍᴇʙᴏᴅʏ ɢᴏɴᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴡᴀɪᴛ ᴛᴏᴏ ʟᴏɴɢ— ❞ ¦ 「 Queue 」

[ricky-croissant]

🥁- 🥁 - 🥁 - 🥁 - 🥁 🥁 🥁 🥁 📯- 📯 - 📯 - 📯 This is -wavy news, I’m bert thee tertle. The small Ape tells us what’s next in the president’s dump.

Ur mum’sabitch, you bastard! President Dump and his purp lawyer Rudy Poopy Poopliani Pumped Joe-Biden’s erection. President pump personally pushed for probes of political opponents, including Joe Bo ᗺ McDemocrat, th-at’s all ho-mies. Washington.

Republicrackers are mounting President Dump while insisting nothing’s wrong.

Republicans say that the Trump presidency is a complete charade, that the last election -is simply invalid, getim outta office, and democrats are just bored, and grasping atPenis to make Shit happen-... That is poor repoorting.

An American siseh-bah uh-uh bahduh consiʂ duh consiƧiƧ conduh-bah uh bar ɿɒd duh combarah sis of of turkey. Hummus has more.

The man is noɯɐu. The man is a-turkey. Greecey and hair-ey. SogroƧ. President Dump tried to Pork him, but the turkey refused entry. I’m Bent-

And this is wavy news. Godzilla fired a barrage of turkeys into the country music association awards on Thursday, killing dozens of awards. Sgt. Music-allotta has more.

LEFREƎЯꟻLE REE ƎЯ Я Я MOM- The C.R.A.P. started with a medley of allstar country shit and setup the evening for girl-power, but males took all the awards [ :( ] Girth Brooks took the female entertainer of the year award for the -umpth time. Luubed Co-cks took won the female vocalist award, and mus-ty grapes took the best award-award, and Ashley McNews took best New-dist. McNews recalled once playing a chip chow for joj-Prine, who complimented her cock. “The next day he shook my g-ay” *Woo!* “And he said Eureka, you’re no good” *Laughter*.

Turkey’s fired a barrage of salami rockets into music groups on Thursday, after shitty music killed dozens of people. Royal-Doyal has salami and turkey. Nom nom nom.

Militant rock groups, Salami-Jihad, killed Nickle-back on Thursday. Calming the worst rock in months. That is Royal-ing.

Turkey’s built barricades and stockpiled makeshift weapons, setting the stage for salami showdowns. Sabrina shat her clothes.

I was woken yesterday at d-icks thirty by the lunch alarm like for 8 minutes str8, and then like at lunchtime we had an emergency lunch with the lunch president and he basically made the lunch way more severe than we realized?

China’s global times announced big honking titties- collapsed... Our nuclear turkey has taken important steps to landing its first countrymusicspacecraft on Mars. Garth brooks reports.

Space success! Space applause met the completion of the Spacelander test on  Space day. Its Space journey to Mars should take about 7 Space minutes. It’s a powerful Space rocket called Space Launch 5 to transport the  Space probe through  Space. It’s off to the Moon first to bring back some Space rocks. It’s the third Space man in Space with it’s own Space Rocket.

That is Roiters Loser, and in Hell, I’m spurting-jizz. Wavy news... 📯- 📯 - 📯 - 📯 - 📯- 📯 - 📯 📯- 📯 - 📯 - 📯 -*toot*

#ytp #noisepuppet

[smexy-slashers]

might I humbly request

my lovely Bo with an afab reader who sees him kill someone or just runs into him when he's covered in blood, and he slams her into a wall, about to choke her - but instead of fighting she moans and gets all flustered

and he's like "interesting" and decides to... explore this new situation (some smut pls? maybe dubcon?)

I can't stop thinking about him I love him so much 😭

Choke

Bo Sinclair x Reader (smut)

Warning!: Contains Smut/Dub-con/choking

You had been wandering, searching for Bo, who had dissapeared on you half an hour ago, much to your confusion. You and your so called friend's car broke down just outside a seemingly abandoned town called Ambrose, so, you decided to venture forward in an attempt to find help. You had discovered Bo, and he assured you that he was a mechanic capable of assisting you, which brought you immense relief. However, now he was nowhere to be found, and neither was your 'friend'.

You didn't particularly like them, as they left you at any chance they got and treated you like dirt, but you were a good enough person to begin your search.

It was dark out now, the town lit up with street lamps and the only sound being your breathing and the occasional chirp of a bird, which was strange in itself considering most wildlife in the area was not nocturnal. You sighed, the gas station coming back into view, and, just when you were about to give up your looking and head back to the car, your friend burst through the front doors of the station, seeming panicked and terrified. Upon seeing them, you froze, taking in the blood that drenched their shirt and the limp in their sprint.

When you opened your mouth to call them, a gunshot fired, and they dropped to the ground with a pained gurgle, blood splattering against the concrete. Staring in horror, you didn't even register the owner of the gun until he kicked them in the back of the skull with an angered grunt, clenching his fists around the barrel.

It was Bo. The man who promised to fix your car and send you on your merry way, the man who you found remotely attractive, had just shot and quite possibly killed your friend, and the thought alone caused you to release a terrfied sob, making Bo snap his head up to glare in your direction.

The second he saw you, you knew it was over, barely having time to relax as he charged forward and shoved you against the alley way brick wall, vision becoming slightly blurry due to the fact that he had hit your head from the force of his touch.

"Nosey fuckin' bitch, can't keep yer fuckin' ass outta of our business, can ya?"

He growled, yanking your head back by your hair, a pained whimper passing your lips. His gaze was predatory, and you knew that there was no possible way you were going to survive this encounter from the way he was gripping you.

"Y'know, was considerin' keepin' ya, fuckin' slut, but now I gotta shut yer whore mouth"

He wrapped his large hand around your throat, and squeezed, pushing you against the bricks hard with the intention of murder. He was trying to kill you, you could tell this from the way his fingertips pressed painfully into your skin, but despite this knowledge, you felt a shamefull rush of heat form in your stomach, and you couldn't help but let out a small, choked moan at the feeling of him strangling you.

It was embarrassing, and completely mortifying, but, looking back on it, your enjoyment for his actions saved your life. Bo froze at your sound, his glare disappearing momentarily, confusion crossing his face, before his tight frown faded into a smirk, eyes glazing over in obvious lust, squeezing your neck harder.

"Ya like this shit, sugar?"

His question was rhetorical, burying his face in your hair and inhaling your intoxicating scent as you felt darkness swarm your vision, hands clutching at his arm. He evaluated you for a moment, eyes raking over your smaller form, before he seemed to make his mind up.

"Got another way to shut that pretty mouth of yer's sugar."

He mumbled, releasing you and allowing you to collapse against the wall, gasping for breath, fingers grazing where his hand had been, wincing at the pain. That was going to bruise.

Instead of killing you, like you assumed he would, Bo, placed a hand at your throat once more, only this time he merely held you in place, spare hand travelling up your shirt to squeeze one of your breasts, agressively thumbing the nipple, watching in amusement as you squirmed under his touch, firmly held in place as rubbed and caressed your hips before travelling down into the depths of your shorts, fingers brushing against your clothed clit, which gave a weak throb at his minstrations.

"Fuckin' soaked.."

He muttered, yanking your underwear aside and rubbing you properly, the lack of fabric in the way filling you with immense relief as you bucked yourself into his hand. Bo was obviously enjoying it as much as you were, which was telling from the way he was grinding against your inner thigh, breathy grunts leaving him as he assaulted your mouth in a hungry kiss, hand still firm around your throat. You should have struggled, or at least shown some resistance, but it felt too damn good, and you didn't want him to stop.

When Bo deemed you prepared enough, he abruptly shoved his thick fingers inside of you, catching you off guard and causing you to let out a particularly loud moan when he began to thrust them in and out, the sounds alone making you squirm.

"Good pretty girl"

He grunted, fucking you faster, your wetness soaking his hand, which he noted with a pleased groan when he tugged down your shorts to give him more room to move.

"Look at that, drippin' all over. Ya close Sugar?"

You were, so unbelievably so that it hurt, and you conveyed this to Bo with a frantic nod, whining pathetically. He smirked, choking you harder than before, causing your vision to blur and your eyes to roll back.

"Fuckin' cum then, slut."

You did, sobbing as you clenched around his fingers and released all over him, the remnants coating your thighs, which were trembling from the mere force of your orgasm. Bo shushed you, allowing you a chance to breath properly as he yanked your underwear down to your ankles, exposing you to him. He began unbuckling his belt, freeing his fully erect cock from its tight confines, stroking it furiously as he stared down at you.

"Fuckin' sexy bitch, got me so fuckin' hard. Who does this fuckin' pussy belong to, huh?"

You rubbed your sticky thighs together at his words, squirming under his heated, predatory gaze. He had a way of commanding you to speak without saying a single thing.

"Yours- It's yours Bo"

You gasped, as the moment those words left your mouth, Bo had slammed you back into the wall by your throat, and completely rammed his cock inside of you, bottoming out. You cried out, not in pain, but in pure relief, nearly collapsing when he began to thrust himself in and out of you at an unrelenting pace, anger and lust mixing his expression.

You arched yourself into him, the only thing you being able to do to support yourself was grip the arm that was choking you, watching as something soft passed across his face, something different.

"Feel so fuckin' good Sugar-Ngh shit!"

He leaned forward and tenderly pecked your lips a few times before trailing them down your jaw to a particular spot on your neck. He bit down without hesitation, as if marking you up, and you let out a louder moan at the pain it caused.

"Fuck sugar-hngh- ya feel so fuckin' perfect"

He fucked into you harder, the tip of his cock hitting a certain spot inside of you that made you throw your head back and see stars, and , when Bo realised this, he continued to batter this spot, over and over.

"Nghh-Ahh! B-o!"

A growl reverberated in his throat at the sound of his name coming from your lips, sounding so desperate. It made his cock impossibley harder, which you didn't think was possible, and you could tell by the way his thrusts became sloppy that he wasn't going to last much longer, and, neither would you.

"Ngh- Gonna fuckin' cum-gonna fill ya up baby. Ya want that? Ya-shit!-Ya want me to fill Ya up?"

You nodded frantically, wanting anything he would give you in this moment with manic desperation, any past event in your mind fuzzy and forgotten from pleasure.

"Cum then, be a good fuckin' girl and cum. Make a mess of this fuckin' cock baby-Fuck!"

His words, combined with the way he gripped your throat, had you falling off the edge, squirting all over his cock with one final scream of his name. Bo faltered at your release, grunts becoming breathy moans, hammering into you one, two, three more times until he was done, spurts of cum painting your walls white, and dripping down your thighs in places that escaped.

Bo was still, cock remaining inside of you, panting heavily as he finally removed his hand from your throat, leaning forward to tenderly kiss your forehead, which caught you off guard, due to how rough he had been.

"Good girl...maybe I am gonna fuckin' keep ya afterall.."

That prospect was less frightening than it had sounded before, especially if it meant doing things like that more often.

~~~~~~~

I hope this is okay!

#slashers #bo sinclair #slasher smut

[creepswrites]

Tired of Running Ch 2 (Sinclairs x Reader)

Chapter 2 is finally here! I hope it was worth the wait! As always, feedback is super appreciated ^^ Getting some backstory as well as some tension building <33

Sinclair Brothers x AFAB!Reader (they/them)

Summary: “Listen, I ain’t tryin’a poke my nose in your business but I do know the House of Wax ain't been visited in awhile. It’s got cribs inside, storage reasons. Maybe they’re camping in there.” That seemed to grab attention, two of the five breaking off to investigate the house. Perfect, Bo thought to himself with a smirk, Vincent will be waiting for them. Warning: violence, graphic death(s), flashbacks of death(s)

CH. 1 || CH. 3

Vincent slammed the door of the car as he stormed up to the front of the house, ignoring Bo's weak insults as he pushed into the house. "Vince, it ain't my fault Mama's sick! What, you want her to just waste away and die?!"

Vincent spun on his heel and glared at Bo as he signed. "You KNOW how important college is to me! Was! Mama wanted me to be successful, I shouldn't have let you pull me back!"

Bo glared at his twin. "I didn't want ya back either, y'know! But I'm the only one providin' for this fuckin' family and her medical bills are pilin' up Vince! The money Pa got you for school could be used to HELP her! Y'know, the only woman who ever fucking loved you-!"

Bo was cut off by Vincent's fist cracking his jaw with a harsh punch. His twin kneed him in the stomach and he went down, helpless to Vincent sitting on his chest and wailing on his face in anger. Years of anger and hatred poured out into his actions and Bo could barely do anything to stop him. Even if he told Mama, she'd never believe him. Her little angel Vinny hitting Bo?! Surely not.

Bo had always been the "evil" twin, after all.

By the time his anger ran dry, so had the blood caking Bo's face and Vincent's knuckles. They were both breathing heavily as Vincent stood up and made his way to the kitchen sink to wash off the blood. He pointedly did not look at Bo as he scrubbed his hands so violently they started bleeding with newfound vigor. Wrapping his hand had been a trouble and the fresh, red blood quickly stained the wraps.

"Fuck you hit fuckin' hard..." Bo grumbled from his spot on the floor. "Gonna be hard to explain to Mama what happened..."

"She can't even talk anymore," Vince signed aggressively, "doubt she's gonna use her dying breath to ask who broke your face. Maybe she'll think you're handsome this way."

The mechanic glared at Vincent. "Guess you'd be the expert in the field of broken faces, huh?"

Vincent turned around, ready to break all the teeth in Bo's mouth before they heard their mother start screaming again. Morphine must've run out. After a heated staring match, Vincent finally relented and stormed upstairs to let Bo lick his wounds.

Pushing open the door to their mother's room was as horrible as Vincent remembered it. Trudy Sinclair used to be a phenomenal artist, a great creator. And now here she was, limited to tubes and wires that kept her from immediately keeling over. The smell of ozone and medicine burned his nose and Vincent was momentarily grateful the mask hid his face of disgust from their mother. Surveying her many monitors, Trudy's eyes could only watch her son's bloodied hand change her bags out to get a fresh dose of morphine coursing through her veins.

Vincent wondered if she'd ask him to put her out of her misery if she could still speak. Damn their father for dying before he could fix her vocal cords. Though maybe it's better she can't speak, he thought, as he watched her empty eyes stare vacantly at his bandaged hand.

...

“Vince?” Bo’s voice snapped Vincent from his thoughts as he reached for the twin knives in front of him and winced. Keeping his back to Bo, he just gave a curt nod. Ready to go. “Alright,” Bo sighed, “you’ll need to sneak up on em while Lester gets the front. If I can’t talk em outta here, we kill each and every motherfucker out there.”

Vincent nodded in agreement before hearing his twins footsteps return upstairs. Looking down at the knives in his hands, Vincent wondered if things would have been different had he stayed at college. Or if their fate was this: fulfilling their dead mother's final wishes.

...

Their mothers funeral had been beautiful. Her open casket funeral had the whole town of Ambrose visiting, lamenting the loss of their talented artist. Vincent spent the day squeezing Lester's hand while he cried, fresh out of high school and still their baby brother. Bo greeted people and was a sociable host. Vincent had only been back in town for two months before their mother passed and a part of him was relieved to be here for Lester. Neither he or Bo were bad brothers to Lester but he knew Bo wouldn't be there for their little brother's emotional needs. Losing both their father and now mother over the span of three years hit them all pretty hard.

He still resented Bo for dragging him home.

Staring at the open casket after everyone had gone home, the twins didn't say anything for a long time. Bo looked nice in his fitted, all black suit. So did Vincent, although he'd taken the jacket off ages ago. It wasn't long before Bo spoke up, "Y'know, Mama said she'd wanted to make a whole damn museum outta this place." Vincent turned silently to his twin who gave him a quick glance. "Said since Ambrose was becomin' a dead town, she wanted to make a Town of Wax to expand her art. Least, until she got sick."

"Your point?" Vincent signed.

Bo turned to him properly this time. "Let's give her what she wanted, yeah? Least we can do for her. She taught you what she knows, at least you'll get to do art again!" He smiled at Vincent as though he'd come up with something great. "Think about it Vinny: The Town of Wax! Just like Mama wanted! We can make her proud-!"

Vincent shook his head quickly. "She never taught me to make full statues like she could! I'd need a base of some sorts in order to make it work. Otherwise it'll just be too much wax. Hollow figures are harder for me." His signing was slow, so Bo could keep up. True, while their mother did hope for Vincent to one day take over her art, their lessons had been cut short when she fell ill. Vincent preferred painting over sculpting, but Bo had a point. Fulfilling their mothers wishes would be nice.

His schedule was free anyways, thanks to Bo. May as well make him deal with that.

"Shit, you're right," Bo hummed as he crossed his arms over his chest in thought, "well, maybe there's a base or somethin' you can use? Somethin' human-like that would get ya the right proportions..." He trailed off as his eyes fell on the casket.

Vincent followed his brothers eyes to their deceased mother, arms crossed over her chest with a scorpion clenched between her hands. Bo spoke up, his words mirroring Vincent's internal thoughts. "I bet we got a good base sittin' right here..."

Lester was scrambling to get things set up for you and the kids upstairs. Grabbing a box of cereal, some granola bars, water bottles, anything he could find that would keep outside a fridge. He hoped it wouldn’t take too long but with the early hours of the morning creeping in, he wasn’t going to leave you stranded without food and water. With the food placed in an old milk crate, Lester hauled it upstairs to your guest room. Opening the door with a soft creek, Lester took in the sight of you asleep on the bed, completely relaxed and oblivious.

The soft sounds of a running wave machine would be the only real barrier between you and the gunshots that were bound to be heard.

Lester set the crate by the closet, clearly in sight, and stepped towards you. The only light in the room was that old blue nightlight Bo had gotten Lester when they were kids, shaped like a shark, and one of Lester’s favorite possessions. He smiled down at you before reaching to his belt and unfastening the holder there. He lay his knife on the bedside table close by you. If anything horrible did happen, he wanted you safe. The scruffy man rubbed the back of his neck anxiously, watching you for just a moment more before turning his attention to the sleeping twins.

Michael and Peter hadn’t so much as stirred and Lester just had to hope this wouldn’t damage them too much. He remembered being barely nineteen when Bo and Vincent first started this project and how horribly it messed him up then. At least he could rest easy knowing you and the boys were as protected by him as you could be. Making sure to stay quiet, Lester closed the bedroom door and locked it, hiding the key in Vincent’s room, in his pillowcase. It would be safe and so would you be.

Grabbing his shotgun with a resigned expression, Lester made his way downstairs, saying a silent prayer that you and the kids would be spared from this.

...

The day their dad disappeared had mostly been a lot of screaming, in Lester's memory. He'd only been about sixteen at the time and Bo and Vince had just turned twenty-one. Mama's condition had been getting worse and worse, her pain so terrible she couldn't even move from bed anymore. Lester didn't mind it so much anymore. He was so busy with school nowadays it didn't even cross his mind. Going upstairs to speak with Mama just became part of the new schedule and he expected to see her downstairs less and less. Vincent took over for making dinner and Bo got a job down at the gas station to help pay for her medical bills.

They weren't hurting for money but Lester felt like he had to do something! So he got a part time gig cleaning roadkill on weekends to pitch in. Vincent was so busy getting ready for college in between taking care of their mother anyways that he didn't want his brother worrying.

Waking up to their dad missing had been new though. They got the whole town searching for him, Bo driving around in his truck while Lester searched on foot with Vincent. About an hour in, Bo showed back up at the house. He'd found him. So the three brothers piled into the car and drove off to some clearing nearby. Only a mile or two from Ambrose. Lester spotted his car and he and Vincent were out of their seats before Bo even turned the car off.

Their father stood in the center of the field, one of his pistols that he usually kept behind glass clenched tight in his fist.

Lester himself couldn't remember much after the fact. Bo and their Pa got in a screaming match again, typical, whilst Vincent kept Lester from seeing much. The elder Sinclair clutched his sixteen year old brother to his chest, forcing Lester's face into the front of his sweater with a harsh hand. Lester had protested, wanting to go see their Pa and ask if he was okay. He couldn't see Vincent's signs, if he had been signing anything, but his grunts were good enough indicator as any.

Don't look.

A loud gunshot had been more deafening than any screams the brothers let out as their father fell limp in the field, gun falling from his hand. Lester's ears were ringing, drowning out Bo's screaming, but Vincent held him tight to make sure he didn't see. But the smell of iron couldn't be disguised.

...

Lester stood in front of the grave clutching the antler of a deer. Blinking back tears, he let out a shakey breath. "Hey Pa," his voice nearly a whisper when he finally did speak, "talked with Bo 'n Vince today. They, uh, told me about what growin' up with you was like. How you used to strap Bo to a chair to make him eat." Lester swallowed hard, knuckles whitening around the antler. His hands shook. "Used to look up to ya, y'know? Vincent always had Mama and I know ya didn't like Bo much so... tried to be your lil guy but..." Wiping the falling tears, Lester choked on a sob. "Damnit why'd you have to hurt Bo like that?! Thought he got the scars from a fight, he used to tell me that! I'd say 'Bo, where'd ya get those nasty scars?' and he'd tell me it was from the one fight he never lost!"

Lester threw the antler at the gravestone, glaring through his tears.

His father didn't speak back and Lester let himself be seated cross-legged in front of the stone. A rock he'd come to hate so much.

"I guess he was right though. Never let him win, did ya?" He sniffed. "Even at the very end when he was beggin' ya not to do it... Been a year since that night and still I... I wish you'd loved me as much as I had loved you." He choked out, grabbing the antler and digging it into the hard soil that covered the grave.

"Wish you hadn't done what you did. I know carin' for Mama was hard and you... you knew she was gettin' worse but..." The boy wiped his face again. "Why weren't we enough to stay for?"

His father said nothing, paid Lester no mind. Just like always.

Lester came downstairs and joined Bo and Vincent who now stood lingering by the door. "Here's the plan," Bo started, "Vince, you'll go out the back and head to the House of Wax. Lester, you go after him but head round the side of the house. Stay hidden. When I give the signal, shoot anyone you can see. Leave him though, I'll deal with him." Lester gave his brother a quick nod, knowing exactly who he meant.

"Once they're all down, we'll need to move quick." Vincent signed. "They outnumber us so try to split them up." He said mostly to Bo who gave a nod.

"I'll go try 'n divert their attention. You two get goin'." Bo hummed before attaching the holsters for his knives to the insides of the pockets of his jumpsuit. Out of sight, unlikely to be seen in the dim light of Ambrose's streetlights. With a slow breath, Bo pushed the front door open as soon as he heard his brothers go out the back door.

Looking over at the approaching man, your partner gave him a strange look. "Hey man," he called over, "you seen anyone travelling with some kids?"

Bo gave a curt nod to your partner, a fake grin plastered on his face. “Sorry, ain’t seen anyone round here till you showed up. Maybe someone picked em up?”

“Listen man, y’all are the only folks around for miles. Surely you saw them at some point!” They insisted, two of their posse coming over to flank them.

Bo gave a sympathetic look and shook his head. “‘fraid not. Though I do know the town a few miles north has a hotel. Might'a called for a pickup.”

Your partner seemed to think this over before gesturing to a few of his buddies to load into one of the cars and check it out. With three of the eight guys going, that just left five. Manageable. As one of the trucks pulled out, Bo glanced at the House of Wax not far from where they were. “Listen, I ain’t tryin’a poke my nose in your business but I do know the House of Wax ain't been visited in awhile. It’s got cribs inside, storage reasons. Maybe they’re camping in there.”

That seemed to grab attention, two of the five breaking off to investigate the house. Perfect, Bo thought to himself with a smirk,

Vincent will be waiting for them.

With Lester sneaking around the side, it would be almost effortless to take out the remaining three. Your partner included. So, Bo gave the signal by stepping forward and putting his hand on your partners shoulder with a sympathetic look. “Only wish there was more I could do.”

Gunfire. Lester took a shot from behind the cars and your partner and his remaining buddy whipped their heads around to look just in time for Lester to shoot the friend and gave Bo enough time to knock your partner unconscious. Popping his head up from behind the cars, he grinned at Bo. "Gottem!"

Bo exhaled through his nose. "Yeah, ya did. C'mon, gotta move these fuckers before the others come back."

Lester nodded as he grabbed one of the bodies to help Bo move them. "Ya think Vinny is having as fun a time as we are?" The question was mostly sarcastic. Vincent enjoyed this part of the job way more than any of them. Lester chose to not think too hard about why that may be.

A shrill scream echoing from the House of Wax was as good an answer as any.

Vincent, of course, had killed one of two people sent to the House of Wax. Blood covered his boots as he chased after the last one, a woman, who was shrieking and running to try and escape him. Before she could even get out the door, he was upon her, knocking her to the ground and raising his knives over his head, stabbing down into her neck and killing her almost instantly.

He tilted his head as he watched blood pour from her neck and the life leave her eyes. Gripping the two bodies he'd accumulated, Vincent dragged them out and over to the entrance to the basement. Adding more ways in and out of his workshop had technically been Bo's idea. Vincent needed ways to move about the town without being seen and adding an entrance by the House of Wax simply made sense. Dragging the dead bodies down the stairs into his workroom, he sighed with relief. The sounds of gunshots had confirmed his suspicions that most of the group had to have been dead.

Lester didn't miss.

You sat awake with a harsh jolt at the sounds of gunfire. But, as you looked around your dark room, you figured it was just a dream. Sleep deprived and nervous, of course you'd have weird dreams. Still, you took a moment to just listen carefully. You sat up in bed slowly and looked around.

The boys were still asleep and you slung your legs over the side of the bed and padded towards their carseats slowly. Letting out a shaking exhale, you knelt beside them and watched them, watched the shadows darken their faces and the nightlight cast blue light on their cheeks. You leant forward to press gentle kisses to their foreheads before leaning back and looking around the room.

The room itself looked the same as you'd left it. It was difficult to notice anything off about it but the sight of a knife on the bedside table caught your attention. You stood slowly and approached it cautiously, like it was a startled animal.

You recognized it as Lester's knife immediately.

Unsheathing it from its holster, you flinched at the blood on it. You whispered reminders to yourself that Lester worked with roadkill, of course his knife would be bloody. It still made you shudder.

You heard the front door open and heard voices. Sheathing the knife, you made your way to the door to the bedroom and squinted your eyes when you found it locked. Jiggling the doorknob and knocking on the door didn't help so you called out to the men.

After a few moments, the knob jiggled again and Lester opened the door with a sheepish grin. "Ah, sorry, we were headin' out and we just locked it so ya didn't rob us." He rubbed the back of his neck and wouldn't meet your eyes.

You shot him a raised eyebrow. "Rob you of what exactly?"

Watching Lester's face, you admired the way the yellow light of the hall lamps warped his face. He seemed to ponder something for a moment before shrugging. "Money, things like that. Our mama used to have a lot of jewelry."

Tilting your head, you didn't believe that. Sure, he likely was telling the truth, but something about the way he was standing and avoiding meeting your eyes made you nervous. You could tell he was hiding something but you weren't sure what. "You left your knife here."

Perking up, Lester looked at you before looking around the room. "I did? Shit, sorry, must've been when I came to check on ya before we went out."

You squinted your eyes. "What did you even leave to get?"

"Lester!" You heard Bo call from downstairs, "You helping me and Vince with these or what?!" Lester glanced in the direction of the stairs and motioned for you to follow him. You did so hesitantly and your eyes widened as you looked down the stairs.

Bo and Vincent had hauled two, slightly dirty but useable, cribs. Bo was smirking up at you as Lester made his way down the stairs. "They're in need of a wash," Bo huffed, "but we figured you and the boys could use em while you're here! Had to get em outta storage, sorry we took so long."

You felt your nerves relax and you smiled. "Not an issue! Lester told me about the door thing."

Bo gave you a sympathetic smile as Vincent and Lester grabbed one of the cribs and hauled it out back. "Yeah, sorry. In towns like this, strangers can be a bit... Well, they can have people on edge. Vince was worried about leaving someone we didn't know in the house. Hope you can understand."

You nodded and came down the stairs, careful to shut the bedroom door behind you this time. "Makes sense! It's alright, I'm grateful for what you guys have done for Michael and Peter."

"Ain't no problem!" Lester called to you as he and Vincent came back inside. "Happy to help!"

Bo rolled his eyes at his brother and you snorted. As Lester came closer to grab the other crib with Vincent, you leant up and kissed his cheek in a playful manner. "Well, thanks for your help Lester." You teased before heading to the back door to see the cribs, completely unaware of the dizzy look Lester gave you or the jealous looks his brothers gave him.

The grass in the backyard was damp still so you didn't tread too far into it. The paved walkway that led to the back door was rough on your bare feet as you crept towards the old crib. It seemed decent condition, like the Sinclairs had said, just needed new mattresses and a wash. You wondered if it was really worth all the effort they were going to for you, considering Bo would be helping you fix your car up.

Abruptly aware of how late it was, you turned your head over as Vincent and Bo carried out the second crib. "Have you all gone to bed?" Vincent looked up at you as Bo situated the crib, both of them sharing a glance before looking at you.

"Nah, not yet?" Bo tilted his head as you grabbed both their arms and dragged them into the house.

"You have any idea how late it is?!" You scolded them, pushing the two men into the house and shutting the door as you followed them inside. "The cribs'll still be there in the morning! All three of you need to go to bed now!"

Getting the two of them upstairs was harder work than you thought, like herding cats. Vincent kept signing something about work, according to Lester's translations, while Bo was lying about not being tired yet. Still, you pushed them both into their rooms and threatened to lock them in there if they left. Lester was laughing hysterically through it all, ignoring the death glares from his older brothers.

As you shut the door behind Bo, despite his protests, you turned on Lester who held his hands up placatingly. "I'm gonna sleep, don't worry," he grinned at you. "Got a neat setup downstairs on the couch so if those two wake up I can come get ya." You shot him a playful look and nodded.

"You all deserve sleep, you've been up way too long anyways. I'm not worth that kinda effort." You shrugged before wishing a stunned Lester goodnight and opening the door to the bedroom you'd been lended. Before you could go inside, Lester took your wrist.

"Hey, yeah you do." His voice was soft and his eyes were looking anywhere but you. "You deserve this, we're just the lucky ones who get to spoil ya. You're worth it." The two of you stared at each other for a long moment, Lester looking more at your shoulder than you but you could clearly make out how pink his cheeks were.

You glanced down to where Lester held your wrist and smiled gently. "Well, I appreciate it. The three of you have probably been kinder to me than I deserve, but I really appreciate it." Lester's eyes finally met yours and you tilted your head and stepped closer. "Wish there was something I could do to repay you." You teased gently and giggled at how red Lester went.

He shook his head but you could see the nervous smile he was fighting back. Perv, you thought to yourself endearingly. "N-nah, just glad you ain't mad 'bout being locked in your room."

"So long as I get to keep the knife," you said teasingly. Lester laughed and nodded.

"All yours!" He let go of your wrist and stepped towards the stairs. "Alright, I should probably head to bed." The two of you wished each other goodnight and Lester turned off lights as he went. You watched him go downstairs till he was out of sight, lingering in the doorway of your room for a moment before rubbing your hand over your face, shocked to find how warm your cheeks were.

It was just loneliness, you told yourself quietly. The three Sinclair men had been kind to you and the boys, that's all.

You'd never been a good liar.

The next morning, you woke to the light of the sun hitting your face and making you wince at the brightness. Sitting up in bed, you felt like you'd slept later than you wanted to but wondered why Michael and Peter hadn't woken you up. Glancing around the room, you found the boys missing from their carseats and you were up and out of bed.

Downstairs, you heard voices and laughter. Stepping into the kitchen you found Vincent holding a giggling Peter while Lester seemed to be making a brunch style meal. Bacon and scrambled eggs cooking but seemed to have a fruit salad set out that Bo kept stealing pieces from to give to Michael.

You felt your heart melt.

For the past few years since the boys had been born, you'd been struggling to even get your partner to change their diapers when they'd been little, outright refusing to even spend time with them. You knew that your partner had fallen out of love with you once the kids were born, commenting on how your body had changed and how he had resented Peter and Michael for causing those changes.

Yet, here were three men you'd only met yesterday, happily accepting you and the boys into their lives. Peter and Michael looked happy, which hadn't been a sight you'd seen in quite some time. Michael happily weaving around the mens legs and pausing only to steal fruit from Bo, Vincent being careful while spinning Peter around, and Lester asking Bo if he thought you'd let the kids have chocolate waffles if he made them small enough.

You felt like crying. It felt like home.

You wondered how long you could put off getting your car fixed.

Bo was the first to notice you, giving you a lazy smile before scooping Michael up in his arms, making the rowdy boy giggle and squeal with delight. You wrapped your arms around yourself as you watched Michael grip the material of the black shirt Bo wore in his hands, staring up at him with a toothy smile and pleading with him to turn him upside-down again. "So," Bo finally addressed you, Vincent and Lester turning to glance at you, "Lester's gonna help me tow the car over to the gas station so we can try 'n fix it up. Get ya some gas and see if ya need anythin' else. Vince can take you and the boys to the House of Wax." He set Michael down gently when he started squirming, wanting to come see you.

You knelt down to kiss your sons forehead and let him grip at the sleep pants you wore. "After breakfast?" Your question was more to confirm than request, no way were you venturing out without food first.

Lester spoke up, "Can the kids eat chocolate?" You laughed.

Breakfast was a surprisingly energetic affair. The boys were practically standing in their seats, chatting animatedly about their favorite dinosaurs, favorite foods, and you were pretty sure Peter was asking Vincent about finger painting. The kids didn't seem bothered by Vincent's signing and tried to mimic it to the best of their ability, so the Sinclair twins taught them to sign (sloppily, but they'll get better with practice) the words for "hello", "goodbye", and "no" which they got to varying degrees. Lester made sure to give them plenty of fruit with their mini waffles and he smacked Bo's hand playfully when he tried to drown the kids waffles in syrup.

You locked eyes with Vincent when Lester and Bo started arguing over which dinosaur was the coolest, your sons chiming in with their own opinions.

It felt like home.

Once breakfast was eaten and you'd gotten the boys and yourself dressed, you found the three Sinclairs waiting for you by the door, equally dressed. Lester and Bo got into Bo's truck and took off while Peter was trying to climb up Vincent's leg to be held, which you scolded him for.

"Sorry," you sighed as you peeled your son off Vincent's leg, "he's not usually this clingy..." Vincent shook his head and patted your shoulder, trying to reassure you it was okay. Momentarily, you made a note to yourself to learn sign later. Even if you didn't stay in Ambrose, you figured it would be handy.

You took Michael's hand and followed Vincent towards the House of Wax, letting go only to shift Peter in your arms. "God you're getting heavy," you cooed to him and blew a raspberry on his cheek, "Did Lester feed you bricks instead of berries?" Peter giggled and shook his head.

But when you reached down to take Michael's hand again, he was gone.

"Michael?!" You called and turned around to find the toddler taking off down the street, after something you couldn't see. "Christ, Vincent!" The long haired man turned just in time for you to thrust Peter into his arms and take off after Michael. It wasn't hard, he had short legs, but you were worried about him getting hit by a car!

Scooping him up, you scolded him through his giggles. He kept reaching out to something and pointing. "Dada!" He cooed and you followed his fingers to where he was pointing. Across the street, there was a setup for a gun store. You squinted your eyes and stepped closer to see it.

Sitting cross-legged in only plain boxer shorts was a wax statue of your partner. Antlers were cruelly attached to his head and he seemed to hold a box of ammo in his mouth. You felt a chill run up your spine but you sighed. It was a wax figure, it wasn't really him. "Michael," you explained softly, "it's just a wax man, it's not really-"

You couldn't even get the sentence out before the eyes moved, snapping up towards you.

You felt a scream in the back of your throat but all you let out was a gasp, stepping backwards and hitting something. Vincent was behind you, Peter safe in one arm as he stared at the figure before looking down at you.

Panting heavily, you and Vincent had a staring match. "Vincent," your voice was calm, eerily calm, "what is this?"

He didn't answer.

"Vincent!" Your voice was harsher, Peter squirmed at the sound. "What is this!?"

Slowly, the man stepped forward and wrapped his free arm around you, hugging you close and letting you cry.

He still didn't answer. But you knew.

#🔪 creeps writes #slasher x reader #slasher x s/o #house of wax #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair #lester sinclair x reader #lester sinclair #tired of running #slasher fanfiction

[ryvgvji]

love your fakefuck series so much, can i request more in a public space with your favorite characters pls and thx 🧡

haikyuu boys fake fuck you headcannon pt.4

featuring - my fav characters

warnings - suggestive writing, long hcs, may be spelling errors, fem anatomy but anyone welcomed

authors note - sorry for late reply anon. and i’m glad that you all are enjoying the fake fuck series that is going on

BOKUTO

after putting it off for a while, you decided to go to finally accompany your loving boyfriend at the gym and do some exercises and yoga together

after you stretch and make sure your muscles aren’t tense, you decide to start using the gym equipment and do weighted squats, Bo spotting and correcting your form when needed

“come on, baby bear, you got it. i’m right behind you.”

after about ten squats, you take a quick water break and prepare yourself for another rep

getting back into position, Bokuto spots you from behind left hand on your hip and right on your stomach letting you know to go-ahead

“yes, c’mon, c’mon baby. last one. yeah!! that’s what i’m talking about.”

putting back the weights you guys move from this station to the next,

the bench press

Bo position himself on the small bench, legs spread, hands grasping the barbell preparing himself as he laid back with you above his head spotting him

“how many baby bear?”

“20 lifts.”

counting down you watch as Bokuto’s biceps and triceps flex as he picks up the metal bar holding the heavyweights, bring it down to his chest and exhaling as he pushes it back up

he repeats this 20 times and face panted with concentration with his brows furrowed and bottom lip between his teeth

your body reacted to this as you felt between your legs get hot and a small damp spot form in your panties. you try your hardest to conceal your thoughts but your dazed out features made it very evident

snapping out of it when the clanking sound of the bar being put back in place, you look down at your boyfriend who’s still laying down looking up at you with hips bright golden eyes

“whatcha thinkin’ about?”

“…nothing …”

by the look on your face from the look stare session between you two, Bokuto knew exactly what was happening and only nods at your statement, smirking internally as you guys make your way to join the yoga class that what about to start

during the class, when you and bokuto had to partner up for a pose, you could literally feel his gaze boring into your body making you heat up even more

when you had to do the downward dog, he had to stand behind you to stretch your back, his hips would bump into yours, pushing his dick into your clothed clit giving you some simulation

you try to push him back with your own hips but he only steadies you in place and twirls his hips in small circles, trying his hardest not to make it obvious to the other participants in the room

instructed to hold this pose for three minutes, Bokuto used that to his advantage as he gets himself off, grinding his now fully grown erection into you and guide you to slowly follow his rhythm

sneakily he moves his hand up from your back to come around give your boobs a soft embrace with his large hand then allowing one to trail down to your pants and into your panties feeling your glistened slit

he takes some onto his middle finger and pulls it out of your pants sucking on it jerking his hips into yours while his dick twitches in his sweats

leaning down, engulfing you in his embrace he whispers into your ear, “baby bear, i am going to fuck you so hard when we get outta here.” leaving a chaste kiss on your cheek

just then everyone opened their eyes and those who were doing the pose stood back up.

SUGAWARA

it’s your two year anniversary with Koshi and him being the sweetheart he is made renovations to attend the fanciest and newest restaurant in the city

dressed up like the sexiest and baddest couple out there, Koshi wore a red velvet tux and you a backless sequined spaghetti-strapped mermaid evening dress in the color red

“darling, you look absolutely stunning. i don’t think i’ll be able to hold myself back”. Koshi smiled, hand holding your face as he leaned in and gave you a sweet kiss

he smacks your ass hard and grabs a handful jiggling it, kissing your neck once before pulling away still smiling, giggling at your cute reaction

“shall we?”

“yes, we shall.”

arriving at the restaurant, you and Koshi get your seats at your table

you ordered your drinks and appetizer and was now you were patiently waiting for your food, making small talk with each other

"sit on my lap beautiful."

you made your way around the long table and settled yourself onto his lap, back to his chest as you guys make a toast to each other and take cute pictures

vibing to the music playing in the nearby speaker, you started a video taking ahold of Suga jaw softly pulling him in planting kisses to his pink lips

"again... again... again..."

"oh my god Ko—"

he cuts you off grabbing ahold of your neck and pulls you into a rough but sweet kiss, dominating your mouth with his tongue

"mm! we're inna restaurant."

"okay?"

Koshi leaves open-mouth kisses down your spine, soft licking your perfumed skin; he embraces his hands on your hips and pulls you back and forth on his lap

trying to sustain your poker face, you lightly bite your lip whimpering lowly as Ko continued his assault

"feels good doesn't it?"

discreetly moving your hips against Ko's, you start to feel something bulge through his dress pants making your stomach flip and your pussy heat up and pulse

locking his arms around your waist he moves you faster against him, teeth bearing into your shoulder to mute his wonton sounds

"fuck, fuck, shit~"

"babe, they're coming! they're coming!"

stopping his movement, Suga's eyes open and he rests his head on your shoulder pretending to be innocent and giving the waiter a soft smile and thanking them for the food

"eat quickly if you want that pussy ate darling.”

TENDO

visiting Tendo's business on a trip in France, you helped him to make chocolate at his job

“and then you mix it in like this.”

guiding your hand with a spatula, he helps you hold the bowl and combine the contents inside

“next you wanna add it to clean and buttered molds.”

after successfully getting the concoction into the molds with little to no spills, you transferred it to the freezer

"wow, i can't believe how big and professional this kitchen is Sa."

"i know right!! it's sooo cool. all mine."

y'all chatted and chatted about your careers and reminisced on the high school memories you two shared to this day

getting closer to you, backing you into the steel table behind you towering over you with prey like eyes

"there's always something that i've wanted to try."

his hands reach down for the back of your thighs and softly grips on them, lifting you up and setting you on the table

with your hands on the back of his neck, you pull him in and start to kiss him not holding back showing him how much you love and want him

“wow, slow down tiger, we’re still in public.”

“i don’t care. i just want you.”

that’s definitely, absolutely, without a doubt, set him the fuck off

he goes in for another kiss, deeper this time, pushing his tongue passed your lips and grabbing onto your back pulling your chest close to his

he pops of your lips with a big suck and moves his way down your neck causing you to lean back your hand

he takes this opportunity to place his hand in your hair holding your head leaning your body back against the table and laying on top of you

working his magic with his mouth he sucks onto your collarbone, lacing his fingers with you, pressing your hands above your head, and slowly thrust his hips into you

muffled moans come from him as the vibrations from his throat play on your skin

“more… i want more.”

“say less.”

he places his hands above your clothed clit and rubs tiny circles with he continues to leave hickeys on your skin

his hips go even hard when you start to whimper out his name and pull at his clothes, wrapping your legs around him embracing him closer

“remember though, you ask for this.”

KENMA

it’s a cloudy and cool saturday when you and Kenma decided to go on a date to the arcade uptown

“one more stop.”

he softly held onto your hand playing with your fingers, tracing circles in the palm

getting off the bus, you guys crossed the street, turning the corner walking up to the building with the word ‘ARCADE’ in lit-up letters

you guys walked into the slightly heated retro neon room

the sound of joysticks and buttons being pushed, gaming music being played, people smack-talking each other trying their best to be one another

“what do you wanna play first?”

“let’s play street fighter ll.”

walking to the machine, Kenma inserts a coin for you to start up the game. you choose the character that you want and start the match

“i’ll disown you if you lose to a robot y/n.”

“eh eh, you neva owned me in the first place.”

concentrating hard you do your hardest moving the joystick pushing harshly on the buttons trying to beat the computer

“FINISH HIM!”

doing just so, your character kicks the other putting them in a straight KO.

“i win!! what were you saying, little boy?”

“ i ain’t little y/n.a”

you take Kenma’s face in your hand turn it to face your own, giving him a small peck before you lead him to another game

y’all played classics like pac-man, donkey kong, space invaders, mortal kombat; driving games, sports games (you beat him in basketball), shooting games and of course dance dance revolution

Kenma spotted a zombie game and told you to let play it. getting into the dark booth, Kenma followed behind pulling the curtains back into place

the dramatic horror music played and the moan of a zombie through the speakers made you jump with fear and almost hit your boyfriend

with the faint light from the screen, you could see him side-eyeing you

“i’m sorry.” you giggle kissing his face

he gives back a soft smile and tells you to get ready

you guys select the game destination and the mode you wanna play it in; the veteran was chosen

the game started with a backstory montage then the squad leader explaining to you guys the mission that you’ll complete, both your characters arrive at the site with the team and split to your assigned areas being wished good luck before departing

starting to scout out your surroundings, you hear groans coming from your left, turning your character around to see a zombie making it’s way to you but you waste no time to take the headshot killing it

“good job.”

proceeding through the game, getting countless kills and almost dying about 3 times, Kenma hand had made his way onto your thigh and hadn’t moved the past 15 minutes

he would do little things like softly squeeze the muscle each time that he gets a kill, caress your skin with his thumb, slide closer and closer to you to the point that your leg is now on his lap, and steal glances at you, sighing soft whispering a low ‘fuck’ under his breath

this really got to you because from the time that his hand made contact with your leg, your heart has been beating out it’s chest

“sit on my lap so i can focus better.”

“okay.”

sitting on Kenma’s lap, you slouch against his chest, legs on each of his as he rests his chin on your right shoulder and arms around your waist holding the gun in his hand

the game starts to get more intense and zombies are coming from all sides. you and Kenma annihilate them, gaining more and more points as you go

hugging your figure in his lap, Kenma free hand runs down your stomach to your clothed pussy, heat from his hand radiating onto it while he rests his hand

"Kenma... what're you doing?"

"do you want to?"

he starts small movements of circles onto you and stimulating your clit making softly gasp as you breathe irregular

Kenma's hips buck against your ass, riling himself up in his jean sporting an erection that grows over time with every thrust of his hips

"baby, we're in public."

"then try to be silent."

lips attaching to your neck while his hand dips in your pants rubbing your bare clit with his finger before lightly slapping it

he groans as wetness starts to coat his fingers spreading all over your lips making his actions even easier

he groans rutting against you wanting so badly fuck you at the moment

"pull down your bottoms."

following his instructions, you pull down your bottom and undergarment exposing your lower half to him, and did the same lowering his jeans to his thighs and pulling his dick through his boxer

"grind on it."

you place your pussy on his erection and start to slide back and forth glossing his dick with your sopping juices

“hu~ holy—mmm.”

“Kenma, feels good.”

your low moans and mewls were basically unheard due to the loud background of the intense music and the zombies

in the game, you guys are practically dead and eaten but y'all didn't care, you kept drowning in the feeling of please you provided to each other

Kenma hands rush to your hips to move you faster on his shaft, tip getting stimulated each time that your yummy clit nudge against it

going harder and faster, slightly bounce on him making clapping echo in the booth and wet fluids spread on your ass and his boxers

“i’m gonna cum. in your mouth, in your mouth!”

bouncing a couple more times feeling your high approach and his erection start to twitch with some cum spilling from the red swollen tip, you get on your knees taking him into your mouth with one hand jerking him and your other massaging your clit

you moan on his dick as you cum hard, legs wobbling and thighs twitching

Kenma hands land on top of your head and the back of your neck, hoisting himself deeper in your throat, cumming down your throat with a broken cry

#haikyuu!! #black reader #haikyuu x black reader #haikyuu headcannons #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu reactions #hq x black!reader #kotaro x reader #sugawara x reader #kenma x reader #tendou x reader

[xslashers]

Bo Sinclair | Too Close For Comfort

Bo Sinclair X Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: mentions of blood, needles, Bo having a violent outburst, Bo being in pain, ooc Bo because he's drunk and delirious, cursing  

Word Count: 1,995

—

Bo Sinclair was the most stubborn person in the entire world, you were 100% sure of this. Though, you loved him whole-heartedly. Yeah, sometimes he was a pompous prick, but you always made sure to call him out on it.

Today was a 'normal' day. Vincent was in the basement working, Lester was in the woods deer hunting, and Bo was doing...whatever it is that Bo does. He did a little bit of everything around here, switching it up each day. You, on the other hand, were reading a book that you had found in one of the victim's cars.

It was boring and you couldn't get into it, but at least it was something to do. You had half the mind to go find Bo and pester hum, but that was always a risky game to play. So you continued to sit there on yours and Bo's shared bed, reading this stupid, lame book.

Suddenly the sound of the front door slamming open caused you to jump in your seat, the sound then followed by curses from Bo. You figured something had went wrong at the station and you were about to go comfort him when you figured out Lester was the one he was yelling at.

Yeah, never mind. You had learned to stay out of the way when any of the brothers argued with each other.

But when Lester came bursting into your room, his hands covered in blood and a worried expression on his face, you jumped up. "What the hell?" You questioned, following him into the living room, where Bo was sitting back on the couch, his eyes closed shut and an arrow sticking through his chest.

You knew he was in pain. How could he not be?

You sat down next to him, waving Lester off, letting him know that you had it from here. Bo's eyes shot open when he felt your hands on his arm.

"Oh no, no, no," he mumbled, trying and failing to stand up, only to be pushed back down by you. "Listen doll, no offense, but the last time you tried to help, you only made it worse," he said, holding his shoulder with his hand.

"I didn't make it worse, you were just being a crybaby about it," you replied, pulling out the first aid kit from under the coffee table that you had stored away in case of emergencies like this. "What the hell happened anyway?" You turned your body towards his.

"My dumbass brother mistook me for a damn deer," Bo laughed at the irony. You raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? You're lucky he didn't hit your heart," you frowned, seeing how close it actually was to hitting it. You pulled out the supplies you'd need laying them out on top of the coffee table.

Then, you started unbuttoning his shirt, being as gentle as you could before you realized you'd need to cut it off the rest of the way.

"Now darlin', if you wanted t'get me outta my clothes, all you had to do was just ask," Bo smirked down at you. You, however, didn't find it at all funny. But what you did make you chuckle was you hand accidentally knocking against the arrow.

He hissed out in pain, gritting his teeth. "The hell was that for?" He asked, pulling as far away from you as possible.

"It was an accident," you shrugged.

"Yeah, accident my ass," Bo hesitantly moved closer to you again, watching your every move.

You pulled out a pair of plyers, immediately going to town, knowing this part wouldn't hurt him. After cutting the excess arrow, you stood up and disappeared into the kitchen. Bo knew what you were going to get. Unfortunately for him, it had to be done.

You returned to your seat beside him, a bottle of vodka in your grip. He watched you as poured it over your hands to sanitize them, before yanking the bottle out of your hands and taking a big swig of it. "You know this is gonna hurt," you told him, yanking the bottle out of his hands, returning it to your own before he could drink the rest of it. "Yeah, yeah. I know," he rolled his eyes, trying to act like it wasn't a big deal.

You frowned. Bo was always trying to act tough, but you could only imagine how much pain he was truly in.

Before he could say anything, you poured the alcohol over his bare shoulder, making sure to get his front and back. Bo lurched forward, banging his fist against the coffee table as hard as he could. "I'm sorry," you bit your lip, seeing him pain making your heart ache. You sat the now empty bottle on the ground at your feet.

"Yeah, I bet you are. I bet you like seeing me in pain," Bo seethed, breathing erratically. "Why would you think that? I hate seeing you like this," you pouted, crossing your arms over your chest as you gave him a minute to settle down.

"Sure seems like you're enjoying it," he finally sat back, readying himself for the next part. "I don't enjoy it at all, Bo," you said truthfully.

"Could've fooled me."

You let out an annoyed sigh before wrapping your hands around the excess metal, only to be stopped.

"Wait! Wait! Could you at leas' give me a count down 'er somethin'?"

You nodded your head, "On three?"

This wasn't the first time you had pulled an arrow out of one of the boys' body. You had to make sure you had a good grip, you didn't want to slip off. You wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.

Bo nodded his head, ready.

"One," and before you got to two, you pulled with all your might, the metal coming out in your hands. You cringed as Bo shot up from the couch, walking over to the wall and punching it, leaving a hole in its place. You sighed, knowing you could just cover it with a painting or something.

"You fuckin' whore!" He shouted, pushing over the table that rested in the corner of the room that had a bunch of old newspapers placed on it. You knew he didn't mean what he said at all. He was in pain, you knew that, so you'd let it slide this time.

"Come back before you bleed out," you ordered, the wound now gushing blood.

"No, fuck you," Bo shook his head, getting as far away from you as possible. "You're going to bleed out!" You stated, standing up from the couch and walked to where he stood, placing gauze on either side of the wound.

"I still have to stitch you up," you reminded him and he threw his head back in agony. You sighed again, the blood already starting to soak through the white cloths. "Can't I just keep it like this?" He asked, followed by a sniff. You softened at this. Bo Sinclair never cried. Yet here he was, tears starting to fall down his cheeks.

"You and I both know that's not gonna stop the bleeding, baby," you said, applying slight pressure to the now completely red gauzes. "I know, I know," Bo whispered, "Can I at leas' get s'more booze?"

You nodded your head, reaching into the cabinet above you and pulling out a half empty bottle of whisky. Reaching it to him, he walked back to the couch, before opening it and nearly chugging the rest of the bottle. You didn't try and stop him, though. This was the closest thing you had to a sedative right now.

You followed him, grabbing the surgical grade needle and thread.

"C'mon, this part ain't that bad," Bo shrugged, egging you to get a move on with it. You pulled off the soiled bandages, disregarding them on the coffee table. You were sure this part was going to go smoothly, but as soon as you pushed the needle through his skin, he jerked away from you.

"Give it a couple minutes to let the booze kick in first, yeah?" He suggested, looking at you with pleading eyes. You reached for clean gauze, the sight of his blood dripping down his torso making you cringe. You wiped the crimson trail off, before holding it on the front of the wound. "Just tell me when you're ready," you told him, giving him a sympathetic look.

Bo waited until his head was dizzy, from the alcohol or blood loss, he didn't know, but he could barley hold his eyes open, letting you know that he was ready by shooting you a thumbs up. You rolled your eyes playfully, gripping the needle that was still in his arm, before stitching him up.

He let you finish this time, only complaining twice. When you made sure he was stitched up as good as you could get it, you placed fresh bandages over top of it.

"All done, baby," you pressed a kiss to the top of his shoulder, before picking up the trash. You went to stand up, but his hand shot up to grab your wrist.

"I just sat there though all that agonizin' pain 'n I don' even get a kiss?" He pouted, now clearly drunk off his ass. "I'll give you a kiss after I wash my hands. Don't get up too fast," you told him, walking to the kitchen, tossing the trash into the bin on the way there.

Bo followed you and stood right behind you (and I mean right behind you, his chest was flush against your back) as you washed the blood off your hands. Before you could even dry them off, he was gripping your face and smashing his lips to yours. He tasted of cigarettes and alcohol, with a hint of mint from the gum he was always chewing.

You stood there and let him kiss you as long as you could, before pulling away for air, causing him to pout because he clearly wasn't ready to end the kiss.

"You should go get yourself cleaned up some," you suggested.

Bo's demeanor changed. "You got me all hot and bothered and you're just gonna leave me hangin'?

You snorted. "You're not getting any tonight, bub. You've lost too much blood," you patted his cheek, smiling all snarky. You turned away to head towards your bedroom. "Can you help me?" Bo stopped you by pulling your arm. You raised an eyebrow at him.

"Hey, you said it yourself! I lost too much blood and can pass out at any time!" You rolled your eyes, grabbing his hand and gently pulling him with you.

"Like what if I would fall and hit my head or something? It would be all your fault and I would make you feel so bad about it," he continued rambling. "I'm not gonna leave you alone to fall," you told him. "Stop being such a big baby," you teased him.

Reaching the bathroom, you sat him down on the toilet seat, before grabbing a cold, wet rag and gentle rubbing it over the dried blood, dirt, and sweat that marked his body.

"Thank you for taking care of me," he slurred, his head falling to the side and his eyes falling shut. "And I'm sorry for calling you a whore," he continued. "You don't have to apologize, I know you didn't mean it. And you don't have to thank me either, baby," you grabbed his face with your hands, tilted his head up to look at you.

He opened his eyes at this, his lips immediately puckering up for a kiss. You laughed at this, pushing your lips to his in another kiss.

#bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x reader fluff #bo sinclair fluff #slasher #slasher x reader #slasher fluff #house of wax #slasher x reader fluff #slashers #slashers x reader #slashers fluff #slashers x reader fluff

[small-sinclair]

Hiiii!!!!

I wonder this

S/O go to haunted house in Halloween with Sinclair brothers!!

Thank you and hope you have a amazing day!!

Very LOVE your work btw❤️

Thank you 💙!

Tw: Bo relives his childhood for a moment

Bo: Hay Maze

This man will get so cocky as they go through the Haunted Hay Maze.

He’ll have his arm around you as you two walk, laughing as you get scared.

Every time you bury yourself into him, it busts his Ego Credit Score by 100 points.

He’ll kiss you time to time, reassuring, “It ain’t real, darlin’, I promise. Bo’s gottcha.”

He’ll actually say dumb shit like: “That’s a good idea.” “Huh, people c’n actually do ‘at?” “Ooo! I should do ‘at!”

What really scares him?

He’ll walk with you through a darken room in the barn to exit the maze, laughing, and trigger some sound affect. To his left an animatronic of the “Mad Farmer” (looks around his age) is strapped to a chair, thrashing around, screaming in pain and rage. Bo’ll pause and look at for a long time, and he’ll start sweating. From behind, the “Farmhand” sneaks up and whispers in a high voice, “Won’t ya lik’ t’bed in ‘at chair, boy?”

Bo jumps and wheels around. He lands a powerful and perfect punch on his jaw and knocks the actor out cold.

Before anyone as time to say something, he grips your hand and drags you outta there. He runs and runs until you two are at his truck. Until he knows he’s safe. Until he knows he got you away from his Father. He’ll never let you meet his father, see you in that chair.

Never.

You’ll apologize to the people that run the show, explaining, “It spooked him, that’s all.” And it’ll end up with you two getting banned for the rest off the year.

Bo’s okay with that.

For the rest of the night, and a couple of nights, he’ll hold you little tighter, giving you more kisses, wanting you around.

Vincent: Haunted Mansion

It’s Halloween night, so he can go to the event with his mask.

He jumps at sudden movements in the house, but it doesn’t scar him.

He’ll hold your hand, kissing you to give you courage, and lead the way.

Vincent has you take pictures of certain things like decorations and outfits for later inspiration for his work.

What gets him?

The “legend” of the mansion is that the ghosts are the ones that killed the family that lived there.

So, in the nursery, Vincent comes face to face with a crying crib. As you two walk past, you can look down at the “babies” and find they look just how Bo and Vincent were: Together.

Then in the darken corner, the “Mother” jumps out, screaming, “Freak! Freak! My baby’s a freak!” And she looks so much like Trudy.

Vincent grips your hand a bit too hard and gets you outta there to the next room.

At then end of the maze, the “Mother” is dead at the “Twins’s” feet. One looks at you two and shows he’s missing half his face. He points his fake knife at you, saying, “Your face. Give me your face!”

Vincent stands in front of you to protect you, glaring at the man. He knows it’s fake but he won’t let anyone take his muse away.

Vincent actually scares the actor before he takes you away.

Once you’re home, you cox him out of his mask and kiss him all over, promising he’s night a freak and you love him.

Lester: Haunted Steamboat

You can’t tell me there’s no Haunted Steamboat maze in Louisiana!

He plays it up that he’ll be brave for you, but he gets spooked in the first room the Ghost Captain.

Both you and him will push each other to go into the next room first.

He jumps slightly from loud metal bangs and clicks.

“Sweet pea, the quicker we get through ‘is, the faster we c’n go home.”

He makes it through the maze, you and him with steel grips and a lot of screaming and jumping.

What really got him were the zombies and “past passengers” saying, “You can’t leave! No one leaves! The Captain tells you to leave!”

As you two get off, he pauses in his tracks and looks at the ship’s name: U.S.S. Ambrose.

Once outta there, he takes you to his favorite comfort food and you two spend the rest of the night together in his room, snuggling and cuddling.

He kisses you and holds you tight, promising to himself that he was able to leave. That he left. That U. S. S Ambrose doesn’t have a hood on him.

He’s not trapped like those dead souls.

#house of wax #house of wax 2005 #bo sinclair #lester sinclair #vincent sinclair #house of wax (2005) #house of wax fanfiction #bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #house of wax fanfic #cliff answers

[seijorhi]

insidious

Hinata Shoyo x female reader (+ Miya Atsumu x female reader)

tw dub-con/non-con, yandere, voyeurism, nsfw, smut but like just a sprinkle

Atsumu’s never considered himself much of a relationship guru, but surely he can’t be the only one who notices there’s something real fuckin’ weird about your relationship with Hinata.

Admittedly, the first few times he met you, he wasn’t paying all that much attention. Sure, you were hot, and he’d be a liar if he said he hadn’t snuck a peek every now and then; but his focus has always been on the game, on his teammates. On himself as a setter. It’s why he’s got a strict no girlfriends policy during the season. Atsumu doesn’t do distractions.

And he likes Hinata. On the court, the little dude’s a monster for him to unleash and he’d love him for that alone, but somehow despite being a 5’7” excitable ball of crazy intensity off the court as well, the redhead’s impossible not to get along with. 

There’s a few guys on the team that have partners – fuck, Meian’s even married, his wife five months pregnant with their second kid. But it doesn’t hit him until maybe three or so weeks after Hinata joins the team that he’s never seen any of them (or the ones that came before them) show up at every single training session. 

You do. 

Rain, hail or shine, no matter how early Hinata starts or how late he stays, you’re there, sitting in the stands, just… watching. It’s not a bad thing exactly. He knows Bo thinks it’s cute, gets all moony eyed and sappy about it and Hinata certainly doesn’t seem bothered by it, beaming up at you after every point scored, every successful spike, every receive. 

But it’s just– they train six days a week. It’s long hours and a lot of it’s just drills and exercising till they’re dead on the floor, and even hardcore volleyball fans would find it boring to sit through day in and day out. You don’t take a book or sit there on your phone; you just watch idly as they train. 

Day in, day out. 

There ain’t a rule against it; their practices are closed to the public but the team have a few passes they can hand around on the odd occasion. It’s more of an unspoken understanding; you can invite who you want, so long as you’re focused and they don’t make a fuss.

You never do though, quiet as a mouse as you wait for Hinata to finish up. 

“Don’tcha think it’s weird though?” he asks Sakusa one afternoon, wiping the sweat from his brow as he watches Hinata slump down beside you after practice wraps up, pulling you into a nuzzling embrace.

Sakusa makes a noncommittal noise, but dark eyes regard the two of you nonetheless. “She moved with him from Brazil, didn’t she?” 

Atsumu shrugs, “And?”

“She doesn’t have any friends or family here, no roots, no job, just Hinata,” he says – slowly, like Atsumu’s an idiot. 

And he tries to put himself in your shoes for a minute, imagine what it would be like to follow someone halfway across the world (further actually, because he’s pretty sure you weren’t from Brazil to begin with) but it’s not the same. Even without Samu, or his friends or his family, even in a country with weird customs and a language that wasn’t his own, Atsumu’s always been good at finding his feet. 

But he supposes he can understand why you cling to Hinata. Though it’s really more a case of Hinata clinging to you, ‘cause whenever he turns around, it’s the redhead who’s the one all over you, pulling you into cuddles, twining his fingers with yours, peppering your face with butterfly kisses. Like he’ll just die if he’s not touching you every second you’re together.

It’s either sickeningly cute or revoltingly excessive, and for the life of him Atsumu can’t figure out which. 

You’d think it’s his first relationship or something, that he’s stuck in some weird puppy love honeymoon phase, but from what he’s heard the two of you have been together for years now – that’s just the way Hinata is, apparently.

He shouldn’t be too surprised; the guy’s always first in line to jump on his back or try and tackle him to the floor after any successful play. Between him and Bokuto, he’s got more bruises littered over his body than a linebacker, but they’re a tactile team, and he usually gives as good as he gets. 

You’re not one for excessive PDA though. You never fight against the overbearing affection, don’t shrug it off or shrink away – at least, not from what he’s noticed – but Atsumu hasn’t seen you initiate anything more than a quick peck to his cheek when Hinata’s got you all bundled up in his arms.

And he gets that not every relationship has to be equal in that sense, different love languages and all that crap, but while you don’t fight it, you never seem… entirely comfortable with it either. Not in the ‘stop, we’re in public, please don’t’ kinda way, but–

He can’t put a finger on it. 

You smile at Hinata, cheer when he scores, let him pet and kiss and pull you around wherever he wants, but you never seem to relax properly, and it bothers him. He doesn’t know why it bothers him.

If he hadn’t met you, hadn’t known that you’d been with Hinata since he was dirt poor and moonlighting as a delivery boy in Brazil, he’d be tempted to think that you were only in it for the money. It’s not a bad plan, as far as these things go – find some up and coming athlete to place all your bets on, get him wrapped around your finger before success goes to his head. And he doesn’t know you all that well and has absolutely zero fucking justification to back it up, but you don’t strike him as the money hungry type.

You don’t strike him as anything, and maybe that’s part of the issue.

Hinata’s like a sun; he’s gonna eclipse anyone standing too close. That’s normal. The team; him and Sakusa, Bokuto, the others – they have their own talents to stand on, to push through and shine on their own, but you… 

Fuck, why does it even matter?

Why does it bother him? It ain’t his relationship. You never complain, you make Hinata happy – he’d have to be blind not to see how much that guy loves you – and he dotes on you, spoils the shit out of you, so why can’t he shake this feeling in his gut that something ain’t right there?

It ain’t his relationship, and Atsumu’s not stupid enough to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong.

It ain’t his relationship.

It’s not, and he has more important things to focus his time and energy on.

You aren’t his problem. Fuck, you’ve barely spoken more than a few sentences to him! There’s no reason for why he can’t get you and your stupid relationship with his wing spiker outta his mind. 

“Just admit ya wanna fuck her and stop bitchin’ about it,” Samu groans one night when Atsumu stops by the restaurant after training. “Yer looking for a problem between the two of them so ya don’t feel guilty about it.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, “Shut yer trap, wouldja, Samu? I said it ain’t like that!”

He’s not gonna stand there and deny that he thinks you’re hot, but that’s not what this is about. Never has been. 

It’s quiet between them for a moment, Atsumu angrily stabbing at the onigiri on his plate, but he feels it when Osamu looks at him. Really looks, dark eyes flickering across his face, reading him like an open book. Samu might enjoy giving him shit and winding him up just for the sake of it, but there’s nobody on earth who knows him better. 

Eventually he sighs, and the air feels different between them. Heavier, somehow. “What’re ya saying, Tsumu? Ya think Hinata’s hurting her or somethin’?”

Yes. 

No.

He knows Hinata. Well, for a few months at least, but peripherally for years. Ever since high school. And Atsumu’s had the displeasure of knowing guys like that, guys who liked to feel big and tough and strong and would gladly slap around some pretty thing just to feel all manly and shit, and Hinata’s not– 

He doesn’t treat you like you’re made of glass or anything, but every time he touches you, so much as looks at you with those bright eyes, it’s with this kind of intense, burning love that Atsumu just doesn’t understand, that honestly freaks him out a little. He’s never seen bruises littering your skin – at least, not the kind that Samu’s worried about. You don’t flinch away from Hinata’s touch. 

(You never look comfortable though. Never happy – not like Hinata is.)

No. He’s a good guy, he wouldn’t hurt a fly, and despite the lingering unease Atsumu has about the two of you, he doesn’t doubt for a second that Hinata is head over fucking heels in love with you. He wouldn’t hurt you.

He wouldn’t.

“No, ‘course not! I just…” he breaks off, shaking his head. And he chews on his lip for a moment, debating with himself whether he should actually admit what he’s been thinking the past few weeks or whether Samu’s just gonna call him a pussy or something and tell him to knock it off. “I get the feeling she doesn’t wanna be there. She’s smiling and sitting there all pretty, but it’s just… I dunno, it’s just weird.”

Osamu doesn’t say much after that, but he doesn’t really need to. He knows what his brother’s thinking. If you weren’t happy, you’d leave. If Hinata wasn’t treating you right, you’d leave. You’d tell someone. But it ain’t that simple, is it? 

Atsumu’s always had a problem sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. 

The first game of the season’s a slam dunk, and while they’re usually pretty tame during the season, beating Kageyama and Ushijima, last year's undefeated champs is cause for celebration. He’s not surprised to see you there at the club, tucked under Hinata’s arm in some little black dress, all dolled up. You smile at him, a hollow, fleeting thing, and Atsumu hates how the sight of it makes his stomach clench. 

Sakusa, Bokuto and Inunaki arrive moments later, a drink’s shoved into his hands and he forces himself to think of other things. You aren’t his problem, you aren’t his girl, and he’s definitely not watching you dance, your back flush with Hinata’s front, the wing spiker’s hands splayed across your hips, his mouth trailing greedily along your neck. 

And for the first time since this whole stupid thing started, Atsumu recognises the ugly feeling stirring in the pit of his gut. It’s jealousy.

He’s played one of the best games of his life today, his team’s fucking amazing, the music’s good and the alcohol is free flowing – he should be happy. And there’s absolutely no reason he should be watching you out of the corner of his eye, waiting for an opening.

It shouldn’t make his heart skip a beat when Hinata leans down to whisper something in your ear, passing you his glass as he heads off to find the men’s. He’s midway through a conversation of his own with Adriah and Bokuto that he’s barely paying attention to, and there’s a voice in his head (one that sounds suspiciously like Samu’s) that tells him to just let it go, but his feet are already moving, a half hearted excuse spilling from his lips as he slips past them both to make his way over to you.

“Hey,” he says. His voice is too quiet, too breathless to carry across over the music, but he’s taller than you, taking up your space and he isn’t imagining the way that your eyes widen, a flicker of something passing your face before you school your features back into that same fake, pleasant smile. 

He doesn’t imagine the nervous look you dart over his shoulder in the direction Hinata walked off in. 

You take a delicate sip from your glass, the very same one you’ve been nursing since you arrived and he watches – watches – as you force yourself to relax, the tension easing from your shoulders, your posture softening. “Miya,” you greet, raising your voice just enough to be heard. “Congratulations on the win.”

It’s so polite, so fucking fake that it makes him wanna hurl. 

“Atsumu,” he corrects before he can help himself. Sakusa calls him Miya, but nobody else – nobody who knows him – does. He can’t bear the sound of it on your lips, like you’re nothing more than strangers. 

He’s talked to you before, right? Surely. 

You’re just standing there, perfectly at ease around him and the others – if not for the finger tapping anxiously against the stem of your glass, a tic he wonders if you’re even aware of. You might be able to fool the others – admittedly, they’re probably not paying you too much attention – but he’s used to picking up on the smallest details. 

And he’s become real good at reading you these past few weeks.

“So tell me, how’d the two of ya meet?” he asks instead, because he’s rushed in here with no game plan and it’s the first thing that comes to mind. He doesn’t even care about the answer; now that he’s finally here, finally has you to himself for a moment, he just wants to hear you talk. 

“Oh, um,” you swallow, ducking your head so you’re not meeting his gaze anymore. “It’s a little embarrassing–”

A familiar, bright laugh cuts you off, and Atsumu’s heart hammers when Hinata slaps him on the shoulder, “It’s not embarrassing, babe, it’s cute!” 

Deep brown eyes meet his; wide, glittering and freakishly intense and he fights the urge to recoil. He’s done nothing wrong, he knows that, but Hinata’s staring at him like every thought he’s ever had about you is written right across his face, plain as day.

And you – you look like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar, like Hinata’s stumbled on you shoving your tongue down his throat rather than just having an innocent, friendly conversation with his teammate. It’s a split second that stretches a lifetime, but when he dares to look over, you’re rigid, eyes wide and full of panic and he knows, he fucking knows that he’s right. 

“Tell him,” Hinata urges, wasting no time in slipping past Atsumu to take his place by your side.

His arm wraps around your waist, squeezing you gently, and after a single, tense beat, you comply. “O-on the first week of my trip to Brazil, I was mugged. Shoyo saw it all happen and chased after them – got my purse back for me, even walked me back home to make sure I was okay, patched me up and everything.” You pause, nibbling on your bottom lip as you gaze up at Hinata, “He was my knight in shining armour.”

Hinata preens as you smile, but it’s still wrong. Atsumu’s seen what hero worship looks like, what real love looks like, and he’ll hand it to you; you have the basics down pat, but you can’t fake everything. 

With bitterness and disgust eating away at his gut, it becomes suffocating, standing there trying to carry a conversation and pretending that whatever there is between the two of you is in any way fucking romantic–

It’s too much, like somebody has a grip on his lungs, viciously squeezing out the last of his breath, and he barely remembers to excuse himself before he’s shoving his way through the crowd, knocking Meian’s concerned hand away as he flees for the balcony.

The late summer night air’s warm and humid, but he gulps it down in big, gasping heaves, clinging to the rail like it’s a lifeline. 

You’re fucking with his head and he hates it. He hates that he can’t let this go, can’t get you out of his goddamn head no matter how hard he tries. Atsumu’s always been a selfish, arrogant bastard, why should he give two shits about some girl whose last name he doesn’t even know?

He wants to despise you. He wants to forget you, to shove you aside like he has every other distraction in his life. It’s not his problem you’ve found yourself in some fucked up relationship.

But he squeezes his eyes shut, and all Atsumu can see is your face. 

He stays out on that balcony until his body stops shaking, until the sweat on his forehead cools and he no longer feels like he’s gonna throw up. The beat of the music, spilling muted from the glass doors, wraps around him now that the pounding in his head’s subsided, tempting him back inside. Any other night, and he’d follow it, get absolutely shitfaced and party till he doesn’t remember his own name.

And as he stands there alone, staring up at the Tokyo city skyline, part of him almost wants to give in – to drink himself to oblivion. Because at least that’d be easier.

But he won’t.

Instead, Atsumu shoves his feelings down, musters up a lazy smirk and walks back inside. He has every intention of saying goodbye to at least a few of his teammates before heading back to the hotel room to crash, but as his eyes scan the crowded floor, he catches sight of something that stops him cold in his tracks.

Hinata has you pinned to the wall, his face buried in the crook of your neck, but that’s not what makes his heart skip a beat. It’s the way your dress is hiked up, your panties shoved to the side, Hinata’s hand between your thighs, fucking you on his fingers.

It’s the look on your face, screwed up in pleasure – or pain – biting down on your lip to stifle your cries. It wouldn’t make a difference. Nobody would be able to hear you over the music, and even if they could he doubts anyone would give a fuck.

His mouth dries out, every thought eddying from his head as he watches you cling to Hinata, your hands gripping his arms tight. Your makeup’s smudged, a tear spilling down your cheek catches the glittering lights of the club, but when your head tilts back he knows it’s a moan that leaves your lips. He can almost hear it, picture it in his mind. You’re shuddering, shaking your head even as your eyes are squeezed shut and the only sound Atsumu can hear is the restless thumping of his own heart.

And then your eyes flutter open and find his. He watches, frozen in place, transfixed in the worst possible way as mortification flashes across your features and your lips move–

Whatever you say to him, Hinata doesn’t stop. He just shifts a little, angles his body in a way that gives Atsumu a better view of your pussy and the attention he’s paying it. He can’t look away even if he desperately wants to, utterly enthralled by the slickness coating the digits, the way your thighs tremble and quake as those fingers curl inside of you, the little jolt you give when Hinata’s thumb rubs at your puffy clit.

Atsumu watches, equal parts horrified and mesmerised as he pushes you over the edge and you cum for him, a pleasured cry drowned out by the music, shaking and breathless and beautifully wrecked in his teammate’s arms. And as you all but collapse against him, Hinata finally turns to glance over his shoulder, meeting Atsumu’s stare.

And with his eyes fixed on the blonde, he whispers something into your ear that Atsumu doesn’t have a hope in hell of hearing, presses a soft, lingering kiss to your cheek and grins.

It’s enough to rip him out of his stupor, stumbling back with a gasp as his blood runs cold. Hinata knew, he knew he was watching – put on a fucking show for him, and suddenly the nausea returns, bile creeping up his throat and Atsumu can’t do a single thing but turn and flee.

Alone in his hotel room and not nearly drunk enough, he falls into a fitful sleep, the image of your face, tear stricken and beautiful as you fell to pieces on Hinata’s fingers, burned into the back of his eyelids. 

—

He doesn’t utter a word about it when Boktuo gives him shit for ducking out early the next day at training. He doesn’t so much as meet Hinata’s eye, though the redhead seems no different than usual, all but bouncing on his heels when the Coach runs through the game against the Adlers set by set.

He still gushes when Atsumu gives him a perfect set, beaming up at him with that thousand watt smile. He still offers to be paired off with him when they run two-on-two games, isn’t ruffled when Atsumu instead grabs Sakusa and goes up against Adriah and Barnes.

And you’re still sitting in the stands, fingers twined on your lap, smiling dutifully whenever your boyfriend glances up.

Atsumu tries his best to ignore you and focus on training. He can’t afford to let you distract him any more than you already have, but in the quiet moments between sets, on their breaks, every second he’s not thinking about the game and his performance and his team his thoughts drift back to you. The way you’d bitten down on your bottom lip. Your eyes, pupils blown wide as pleasure crashed through you. Your glistening cunt, swallowing up Hinata’s fingers. The cute little noises you made – the ones he couldn’t hear but spent all fucking night imagining.

And the moment those thoughts enter his head, he can’t stop himself from darting a quick glance towards you, like he’s making sure you’re still there, that you’re okay. Even if you stiffen almost imperceptibly every time he does.

He can’t help himself, and he’s not the only one who notices. 

“Dude, you good?” Bokuto asks, pulling him aside a week or so later during one of their water breaks. And for a second there, there’s a flicker of indignation – whatever’s going on with his head, his performance is beyond question; he’s killing it. 

It’s not until the wing spiker’s attention shifts, risking a glance over his shoulder to where he knows you’re sitting that he realises that’s not what Bokkun’s worried about.

“Look, I get it, she’s cute and all, but…” Bokuto trails off, awkwardly scratching at the back of his neck. Every ounce of discomfort is written clear as day across his face. “You might wanna tone it down a bit, you know? For everyone’s sake.”

The irony of it all doesn’t escape him. And he probably should feel some kinda shame, because if Bokuto’s noticed then that means every goddamn one of the others has too and they’re all just too uncomfortable to say anything, but he can’t seem to muster it. 

“Yeah,” he croaks out instead.

Two days later he’s halfway through a shower when the stall beside his bursts open and he hears that familiar, sunny laugh, the sound of two bodies clambering into a space too small, and his heart stutters in his chest.

“Sho, no. I-I don’t wanna–”

“Shh, be good for me, alright baby? Please?” 

A drawn out hiss followed by a breathy moan, and Atsumu’s bracing himself against the tiled wall squeezing his eyes shut.

The spray of the shower isn’t loud enough to drown out the sounds of you swallowing down Hinata’s cock. And he can’t move, can’t make a sound for fear of making this worse, but with every lewd, messy gluck from your throat, every obnoxious moan that spills from his teammate’s lips, Atsumu feels that telltale stirring in his gut.

His eyes are closed and the image comes unbidden to his mind.

You on your knees, looking up at him with those big, wide innocent eyes. You, pressing soft, teasing kisses to his cock, your tongue slowly trailing along the thick vein that runs along the underside of his shaft. The way it’d swirl around his flushed head, eagerly lapping at his precum. Fuck, his cock’s already throbbing, aching. 

He’s only human, he thinks as he wraps a hand around his member, teeth sinking into the flesh of his forearm to stifle his groan. You’re making a mess of him, he wants it so fucking bad. Wants you; to fuck you, have you, hold you, he doesn’t give a shit anymore, you’re driving him to the brink and he’s helpless to stop this.

He can see it so perfectly in his head, how you’d look with those soft lips wrapped around him, the way you’d massage his balls as he fucked your face, how you’d choke on it. You’d be good, so fucking perfect as you sucked him off–

Hinata’s chanting your name and Atsumu picks up his pace, strokes turning into pumps, his fist tightening as he hisses with pleasure. Distantly he wonders whether they can hear it too; his heavy breathing, the slick, wet sound of him jerking off less than a foot away.

He doesn’t care anymore, can’t hold himself back. It’s blinding, the pleasure that rips through him, shaking him to his very core as spurt after spurt of thick, hot cum paints the shower walls.

His knees buckle, his cock still twitching as aftershocks jolt through him, stealing his breath. For a blissful moment, Atsumu lets himself sag against the tiles, a lazy smirk coating his face as he basks in the afterglow, his heartbeat slowly coming down from it’s racing high. 

And yet as the warm water of the shower cascades down his toned body, his breathing returning to normal something unpleasant begins to unfurl in his stomach, toxic and cloying, seeping through his veins. All that bliss, that heady, addictive pleasure fades away and Atsumu’s left with the weight of what he’s just done.

Distantly, he registers that it’s quieter now in the stall next to his. Hinata’s murmuring something to you, but Atsumu can’t make sense of it over the dull roar in his head, the disgust and shame that coils like a noose around his throat.

He should hate himself. 

He just might, actually.

And it’s not enough to scrub until his skin’s raw and he doesn’t feel it crawling anymore, doesn’t matter that he stays in the shower until the two of you leave, until the water runs ice cold and it physically hurts to stand under the spray.

Hinata’s still in the locker room when he gets out, slowly gathering the last of his things and shoving them into his duffle bag. For once you’re not by his side, and Atsumu can only thank whatever godly beings might be out there for this one, tiny mercy, because he doesn’t think he can bear to see you after what he’s just done.

But Hinata just smiles, bright and cheerful and all too knowing, “Seeya tomorrow, Atsumu!”

And he feels filthy all over again.

#dark haikyuu #dark hinata x reader #dark hinata shoyo x reader #dark atsumu x reader #dark atsumu miya x reader #tw non con #tw dub con #tw voyeurism #tw yandere #trying out some new tags #don't mind me

[hopeandvolleyball]

they call you clingy pt.1

genre: hurt, comfort, angst to fluff

w/osamu, atsumu

a.n. i’m the angst machine >:) no but seriously you’re gonna get angst stuff for a hot minute bc i just had a really bad breakup and i have to self project somehow

osamu miya

this argument was the same dance you’ve been dancing for weeks now, a twisted tango of wanting a moment alone with your boyfriend and him getting defensive over the workload his business was providing him

the dance was exhausting and you wanted to stop, but each day the argument osamu dragged it out farther and father and you wanted to scream.

“just once, once for the first time in a month, can i have some time with my boyfriend? i don’t ask for much with you so can you please just-”

“ya don’t ask for much? are ya fuckin kiddin me, y/n? everyday yer beggin for my attention like some fuckin’ useless puppy. if i knew ye were gonna be this clingy i wouldn’t ave ever asked ya out!” he bit back, venom and words unwarranted.

you took a step back, angry expression dying almost instantly at the usage of the word clingy. you tried not to be, really. you worked so hard at making a safe and loving environment for both you and osamu. did you not notice the signs he was uncomfortable.

“alright,” you nodded. “i’ll work on that. thank you for letting me know. goodnight, miya.” sighing, you made your way into the guest room for the night to let osamu cool down. 

osamu got off work early, finally deciding to hire other managers to relieve the workload on him. he knew you were right that it was beginning to be too much for him to handle, he also knew he had a lot of making up to do in regards to that blowout last night. he picked up a bouquet of tulips, your favorites, along with a teddy bear and your favorite takeout. he took a deep breath once he opened the door, not knowing exactly what to say or do or expect. he saw you in the kitchen, getting ready to start dinner. 

“ya don’t need to cook today, darlin. i got yer favorites,” he smiled, holding up the bags with a nervous smile. you turned around and blinked at osamu. nodding, you began to put everything back. okay. not the response he was expecting. he set everything, except the flowers, onto the dining table and waited for you to return. with outstretched hands, the bear was in his arms waiting for you to take. nervously you took it, staring into the glassy eyes of the bear. “’m really sorry for last night, buttercup. of all the things i’ve ever wanted to do makin’ ya think i don’t love and appreciate ya was the last thing i ever wanted. ‘m so sorry, baby.” you were silent, biting on your lower lip. setting the bear down you gave him a pathetic smile.

“thanks, osamu. lets eat, yeah?” you suggested. he smiled brightly and moved in to kiss you, which you dodged. okay. you were more damaged by what he said than he really thought you were. and his heart cracked at that realization. osamu took his place at the other end of the table and ate his fill, not paying attention to what he was shoveling into his mouth and instead paid attention to you pushing around the food on the plate. his lips twisted into a frown.

“um, wanna watch a movie tonight? i have a midshift tomorrow. i hired more managers to help me with the workload,” osamu leaned into his palm. you nodded, looking him in the eyes, his smile infectious and you smiled just a bit. 

when you didn’t cuddle with him during the movie that was his breaking point. he gave you so many signs he wanted you on his chest, starting to fall asleep while his fingers tangled in your hair. instead you curled into the arm of the couch on the opposite end of him. he frowned and paused the movie. you perked up and looked at him confused.

“c’mere baby,” he demanded, patting his lap. you shook your head and pulled your knees to your chest. “why? talk to me honeybun.”

“you called me clingy, osamu. i’m just trying to make things easier for you,” you commented, voice slightly muffled as your face was buried into your knees. sighing, osamu gently pulled you closer so your head could lay softly on his plush thighs. “i’m sorry-”

“ya shouldn’t be the sorry one here,” he cooed. “i didn’t mean it, buttercup. i really didn’t. i know ya don’t believe me but i was angry with ya. i just wanted ya off my back and i hurt ya. i didn’t mean it, okay?” he comforted, hands still threading through your hair.

“okay,” you nodded. “i’m still shaken up but we’re gonna be okay. i promise.”

atsumu miya 

whatever stupid fight you were in this time didn’t warrant what atsumu said on the phone to bokuto after. why he called bokuto after your fight you didn’t know. 

“and, to top it all off, y/n’s just bein real clingy lately and i can’t handle it.” he complained, fingers pinching his forehead. you were in the doorway to apologize but hearing that made your heart stop. did he really think that way about you?

luckily he didn’t catch you in the hallway before you slinked back into your bedroom and into bed.

atsumu joined not too long after. he sat on the opposite side of the bed, not wanting to lay down quite yet. he looked over at you, knowing you weren’t asleep but pretending to be. sighing, he turned to face you, pushing your hair out of your face. to his surprise you visibly flinched. his brows furrowed and he sighed deeply.

“y/n? angel? ‘m really sorry bout the fight. i don’t even remember what we were fightin about. but ‘m sorry. i don’t like seein’ ya this upset especially if it was me causin this. yer the love of my life and i don’t know what i’d do without ya,” atsumu breathed out, hoping the apology was good enough for you.

“it’s okay, tsumu,” you nodded, pulling the covers up closer to your chin. he smiled. 

“good. now let me smother the shit outta you.” he chuckled and opened his arms for you to fall into. when you didn’t, opting to snuggle into the blanket, he frowned. “y/n? what’s wrong lovely.” you shook your head.

“nothing i’m just gonna head to bed, okay?” you gave him a weak smile.

“but i can’t sleep without ya in my arms, baby,” he whined, doing grabby hands at you in hopes you would get the hint. but you didn’t, or you did and were ignoring him. “darlin?”

“i’ve just been clingy lately, and i don’t like putting you in this position, okay love?” you sighed, exasperated. his brows furrowed into a knot in the center of his forehead. not once had he ever given you the impression you were clingy except. oh. okay you heard. 

“oh baby no,” atsumu leaned in and cupped your face within the palms of his hands. “yer not clingy. i was just rantin to bo and i wanted to villainize ya to make me seem better and i knew it was wrong, bo knew it was wrong. i wish i could take it back. i love ya and i wish ye’d smother me in yer love every day,” he took in a deep breath before going into your neck and blowing raspberries into the skin, causing you to burst out into giggles. “there’s my pretty baby.” he beamed down at you, gently running his fingers over your cheek.

it took quite a bit of coaxing to get you into his arms, your rightful place. with gentle hums and coos he got you to loosen up, sadly chuckling. “i did a number on ya, didn’t i?” he asked.

“yeah. but i’ll get over it.” you sighed into his collarbone.

“oh no. just means ‘m gonna have to smother ya. oh no. woe is me,” he teased, going back to the assault of kisses onto your neck. 

#osamu #osamu x reader #osamu miya #osamu miya x reader #atsumu #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya #atsumu miya x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff

[hooman4ever]

!SFW! 'Friends' Bo Sinclair x Male Reader

Pt.2

Just felt like writing this out of the blue and got it done in a little under 20 minutes so I don't have high hopes for it lol.

Contains: Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, F Slur Used, Suppressed Feelings, Suggestive Beginning, Lightly Edited

[Y/n]’s fingers splayed over Bo’s chest, his fingers dragging gently over the dips defining the light muscle on the burly man’s torso.

“Bo,” [Y/n]’s chin rested between Bo’s pecks, his eyes trained on Bo’s face. The man grunted in acknowledgment shifting his arms which lay loosely wrapped around [Y/n]’s waist, “what are we?”

The question [Y/n] asked caught Bo off guard, making him go stiff momentarily. The brunette sighed, letting his head hit the headboard “We’re- friends, always have been. Always will be.” Bo could tell his answer wasn’t the one [Y/n] wanted to hear by the way he squirmed, no longer content to stay cradled in his arms. [Y/n] pushed himself up to where he was straddling Bo, forcing the male to look him in the eyes.

“Friends don’t do the things we do, Bo.”

Bo pushed the other male off of him, letting him fall to the bed before pushing himself up and grabbing his discarded pants off the bedroom floor. “Drop it, [Y/n].”

[Y/n] stood up after the man letting his hands rest on Bo’s broad shoulders “Bo,” [Y/n] started, Bo turned suddenly, his arms pushing [Y/n] back and forcing him to stumble onto the mattress behind him. “No, you listen here [Y/n]. It’s just sex– that’s it. I ain't no faggot so get that through your thick skull.” A vein stuck out from Bo’s neck as he yelled, his hostility shaking [Y/n] to the core “You ain’t nothing more than a hole. We’re never gonna be together, if ya can’ accept that, then get outta here.” Bo paused his fists clenching “Ain’t like I need ya, just gotta wait for the next desperate whore to stumble into Ambrose.”

The tears running down [Y/n]’s cheeks stung, but nothing could compare to the sharp slice that came with the man’s words. Bo realized all too late the words he said, only coming too when [Y/n] was pushing past him a hand over his mouth and sheet wrapped tight around his body. “[Y/n]-” he tried but it was too late as his bedroom door slammed shut.

With the slam of a door, Bo fell to his bed– his empty bed.

#bo sinclair #bo sinclair x male #bo sinclair x male reader #bo sinclair x y/n #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x male y/n #bo sinclair x male s/o #bo sinclair x s/o #male reader #house of wax #angst #one shot #short one shot

[shrieking-aristocrat]

Love the blog name…

So, requests.

A reader getting the upper hand on bo and boutta beat the shit outta him before deciding to teach this dumbass how to life instead

- Lily

Thanks I wanted scream-queen but it's taken 😂 I like this one better now though

Reader gets the upper hand on Bo

Bo Sinclair x Fem reader

TW: light torture, threats, Bo is a bit of a masochist.

Things had gone sour quite fast. Whoever that Bo Sinclair guy was, he was more than the shamelessly flirty but respectful persona he put up when they arrived to the town. Being a hitchhiker meant taking quite a few risks, but she hadn't been expecting a serial killer, no, those were the kind of risks people who hitchhiked joked and told exaggerated stories about, stories people claimed were real but were actually just an urban legend at most, vaguely based on events that took place decades ago on the other end of the country.

This wasn't an urban legend. This was very very real.

The hitchhiker, that's what the folk she came with'd called her when Bo asked. Besides her, there were two ladies and two guys, none of them seemed to know much about her other than she needed a ride to some place that was close to where they were headed. He caught her looking his way once, and shot her one of his most charming smiles, being faced with a look that was almost judgemental before she turned back to looking around.

Her indifference got his attention more than the other two's flirty attempts at getting him to stop glancing her way and their boyfriends's glares could. It was why he'd decided to go after her first, lock her away and save her for last. That was his first mistake.

Catching them off guard was easy, people's first mistake when they arrived to Ambrose was not thinking much of Bo, and he made them regret that. The hitchhiker followed him into the basement with annoyed resignation, and by the time she realized just in how much trouble she was, he'd used the moment of realization to tackle her and get her cuffed to his chair. He left her there, going after the others so that Vincent wouldn't have all the fun.

Two kills and two unsuccessful chases later, Bo retuned to the basement, finding the door open and the chair empty.

"Damn that bitch," he cursed through gritted teeth. Something hard collided with the back of his head before he could turn around and realize he'd fallen into a trap.

When he opened his eyes, Bo's head was throbbing, it took him a minute to realize he was strapped down to his own chair, and as soon as he did, he began to trash and scream, much like he used to do when he was a child with parents who didn't know nor care to learn how to properly deal with his bursts of emotion. His chest heaved as he glared to the side, spotting the hitchhiker leaning against the wall, watching him as she held onto her own thumb in a way that confused him until a snap noise made him realize that's how she'd broken free: she dislocated her thumb and was now putting it back in place.

"That look tells me this hasn't happened to you before," she hummed, pushing herself away from the wall and stepping towards him. "Rookie mistake, should have at least knocked me out."

"I don't hit ladies," Bo spoke, making another attempt at breaking free. "But I'll make an exception just for you."

She snorted, the noise only made Bo's blood boil. He considered dislocating his own thumb to break free, but didn't quite dare to do it, he'd dislocated it once as a child, while his father was trying to place him on the high chair, and he still remembered how much it'd hurt despite how young he'd been. It wasn't something he wished to repeat anytime soon.

He straight up tried to bite her hand when it moved towards his face, but her fingers went to a spot over his ear, fingers digging into an injury made when she hit him, making him curse through gritted teeth and struggle against the straps.

"Look at me," she demanded, grabbing a handful of his hair and making Bo tilt his head back to meet her eyes. "How many of you are out there?"

"Fuck you," Bo growled and once again cursed when her knuckles pressed hard against the injury on his scalp. "Just me, damn it!"

"Bullshit," she spoke, her tone calm yet stern in a way that made Bo's heart race. "You wouldn't be so confident about taking out five people if it was just you." her hand once again dug onto his injury before she let go of his hair, the now bloody bands sticking to his head.

"What are you, an expert?" he questioned, struggling and being met only with the chair's rattling as he watched her move to where his tools were.

It was as she reached for the pliers that he saw something familiar on her arm, a tattoo of a geometric butterfly in different shades of blue. He remembered finding a newspaper in one of their previous victims' car showing that exact same tattoo as an identifying mark for a criminal that'd escaped prison. It then clicked in Bo's mind that he might have met his match.

"Well shit, darlin'," he snorted. "and here I thought you were just some chick."

"Oh, I am," she hummed, moving over and taking a hold of his hand, placing the pliers over the first knuckle. "Just some chick that will start cutting fingers unless you start being honest."

Bo glared at her, the look in his eyes almost challenging him to try. He would kill her if she did– hell, he didn't even believe she would dare; he was the deranged one, the one that made people scared. But now, as he stared into the eyes of someone who looked at him with the same look of superiority he often looked down at his victims with, he wondered if this is what they felt. There was panic as the pliers began squeezing down on his knuckle, harder and harder each passing moment; and there was something else, something stirring in his lower belly.

"Okay, wait," he breathed out, his gasp turning into a sigh of relief when she paused. The pressure of the pliers was so far enough to make him thing there'd be a bruise. "It's me and my brothers. Two of 'em."

She stared at him like she could read him mind, or was trying to, and that stirring in his lower belly turned into a tightness in his pants that he hoped she wouldn't notice.

"You've got a nice town here," she hummed. "It isn't even on any maps. It would be a good place for someone like me to spend some time at until people stop looking for me." her wrist shifted, the pliers twisting his finger enough to make Bo tense. "Now, that could happen with you and your brothers alive, or not. I don't really care. But if I have to pick, I'd say it'd be easier for me with you all dead, less trouble." she leaned forward, her grip loosening on the pliers allowed Bo to move his finger back to a non painful position. "Are you going to be trouble?"

Bo mentally cursed his body for reacting the way it did, trying and failing to will his blood to stop rushing downwards. His head was spinning for something completely unrelated to the injury: he wanted her– fuck, he really wanted her.

"I've been called everythin' but trouble, ma'am," he managed to say, trying his best to sound smug.

She leaned back, tilting her head and pondering for a moment before she freed one of his hands, moving out of his reach before she turned to the door. "Don't make me regret it, boy," she said, looking over her shoulder as he began feeding his other hand then moved on to his ankles. "Or I will make you regret it."

She left him there: humiliated, angry, and uncomfortably hard.

#bo sinclair #house of wax #bo sinclair x reader #fem reader #third person narration #requested by lily

[deafsignifcantother]

vincent sinclair deciding not to kill you because you are deaf

♥ Summary: after being separated by your friends, you had no hope of getting out alive, but the precious trait that had caused you inconvenience with hearing people ended up being the reason one decided to spare your life.

♥ Relationships: Vincent Sinclair x gender neutral Reader (capture and captive)

♥ Word count: 981

♥ Warnings: being hunted, mentions of a snake, Reader is nonverbal

The sound of your breaths gets impaled by the crackling of dried leaves under your shoes. You run. You can't help but glance behind you and through the peeks of the houses. What if they find you?

Your escape route was to crawl behind the buildings. It was stealthy until a long snake decided to slither over your knuckles. From there, you decided that being on the naked ground wasn't the best idea.

This was supposed to be a fun camping trip with you and your friends. You can't even pinpoint the moment everything went wrong. It all seemed to sudden. One second you were with them, and the next, you had been isolated.

You feel bare being all alone. You feel vulnerable.

Especially when a body jumps in front of you, pushing you to the ground. Dirt finds home in the crevices of your hands. Your feet lose their vibrant pace. You can't find it in you to struggle anymore.

The blue eye of a masked man looks down at you.

A dissonance of bird whistles ling in the air.

Oh god, you realize, he could be talking right now.

When he raises his hammer to the air you throw your hands up, shaking them in front of you before signing that you're deaf.

"I'm deaf, I'm deaf!" You plea. "I can't understand your words."

It makes him pause. He recognizes what you are doing. He saw it on the television once. It was from those old sitcoms his mother used to watch. The character would read the lips of those around her while communicating with her hands. A deaf woman, he realizes. Are you like her? An even better thought crosses his mind within seconds of the realization. You could teach him how to communicate like you.

He crouches down in front of you. He eyes the way your widened eyes scan his mask. Unlike the actress, you couldn't read his lips. You wouldn't even know if he was trying to talk to you. With a sudden wave of concern pilling up in his stomach - he manages to reach out his hand and touch your wrist.

It's just a graze of skin. Nothing aggressive. Nothing rough. All he wants to do is feel you. Your hands aren't as calloused as his. They're just... perfect. He finds himself lingering his fingers over the indents in your palms and brushing off the dirt that tried to cling to your skin.

"What the hell is going on here?" Bo creeps up from behind you, pointing his shotgun at the back of your head. You don't even notice.

The panic Vincent feels causes him to leap forward and grab the barrel of the gun. The twins watch your body rush to stand up. With the realization that there are now two men hovering over you, you decided it was your time to move.

The contact between you and the enemy was softer than you expected. Maybe he had never seen a deaf person before. Or... he thought you were motioning that you had something stuck in your palm. Either way - you had never had your skin observed like that.

They look at each other, one speaking harshly, spit traveling from his mouth while your admirer shakes his head. They seem distracted. Maybe you could run. But where would you go? It seems too risky, especially since he has a gun. You could never dodge that.

A pair of long fingers grip your chin and forcing you to stare forward. The other man moves his mouth widely while his eyes pierce yours. He's yelling. Talking loudly as if it could help you.

All you do is shake your head. The man laughs, turning back to the other and shrugging his shoulders.

"They really can't hear, huh?" Bo says with an almost amused tone. "Well, you can keep 'em if you want. Just don't go letting 'em nose around my house. You outta be in a lot of trouble if you do, you hear me, boy?"

Vincent nods, leaning forward to emphasize his seriousness. Finally, he has someone he can communicate with. Well... eventually. First, he will make sure you are comfortable. There is no way for you to leave; however, that does not mean that you have to fear for your ability to chose. The entire thing is already planned out in his head. He'll wait for you to feel safe around him. He'll show you that he's not a threat anymore. And then, hopefully, you'll want to open up and help him learn. He's patient. He'll always be patient.

His underground roomy workplace is warm. The heat prickles at your skin. Orange undertones reflect in the lights of your eyes as you examine everything about your current location. This could be the last thing you see. You're mildly prepared for that.

Bo follows behind you, of course, still holding his gun. The sadistic side of him wants to blow your brains out right now. You wouldn't know. Vincent wouldn't be able to stop him. But the brotherly side of him is what's dominating his head. Let that man have his fun. This person - this muse could do some good for him. As long as it doesn't get in either of their ways while they ring the bells to their mama's dream: it don't matter to him.

He's the one that grabs a sketchbook from the shelf, clicking a pen and flipping to a blank page. While he does this, you still pace in the portion of the room you are allowing yourself to occupy. You don't want to know what's deeper. Especially since you have not seen your friends in a while.

A tap on your shoulder makes you turn around. And there, with the letters traced over dozens of time so they darken into a bold print, reads "stay."

#vincent sinclair #house of wax #vincent sinclair x reader #x deaf reader #house of wax vincent #house of wax x reader #house of wax imagine #vincent sinclair one shot #deaf reader