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#vincent x y/n
stitcheswashere13 · 2 years
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playing with the slashers long hair<3
Im only doing the slashers with shoulder- longer than shoulder length hair, and I threw in Billy lenz because hes close to those lengths 
Includes! Rz! Micheal Myers, Thomas Hewitt, Vincent Sinclair, Tiffany valentines and Billy Lenz<3
Warnings! Flash backs, mentions of murder, A couple curse words & just absolute Teeth rotting, candy store level sweet Fluff.
Rz! Micheal: 
Playing with his hair:
Lets be honest, you will have to be on a good level 13 of trust to even go near his hair, Its not like he cares about his hair, hell he barely brushes it. He has trust issues and he feels more easy to get when someone has a hold of his hair. Could you really blame him, he was most likely man- handled by his hair a few times, dragged around by it, had someone rip/pull on it when he was killing them. 
If he does trust you with it, he doesn’t care what you do to it. You wanna braid it? Ok, just don’t pull too hard. You wanna do a bun? Like I said before, do it. 
When you style up his hair he will keep it in all the way until night or until he goes out to kill.
he gets butterflies every time you play with his hair.
Him Playing with your hair:
He is a bit rough, I mean, you could already guess that.
He likes to braid it, like loves to braid it.
He finds it comforting, kinda reminds him of all the good things about home <3
Thomas Hewitt:
Playing with his hair: 
You will have to be on like a level 3 of trust, he doesn’t really care if you play with it at the start of the relationship, just don’t braid/ put it up. why? you may ask, Well he would not take them out, and the minute that Hoyt sees his hair braided he will bully him to death.
As you get more into the relationship, he will let you do anything you want, he learned to tone Hoyt’s comments out. If Hoyt goes to you to complain about Tommy’s hair, Thomas will full on bitch slap Hoyt. (Will Smith level bitch slap).
He Loves when you braid it into a half up- half down crown, it makes im fall even deeper in love with you <3
Repeat after me, If this man is stressed, Play with his Goddamn hair.
Him playing with your hair:
He is so nice with it, and calm. 
He loves it. Like Loves it, loves it.
Loves to do pigtails on you <3 
Like I said before, if Hoyt or anyone comes in while hes doing it to complain about it, he will either put down your hair calmly and slap them, or he will grab a pillow with one hand and throw it at them<3
Vincent Sinclair: 
Playing with his hair:
do it. just ask, and you will see him on his knees/ in a chair, ready for you to play with his hair. 
This man Loves having his hair played with almost as much as his love for art.
Will just flip off Bo if he makes fun of him for having his hair up in a messy bun.
You will find little sketches of him with his hair done, in his little sketch book with the title “Mon Amour’s Hair art <3 
He likes any hair style that will keep his hair out of his face.
Will stop what he is doing to have you put his hair up.
Him playing with your hair:
He Loves doing it. Loves doing it.
He has a page of sketches of his “hair art”
he will mumble “pretty little thing”
Again will flip off Bo if he starts to make fun of this.
Tiffany Valentines: 
Playing with her hair:
She doesn’t give two shits on what you do to it, she loves the fact that you are spending time with her.
If Chucky comes in and even dares says one comment thats negative, she will take off her heal and threaten him with it. 
Do it when shes stressed, It helps her calm down faster.
After you're done she will say “aww, Thank you sweetface, I love it!” 
10/10 loves hair buns of any type. briaded, space, simple, you name it.
Her playing with your hair:
This beauty queen, will spend hours. doing your hair.
For the people who dye there hair a lot, she will do it for you, she is really good at dying hair and styling it.
She really loves doing hair.
she has pictures of you and her with yalls hair done by each other.
Billy Lenz:
Playing with his hair:
Do it, do it, do it ,do it. He loves it more than anything in the world.
Will ask you around 90% of the time to do his hair.
He likes it when you put his hair in a low ponytail. 
when yall cuddle is the best time to play with his hair <3
He keeps in the hairstyle you put in his hair
Him playing with your hair:
Will do it all the time.
He will act like he’s Brad Mando. Prove me wrong-
This Man. Will Full on cry of happiness about the amount of wholesome he is witnessing, when he was playing with your hair and you fell asleep on his lap.
End Note!
Helloo! So small change ima start doing for the next post on ima start using the shinny post editor. Request are open. Check out my pinned post. I Hope you guys like the post even tho it was short! And Thank you all so much  for all the love on my post you guys are the best! Have a Lovely day <3
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chubbyreaderchan · 1 year
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Slasher: *stabs y/n in the back*
Y/n: *doesn't flinch, but rubs the side where stabbed and looks around confused* That's not good.
Slasher: *cocks head in confusion*
Y/n: Sweetie, honestly I am chronically ill. I am in pain constantly. This is nothing.
Slasher: *keeps staring, confused*
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fanficbarbie · 7 months
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Smoking 🍃 with vinnie smut cause he’s so pookie bear (make it rough too please 💀💀)
❝FMB❞ - vinnie hacker x reader
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─⋆♡ an: based on this ask. FMB means f⋆ck me back. hopefully it's rough enough. this is my first smut post so i didn't want to make it too too rough, just fyi. unedited so ignore any mistakes. i hope yall enjoy. ★ ˙ᵕ˙ liv
─⋆♡ summary: you and vinnie have a complex relationship. it all comes to a head when you become bold enough to confront him post-blunt.
─⋆♡ warnings: overstimulation, softdom!vinnie, smut, fluff towards the end, tiny bit of angst, 18+ black!writer, language, alcohol, drugs, D!NC, physical descriptors (brief), choking, spitting, slight exhibitionism if you squint, claiming, rough smut, squirting, anal play, unprotected sex (i do not condone irl, wrap before you tap).
⋆word count: 3.9k ⋆ vinnie hacker masterlist ⋆
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The loud bass of music floats in the background as I tap through Snapchat stories on my phone. The couch next to me dips and when I turn, I see Vinnie has joined me.
He doesn’t speak to me before pulling out a blunt and sparking it. As is, me and Vinnie’s relationship was complicated. We started off as friends, then smoke buddies. But the more we smoked together, the more we felt for each other. Or at least, I fell for him.
We had kissed and made out, but we’ve never had sex. After a few dates, I was becoming restless. The frustration of his mixed signals got the best of me. Now in the darkness of the crowded room, I’ve become bold enough to confront him.
I watch him as he inhales and exhales the smoke like a chimney. He seemingly notices my intense stare and stops. “Did you need something?” he asks with an attitude.
You can practically feel steam whistling out of your ears from how fuming your brain is right now. “Yeah actually. Give that to me,” I snap, pointing at his blunt.
He shrugs, ashing the blunt on the coffee table. “Okay,” he concedes, passing me the joint.
Letting the smoke dance in my lungs, I choke it out slowly. Now that the weed is hitting, I decide now is the time. “Vinnie, are you still interested in me?” I ask him abruptly.
He chuckles and takes the blunt from me. “Oh, baby. Of course I fucking am. Why would you even ask me that?” he shoots back with an eyebrow raised.
Frowning, I pick at my cuticles out of nervousness. “Because we go on dates, we kiss, but we’ve never had sex. I just don’t know what you want any more,” I confess, standing from the couch in a huff. 
Of course, I want to take things further. But I’m not sure if he wants me anymore when he barely touches me.
He stops me from moving any further, tugging my hand. I grudgingly turn around, looking down at him. “Because, doll. We haven’t had the sex talk yet,” he discloses, rubbing his free hand up and down my thigh.
I roll my eyes and scoff, snatching the blunt out of his hands to take a hit. He places his hands on my hips, watching me intensely. “What do you mean by ‘sex talk’? I’m not 5,” I ask after blowing out a toke.
He stands until he’s staggering high towers over me. “I mean…” he pushes lightly, backing me into the wall so I’m trapped between his body and the drywall. “I want to know what you like, what you don’t like, and what you’ll beg for before I feel you cumming on my cock,” he whispers in my ear, licking a stripe up my neck afterward. 
My head tips back in a moan, which makes him as hard as a rock. “Fuck, baby. Do you see what you do to me? I want nothing more than to make you feel good, in the best way that I can, for the rest of my life.” he presses his body into mine, slowly kissing up my neck.
One of the partiers comes up behind Vinnie and taps him on the shoulder. He ignores them, waving them off with the rest of the blunt. His hand moves to the inside of my thigh and he rubs me so close that I know he can feel the inside of my legs shake. “Should I take care of you right here?” he bites my neck, and I whimper, pulling his hair.
Vinnie pulls back from me, piercing a hole into my eyes. “Please?” I beg, gnawing on my lip.
He uses the other hand and wraps it around my throat, effectively restricting my breathing. He tilts my head to the side. “Do you think you deserve it?” he whispers against my lips with his eyebrow raised. 
Struggling, I lightly nod my head in his firm grip. “Yes, Vinnie,” I squeak out, and he gives me one last squeeze on the throat before grabbing my wrist and yanking me through the crowd.
Bodies brush past me as Vinnie drags me up the steps to his room. “Wait, where are we going?” I ask, confused. He just asked if I needed to be taken care of right there and then... I did say yes.
“You think I’m gonna let everyone watch me fuck you?” he scoffs.
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Once we got the sex talk out of the way, Vinnie makes quick work to get me undressed. I moan into the darkness of the room as Vinnie leaves love bites down my neck, only breaking the contact to lift my tank top over my head. He pauses his movements to take in the black lacy bralette I'm wearing. “Fuck, baby. You don’t know what you do to me,” he groans, then smashes his lips back onto mine. 
He slams me against his closed bedroom door before slowly dropping down onto his knees. Watching him sink to the ground has an involuntary giggle leaving my lips. “Vinnie, I didn’t think you were going to actually-” he cuts me off, spinning me around so my ass is facing him.
Suddenly, an echoing smack verberates off the walls and my ass cheeks are on fire. Yelping, I sink my teeth into my bottom lips, trying to muffle the noise I’m making.
He slowly inches his hands up my legs until my skirt is fully pushed up to my stomach. His fingers meet my panties, and he runs my fingers over them, seemingly savoring every last moment. “Did you wear these for me, sunshine?” He hooks one finger under one side, pulling it back and making the elastic snap around my hips.
I reach out to support myself on anything to keep my knees from buckling. “No,” I joke, and he bends my knees a bit.
He rubs calming circles into the back of my thighs with his thumbs. “Don’t need you collapsing on my baby,” he informs me.
Taking both sides in his hands, he rips the fabric in half and shreds it off my body like paper. “Shame. I would’ve let you keep them.” 
Gasping, I look down and watch them fall to the ground. He palms my ass, spreading my cheeks further apart. “Bend over just a little bit more, baby,” he instruct, kissing my ass on both sides. 
Slowly shifting in his grasp, I whine as I bend over. I’m desperate for him, all over me. Filling every hole over and over again until I’m screaming for help.
He hovers his mouth over my pussy. “You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he praises me, running his pointer finger up and down my folds to collect my wetness.
“Let me tell you something, sunshine,” he grumbles, rubbing his fingers in circles on my puffy, swollen nub. “There's absolutely nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Do you understand?” he looks up at me, awaiting my response.
Unable to focus, I just nod my head.
“You have to use your words, baby.” he instantly retracts his fingers from my clit bringing them into his mouth. With a pop, he pulls them out, moaning at the taste of my arousal.
I groan, throwing my head back in frustration. “Yes, I know. Just please take care of me, Vinnie,” I practically beg for the second time tonight.
He returns his fingers to my pussy, slowly rubbing around my entrance. “If you asked me to shoot myself, I would,” he growls, slowly sinking his fingers into me. Curling them downwards on every thrust, his fingers search for that spongy spot. He pulls out and thrusts into me again, and my breath quickens. “If you asked me to slit my wrists, I would.” Quickening his pace, my moans echo through the large bedroom. “You gotta stay quiet, baby. I wanna be the only one to hear those pretty moans.” 
He uses his free hand, bringing it up to my clit, rubbing fast circles on my sensitive bud. His fingers are thrusting into me at such an intense rate that I feel the world collapsing beneath me. My pussy contracts around his fingers and he groans deeply, sending a shiver up my spine. “Fuck yourself on my fingers, sunshine,” he commands, hitting my sweet spot. 
I mewl, obeying his commands, and begin rocking back into him. My orgasm starts approaching rapidly, his fingers drive into me at an unrelenting pace. When my walls flutter, he instantly slows his pace. “Not yet, baby. You can’t cum until you’re quiet.”  
Crying again, I bring my hand up to muffle the sound successfully. He applies more pressure on the quick circles he’s drawing on my clit. I arch my back again until I’m moving with his fingers just as he requested. I moan loudly, the coil in my stomach about to snap. 
He blows a quick shot of air onto my exposed clit, the chill making the coil snap. My vision turns white as I quietly moan out, "Fuck, Vinn.”
“That’s it, sunshine. Cum for me, let go,” he murmurs underneath me, and I can feel the lust dripping off his tongue as my orgasm rocks through me. The pace of his fingers doesn’t slow as he works me through my orgasm, and I hear my nails scratch against the drywall. My legs quake and my back arches slightly, my mouth opening in a silent moan. 
He slows his thrusting and pulls out of me, rising to his feet. He turns me around to face him, his eyes taking in the fucked out expression on my face. “You wanna know how good you taste, baby?” Grabbing my chin, he rubs his thumb over my bottom lip.
I close my eyes, trying to catch my breath and lean back into the wall. “Yes,” I whisper, and as soon as the words leave my lips, his fingers sink into my mouth. Deciding to tease him, I swirl my tongue around his digits, imagining my tongue on his cock. His fingers push back further into my throat until I gag a little, then he pulls them out. Fucking hope he’s impressed that I can take them that far without coughing.
Without another thought, I smash my lips against his, savoring the taste of my orgasm on his tongue. “God, you taste so fucking good. I could eat you forever,” he growls, moving my body back onto the bed.
He crawls on top of me and his bulge is pressed into me once again. “Vinnie, please. I need you.” I whimper into his mouth as my shaky fingers move to slowly unbutton his shirt. 
But he grabs my wrists, stopping me. “I got it, sunshine,” he laughs, then makes quick work to remove his shirt. 
I shamelessly watch as he slowly strips out of his pants and his boxers. Even though I’ve seen him naked in front of me before, he’s never fully been hard. His dick is beautiful. His swollen head is already dripping with precum, making him look good enough to deep throat. 
Vinnie slowly climbs back onto the bed and my eyes widen, realizing what’s about to happen. My breathing quickens in anticipation as he comes down to kiss me hard and deep. 
I moan into him, but my hands move to his chest to push him back as I look down, suddenly scared. “It’s too big, I don’t think it’ll fit,” I insist, crawling away from him.
He grabs my ankles, pulling me back down. “We’re gonna make it fit, baby,” he retorts, his eyes dark. 
The tip of his dick moves back and forth in between my folds, collecting wetness. I whimper, squeezing his shoulders. 
“Hey, sunshine. Look at me.” He grabs my chin until I make eye contact with him. “We can stop if you want to stop. I won't go any further,” he reassures, resting his forehead on mine.
I immediately shake my head, inhaling a sharp breath. “No, I want this–I want you. Just be careful, please.” I pull him into me for a heated kiss and tug his hair, making him groan and deepen the kiss. 
Finally, he pulls back and lines himself up near my entrance, spitting and letting the dribble collect on his base. “This is gonna hurt, so just relax for me, baby.” My legs are pushed open a little wider. 
I nod, trying to calm myself, and he laces his fingers in mine before he moves. The tip of his shaft pushes in, and I gasp at the stretch. “Shit, Vinnie,” I cry out, squeezing his hands until my knuckles turn white. Tears prick at the corner of my eyes, the burn from his girth sends fire into my core. 
Immediately, he stops moving, looking into my eyes. “Do you want me to stop? I’ll stop,” he groans out. 
I bite my lip, shaking my head no. 
He kisses the corner of my eyes and whispers, “Okay, just relax for me, sunshine. I’ll try to make this quick.” He continues to sink slowly into me, bottoming out, and I wince again. To allow me to adjust to his length, he pauses his movements. “You’re squeezing me so tight. Fuck, I’m not gonna last long,” he breathes, bending down to kiss my neck. And then, he slowly starts rocking into me and the burn is replaced with a familiar warmth. 
“Oh, god. Vinnie,” I moan, releasing his hands to claw at his back for support. 
He’s hitting the perfect spot already, and he just got inside me. He continues to slowly push in and out of me, allowing me to savor the feeling of him inside me. I moan, biting on his shoulder. 
“More.” My legs are already shaking. “Give me more,” I demand, kissing up to his ear.
Pulling back, he looks at me. “Are you sure?” His hand strokes my curls.
I pull him down into a kiss, allowing my tongue to explore his mouth once more. “Yes, please. Use me, fuck me,” I beg, squirming underneath him.
Vinnie fists the sheets below my head and adjusts his position. I brace myself. “The safe word is ‘moon’, Sunshine. Use it if you need it.” He kisses my neck once more and begins driving into me at a steady, even rate. The tip of his length kisses my g-spot with each stroke. “Fuccckkkk,” he growls into my ear, and I feel myself squeezing him when the words hit my eardrums. 
“Vinnie,” I moan. 
The only sound outside of our pants and moans is the sound of his skin slapping against mine as he fucks me. He wraps his tattooed hand around my throat, leaning in for a kiss. And as if I wasn't already in heaven, he brings his fingers down to rub quick circles on my clit. 
“I’m gonna cum, doll. But I need to feel you squeezing me before I do,” he commands, and I cry as I arch into him. 
He pounds into me steadily, rocking my body into the bed. Each stroke pushes me closer and closer over the edge until I feel myself contracting around him. 
“Cum with me, sunshine,” he whispers against my lips, and it sends me over the edge. 
Arching my back and screaming, I claw at his back and bite his shoulder as my orgasm hits me like a train. Just when I thought he couldn’t get any deeper, he lifts my hips slightly. 
“Where do you want me to cum, love?” His dick kisses my cervix, and I know I’ll be bruised tomorrow. But I can’t bring myself to give a shit right now. 
He twitches inside me, and I lick a stripe up his neck. “Cum in me, Vinnie,” I whimper, and he growls into my neck. 
His seed spills inside me, his strokes becoming uneven. I moan at the feeling, and squeeze around him, milking out every drop of his cum as he paints my walls. It fills me up and I’ve never felt better after sex. 
He stills inside me, kissing me breathlessly, and takes a few moments to catch his breath. Before he pulls out, I wrap my arms around him, causing him to bury further inside me. “Stay,” I plead, tears threatening to spill over in my eyes.
He softly strokes my hair, wrapping his arm around me and slowly flipping us over so I’m on top. “Okay, sunshine. I got you. Fuck, that was the fastest I’ve ever cum before in my life,” 
Like I requested, he doesn’t pull out. Just pulls me closer into his body until I’m melting into the beautiful tattoos on his chest. His fingers begin tracing light patterns across my back. 
I sniffle, looking up at him with a small smile on my face, and he looks at me. “You okay, sunshine?” he asks, and I shift on his length a little bit. 
Sitting up to put my hands on his chest, I feel his dick twitching and growing inside me. “Yeah. Let's go again,” I giggle, bending down to kiss him. It surprises me how he’s already ready for round two, but I don’t complain. 
He groans into my mouth, wrapping his decorated arms around my waist. Slowly, I lift myself until I feel his tip threatening to slip out. I slide back down onto him, filling myself completely and moaning at the change of position. 
His hands tighten around my waist, helping me swirl my hips around. “I want you to know you’re mine, sunshine,” he groans, reaching up to play with my nipples as I moan at the feeling of him stretching me from this angle. 
I pick up my pace, bouncing on his dick until he’s hitting my perfect spot over and over again. My legs shake, and I feel my third orgasm approaching rapidly. My hand moves to his neck, squeezing it hard. I feel so fucking powerful, making myself cum with his length. 
Vinnie looks up at me with amazement in his eyes and slides his thumb in between us to apply pressure on my clit. I throw my head back and moan, still choking him. “God. You look so pretty when you moan.” 
The pace of his thumb quickens, and I topple over the edge, crashing into my third orgasm with a loud cry. I release my hand on his neck, falling forward. Vinnie removes his hand from my clit to catch me and keep from coming down on his body. He allows me to rest on his chest as he starts to fuck up into me, elongating my orgasm. 
“Vinnie,” I choke out, and my voice bounces off his walls. 
He picks up his pace, driving into me from below. “That’s it, doll. Scream my name. Let the world know who fucking owns you.” 
He pounds my body into his, and I grip his shoulders when I feel a tingling sensation on my clit. Wetness suddenly shoots out from between my legs, running down my thighs and covering his stomach. My whole body quakes, but he doesn’t slow down. 
“Fuck, sunshine. Look at the mess you made, cumming all over me.” 
My brain is on a different planet as he slows down, allowing me to glance down at the soaked sheets. He slowly pulls me off him and I wince, falling backward onto the bed. Then, Vinnie moves me so I’m laying on my side, out of the wet spot, before slowly pushing back into me, spooning me, and caressing my hair. “No one will ever fuck you ever again, for the rest of your life but me. Do you understand?” 
Slamming into me at an unrelenting pace, he bites my neck. His hand wraps around my throat, applying a bit of pressure. Every thrust sends me closer to the edge, and the only thing I register is him kissing the back of my neck. I’m so fucked, I can’t speak. I can’t think. 
“Yes,” I babble out, arching my back into him. 
All I feel is pure bliss. The room is spinning, and I feel another orgasm rapidly approaching. He nibbles a love bite into my neck, hitting my G-spot over and over again. My thighs are lifted a little higher until I see white. “Cum for me again, Sunshine. You feel so good when you squeeze me,” he mumbles into my neck.
I shake my head, and gripping his forearm that chokes me. “I can’t,” I cry, looking at the view from his room— everything is spinning. 
Vinnie increases his pace, slamming into me. “You can, and you will,” he snarls in my ear. 
I feel the tears spilling over in my eyes as he applies more pressure on my throat. The overstimulation of his dick drilling into me repeatedly sends me toppling over another edge, and I wail his name, feeling my soul leave my body. Everything feels fuzzy as his thrusts become sloppy before he lets out an animalistic grunt. I feel his dick twitch, then, shooting hot ropes into me. The heat of it makes me feel like I’m going to pass out, and I moan at the sensation. He continues to slowly thrust into me, riding out both of our orgasms. 
After we’re both spent, he buries himself deep inside me, stroking my hair and peppering kisses on my shoulder as I come down from my high. “You did so well for me, Sunshine. Fucking fantastic,” he praises.
He slowly caresses my hips as my body shakes against his. I wince as he slowly pulls out and scoots down to the bottom of the bed. Spreading my legs wide open, he watches our cum leak out of me. My swollen pussy contracts around nothing, pushing his seed out, and I hear him groan. 
He brings his fingers up to my entrance and I wince. “Shhh, Sunshine, I’m just making sure we don’t waste a drop,” he coos, stuffing his fingers into me and massaging my g-spot. 
An inevitable moan leaves my lips I arch my back to get closer to him. “You want to cum again?” He asks before leaning over to flick his tongue over her my. Crying out at the overstimulation, I shake my head. 
“Too bad, baby.” he quickly thrusts into me with his fingers, moaning at the taste of our orgasms mixing. His tongue flicks over my swollen, puffy clit. I haven’t used our safe word, and I know he’s going to keep pushing me until I say it.
Vinnie removes his tongue from my clit and he uses his other hand to collect our orgasms on his finger. The pace of his fingers slows and he begins rubbing a circle around my tight hole. He slowly pushes his finger into my ass, fucking me with both hands. 
I’m unable to control my movements as I thrash underneath him. His finders drive in and out, reaching the most delicious spot. 
“Give me one last one, Sunshine. I promise I’ll let you stop after,” he orders, and I move my hands to his hair to tug on it.
He pushes his finger further into my ass, curling it a bit more, and I snap. Neglecting his noise warning, my screams and my moans erupt through the room. He moans as he works both of my holes through what I assume is my last orgasm. 
As finally comes down, I whimper, “Moon,” and he stops and slowly pulls his fingers out, satisfied with my overstimulation. 
He crawls up my body, grabbing my face so I'm forced to look at him. “You're everything to me–perfect and mine,” he mumbles into my mouth and I wipe away the tears in my eyes. 
My brain buzzes with post-sex high. “Only for you,” I whisper into the night.
I did so well, and I am his.
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honestlywtf04 · 11 months
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can you make a vinnie smut where they were fucking and someone’s ex would caught them and vinnie would just fuck her harder 🙈 OH AND have reader(she/her) do those pornography moans or maybe just those moans where you could clear hear her liking everything bit of the experience HAHAHHAHAH THANK YOU AND I LOVE YAH!! 🫶
𝐈'𝐦 𝐇𝐞𝐫
warning: nsfw!, praising kink, exhibitionism, lmk if i missed any.
a/n: thank you for the request! sorry for taking too long. i love you too! 😚🫶
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all you want is to turn your head to watch his face distorted in pleasure, but he's the reason that you can't do that. his hand is above your head pushing it down as he thrusts into you slowly, making sure you feel everything, every inch, every vein.
"vinnie- i want you," you manage to say without thinking. your body shudders, goosebumps overtake your upper body.
"pretty girl- you have me, inside you. what else do you want," he grunts which causes you to moan softly. everything about what's happening is erotic, never in your life has anyone made you feel so... wow.
he removes his hand and leans down, lowering your hips so your entire body is laid flat on the bed. your eyes close once you feel him breathing heavily against your ear. never stopping his movements.
"you feel so good baby," he moans quietly. your pussy tightens around him and you hear him laugh softly. "do you like being praised pretty?"
dirty sounds start spilling out of your mouth when he starts thrusting faster and faster. "i love being inside you, no one has ever made me feel the way you do," you are taken back from his sudden burst of confidence. not realizing that the man whom is currently drilling into you, is staring deep into the eyes of his former lover.
you open your eyes and look to your left to see who he was staring at. she looks at you with envy in her eyes, wishing she was you, wishing the man on top of you was doing that to her. but he's not. vinnie makes eye contact with you and smirks.
you quickly switch places with him. you lift your hips up and lower them at a pace that you know he loves. his ex-girlfriend watches his hands go to your back, pushing you down so you're laying on him. she watches the scene continue, paying attention to his hands that go low, and low, and low, until they are groping your ass.
he grabs onto your ass and starts moving his hips up and down, pride filling him up when he hears your beautiful sounds pour out of your mouth.
"fuck vinnie," you moan in his ear which causes his eyes to roll back. you hear him mumble something to himself.
he squeezes your bottom and thrusts even faster than before. your mouth hangs open as pleasure fills your body. dirty sounds- that sound like a classical melody to him- echo around the room.
you open your eyes and look down at man under you, seeing his face focused down to where the both of you are intimately connected. your hand moves to his cheek making him look at you, his face going red from pleasure and shyness.
you kiss him passionately and he immediately returns it. you moan into the kiss as you hear someone walk away a little too loudly which only makes the both of you laugh softly.
he lifts his head to kiss you again, in which you happily respond. "i'ma cum sweetheart, take it please."
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How big I think the slashers are:
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5 inches:
bubba but probably thick, stu
6 inches:
art the clown, Bo, Lester, Vincent maybe 7, Billy loomis
7 inches:
Vincent, Brahms, Billy lenz
8 inches:
Michael, candyman, pinhead
9 inches:
jason voorhees
10 inches:
Pyramid head
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𝒦𝒾𝓁𝓁𝑒𝓇 𝐼𝓃 𝐵𝑒𝒹
Featuring: Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair 
Word Count: 1.5k 
Warnings: nsfw, mdni, smutty headcanons, virginity mention, dirty talk, rough sex, just general nasty things
Michael Myers
Let’s be honest—this man was a virgin before you showed up
He was in a mental institution from a young age—not exactly the best place to fuck
Still, that certainly didn’t stop him
He picked up on what to do fast—it’s not all that difficult
Still, he definitely focused on himself
Whether or not you came was not his problem
You have to take matters into your own hands when it comes to that, using your fingers to work at your clit
Most of the time your body is jostled around to much to do so
He’s not gentle
Whatsoever
Things will be broken
The bed?
A bone?
Who knows
You have so so many marks
Bruises
Cuts
You always look like you fell through a wood chipper 
It’s not like you could reason with him, though
“Hey, can you, I don’t know, be gentle for once and not fuck me against a countertop?”
Yea, that would go over well
He gets. . . better. . . eventually
Still mostly selfish
But may rub against your clit as he’s pounding into you
By accident?
Unclear
Expect to walk with a permanent limp
RIP
Definitely into knife-play
So many shredded clothes
C’mon, what’d you expect?
The mask stays on during sex
Obviously
If he’s super comfortable he might pull it up enough to bite you
But don’t expect to catch a glimpse of his face
After-care? What’s that?
You clean yourself up 99% of the time
The only time he’s ever done anything was when you passed out during sex and woke up in your bed
Other than that, you don’t expect him to provide any cuddles 
He doesn’t even sleep in the same bed at night
Jason Voorhees
Tries his best to be so so so gentle with you
Also a virgin before you showed up
Not many people were lining up to fuck an undead monster haunting a summer camp
He’s. . . big. . . everywhere
It takes a while before you’re even able to take him properly
It’s not that you were unprepared, but at the slightest flinch of your face Jason would pause and refuse to touch you again for hours
You made sure to explain that you were fine and that you weren’t made of glass
But he was still petrified of hurting you
Still, when he finally calms enough to fully fuck you one night, you’re seeing stars
He’s slow and cautious, but eventually something lights a fire within him
Rubs his masked face into your neck apologetically as he rams into you
When you’re walking funny the next day he carries you everywhere
You don’t blame him for getting carried away sometimes, and even enjoy a little roughness more-often-than-not
He tries his best with after-care but is pretty clueless as what to do with you
When you’re exhausted and curled in on yourself he thinks he’s permanently hurt you
You tell him gently to run you a bath
Will attach himself to your hip and snuggle you until one of you is forced to get up
Nestles his masked nose against any marks he may have caused, letting out a low whimper
You run your hand down his back
“I’m okay. You didn’t hurt me. I’m okay.”
Tries to make your pleasure his number one priority
Will listen intently as you bashfully explain what you want and like
Does as told
He’s a little rough, massive fingers toying with your clit hard enough to have you wincing
But eventually he gets the hang of it
Refuses to cum until you have
Even when you’re giving him head, he always has to be touching you in some way, getting you off just as much as your getting him off
Sometimes he can’t help himself and cums before you, only to let out a low whine of disappointment, like he was ashamed of himself
You’re never far behind, anyways
One of the most selfless lovers you’ve ever had
The fact he doesn't speak doesn't even cross your mind
He gets his points across fine with his actions and occasional low rumbles 
And you were never much for dirty talk, anyway 
Bo Sinclair
He’s a wild-card 
Some days he’s feeling generous enough to nestle his head between your legs, other days he’s got you gagging on his dick until can’t breathe
You’re unsure of what impacts his attitude, every night getting ready to expect something different
You supposed he had a lot of things happen in life, you couldn’t blame him for being a little hot-and-cold about things
Regardless of what’s happening, he’s got a lot to say about it
If he’s not growling in your ear, teasing you with dirty words as he rams into you, then he’s moaning loudly against your lips or neck
You don’t think he’s ever quiet for more than a few seconds
What he says varies, too
Some days it’s nothing but praise
“Whatta good girl you are. C’mon, sweetheart. You can do it. Almost there—there it is, darlin’. Don’t you look like a beauty chokin’ on my cock?” 
“That’s it, beautiful. Keep sayin’ my name. Feel good, huh? Don’t close those pretty lips of yours. I wanna hear ya when I fuck ya.” 
Other days he’s grabbing your ass harshly, scolding you for muffling your moans against his neck
“The fuck you think you’re doin’? You’re nothin’ but a whore, don’t try ‘nd be bashful now.”
“What a slut. Look how wet you are for me. Gettin’ off on the thought of me fuckin’ you, bitch?”
It’s enough to give you whiplash
Still, you can’t complain that it’s boring
And it’s not like you don’t get your own enjoyment out of it
Whether or not he lingers after he fucks you depends on nothing in particular
Sometimes he’ll pull you close and press a kiss to your forehead, mumbling praises in your ear as he caresses your body
Other times he’ll put his boxers back on and rest against the door frame, just staring at you as you clean yourself up
He never leaves without making sure you’re alright, though
No matter how rough he was with you he gently traces over your body, making sure nothing hurt to bad
Then he’s back to his cocky self, trying to pretend he didn’t just treat you like a princess
There’s always marks littering your neck and shoulders
The sight of them is enough to let any tourists know to fuck off
You tried to cover them once with a high collared shirt but it only ended with more hickies and bite marks, this time high enough on your neck that even a turtle neck couldn’t hide them
He’s possessive, always having an arm or hand around you when talking to strangers that come by
He’ll, even around his own brothers he’s like that
He’s always smacking your ass or planting a kiss to your lips, leaving you to yelp in surprise
This man has a breeding kink
That’s just the facts
The thing is, the idea of having a kid makes him gag
He’s not a fan of the little gremlins
But something about you—thighs wrapped around his hips as he cums into you—the fullness of your cunt—the slight bulge of your belly—always gets him going
Maybe it’s the distant idea of raising a half-normal family for once
For now, you stay on birth control
Vincent Sinclair
He’s extremely introverted and self-conscious
You have to be the one to initiate most things
Even then he’s unsure of himself
He’s afraid he’ll scare you somehow
The first time you two are intimate it’s simply soft touches, your lips trailing over his skin as your hands stroke at his dick
It’s not sex
It’s too soft for that
You hated to use the word love-making, but you supposed that’s what it was
After his confidence is built up enough to take control, he catches on fast
He has a niche for precise finger-work, given his work as a sculptor, and has you cumming on his hands more times than you can count
He keeps his mask on 99% of the time
You don’t force him to do otherwise
It’s his comfort object
As long as he’s happy, you’re happy
Still, there are times where he pulls it off, only to hide himself between your legs
The first time he ate you out, he insisted upon a blanket draped over your bottom half, but he’s past that now, knelt down in front of you, fingers clutched against your thighs as he pushes his tongue further inside of you
You make sure to praise him every time he makes you feel good—wanting him to know it was him getting you off
It definitely helped his self-esteem
He’s still distant when others are around, but you’ve gotten to the point where you can sit in his lap and play with his hair while Bo lounges on the couch
Bo still gives you two playful taunts, but he’s just happy his brother found someone
Though he really needs to invest in some ear-muffs if you keep up with the moaning at god-knows-how-late-at-night
*cough* waxplay *cough*
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angelbarelywrites · 15 days
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♡ slashers scenarios | sharing a bed
♡ fandoms; The Boy, Halloween, Texas Chainsaw Massacre (original + 2006), House of Wax, Dead by Daylight, slashers (general)
♡ characters; Brahms Heelshire, Micheal Myers, Thomas Hewitt, Bubba Sawyer, Vincent Sinclair
♡ reader; gender neutral
♡ cw; very suggestive content, implied smut
♡note; swapped out billy in this one bc i can’t imagine him sharing a bed with someone and not getting literally pornographic
•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•
Brahms Heelshire
> Once he decides he wants to share the bed, he finds the biggest guest room bed and brings all of the comfiest pillows and blankets he can to make it perfect
> For you more than him, but he doesn’t feel too hurt when you push half of them to the foot of the bed
> It was a lot even for a king bed
> You’re reluctant at first, not used to sharing a bed
> But you find he’s very hard to say no to once you’re in that deep
> He tries to give you space, but it’s not long before he’s wrapped around you, clinging for dear life
> And he almost immediately falls asleep like that, head tucked into your chest
> You sigh and try and relax, petting his hair
> And you fall asleep with your hand still tangled in his black locks, holding him close to you
> You wake up to him nuzzling your neck and practically whining
> “Baby…wake up…”
> You’d ask him what the problem was…if you couldn’t feel it against your leg
> You spend most of the morning still in bed, lazily fixing his predicament
Micheal Myers
> He doesn’t get why you want him to do this
> You know he doesn’t cuddle
> You know he usually gets restless and wanders at night
> But there’s no reason to say no, and even he can’t stand how sad your pout is
> You hum and stretch, tucking yourself in and look at him expectantly
> He takes off his boots and lays on top of the covers beside you, stiff as a board
> You have to coax him to even take the mask off, but he still won’t relax
> You quickly realize he’s used to high security psych ward bunks, not big comfy queen beds full of stuffed animals
> “…do you…wanna sleep on the floor?”
> He pauses.
> Shakes his head and closes his eyes.
> After you finally fall sleep, he sits up, intending on leaving
> But you look so peaceful…he can’t help to stay and watch you. Just for a little while.
> When he touches your cheek, you press into his hand. Maybe a while longer.
> When you wake up he’s still staring at you, hand long gone from your cheek
> But once you blink awake, it creeps somewhere else..
Thomas Hewitt
> He’s almost nervous of the idea
> Y’all are certainly intimate with each other - just as intimate as you would be if you were married like his mama was planning
> But what if the family noticed you were in there? He’d kill Hoyt for calling you anything nasty-
> When he sees you in skimpy PJs, he immediately forgets his worries
> He has a huge bed because he’s a huge guy, so when you curl up in it alone, it’s almost comical
> He’s staring at you as he climbs in after you, cautiously removing his mask
> His shoulders relax a little when you smile up at him, still so amazed you can stand to look at him
>“Hold me?”
> He grunts and takes no time in pulling you flush, spooning you. He’s more relaxed than he’s been in a while, sure he’ll fall asleep in no time
> Until you give a tiny sigh and shift your hips, innocently adjusting
> It doesn’t take much for you to set him off- he’s touch starved and obsessed with you.
> Along with feeling him against your ass, you can literally hear his breathing change.
> “…Tommy baby? Want me to take care of that?”
> It takes another two hours before you fall asleep, both sticky with sweat and sated, your head laying on his broad chest.
Bubba Sawyer
> He’s so happy to have a sleepover- even if you live right down the hall in the same house (I cannot imagine you dating him and being allowed to leave the farm tbh)
> He gives you an updated tour of his room- he’s very happy to show you the collection of polaroids of you he hung up.
> You were wondering where those went
> Finally he drops you on the bed, giggling quietly
> It’s old but comfy, and he has plenty of stolen pillows and blankets, and even some stuffed bears
> He strips right on down to his heart boxers, leaving his mask on for last
> He takes it off slowly, giving you that shy look he always does
> You grin and open your arms and he’s more than happy to scoop you up with a coo.
> By the time you’re settled, you’re curled around his back
> He loves being the little spoon, even if he’s a big brute
> When you wake up he’s bursting back into the room with some slightly burnt toast for breakfast
> It’s a sudden wake up call, but a welcome one
> And you repay him in tons of kisses, all over
Vincent Sinclair
> Like some of the others he’s hesitant
> But you want him to relax, he’s been working so hard- so you take him away from the studio, and into your room
> You’re not even letting him so much as sketch until he sleeps
> He tilts his head and is almost pouting, trying to guilt you - even more so once you help him remove his wax
> Until you coax him into his stomach so you can massage his back, that is
> You’re clumsy and certainly not a professional, but your hands on him is enough to melt away the stress
> He suddenly rolls over and grabs your hips as he hears you yawn
> It’s your turn to pout down at him
> But eventually you relent and let him cradle you close to his chest as he hums a nonsense lullaby
> You keep him trapped in bed the next morning as revenge, again straddling him before he can get up to leave
> But this time, you’re most certainly not yawning
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minjix · 9 months
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cinderella → Vinnie Hacker x female!reader
summary: in which you’re the one catching his attention
warnings: fluff, and that’s a warning of itself lol + plus the standard swear word here and there. also I can’t for the life of me write an ending, so I apologize if it feels abrupt-because it is lol. also keep in mind that english is not my first language.
a/n: I write with breaks to actually be able to give it my all and not lose interest in writing- which is a genuine fear of mine
word count: 2.6k :)
masterlist
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reblogs and comments are very much appreciated!
It was all a stupid cliche in your eyes as you stared at the tweet Vinnie had posted. “who is she.” Simple as that, yet mostly everyone knew what he was referring to, but they didn’t know whom and Vinnie didn’t know either.
Like previously stated, it was all a stupid cliche- a masquerade party filled to the brim with influencers and small celebrities, crowding a huge mansion which felt tiny as you pushed your way through to get a much needed breath of fresh air, away from the liquor stained breaths.
You sighed in relief as you stepped into the cool L.A, two am breeze, the music thumping through the ground, vibrating your whole body. “I feel the same way,” a dark voice chuckled. Startled, you looked into the direction of which the voice came from, and there he stood, leaning on the wall, head tilted back and eyes on the night sky. He was dressed simple, something you rolled your eyes at, and his arms of which were folded in front of his chest was covered in tattoos. “Huh?” Was all that you managed to get out, your tongue deciding to twist on itself.
The corners of his mouth twitched as though he wanted to smile, but refrained from doing just that. “Wanting to get away for a few minutes,” his voice was velvety and , his skin shone red from the neon lights seeping through the huge windows.
“Oh- yeah, you answered stupidly, “totes.” You wanted to smack yourself. A laugh rumbled his chest and escaped from his lips as his head tilted in your direction, his eyes meeting yours. “Totes? Never heard that before-in real life that is.” Duh, because you’ve spoken like a bad stereotypical surfer dude.
You didn’t know how to respond so you simply nodded your head, very aware of his eyes trailing down your body. A tattooed hand entered your peripheral, “I’m Vinnie,” he introduced himself. It was then more sober you connected the dots, of course it’s Vinnie the Hacker. The only disguise he had was a black eye mask with black crystals in intricate designs; it looked expensive and it most definitely was, knowing who he was and all. You hadn’t bothered to wear a mask, but had regretted that decision the moment you stepped into the mansion.
You didn’t shake his hand. “Cool,” you shrugged mentally preparing yourself with whatever half assed excuse you could come up with to leave. ‘my apartment is on fire’ don’t want to jinx myself you thought afterwards. “Um, nice to meet you?” You sounded awfully unsure, and guilt brewed in your stomach when you saw Vinnie wince. “So,” he began carefully, trying to get an understanding,” what’s your name?”
But you didn’t feel like answering. “I’m hungry.” You spat out and his eyes widened. “What?”
“I’m hungry, so I’m going to leave. Bye.” You turned to leave but a careful grasp of your arm halted you, “do you want to get McDonalds with me? I’m kinda hungry too.” He sounded shy, and you couldn’t even imagine turning him down, he looked like a sad puppy for Christ sake.
“Sure.”
The drive to the fast food chain was surprisingly comfortable, even though Vinnie tried his best to get you to tell him your name; to no avail. And soon enough the two of you were seated by the window, both with big macs in hand, awkwardness thrown out the window as the alcohol induced hunger made everything taste oh so much better.
“so fucking good,” Vinnie groaned through a mouthful causing you to almost choke on your fourth bite. Your eyes didn’t leave his form, his hair in a disarray and his eyes closed as he ate the burger.
You forced a chuckle, “won’t your friends get mad or something?” You mumbled, playing with your fries. The tattooed man shook his head, “no? Why would they?” His eyes were on yours now and you couldn’t help but feel bare under his intense gaze.
“You kinda ditched them…” you trailed of as a smirk grew on his lips, his tongue quickly darting out to lick them. “Trust me they won’t notice.” He sounded sure. “Why?” You asked and this time he laughed softly, “you’re very curious, huh?” You shrugged, “I guess.”
He continued, “but no, they were pretty busy trying to get laid so I really doubt they’d notice me missing.” He stressed the word ‘really’.
“Oh.” He laughed again as he stared you down, “you’re really weird, y’know that?”
“Thanks?”
You and Vinnie had spent an hour talking nonsense, and when the two of you noticed the hard stares from the workers you both decided to leave. Vinnie had insisted on dropping you off at home but an uncomfortable feeling grew in the pit of your stomach as you politely declined, telling him a white lie to soothe his worries about leaving a girl in the streets of LA at three am.
——-
The morning after, curiosity had you in its grip as you reluctantly opened Twitter and searched for his handle.
@/vinniehacker: who is she. posted at five am. Quicker than lightning you exited the app, contemplating on deleting it completely, but you refrained from doing it.
You grew frustrated at yourself, you had an amazing night last night with an amazing attractive guy, and you full out blew everything to bits.
Your best friend tended to call you a flesh ball of anxiety, a saying that left a sour taste in your mouth and cheeks aching from faking a laugh. You were a people pleaser, but at the same time you hated everyone and preferred to be by yourself. So you did everything to stay out of the spotlight, simply rooming with your childhood best friend who went viral on TikTok months ago. And Vinnie was the opposite of staying out of the spotlight.
Before your brain had caught up to what your hands were doing, you had already entered the cursed bird app again, entering his handle, tapping on the tweet and reading through the comments. ‘she????’, ‘what?!’, all in a similar fashion. Speculations were thrown left and right and thirty minutes had passed of you endlessly scrolling, biting your lip raw until you tasted iron.
“Get up! We have an event to go to!” You wanted to cry, to come up with a lie that you were sick and didn’t want to spread it further. You lied a lot, at least tried to before your brain took you through the endless possibilities of consequences coming from said lies. So you heaved a sigh and got ready.
———-
The event was extremely overcrowded and overwhelming, the LA sun beaming down on bodies dripping in expensive perfumes, a cloud of strong smells begging for a headache to form. You were a plus one, a non famous one at that, so you stood awkwardly to the side as your friend and her famous friends took promo pictures. In your hand was a mimosa, minus the champagne, so orange juice.
You didn’t bother to keep up the happy charade, settling on frowning while sipping your expensive orange juice. You had half a mind to ask what brand of juice it was but decided that you were already looking stupid so there was no point of making it worse.
You were painfully aware of how lonely you looked so you grabbed your phone and entered the weather app, wondering how the weather in Hamburg was.
“So, uh, how’s the weather looking?” A velvety voice asked from above your right shoulder, warm air tickling your skin and you froze. Shit. “Uhm, cloudy with a chance of rain,”
You turned towards him and tried not to gape at what you saw. He was wearing a half buttoned white blouse with his hair slicked back except for a few strands in the front. He wore black and expensive looking trousers, and silver rings wrapped around almost each finger with a silver braided bracelet. His sleeves were rolled up revealing his tattoos on his sun kissed skin. And he smelled so fucking good.
He gave you a mischievous grin, “hey, you.” His eyes trailed over your form, several times with a glint in his eyes. You whispered a hey back, flustered for some reason and you were also ashamed, for what, you had no idea.
“I never got your name,” he muttered, his hands in his pocket. You could only shrug, words not agreeing with you. And there it was, that nauseating shameful feeling you got, you were ashamed of yourself for some reason, well you know why, but actually taking the bull by its horns are the hard part.
“I know,” he frowned at your answer, raising an eyebrow. “So you’re not going to give me your name, so I’ll just have to call you Cinderella then. “ he smiled smugly at the end of his sentence, as though he had conquered the world with his pinkie.
“Cinderella?” You asked confused and a smit insulted. “I didn’t drop my shoe…” you trailed off, combing through your memory, and sure enough, you had both your shoes on, or you would’ve noticed otherwise.
He laughed out loud, his teeth on full display and eyes closed. “No, you didn’t drop your shoe. But you did leave me with not being able to stop thinking of you…” he said, his eyes unrelentingly searching yours as if he could simply read your name in your irises. Your eyes widened and you felt as though your stomach was turning inside out. This has to be a cruel joke, you thought to yourself as you glared at him.
“That’s not funny,” you murmured through clenched teeth. He looked confused, brows furrowed. “It-it wasn’t a joke,” he said sheepishly. He looked genuinely hurt, and it made you doubt your insecurities.
“I genuinely had a great time with you last night, and I want to get to know you.” He kept his eyes on yours the entire time. “So please, what’s your name?” He sounded desperate, as though your name would unlock every story there was to know about you.
“Y/n,” you whispered and you watched in awe as he tested your name on his tongue, several times before settling with a “I like it, it suits you.” Vinnie telling you that your name suits you felt like a thousand suns were shining down on you. You bit your lip to repress the grin that was threatening to grow and instead you settled for a shy smile, praying that you didn’t have anything between your teeth.
“Y/nn!” A voice called, it seemed as though your friend had finished with her promo pics. “I got you a goodie bag-oh,” she paused when she saw the Vinnie Hacker standing beside you. “Hey,” she smiled and fluttered her eyelashes and a boulder dropped into your stomach. Of course, you thought. She’s so much prettier than me, and famous.
He only nodded in acknowledgement with a small ‘hey’, it didn’t deter your friend from asking a lot of questions. You took that as your queue to leave, slowly walking backwards whilst Vinnie’s eyes were on yours the entire time, looking confused as to what you were doing.
You quickly nodded towards your friend, who was still animatedly talking, whilst wiggling your eyebrows suggestively, ignoring the knot in your stomach.
Once again Vinnie looked confused before the dots in his head connected. His eyes widened before he shook his head, something your friend hadn’t noticed as she was too busy scrolling through her TikTok to show Vinnie a specific video of her. He mouthed the word ‘NO’ several times whilst staring at you with his wide eyes.
It was kind of endearing to watch him panic. A chuckle escaped you before he turned to your friend, an apologetic smile on his face. “Excuse me,” he said softly, eyes still on you before walking towards, grabbing your hand with utter care before he led you inside the building.
He stopped in an empty hallway, staring down at you with a smirk on his lips. “Trying to set me up with your friend,” he murmured lazily, eyes tracing your lips. “When you know fully well that I’m interested in you…”
It felt like a fever dream, and you had to mentally force yourself to focus on the situation at hand. Is Vinnie about to kiss me?
“You don't even know me,” you retaliated, a frown on your lips, your lips of which he still stared at. He shrugged at your answer, a serious look taking over his face. “So let me,” he began. “Let’s get out of here.”
You shook your head, “I can’t just leave my friend-“.
He interrupted you, “your friend who seemed very busy, in fact, I recall you standing by yourself.” You had nothing to say to that except for a gentle nod with a smile on your lips. Vinnie grinned in return before tugging out of the building and into his car. You had sent a simple text to your friend-‘ i’m going out, don’t wait for me <3’
————————-
Vinnie treated you to McDonalds, once again and took you to a look out, the city of angels to stare at whilst you both ate. His shoulder touched yours as you sat on the picnic blanket filled to the brim with greasy and mouth watering food.
“So tell me, how come I can’t find you anywhere?” He asked, his hand playing with yours, twisting your rings. It created a warm feeling in your stomach.
“I’m a private person,” you began, hearing Vinnie murmuring a ‘couldn’t have guessed,’ and you nudged your shoulder into his playfully, drawing a laugh from his lips. “I guess, uhm I don’t see myself in the spotlight, having people constantly judging my every move.” He nodded in agreement, looking lost in thought.
“I can understand that, it’s just unusual to see someone not famous in parties held by influencers.” You nodded, agreeing with him. “My friend is pretty famous and always makes me her plus one.”
“I like it though,” you stared at him confused whilst he stared at you with a small smile on his lips, almost looking shy. “Like what?”
“I don’t know, it’s hard to explain…” he looked lost in his thoughts.
“Try,” you pushed, his hand tightening around yours.
“I like that I can pursue this,” he gestured whilst you stared at him with wide eyes. “That you’ll be somewhat safe from the onslaught of comments you would’ve gotten if you were a public figure. This feels normal to me, y’know. Like it’s not for show, it’s just me and you.”
“Me and you?” You asked with a grin, his smile grew and he gave you a wink, “of course, this is our second date after all.”
“Is that so?” You bit your lip when he leaned towards you, his lips so close to touching yours, before he planted a small, almost phantom-like kiss on them. “It is so,” he gauged your expression before ultimately seeing the contentment in your eyes, and pressed his lips to yours firmly. You felt his hand grasp your cheek as he tilted his head to gain more access.
You were both breathing heavily before you disconnected your lips, but Vinnie took it upon himself to kiss your cheeks before traveling down your neck, leaving you even more breathless.
“I’m taking you on dates everyday this week,” he breathed into your neck and you felt your eyes roll back from the sensation and his sultry voice.
“I expect you to-“ he stopped you from talking with another kiss. “Shut up and kiss me,” he ordered and you did, for several hours, the once bright sun in the middle of sky, now dipping down on the horizon covered by the Los Angeles skyline.
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phntmeii · 7 months
Text
♡ Dating Bo and Vincent Sinclair Headcanons:
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❝ She always said your talent would make up for what God took away from you. ❝
[SFW Headcanons]
Pairings: Artist!Reader x Vincent Sinclair. FemBimbo!Reader x Bo Sinclair.
Warnings: Slight pervert!Bo Sinclair, Mentions of kidnapping+murders, Manipulation.
A/N: Sinclair Twins are some of my new favs. They are so delectably made I can’t- So here are headcanons BUT with describing what their specific types are instead of keeping it vague. Also, I view Vincent as a selective mute who’s vocal chords are a bit fucked up so he only speaks a few times a day so not a complete mute.
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Vincent Headcanons:
✎ Vincent hasn't had any dating experience so much of what he knows is from what Bo has told him which didn't make it interesting in his eyes. But when he sees you, all he wants to do is admire you for whatever reason.
✎ He’d specifically go after you and be the first victim he’d kidnap rather than outright kill.
✎ He tries to convince you he isn’t dangerous (to you) and does little things to prove it. Showing off his drawings, playing music for you, writing notes and letters to you.
✎ Vincent would honestly come off strong because he doesn’t understand how fast or slow a relationship to go. The moment he spotted you, you were already his in his mind.
✎ When you fall for him despite his masked face and silent behaviors, you adjust and get used to him. After all, he wasn’t bad at all. He’d keep you in his room which was tidy and neat as his mother taught him, he’d make sure you were completely taken care of and he was sweet in his little notes.
✎ Vincent’s handwriting is perfect as he was taught to do. His notes would be a little formal but adorable things to find before he slinks away to his studio. “Hello, Y/N. I hope you are adjusting well. :) I wanted to know what foods you like so I can tell Bo to make them. Please write back before lunchtime.”
✎ When he discovers you were an artist as well, he was giddy and excited! Someone who knew what it was like to cycle through ideas and fixate on a project for hours on end.
✎ His few words he’d speak a day would be regarding your own art. No matter what it was, he’d tell Lester to get you the supplies for it and watch over you as you worked.
✎ His ragged and hoarse voice spoken into your ear. “Beautiful…”
✎ He’d randomly gift mini wax sculptures of your favorite animals each week that he worked on between sculptures. Each one better and better than the last.
✎ Vincent thrives on your praise. Sweet boy can’t help but lower his head and blush under his mask at each compliment.
✎ His favorite thing about morning routines were when you’d touch and brush his hair. The massaging at the scalp and tingly feeling he’d get as the brush ran down his black strands felt all too good. He’d also let you do whatever hairstyle you wanted.
✎ Vincent would draw you constantly in his sketchbook. He has pages and pages of different angles of your face, what clothing you wore on a certain day or how you posed during breakfast.
✎ Any and I mean ANY sketches you give him in return? He’s holding onto it like it’s pure gold. He hangs it in his studio where he’s at the most to view it all the time.
✎ Trusts your critiques and observations more than anyone else’s and often asks for your opinion on his pieces.
✎ Doesn’t believe that you like his face without the mask but when he sees you present him with a sketch of his half-mutilated face, he’s stunned. To see him, the truest version of him, as something you deemed worthy to spend time depicting absolutely melts him. He starts to become more willing to remove his mask around you especially if it means he’ll get more drawings like that.
✎ Bo would want so badly to tease Vincent for how he acts around you since Vincent is absolutely infatuated but Bo and Lester find it adorable and are happy Vincent found someone despite everything.
✎ He would definitely want to do those heart hands or hand holding wax molds with you and keep it on his desk.
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Bo Headcanons:
> This man’s perfect woman has to be a bimbo, I’m sorry. Someone who is perfectly stupid to overlook some toxic qualities to him and won’t suspect any of his more… violent hobbies.
> Doesn’t have to be the stereotypical busty, all-pink wearing bimbo but just a pretty but airheaded girl.
> He’d originally plan on killing you when you showed up saying your car broke down. You were pretty but so were some other victims who had come through Ambrose. But that dumb factor? Oh, now he’s all in.
> Absolute charmer and reels you in and away from the rest of your group. He’d keep making up reasons as to why you should stay for longer than lie about where your group went.
> He’d keep you sat in the gas station, seeing you so easily entertained. He’d put on that charming smile and tuck your hair behind your ear. “Seems like everyone left you behind, sweetheart. How about you stay jus’ a bit longer, hm? Still need to fix up that car a’ yours, don’t we?”
> He does absolutely use your ditzy and air-headed nature to his advantage to tease because who is he if not a teasing charmer?
> “Aww, sugar, there ain’t much goin’ on in that pretty little head a’ yours, is there?”
> He has purposefully done something to make you trip so he can catch you and make it into a whole romantic scene.
> Absolutely brags to Vincent and Lester about how perfect his girlfriend is.
> He cannot get enough of you at the end of the day. He may have gone into it looking to just use you but consider yourself a charmer as well because he’s soon completely enraptured.
> He enjoys watching you get ready in the morning. Bo will get distracted himself and end up just watch you do your makeup for ten minutes, admiring how pretty you look for him.
> NOTHING BUT PRINCESS TREATMENT!!! He can be toxic and a tease but he likes to be a gentleman too.
> He’s kneeling to put on your shoes on for you, kissing up your leg as he does. He keeps a hand on your back to guide you as you two walk together. Don’t even think about paying for anything because his hand is already in his pocket, ready to pay.
> Bo spoils you rotten. He can’t help it when you smile so sweetly at him that it’s honestly unfair. Sometimes it’s stuff at the store other times it’s stuff he stole from a victim before they met their end. You wouldn’t know, of course, so it’s always a sweet thing.
> If he’s buying you clothes, he’s picking out the tightest options so he can see your body constantly. He’s already turned on constantly by you but he wants to have you all dolled up for him always.
> Although sometimes it can be annoying to have you be so oblivious, he resists any direct insults or rude names since he knows you’ll take it to heart. He never wants to see you upset.
> He knows how much you love his Southern accent and dials it up to 11 with sweet pet names when he needs you for something.
> “Sweetheart, do me a favor an’ pass me the wrench? S’got the blue handle, honey, you know which one.”
> Favorite thing he’s seen you do is when you stole his clothing and became a mini-Bo. Wearing his hat and a jumpsuit all proud of yourself and he couldn’t help but chuckle and claim you should dress like that more often so people know you’re all his.
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⤷ divider credits: @cafekitsune
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slashersidewhore · 9 months
Text
Slashers! HC S/O nearly killed by a victim
Slashers!Sinclair brothers x gn!reader
Includes Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, Lester Sinclair
Requested? Yes
Warnings: max angst, lots of self deprecating thoughts from the slashers, blood, mentions of gore, lots of violence, happy ending (you survive!)
Bo Sinclair
You weren’t supposed to be at the house, Bo was sure you were out getting groceries, you told him you were
You placed the several brown bags you could carry from the pickup onto the kitchen counter, used to the silence that filled the dimly lit home
Turning to make your way back outside, you froze in your spot when merely a few yards away stood a man, face twisted in agony, blood covering the lower portion of his body, it looked like he’d been stabbed by Vincent’s sheers, so why was he upstairs?
“You’re one of them”
The man seemed to only grow in size from the sheer mass of his clear anger, chest puffing to reveal a stutter in his breath, as if he was using borrowed time
You weren’t sure if saying anything would help, you were bringing in groceries, of course you were one of them, there was no way to free yourself from this situation
Glancing over at the knife block, wide eyes switched back to the man who had seen the subtle movement, brows furrowing, and then he charged
“They killed my girlfriend!”
The stranger snarled as he gained on you, hands reaching out to grab your arm, your neck, whenever he could reach in his rage fueled attack
Slipping on your heel to get to the knives, the recently mopped floor proved to be a disadvantage, only giving the man a better angle to grab the collar of the back of your shirt, pulling it back, before slamming you into one of the counters
The impact against your stomach wasn’t pleasant, you could feel the bruise already forming as you were dragged back, grabbing anything you could as pitiful noises left your lips
Throwing the salt and pepper shakers, a clean plate, anything at him you could get your hands on, nothing seemed to faze him as you threw you against the adjacent cabinets
Forehead slamming into the sharp edge of wood, red filled your already blurring vision, your weak yelp for anyone nearby that could help fell deaf on the empty corridors of the house, where the hell were the guys?
“You sick bitch, you’re all sick”
The man spat in your face, spit hitting your cheek as he did so, then he was once again lifting you from where he’d tossed you like a rag doll, this time letting your body fall rather limply to the tiled floor
“You’ll get what’s coming to you, if it’s the last thing I do”
You could hear the slight motion of the man reaching over your body, plucking a knife from the block a few feet away and kneeling over your aching body
His legs were at either side of your hips, arms raised high as he didn’t think twice before lowering the weapon
A shout echoed from the near distance, heavy footsteps on the wooden floor, in a last ditch effort with all the remaining strength to could muster, you lifted a knee to the mans crotch, resulting in a deep howl of pain, and a burning sensation as the knife landed deep in your shoulder
Then the man was off of you, ripped from your body by someone far stronger, the shouting picked up again, the enraged, bellowing noises bouncing off the walls as you figured the escaped victim was being rightfully dealt with
Right as the man’s shadow was gone, another more broad figure appeared over you, this time at the side of your injured body.
“Oh baby, oh fuck,” It was Bo’s voice, his tones drawl making your heart flutter, or was that the stab wound? It felt as if the room was spinning in its axis, turned upside down and steeping your body in darkness, “Shit, I thought ya were outta the house.”
Vincent was hovering in the distance, gauging the wound from the distance he stood before rushing off the gather the proper items to best help you. Bo was at a loss, wanting to lean down while also warning himself that his touch would only cause more pain. Why were you home? Why didn’t he check the house first? Why did he just assume you would be out for hours? This was his fault, he left you vulnerable and alone, in a place he knew could bs unsafe when they brought, “guests”, home. Your weak whine of his name drove his stomach to lurch forward, bile trying to climb him throat, body hot to the touch with panic and his eyes swam with guilt.
“I’ve got ya now, nothin’ll hurt ya anymore,” Bo fell on his ass to get closer to you, lifting your upper body carefully before laying it steadily in his lap. Your pained wince at being moved to any extent shot right through the man’s heart, his body folding over yours slightly, almost as if trying to protect what was left of you from the outside world. Your delicate cries as blood seeped through your clothes only drew the man further from rationally, mind racing at what he would do to the dead body mere feet away when he was done tending to you, “Vincent! Get yur ass in here!”
“I’m here baby, don’t ya worry, I’ve got ya.”
Vincent Sinclair
You were never involved with the victims, as much as Vincent trusted you, he didn’t trust any stranger within a mile of Ambrose, the thought of someone full of fear or anger anywhere in your vicinity made his skin crawl beneath his usual wool sweaters
Luckily for the town over, there weren’t three deranged brothers causing havoc, in fact it was odd being in a populated area where no one even knew of Ambrose’s happenings, or the men beneath it
So when a van full of curious, college aged boys came strolling through the, “abandoned”, streets, you had made the choice to go out for the day, visit that nearby town where Vincent knew you would be safe for the most part
Which lead to the present, where you were calmly walking back to Ambrose along the two lane, quiet, wooded backroad, wicker basket in hand with various items you deemed interesting enough to take back
Although the snap of a branch caught your ear, a man no older than you stumbling along the path, if the splatters of blood along his body weren’t an indicator of where he’d left, the thick globs of wax painting his left arm did
“Miss? Fuck, help me!”
The man called to you, clearly desperate in his current predicament, there wasn’t much you could do, you didn’t have a cellphone, you’d already been walking for a half mile, what could you possibly be able to help him with?
“There’s these crazy guys that tried to kill me! We need to get away from here!”
Before you could even summon a response, the staggering stranger that had since gotten closer paused, face pursing, lips tight as a look of realization crossed his face
“Your face, there were drawings of your face in that basement”
“I don’t know what you mean, here, let’s-“
You didn’t get much of a sentence out before the man was pushing you to the ground, intentions clear as he kneeled above you, planting your lower body to the gravel side of the road before punching aimlessly at your face
“Please-“
“You’re with those sick bastards aren’t you? You must be fucked in the head too, after all the bodies I saw!”
The punches kept landing, your nose surely broken by the onslaught, blood draining down your jaw, by your ears, into your mouth
The heavy smell of iron palette-able as another swift hit was served to your mouth, bottom lip busting open with thick, red spilling out
The man just kept screaming in your face, spit flying as he did so, it was as if his rage fueled attack would never cease, maybe he hadn’t gotten hurt all that much and his adrenaline was through the roof
Either way it was as if the beating was only getting worse as the minutes ticked by, you felt lucky he didn’t have an actual weapon on his person
As if some kind of saving grace had heard you, the rumbling of what sounded like a familiar old pickup roared in the distance, getting louder by the second
Right as the shriek of tires echoed across the otherwise silent road, your tired eyelids fluttered shut, allowing the all consuming haze to take its place in your body
Some time later
“How the hell should I know when she’s gon’ wake up?” That voice was familiar, the low timbre of an accent you knew all too well. It was buzzing through your head, and although you were thankful to even be here to listen to it, there was one thing you wished was present as well.
“Hey, her eyes are opening,” And that’s when you heard the shuffling, heavy boots on a concrete floor, when Bo’s agitated voice once again striking your growing headache, “alright, alright! I’m goin’.”
An all too warm, fuzzy feeling filled your chest when Vincent’s head popped into view, hair tied back loosely with little bits of wax here and there. Although lumbering over you, his movements were cautious, slow and steady as you could make out his eyes scanning your form meticulously. It felt as though you were one of his pieces of artwork, carefully watched over to make sure you wouldn’t melt.
“Vince, are you okay?” Your whisper of a question caused the man’s head to drop into the crook of your neck, whether overwhelmed or still worried it just seemed he needed a moment to process all that had happened. It was only minutes ago you were still out cold, laying on one of his work tables as Bo stood with a disapproving look. Art supplies strewn, chairs overturned, even the most delicate wax sculptures he’d done were crumbled on the floor. The man hadn’t been able to contain the absolute ice that ran through his veins upon seeing Lester carrying your lifeless form into the house, especially considering he didn’t even know if you were still alive.
Large, rough hands shaking like a kitten, the man leaned back to run his fingers over the side of your injured face, the touch gentle, barely there. The soft tilt of his head told you he was fine, seemingly still stressing about your current state. As you became more aware of your surroundings, you realized one of Vincent’s wood sweaters covered a portion of your upper body, like a makeshift blanket. Fingers weakly knocking into his elbow, the masked man took notice and immediately intertwined them with his, palm warm against yours. His free hand reached up to caress your jaw, without words but as if to say,
‘You’re safe now.’
Lester Sinclair
Lester wasn’t ever particularly involved in the murders, in fact he felt his best work was cleaning up the eventual aftermath
That being said, you were usually by his side at all hours, both day and night, keeping him and Jonsey company
“Be right back darlin’”
Lester flashed a toothy grin in your direction, sitting on the hood of the trunk while he hoisted a large, dead dead over his shoulder
This had been majority of the day so far, you enjoying the shady sun while he hauled carcasses of roadkill over to the designated dump sight
“I’ll stay right here!”
You chuckle, watching the red dusting over his ears fade as he continued to walk further down the slope
Glancing down to where Jonsey was laying, you did a double take when the little lady had somewhere vanished, head whipping side to side, yes she was an independent dog but that doesn’t mean you didn’t worry sometimes
Barking in the distance cut through your immediate panic, somewhere off to the left in the densely wooded forest
“Jonsey?”
You called as you hopped off the cars hood, jogging towards the sounds origin as it only continued
It didn’t sound like her normal bark though, it was vicious, angry, maybe she’d run into a squirrel or other wild animal of some kind that had gotten her all up in action
“There you are girl!”
You exclaimed as your turn around the tree revealed the dog, facing away from you, as your eyes left the furry creature it landed on a man not much older than you, standing before you and Jonsey with a knife in hand
“Sorry about my dog, she can be overly cautious”
You tried to reason, deflecting from the chance he may know more than you hoped, and unfortunately his fist only clenched further around the blades handle, face pulled in a snarl
“Yeah, the same dog I saw in that auto shop, with that guy who killed my girlfriend”
“Listen, I don’t know what you’re here to do-“
Before you could even finish your statement he was already on you, knocking you back with a heavy hand before slashing towards your stomach
Thankfully you were able to dodge the first swing, although he wasn’t stopping anytime soon, in fact your fear only seemed to spur him on as he swung again, and again
Unfortunately he had backed you into a tree, another aim at your body immediately ripping through your (Lester’s) shirt, blood leaking from ripped skin, another across your forehead, red spilling into your waterline as your thunderous scream of Lester’s name left your quivering lips
“I didn’t kill your girlfriend”
“But you’re chummy with the bastard that did”
His final strike ended with him aiming down and up, the smooth surface of the knife gliding into your skin like butter, the sob it ripped from you was pitiful, as was the way you fell to your knees
Then a gunshot rang out
“Darlin’?” There stood Lester, rusty, old shotgun in hand that was still aimed at the now fallen body, lowering it too glance over at you in panic. His rushed footfall crunched leaves, his quick footing hit a root and nearly tripping him if his objective wasn’t so focused on. Dropping to your level, the man held his hands to where you were gripping your wrist.
“Show me, how bad is it?” The concern and fear tainting his voice was almost painful to hear, pulling your palms away to reveal a river of crimson. Hissing as he lifted the edge of the shirt you had stolen from him this morning, to reveal a bloody but shallow wound. It looked as if the guy had missed, only slicing at your side, not your gut as he most likely planned.
“Hurts,” you mumble as your body begins to try and lose consciousness, the adrenaline now leaving your system. Lester caught on, leaning you into him before lifting you against his slim body, careful to not press into any of your injuries, “Lester”.
“I know honey, I’ll get ya all patched up, don’t ya worry.” The man shouldered your weight, holding a tough facade despite the way his heart was slowly crumbling inside his chest cavity. If he made it one second later, you could’ve been gone forever. The thought felt like ice water poured over his head, sinking into his veins. Next time he would have to watch over you better, keep you safer. No, there wouldn’t be a next time, he would make sure no one could even attempt to get near you.
“Ain’t ever gonna let that happen again”
If y’all would like to see other parts of this either others slashers list their names in the comments or in my inbox!
As always requests are always open!
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cosmicanakin · 2 months
Text
full of surprises.
adult content | minors do NOT interact.
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pairing. vinnie hacker x female reader.
outline. helping vinnie in the garage, your knowledge, and skills with cars over the years come to surface, unveiling a secret you'd kept hidden.
contains. fluff, explicit language, smut, thigh riding, fingering, pinv, & breeding kink mentioned.
authors note. while i was scrolling through pinterest, i fell down a rabbit hole of photos of vinnie working on cars. and it inspired me to write. <3
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the soft clanking and muttered curses drifting from the garage pull you away from your mindless scrolling on your phone. you glance at the clock, noticing it's past midnight already. vinnie told you he'd be done working on his by now but it seems he's hit another snag in repairs.
sighing, you slide off the couch and pad down the hallway. vinnie's bent over the open hood distractedly turning a wrench, smears of grease decorating his gray tank top and forearms in a way that makes your heart flutter. you admire his toned physique for a moment, always loving when he gets hands on.
“any luck, babe?” you ask softly, not wanting to startle him. vinnie jerks up with a grimace, rubbing the back of his neck. “ah, no not yet. this damn fuel pump is being a real pain in my ass. i've replaced every other part but it just won't prime right.”
he kicks the tire in frustration earning a soft chuckle from you. striding over, you stand on your tiptoes to peer into the engine compartment. years spent helping your dad under the hoods of countless vehicles have given you more than a casual understanding.
“mind if i take a look?” you inquire, already sliding some gloves from the table beside you. vinnie gapes at you in disbelief. “i had no idea you knew about cars, babe,” disbelief colors his tone but you can also detect a hint of thrill at discovering another layer to you.
“my dad always said it's a good skill for any woman to have. now scoot over, let me see what's going on.” vinnie readily obliges, interest overtaking his previous annoyance as you step into his place. running an analytical eye, you soon spot the issue.
“ah, there's your problem. the fuel filter is badly clogged, no wonder it can't draw fuel properly. just needs a replacement, should clear it right up.” you declare confidently, removing the filter to examine. vinnie peers over your shoulder in amazement.
“damn baby girl, you never cease to surprise me. i'm seriously so impressed right now, you've got me feeling all kinds of things.” he purrs against your ear, hands sliding around your waist from behind. a shiver runs down your spine at his breath on your skin but you maintain focus, humming thoughtfully.
“flattery will get you everywhere mister, now hand me the socket so i can get this fixed,” you demand gently, holding a hand back expectantly. vinnie hurriedly passes you the tool, enthralled by your take-charge demeanor. within minutes the new filter is installed and you're reassembling the compartment.
flicking your gloves away, you turn to face vinnie's adoring gaze with a smile. “alright big man, give her a start, and let's see if that did the trick.” he grins, pressing a swift kiss to your lips in thanks before jumping into the driver's seat.
the cars roars to life on the first try, rumbling smoothly without any hiccups. vinnie whoops loudly, leaning out the window with glee. “fuck baby, you're amazing! that was the perfect fix. come here, i gotta give you a proper reward.”
giggling, you allow vinnie to tug you into his lap as he's sat in the driver's seat. his mouth latches onto your neck desperately, hands roaming your sides. “i'm so turned on by how smart and skilled you are. drives me crazy knowing you could probably rebuild this engine from scratch if you wanted,” he growls between kisses.
heat pools low in your belly at his adoring praise. you slide his hands up under your shirt, craving his touch. “mhm, maybe i will someday just to watch you swoon. but for now...” twisting, you capture vinnie's lips hungrily.
he sighs into the kiss, deepening it instantly as his tongue delves between your parted lips. you rock against his firm thigh. vinnie groans, hands gripping your hips to guide your movements.
“fuck, i need you so bad y/n. let's take this inside, i wanna worship your perfect body properly.” he breathes heavily, pupils blown wide with want. you nod eagerly, already scrambling from his lap toward the house. vinnie follows, hastily towing you the rest of the way by your wrist.
as soon as the bedroom door clicks shut he's pinning you against it feverishly. your shirt disappears followed by his as he assaults your collarbone with rough kisses and nips. a gasp escapes your throat, grabbing handfuls of his hair to encourage the delicious treatment.
vinnie hikes your legs around his waist, lifting as if you weigh nothing at all. the hard line of his erection presses relentlessly against your core through the multiple layers still separating you, seeking friction. you grind down needily, desperate for more contact.
“slow down, baby, ‘m not going anywhere,” he pants, carrying you to the bed and laying you out like a feast. vinnie quickly divests the rest of your clothing, gazing in awe at your naked form beneath him.
“so perfect, and all mine.” his worshipping words steal your breath, stomach clenching deliciously. when his mouth latches onto a pert nipple to suckle, you cry out loudly at the exquisite sensation.
vinnie takes his time lavishing each breast and curve of your body with wet kisses and love bites, mapping every sensitive spot until you're writhing and begging for more. finally his fingers dip to your dripping core, circling your swollen clit teasingly.
“fuck vinnie!” you babble, back arching off the mattress at his feather light touches. he chuckles darkly, sinking two digits into your cunt. “you take my fingers so well babygirl. bet you'll feel even better wrapped around my cock though, what do you think?”
a choked moan is your only response, eyes rolling back as he pumps his fingers leisurely. vinnie slowly adds a third, stretching your entrance deliciously full. his thumb rolls firm circles over your clit in time, driving you to the edge at an agonizing pace.
just as your orgasm begins to crest, he removes his hand entirely leaving you keening. vinnie stands to remove the last of his clothing, hard length jutting proudly from his slender hips. the sight alone could make you cum but he hasn't given permission yet.
crawling back over you, vinnie slots his cock against your dripping entrance and leans down to claim your mouth in a filthy kiss. “gonna make you feel so good y/n, fuck you senseless until you can't remember your name. that's what you want isn't it?”
you whimper desperately, nodding fervently against his lips. “please, i want to feel you so deep inside me. use me as rough as you like, i'm yours baby.” his restraint snaps, and with one powerful thrust, he's fully seated to the hilt within your clenching heat.
you cry out loudly at the relentless stretch, walls spasming deliciously around his girth. vinnie groans deeply, staying locked in place to adjust before beginning a punishing rhythm of hard, deep strokes. his hips snap violently, balls slapping your swollen flesh with each impact.
all you can do is hold on for dear life, nails raking down his sweat slicked back as he fucks you into oblivion. vinnie pistons his hips with animalistic drives, pounding directly into your most sensitive spots unerringly. a constant litany of filthy praises tumble from his pretty lips, only spurring you nearer the edge.
“fuck you look gorgeous taking my fat cock sweet girl, your pussy was made for me i swear. gonna fill you up, have your belly swollen with my babies, you want that pretty girl? want me to come inside you while i fuck my name out of that beautiful mouth?”
the depraved imagery plunges you over at last, walls constricting vinnie's member in a vice grip. your orgasm tears through you with ruthless intensity, eyes rolling back as you scream his name. he chases his own release, fucking you through the aftershocks until spilling deep within your quivering channel with a guttural groan.
collapsing together in a sweaty heap, you trade sloppy kisses and whispered ‘i love you's’ while coming down from ecstasy. vinnie curls around your sated form protectively, pressing sweet affection into any skin he can reach.
“you never cease to amaze me y/n. i love how full of surprises you are, constantly keeping me on my toes. and damn do i love when you take charge like that, so fucking hot.” he sighs contentedly, nuzzling your hair.
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loveandmurders · 10 months
Note
Could I request a hc where the slashers have an s/o who completely dotes on them? Like always patches up their injuries, fixes tears in their clothes, makes things for them, makes their favorite meals, serves them the first and biggest helping of food etc? (With Thomas, Bo and Vincent please)
Hello there, thank you so much for this request!
I hope you will enjoy it <3
EVERYTHING FOR MY BOY
Gender neutral reader with no physical description.
Warnings: no proof reading, mentions of blood and pain, quick mentions of sexual activities, one or two strong languages.
Thomas Hewitt
Tommy had always been taught he needed to take care of his family and to fulfil their needs before his own. No matter the situation.
So it was quite something new for him when someone in his life started to do the same with him by prioritising his needs, desires and happiness. If it was his duty to take care of his family and you, it was also yours to make sure your big boy was doing good.
He was very embarrassed at first when you, his soulmate, started to look after him. He wasn’t too sure how to react or what to do about it.
Before you came into his life, it used to be Mama who was taking care of his injuries, but now you were there, you were the one dealing with it. And you took the situation very seriously because you hated to imagine him in pain.
Before you, even if he was hurt, he would keep doing his work and chores until the end of the day. His well being meant nothing to him.
With you, it was different.
You were caring with your gentle giant. You always forced him to sit down so you could have a look at his body and make sure he was doing alright. You also made sure he took painkillers.
You made sure to always be by his side, including to help him take care of his leather mask. Even though the man was good with his hands and was quite crafty, you were always ready in case he would need your opinion or your help. Your hands were smaller than his so it was easier for you to do more delicate things as well.
After his day of work, you also loved to massage him under the shower. At first, it was difficult for him to relax. He loved your touch on him but he wasn’t sure he deserved that kind of treatment.
Plus it felt wrong to have you doting on him: he was the one supposed to do so.
But you were determined and you threatened him a lot for him to let you do. You won because he hated even more to do something that would upset you. 
He had never slept so well in his whole existence. Your massages were the most divine of things for him. He still felt bad about it though, so he was more than eager to return the favour in any way you might like.
In a way you both had to fight with each other to be allowed to take care of one another.
Tommy didn’t want to be doted on, especially if it meant he couldn’t do the same with you right away. And you wanted to be there for him, and to force the man to think about himself first for once in his existence.
When Tommy hadn’t been around a lot because of work, you also liked to cook for him. You knew what your man loved the most, and you would do it for him. It also meant that he was going to be the first one you would serve at dinner and you would always make sure that he had the biggest portion.
If Hoyt said anything about that, you would quickly reply “Have you seen the size of this boy? He needs to eat”. It would slightly embarrass Tommy, but it would also warm his chest. 
Even if he would rather die than admit it, he loved to be taken care of. And he loved that you would try to make him happy. He had never felt that lucky in his whole life.
Once you would be alone in your shared bedroom, he would thank you for the food with tender gestures and kisses. He would be all over you like a giddy puppy and he wouldn’t stop loving on you until you would giggle at the nonstop attention.
Bo Sinclair
Bo was a conservative guy so in his happiest dreams, his soulmate would be doting around on him and would take care of him.
But Bo was also a man who had a lot of demons and who was pretty certain he didn’t deserve anyone to love him that much. Actually, he might find it suspicious if someone would be eager to take care of him, if it wasn’t his siblings.
When you appeared in his life, you did start to take care of him to not get killed. You were a tourist, and Bo was badly hurt. He gave you the choice to help him out and to not get killed, or to try and run away and to be hunted down and destroyed in the most painful way possible.
Of course, you chose to stay and help. 
But it felt quite natural to care for him, and Bo never had to get mad at you because you wouldn’t have been careful enough with him. Your gestures were always gentle and soft to him.
That was why he had wanted to keep you around. And you continued to dote on him, but because you started to truly enjoy him and this life.
You would cook for him and most importantly bake for him and his siblings (the boys had sweet teeth, you can’t convince me otherwise).
You always tried your best for him and his family.
As a family man, it was really important for him that you also treated Vincent and Lester with tenderness, but a different kind that you gave him of course (he was very jealous and possessive of you obviously)
He would love to see you coming into his garage with some drinks and cookies or something freshly made and baked. He would stop whatever he was doing to sit down with you on his lap, and enjoy the little feast you prepared for him. 
If tourists interrupted the moment, he would be very pissed and he would kill them the most quickly and yet rough way he could, before going back to you as if nothing had happened.
Because you were very doting on him and taking care of him in any ways possible, he was a lot gentler with you than he had ever been with anyone else.
You were special. Not even his Mama made sure he was alright and happy like you did. You would never hurt him, and in return he made sure to be good to you.
All your acts of services were noted in his mind, even the smallest ones. 
He didn’t always thank you, actually he very rarely did and he might be acting like an arrogant asshole. It was as if whatever you were doing was indeed natural and as if he deserved this and not any less.
But deep down, he was so grateful to have you around. He would forever keep you safe and you knew it.
Actually, he never thought of killing you. And he made sure you also knew it; he would really hate to have to hunt you down to bring you back home because he made you feel unsafe.
His way of thanking you was actually the way he treated you, especially in bed. He never forced anything on you, he never hurt you and he tried his best to always make you feel good about your body.
In his softest moment, he would even praise you and compliment you. His eyes were always showing you he was telling the truth.
He very rarely told you he loved you too but he never beat you and never yelled at you even when he was badly injured. You knew that pain was really making him a bad person, but he was always biting his lips to keep quiet. It was very different when it was Vincent taking care of him… But as said before, you were special.
Vincent Sinclair 
Because his Mama always reminded him that he had a face only a mother could love, Vincent strongly believed that he was also someone only a mother could dote on.
He was a violent and sadistic killer, after all. He didn’t see why he would deserve someone good in his life.
But you came one day, and you never left. Not that he would have allowed it anyways.
You took care of him to stay alive, and the man quickly started to be absolutely obsessed with you. He even started to keep you in the same room than him or it would drive him insane to not know where you were or what you were doing.
It meant that you started to help a lot with the wax statues. You would praise Vincent and give him the right tool, or give him your opinions if you thought something could be done better.
You also made sure he stayed hydrated and didn’t forget to eat. When he would allow you to, you would go into the kitchen to fix him something. He would always share the food you made with you, because he also wanted you to stay in good health conditions.
After some time, he even started to remind himself you both needed to eat and drink water. But he liked it better when you were the one gently whispering into his ear that it was time for a break. He enjoyed having you close to him, and he enjoyed having you taking care of him.
He couldn’t sleep without you. He often asked to sleep on your chest and to wait for him to rest before going to sleep yourself. He loved to be watched over. You were like a new mother to him.
But he loved you way more than he used to love his mother. Or at least in a very different way.
He used to be glued to his mother’s side, but he would also let her go if he was crafting. He couldn’t do that with you. His favourite way to sculpt was now with you on his lap.
For the two of you, your favourite way of doting over him was showering him.
Before you, he used to forget to take a shower, mostly because he was working until he was falling asleep on his work table.
Now, you would gently kiss his chest and neck, softly whispering to him that it was time to stop working for today. Bo never managed to make his twin stop working. But Vincent couldn’t resist you for one second.
You would guide him upstairs and into the bathroom. You would help him undress before he would watch you getting rid of your own clothes. He loved to watch you getting naked in front of him. And once in the shower or in the bath, you would start to wash his hair.
He would simply close his eyes and hug you as you took care of him. He loved the feel of your fingers gently scratching his scalp. And he loved how you would put conditioner on his long hair too. 
After his hair, you washed his body and face. You were always a little bit more tender when it was about his face.
He would lean into all your touches, completely relaxed and happy. He never felt insecure about his appearance when he was alone with you, and it only added to his obsession with you.
You were perfect, as if you came straight out from one of his fantasies.
He wasn't usually washing you. He preferred to look at you touching your own skin. But sometimes, his hands would be too itching to feel you and he would bring you all against him.
He would stroke your skin and start to play with you.
His favourite way to thank you for being so doting on him would be to kiss every inch of your skin and to pleasure you out of your mind… Not that you ever complained about it.
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autistic-mean-lesbian · 3 months
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A question for other chubby readers Do you guys also hate it when writers make reader insecure about their body? like not all of us hate our bodies it's always the "you're not fat.....you're beautiful🥺" trope, and it actually irritates my soul
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lunarmoves · 2 months
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connected to this drabble!
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"that's not sanitary, you know."
you paused, about to take a drink out of your cup of pink lemonade, and glanced up at sun. he watched you from the other side of the security desk, his arms bracing against its lip.
"what is?" you asked in confusion. you looked down at yourself, wondering if there was a stain or something on your uniform, but you were clean.
sun pointed to the cup in your hand, its straw sticking flimsily out of the top cover. "sharing drinks." there was a terseness to his smile despite it being stretched wide across his face in a vain attempt at casualness.
you only shrugged. he'd probably caught you letting the (relatively) new daycare security guard steal a few sips out of your drink before he clocked out for the night. "humans do it all the time, depending. besides, vincent's a friend. i didn't mind sharing with him. he was thirsty."
"that's not the point, friend!" sun exclaimed with a sudden loudness that had you jumping slightly. his pale, white eyes squinted slightly, but not in amusement. "exchanging saliva via straws or other utensils can lead to the transmission of germs and certain dise—"
"whoa, chill, dude! it's not that serious!" you cut off his rant abruptly, waving your free hand in the air. you made a motion to take the straw up in your mouth so you could prove your point, but before you could, sun snatched the cup right out of your hand. you let out an indignant hey! and tried to grab it back from him, but he leaned out of your reach.
"yes it is!" he said stubbornly, his fingers gripping onto the plastic of the cup. his head twitched slightly to the left, rays shifting minutely. "you could get sick! or worse!"
you huffed and crossed your arms over your chest. drama queen. you already knew you weren't getting that drink back. "it was only a few sips, man. besides, vincent doesn't have any diseases."
sun's gaze narrowed, his smile thinning. there was an edge to his words you didn't quite like. "you don't know that."
okay, well, he was right, but you weren't going to admit that. you swapped drinks with friends all the time, it was just something natural at that point in your relationship with them. "i don't know why you're getting so worked up over this," you told him irritably. "i'm sure you've seen kids eat each others' foods and drink each others' drinks all the time."
"that's different!" sun replied in a peevish manner.
you gave him a look that indicated you didn't quite believe him. "how is it different?"
at that, he seemed to pause and flounder for words. his arms moved about in the air in a manner that borderlined erratic. "it's— they're not—"
"i'm starting to think this is less about me and more about vincent," you said flatly as you raised an eyebrow at him.
sun recoiled, rays shrinking down slightly before he forced them back out to their normal size. "don't be silly!" he rushed out. "this isn't about—"
"then what is it about, hm?" you asked as gently as you could, which, in retrospect, wasn't all that. it was getting late and you didn't expect to have to deal with this tonight. "you know, i don't think you like vincent all too—"
"i said this isn't about him!" a burst of pink exploded out from sun's grasp, causing a waterfall to splash down on the desk and floor. you jumped at the abruptness of it, your eyes latching onto the tight grip sun had on your drink. his fingers had punctured holes in it, crushing the plastic until it was jagged and flat.
you stared at it for one moment, two moments, then snapped your gaze up to sun's face plate. he was staring directly at you, white pupils tiny and constricted in grey optics. his smile was wide and strained, his fingers twitching minutely at his side.
you swallowed heavily, and in a small, small voice, you said "...sun?"
the word seemed to breathe life back into him. he blinked and darted his gaze down to his hand. "oh!" he jumped slightly and loosened his grip just a tad. "silly me! sometimes i don't realize my own strength!" his body restarted that idle swaying motion it always seemed to have, and you distantly wondered when he had stopped it. "you stay right there friend! i'll get this all cleaned up in a jiffy!"
and then he skittered away, leaving you to stare blankly down at the waterlogged remains of your ruined drink.
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kiss-theggoat · 3 months
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Gonna need a part two where the slashers realize their s/o is alive >:’(
Slashers Fix You Up
Slashers Included: Thomas Hewitt, Billy Loomis, Stu Macher, Asa Emory, Michael Meyers, The Sinclair Brothers
TW: Violence and Gore
Thomas Hewitt:
The wound to your stomach was deep. It tore through deep tissue and muscle, but lucky for you, Thomas knew exactly what to do.
Not only had he been stabbed like that, but he’d become really good at sewing and stitching up human skin.
You woke up, feeling groggy, but immediately recognized the basement you were in. You laid on Tommy’s workbench, shirt off and torso numb.
When you looked down you saw Thomas hunched over you, huge hands trying hard to delicately sew you up, fingers covered in your blood.
You whispered to him, and you could’ve sworn you saw his heart skipped a beat. He jumped up, immediately grabbing the side of your face with relief written all over his face, eyes wide and breath heavy. He wouldn’t know what to do with himself if he lost you.
Billy Loomis:
Nothing when like it was supposed to that night. Sydney got away, Stu stabbed him too hard, and the worst of all…he stood above you, watching your blood pool on the hardwood of Stu’s living room.
He bent down, putting pressure on your wound while looking around the room, taking deep breaths and trying to think rationally…he needed to get you out of here. He quickly lifted you, trying to ignore your pained groans. He hated seeing you like this.
The moment he got your arm around his shoulders and your feet on the ground, he heard them…sirens. He was conflicted. Relief washed over him. He knew you’d be getting help soon but…if he didn’t run…Syd would tell them everything. He’d go to jail, be found guilty for murder.
In that moment, he didn’t care. He helped you limp towards the front door, pushing it open. You’d lost too much blood…you didn’t even realize that Billy was sacrificing himself to save your life.
Stu Macher:
Stu watched his entire world fall apart when Billy stabbed you. He watched you fall, holding your gushing stomach, blood seeping from between your fingers.
He rushed to your side, hands covering your wound as he laid you back onto the ground.
“Just look at me. Don’t worry, keep looking at me.” He refused to let you look at your wound. He didn’t want you to be scared about how hurt you were. He lifted your hands to inspect your wound…he sighed in relief.
“It’s okay baby…the bleeding is slowing down…you’re gonna be okay…”
Asa Emory:
Asa never expected you to fall into one of his traps. He was beating himself up about it, but there was no time. He lifted you onto his operating table, covering your entire body with gauze.
He started slow, sutures and thread in his precise hands. You were covered in deep wounds, caused by rusty nails…he whispered his apologies, holding one hand as he poured antiseptic over you. It burned, it was unbearable…but you trusted him.
He carefully sewed each wound with a single suture, making sure to reassure you and stop the bleeding whenever it happened. It took him hours, but nothing would stop him from fixing you. Fixing your skin, fixing his love.
Michael Meyers:
For the first time in his entire life, he felt guilt. He felt a storm of emotions, but as he stared at your knife wound- the one his dumbass caused…- he knew it wouldn’t kill you. He’d never felt so terrible and so relieved in his life.
He quickly scooped you up, carrying you into the bathroom with shaking fingers. His hands had never shaken before…
He slammed open your medicine cabinet, hard enough to crack the glass, and popped open the first aid kit, sending gauze and band-aids onto the bathroom floor. You’d patched him up plenty of times so it should be easy…right?
Six butterfly bandages, four bandaids, and two complete rolls of gauze later, you felt like you might be suffocated by the first-aid supplies but…he’d tried his best. And, you weren’t bleeding anymore.
Sinclair Brothers:
The blow to the face had broken your eyebrow and sliced your skin, and the fall to the floor left you with a concussion and a sprained wrist. Vincent carried you downstairs gently, knowing he had the supplies to fix you up in his workshop.
All three brothers stayed by your side, and you were never alone over the course of the next week, especially while you were sleeping, until your concussion headache finally went away.
Your face was bruised and swollen and it hurt like nothing else you’d experienced, especially the cut on your eyebrow.
But, every morning when you walked downstairs, you received a kiss on the eyebrow from each Sinclair brother, and they all treated you like you were made of porcelain, even Bo.
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sunkendreams · 3 months
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Can I ask for a Vincent Sinclair smut PLZZZ🛐🛐 (I love him sm)
redamancy.
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➾ pairing ; vincent sinclair x fem!reader.
format: one-shot — requested.
word count: 4.4K.
warnings: SMUT (mdni), fingering (f!receiving), dry humping, p in v sex (unprotected), multiple positions, breast-play, biting, hair-pulling, making out, scratching, rough sex, slight breeding kink, vincent is pretty obsessive/possessive, darker vincent, choking
author’s note: I haven’t written for vincent in a hot minute but boy, this was a perfect way to get back into it! I plan on writing another bo/reader/vincent thing at some point and more bo/reader. Trying to ease myself back into all of this! Thank you all so much for your love and support!
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Hot pearls of pale wax trickled from the numerous candles littered throughout the basement, basked within an orange glow. It only served to add to the warmth of the underbelly of the House of Wax, temperatures maintained to prevent any form of melting. Vincent had learned to temper it all over time — control the heat, master the atmosphere.
A silver scalpel idly shaped a column of wax, something that would soon join the displays up above. His movements were methodical, purposeful — he was a perfectionist. Every stroke had to mean something, appear flawless and without any imperfections.
He’d been making up for imperfections all his life — even still, Vincent was continuing to work himself ragged, to further his mother’s work. Perhaps, someday, it would make him more worthy in her eyes.
Footsteps reverberated throughout his underground mausoleum of wax, and he knew that it was you. Bo rarely, if ever, came downstairs, and his gait was often far more purposeful and aggressive than yours could ever be. He was hunched over his desk, guiding the flickering flame toward the wax, letting it melt and bend.
Vincent carefully began to mold the wax, shape it to whatever he pleased. It was a statuette, meant to resemble that of a serpent. Using the edge of the scalpel, he quickly carved in intricate designs as the surface began to cool, brushing off any excess with the pad of his thumb.
You quietly crept through the basement, making your way toward Vincent’s coiled frame, perched within his rickety chair. You always enjoyed watching him work — his artistic talent was mesmerizing to behold. With a light shrug, you tugged your robe around you, feet absorbing the warmth from the concrete floor.
It was common for him to wake up sometime in the night, leaving the space beside you to work. Sometimes, it was the only thing that could quell the raging thoughts inside of him, or the one activity that took his mind off of everything. Vincent could think of other activities to distract himself, but you needed to agree to it, too.
The cold dusk of Louisiana couldn’t reach either of you — not here, not in the warmth of the basement. It was akin to a sanctuary for you, this wax cathedral built to destroy and to create anew. There was something so fascinating about this place, something hauntingly beautiful and macabre all rolled into one.
“Hey,” You murmured, lazily rubbing at the back of your neck. His shirt clumsily hung from your frame, the robe haphazardly tossed over the garment. Vincent regarded you with a tender look in his eye, countenance shrouded by that familiar waxy veil. “Couldn’t sleep?”
Vincent shook his head, dark tresses idly brushing across the back of the woolen sweater he wore. You were often amazed at his heat tolerance, wearing thicker garments in a sweltering basement. He turned slightly within his seat, an open invitation for you to come and inspect his work.
There was a point in time where he had little desire for you to see any of his projects, but that sentiment had drastically changed. Vincent valued your admiration above all else. He turned the partially-finished serpent over, noticing your look of recognition and delight.
“That’s a basilisk, isn’t it? It’s beautiful so far.” You gently traced your index finger along some of the scales Vincent had carved into the surface. The initial grogginess of slumber was beginning to wear off as you stood at his side, gaze flickering toward the assortment of art tools, wax, and glowing candles.
“It’s for you.” Vincent’s hands moved sluggishly as he signed, feeling your fingertips grace his shoulder, nails idly raking across his back. He shivered, enjoying the light sensation of your touch, knowing that it was bound to contort and twist into a different sort of feeling.
Your lips curled into a smitten smile, teeth absentmindedly toying with your lower lip. “For me? Are you sure?” It belonged in the House of Wax, amongst all of his other sculptures and pieces of art. However, you weren’t about to stop him from his sentimental gesture. You loved everything he’d made for you.
With a brief nod, Vincent placed the statuette back down onto the debris-laden desk, swiping at a fine layer of wax flecks with his hand. Along the mantle situated above his workbench, you noticed a weathered photograph, partially obscured by a series of half-destroyed wax masks that he’d worn at one point or another.
Admittedly, you hadn’t seen the picture before — and you had memorized every square inch of this place by now. “Hey,” You motioned toward it, pointing at the obstructed photograph with visible intrigue. “What’s that?” You inquired, head cocking to one side.
Vincent’s jaw tightened, posture becoming somewhat stiff and rigid as he deliberately removed the picture from behind the masks. He’d forgotten all about it until you pointed it out — a sliver of him wondered why he’d even kept it at all. He cradled the tattered, dusty photograph within one hand, brows furrowing together.
It was Trudy Sinclair, forever immortalized within one still image, holding a very young Vincent, whose countenance was indistinguishable — marred and torn from his conjoined state with Bo. Her expression was arguably the kindest it had ever been, gazing down upon the near-infant Vincent with a look of fondness.
Even through the faded granules of color, you were able to make out the affection she held for him. Your heart clenched within your chest, primarily out of empathy for Vincent himself. Despite all his talent and efforts to regain some favor in his mother’s eyes, part of her would always see him as some disfigured freak, doomed to be trapped behind that wax mask.
Wordlessly, Vincent offered you the photograph, letting you inspect it for yourself. You treated the object like a priceless relic, gently turning it over within your hands. It pained you to know the fate that had inevitably befallen the Sinclairs — locked within a household filled with vitriol and parents whose passions often overrode any love they might’ve had for their children.
“This is Trudy, isn’t it?” You uttered, watching as Vincent’s head bobbed up and down in a stoic nod. Bo had received the short end of the stick when it came to Trudy’s love, but things were far from perfect with Vincent, too. “I’m sorry, Vincent.” Your voice barely drifted above a whisper, lips curling into a sympathetic frown.
His shoulders sagged in a gentle shrug, taking the photograph from you before placing it behind a cluster of half-burnt candles. “Nothing to be sorry for. You can’t change the past.” Vincent signed, concentration turning to you, instead.
He’d spent most of his life wishing that he could change his tumultuous childhood — he’d stopped long ago. He and his brothers would always be chained to Trudy, and there would always be a certain level of loyalty to her, even in death.
“I understand, Vincent.” With a soft murmur, you gently rubbed at the back of your neck, trailing your fingers across his spine. “Come back to bed with me?” You asked, head canting to one side. Vincent reached for your wrist, gingerly cradling it between his fingers, stroking along your forearm.
He wasn’t tired, but Vincent didn’t want to leave you alone, either. He moved up from his chair, lean musculature towering above you as he kept hold of your wrist, fingers drifting to twine around your hand. The two of you retreated into the alcove that served as his bedroom, if one could call it that.
The mattress was littered in blankets, indents visible from where the two of you slept. He’d fixed it up with doors that folded shut, similar to that of a closet. You settled back down, Vincent right beside you as he tugged you close, letting you lounge against his chest.
You sat up just a little bit, enough to see his masked countenance. “Could I ask you something?” Your voice was nothing more than a tender whisper, and now that you were awake, a string of thoughts began to nag at the back of your head. Pillowtalk with Vincent often became very emotionally-charged.
“Anything.” Vincent nodded as his hands moved, propping himself up enough to look at you, too. He had told you about his life some time ago — the intricate details and his own sentiments on the matter were left out and simply implied. You were a precocious and inquisitive individual, but above all, you were empathetic.
“This,” With a feather-light caress, you traced your finger along the cheekbone of his mask. “Why do you still wear it around me?” Your inquiry was innocuous, spoken out of genuine concern instead of malice or confusion. Vincent had shown you his face once before — and it never bothered you. It wouldn’t bother you.
Vincent’s throat became tight, jaw unusually tense as he attempted to muster up a feasible answer. It was an anchor for him — one way to feel less like a monster and a freak. “Habit,” He signed, but he knew better than to give you a false response. “I don’t want you to feel guilty or pity me.”
Your brows furrowed together, visage contorting with a look of mild confusion. “What do you mean, Vince?” You wondered if you’d done something wrong, stomach swelling with a wave of anxiety, but he seemed to catch this. He pressed a finger against your lips before he began to sign in a flurry of animated hands.
“I don’t want you to pity me for how I look. I’ve spent my entire life being looked at like a freak — like something fragile, something to feel sorry for.” Vincent finished with finality to it, hoping that you would understand why he continued to wear the mask. He knew that you still loved him, regardless of how he appeared.
“No, no,” You uttered, sitting up enough to stare at him, hands gently splayed across his taut chest. “When I saw your face, that night in the kitchen — the only thing that I saw was a survivor.” His eye sparkled whenever you spoke, hanging upon your every word. “You’re resilient and you’re talented, Vincent. You’ve never been a freak.”
It was the first time in his life that someone labeled him as a survivor — he hadn’t thought of it like that.
Most of his life had been about preservation — keeping the Sinclair name alive, to continue his mother’s dream, keeping Bo and Lester safe. Vincent hadn’t considered that his face was also a sign of resilience, of an endurance that even he wasn’t fully aware of.
You felt his hand reach for you, cupping your jaw with calloused, roughened digits, the practiced hands of an artist. His touch was filled with both adoration and a dark yearning, thumb sweeping over your lower lip. “You mean everything to me.” He signed, and you knew that he meant it wholeheartedly.
“You mean everything to me, too.” You murmured, careening into the warmth of his embrace, lips pursing to kiss the pad of his thumb. “Don’t know what I’d do without you.” A breathy, passionate sigh left you when he coaxed you closer, slotted against his musculature.
His hawkish eye picked you apart from where you sat, the distance slim between the two of you. You were vaguely aware of his obsession with you, disguised as protectiveness and adoration — Vincent often made it explicitly clear that you belonged to him, drew a line in the sand with Bo over and over again.
As you lavished him in kind, tenderhearted words, Vincent’s innate possessiveness over you seemed to flare to life, malignant and very much alive. You were tethered to him until the end of time — a pretty, iron-wrought cage, inescapable — and admittedly, you didn’t want to be free from it at all. You stopped thinking that way a long time ago.
Vincent exhaled, dragging his hand across the slender expanse of your neck, digits exploring the canvas that was your flesh — all belonging to him. “You’re mine.” He signed, staking his claim for the hundredth time. Even through signing alone, his nature was desirous and rapacious.
Long before he’d entered this relationship with you, he was very indifferent towards you. It stemmed from insecurities, from rage, and from confusion — girls were always Bo’s forte and never his. Having you, something to covet, something to protect and to keep, Vincent was always worried that he’d lose it.
You nodded, breath hitching within your throat when he traced the pad of his thumb across your pulse point. Your heartbeat had climbed to erratic, excitable heights, mouth somewhat dry as he applied pressure underneath either side of your jaw.
“I’m yours.” Parasitic — you leached from him, and it always took your loneliness away. You used to hate him for taking away your friends, but it almost felt like a wandering dream that didn’t feel real. Ambrose was where you were meant to be — meant to be with Vincent. You empathized with him, surrounding him with your affection and comfort.
A rugged huff emerged from the depths of his throat, feeling you climb closer, gaze glazed-over with desire. Wordlessly, Vincent removed his mask, placing the waxy veil aside as his mouth clamored for yours. The kiss was blistering, full of a rather oppressive possession and greed — he felt entitled to you, in some depraved sense.
Reciprocation made him giddy as your lips eagerly pressed against his, responding with a desperation that nearly bordered his own. Vincent squeezed your jaw, other hand relocating to slip underneath the baggy shirt you wore, brazenly groping at your breasts.
Your fingers scraped through his hair, digging into the base of his skull as he coaxed you down against the mattress. Vincent crawled on top of you, mouth briefly disconnecting from yours before he crashed back into you, parting your legs with his knee.
A low, raspy grunt escaped him when your lips continued their relentless assault, mouth parting to allow for a sloppy kiss. He was needy, desperate to feel you as he rucked your shirt up with one hand, fingertips tracing across the plane of your stomach. Goosebumps coalesced along your spine, arousal pooling between your thighs.
Heat blistered between the both of you, an amalgamation of desire, want, and the emotion of your charged conversation moments prior. Vincent savored it all — it still didn’t feel real sometimes, being physical with you. Some time ago, he felt unworthy, too horrid and too scarred, but you changed everything.
You changed the way he touched you — no longer hesitant or wrought with deliberation. He felt like a god, capable of conquering anything — even you. Instead, each touch was charged with lust, and the sensation was beyond mutual as you slipped a hand underneath his sweater.
Vincent was made of taut, sinewy muscle, littered in plenty of scars. His broad shoulders tensed when your hand pressed into the nape of his neck, toying with the collar of his sweater. In one fluid motion, he lifted it up and over his head, discarding it toward the foot of the bed.
He lifted two digits toward his lips, pressing them upon his tongue as he coated them in saliva. Vincent’s eye glistened with a ravenous sheen, fingers drifting toward the warmth between your legs. He brusquely shoved your panties aside, dragging those fingers along your slit, peppering your jaw in kisses.
“Vincent,” You moaned, feeling him cage you against him, arm bracketing you in, keeping you for himself. It was explosive — everything felt hot, as if the both of you were running out of time. “Touch me.” Your voice was high-pitched with a sense of urgency.
Your hips jolted forward, chasing after the friction his digits provided, feeling his mouth press hot kisses against your sternum. He branded you with his embrace, hoping to make it permanent — a mark, something that bound you to him. His lips sought to take one of your pert nipples into his mouth, suckling on the sensitive bud.
At last, he gave into your breathy demands, slotting his thumb against your clit as his middle fingers explored your cunt. An elated sigh escaped you, knees squeezing at his waist, hands splayed across his shoulders. He looked immaculate beneath orange candlelight — a deity of wax, perfection immortalized.
A ripple of bliss consumed you, body keening and arching into Vincent’s touch. His fingers lightly traced your core before dipping inward, forcing his way inside of you, feeling your cunt clench pathetically around his practiced digits. He lavished your breasts in a flurry of attention, throat echoing with a hoarse grunt.
Scars were crisscrossing all over his body, remnants of his victims that left their mark. Bullets, stab wounds, the diagonal, uneven slashes of knives and sharp objects. His skin served as a canvas for chaos, and you traced your fingertips over a livid mark on his chest.
Vincent shuddered, rutting his fingers inside of you before withdrawing halfway, finding a steady rhythm to piston in and out of your aching heat. He kissed his way back to your mouth, lips crashing into one another as he pressed against you. You could feel his erection snug along your thigh, prompting you to squirm.
You needed him terribly, unable to vocalize that want unless it was through a mess of needy moans. With a gentle shove, your lips tangled with his, tugging on his mane of dark tresses. Vincent huffed, digits curling into your cunt, eliciting a simpering cry from you.
He watched you through a lustful stare, glazed-over with rapture, drunk with desire. Vincent kissed at your throat, teeth teasing your flesh, feeling you roll your hips into the sensation of his hand. “Need you inside of me,” Your voice emerged as a hungry groan, clawing at the muscle of his shoulder. “Please, Vincent.”
Admittedly, he hadn’t seen you quite like this before — tangled up within your own need, aching for him in ways you hadn’t felt before. Vincent was delighted to oblige you, feeding off of your desire like a leech.
“How?” Vincent signed, and that singular word seemed to set off some chain reaction. Your stomach sloshed with anticipation as you rolled over onto your abdomen, able to hear the audible hitch in his throat, a raspy grunt tearing past his lips.
Vincent slipped his fingers from your cunt, digits coated in a thin sheen of your arousal. He grabbed at your hips, chest reverberating with a low rumble as he tugged you back against him. The metallic rattling of his belt sent shivers down your spine, able to feel the heat of his cock press against your slit.
“Vincent,” You moaned, and that was enough to get his blood pumping, accompanied by a surge of adrenaline as he let the head of his length slide through your slick a time or two. A soft yelp tore past your lips when he pushed himself inside of you, hunched over you, flesh feverishly warm.
A hand gently held the back of your neck, thumb grazing over the slender muscle of your jugular. His face was buried near your shoulder, tresses sweeping across your exposed back, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He filled you in a way that you never thought possible, causing you to whimper.
With a sharp thrust, Vincent began to invade your cunt, somewhere between tender and rough. He was always sporadic and unsure when it came to pace, but you thoroughly enjoyed the unpredictability. His cock lewdly slapped into your cunt, followed by the sound of his ragged breathing.
Wax-laden palms skirted across your body, one hand grappling at your hips while the other gathered at the nape of your neck. You huffed, face partially pressed into the mattress, body contorting and submitting to him as you had many times before.
You were perfect — his paramour, his muse.
A twisted desire began to wash over him like a tidal wave, borderline insidious as he rutted into you. Vincent’s love might’ve been perceived as sweet on the surface, yet it often veered off into a very vitriolic obsession. He wanted you all to himself, as much as humanly possible.
Vincent’s grunts resonated just beside your ear, full of a lustful fervor. Every inch of him was consumed by your cunt, tight around him as he continued to fuck you. It was hot and messy, his pace sometimes scattered and erratic, as if he didn’t know what rhythm to adopt.
He brought you back against him, caging your back to his chest as he rocked onto his knees. Taut, muscled biceps locked around you as he pistoned into you, cock reaching new depths until he couldn’t go any further. Vincent’s mouth clamored to your neck, kissing and biting wherever he pleased as he kept you snug against him.
“V—Vincent, shit,” You stammered, the newfound position taking you by complete surprise. A sensation of sheer want flooded through you, coupled with overwhelming arousal. He filled you completely, flesh dewy with a layer of perspiration, black strands stuck to his temples from exertion. “Please cum in me.”
Another hoarse, throaty grunt ripped through him, hands relocating as one palm groped at your soft, pliant breasts. The other had a mind of its own, snaking to the cleft between your thighs as he toyed with your clit. Euphoria gripped you then and there, causing you to squirm and writhe with pleasure.
Again, Vincent locked you in against his chest, huffing into your ear, biting at your jaw as he filled you up. Part of him wanted to devour you, but the added heat and friction, the swiftness of the moment was enough to make him exert all force.
If he could, he would’ve gladly drowned himself in you, let himself float away within your very presence. Even covered in a veil of sweat, your scent was saccharine, accompanied by his own musk from the cling of his clothing.
Vincent felt you reach for his hand, digits curling around his wrist as he played with your clit, hoping to get you to your peak, right alongside him. His palm wandered from the plump flesh of your chest toward your throat, wrapping around until he applied pressure along your windpipe.
Within the stifling warmth of the basement, the only sounds that reverberated throughout were your moans and his occasional grunt. Vincent’s breathing was heavy, chest heaving against your back. You moved with him as best as you could, nails digging crescents into the taut tendons of his forearm.
Arousal sat heavy within the pit of your stomach, thick and viscous. Vincent was relentless and unyielding, continuing to pound away at your cunt, gently squeezing underneath your jaw. The combined pleasure that assaulted your clit and throat were preparing to send you cascading over the edge.
“M’close,” You huffed, feeling his lips meet the dip between your neck and shoulder, face buried there as he rutted into you. Everything felt incendiary, as if you’d been set ablaze, only to sink further into the fire. He touched you as if you were molded from obsidian, covetous and desperate for you. “Vincent!”
He never slowed, still pounding away at you, cock unable to go any further before he pulled out just a little bit, only to shove himself back in. A sheen of perspiration glistened across his features, forehead pushing into your shoulder, still clutching at your throat.
You belonged to him — you always would. There was no one else for you, only him.
Vincent huffed, teeth sinking into your flesh until he slammed into you one last time, painting your insides with hot, virile ropes of his seed. He continued to rub circles around your clit, dragging you toward your peak. Your cunt clenched around him, eliciting a throaty groan from him as you came.
A myriad of moans and sighs escaped you, shivers rolling down your spine as your thighs twitched, ecstasy flooding throughout your body. Vincent soothed any bites over with kisses, staying in you for a moment longer until he reclined against the mattress, taking you with him.
You were on top of him, layered in sweat and his cum, palms spread across his chest. Vincent stared at you with complete and utter devotion, gently tucking away any strands of hair that were stuck to your temples.
“You’re perfect,” Vincent signed, tucking his thumb and forefinger beneath your chin. The sienna glow of waning candlelight flickered throughout your shared space, basking you in such an atmospheric light. “You look perfect like this.”
There was a darker undertone to his sweet words — and to him, you did look divine this way, covered in his seed, wracked with want for him. Vincent cared very little for moving in that moment, content to stay with you in the oppressive heat of the basement.
With a soft caress, your fingertips swept across the scarred part of his jaw, mouth clamoring for him in another kiss. He didn’t protest, hand slipping toward the base of your skull, coaxing you closer to him.
“I love you,” You murmured, watching the way his pupil dilated with understanding. “M’tired.” You sank down into the mattress, still staggeringly hot with no sign of changing, either.
Visibly, you were spent, exhilaration and your post-orgasm haze beginning to dissipate into exhaustion. You smiled, laying down at his side instead, head curled toward the broad expanse of his shoulder. He locked an arm around you, caging you in, nowhere else to go — it was where you belonged.
There was nowhere you could go where he wouldn’t follow.
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