#Lester Sinclair x You

[loveandmurders]

love your writing! how do you think the menagerie of murderers would react if their current crush/victim/hostage refers to them exclusivelly as "Mister [lastname]" even after they know their first name? would some prefer it that way? get off to the power synamic implied? would some insist on being called by their first name? would they not gaf? asking for Tommy Vincent and Brahms specifically but if you can do more i'd love that~

Hello there! I don't take request anymore but my mind instantly knew how each character you mentionned would react, so here a quick answer for you! (I added Bo and Lester)

I hope you'll enjoy <3

Warning: absolutely no proof reading, mentions of murders and violence, mentions of sexual desire, nothing else I think

Thomas Hewitt

Tommy would be confused as hell at first. Why would you call him "Mister Hewitt"? The man has never been called that way in his entire existence.

Of course, he understands you're trying to be polite, and it's better than being insulted... But he has a secret little crush on you (he thinks it's a secret but the whole family can tell) so it hurts him quite a lot that you are not calling him by his name. For him, it is as if you were putting barriers between the two of you. He wants you to be more intimate with him. He needs it actually or he is going to lose his mind.

He definitively asks his Mama (he is too shy to ask you directly) to tell you to stop calling him that, and to start calling him "Thomas" (which makes him feel so hot when you do) or "Tommy" (which makes him melt with pure love for you).

Bo Sinclair

Bo has tied you up on his chair and he is ready to toy with you in the nastiest way possible.

But he stops dead in his track when he hears you call him "Mister Sinclair" as you plead with him to not hurt you. He can't recall the last time he has been called that way and for an instant he doesn't know what to think about it. He asks you to repeat your words, which you instantly do, hopeful you might have found a cheatcode.

As he repeats the words inside his head over and over again, he moves his tongue over his dry lips and starts to understand he actually likes it a lot. It sounds even hotter coming out from your pretty mouth. Ok, you win, he won't hurt you as long as you keep calling him that way. God forbid he is getting hard from such a simple way. Also, he is losing it if you start calling him "Sir" as well.

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent instantly liked you among your little tourist group and this is why you're still alive, currently wandering around in the house. In your point of view, you're some sort of hostage, without really knowing what the brothers want from you.

But Vinny doesn't see it that way. You're his muse.

At first you don't know you are alive thanks to him; you even feel like he seems to avoid you as much as possible. Actually he is just watching you from far away. When he finally gathers the courage to be around you, he is so surprised to hear you call him "Mister Sinclair". He definitively enjoys the politeness of it. It also reminds him that he isn't his "mama's boy" anymore. He is a man. It makes him want to take care of you like a "man" would take care of you. But after a little while, he really needs you to call him by his name or even better by a nickname to show him you like him (even just a little).

Lester Sinclair

Lester is very happy you aren't calling him a "freak" or insulting him, despite the current situation (all your friends are dead and you're alive because Lester pleaded with his big brothers).

He is even astonished you are still so polite to him, like the first time you met on the dusty road of Louisiana. He isn't used of people being polite to him, and he is a little bit worried you are actually just scared of him. He really doesn't want that.

In addition, he HATES with burning passion you calling him "Mister Sinclair". Mister Sinclair was his father and fuck he hated that man and all the awful things he did to him and his brothers. So no, please, call him Lester, call him Les, call him anything you want, but not Mister. Even "Freak" would hurt less in fact. He doesn't really like "Sir" either because he doesn't feel like that. He is just "Lester".

Brahms Heelshire

For Brahms, it is normal and even expected that you call him "Mister" and that you are all polite and nice around him.

Your are his new nanny, you are stuck with him now and you better respect the rules and respect him.

But he can't deny that the way you pronounce those words instantly does things to him. If you are gently greeting him in the morning, he is promising himself he's going to be a good boy to you today. If you are scolding him because there is mud eveywhere in the living room, he gets sad and helps you clean up instantly. If you say this in between kisses, he is absolutely going feral for you.

"Mister Heelshire" used to be a way to show him some respect, now it is some sort of spell that wraps him up all around your little finger.

[rapturously]

Ok hear me out bc this has been in my mind for a minute. Lester secretly toying and touching reader in the truck while someone is standing outside the truck, be it Bo, some potential victim I just feel like he is the type

heatstroke.

( lester sinclair x fem!reader. )

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: lester sinclair x fem!reader.

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓: one-shot — requested.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4.3K.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: SMUT! (mdni), public sex, risky location, vaginal fingering, fingering (f!feceiving), fingerfucking, spit as lube, dirty talk, praise, finger sucking, very mild coercion, lester is a bit of a pervert, bo sinclair cameo, obsessive/slightly creepy behavior from lester

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: listen ,,, you were onto something incredible when you requested this, this was so hot to write you don’t understand !!! lester is criminally underrated aaaaand this was so much hornier than I thought it’d be !! hope y’all enjoy! ❤️

TAGLIST: @freyjasfenrir ; @darklylucid ; @chaotichellscape ; @kiki-dohedo ; @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better ; @iamcautiouslyoptimistic ; @milland ; @the-anxious-youth ; @nastymensimp

Summertime in Louisiana was akin to setting fire in a desert — humidity on top of an acrid, stifling heat. You didn’t have a clue as to why your friends dragged you all the way out here under the false pretense of a camping trip. In all actuality, they wanted to visit this town that wasn’t listed on any map — Ambrose.

The journey itself was treacherous, going through thick, endless woodlands, marshlands, and bogs before coming towards the town. It was just around the bend, a large chunk of the road missing, now consumed by swampwater, jagged rocks, and erosion. Your friend was confident that he could maneuver his truck through it — boy, was he wrong.

“It won’t make it,” Josie chimed, standing beside you as the both of you watched a pair of young men attempt to push the truck through the wash. The truck unceremoniously came to a grinding, screeching halt, tires partially buried within the mud. “Idiots.”

You kept quiet, idly smoothing your palms across the little, floral sundress you wore. You certainly weren’t dressed for camping — you had no interest. Going to Ambrose was supposed to be a ‘day out on the town’, with your desire being to look at small shops and simply enjoy the atmosphere.

“Maybe we should call somebody,” You piped up, nervously wringing your hands together. “There has to be a tow truck around, you think?” Anxiousness blossomed within the pit of your stomach, giving you a feeling of uncertainty. You wished that they would’ve just listened and tried to drive around it.

“Cut the shit, we don’t need a tow truck.” Josie’s boyfriend, Tate, growled in protest. Admittedly, you had no idea why you were out here in the staggering heat with these three. Tate and Josie had been your friends since high school, but Cody, the third boy, was simply here out of devotion to Josie. You were confident that there was something else going on.

Josie shot you an apologetic glance, but you had enough of watching them push at a truck that wasn’t moving anywhere whatsoever. With a begrudging sigh, you started down the dirt path in the direction of Ambrose, carefully stepping across rocks to avoid caking your boots in a layer of viscous mud.

“Where are you going?” Josie called out, and you simply waved your hand at her, dismissive of her concerns. You were sick and tired of being around the trio, anyway. A walk and a bit of fresh air would do you a world of good.

“Going to town to find somebody.” You replied, and continued walking, crossbody purse slung over your frame as you made the short trek into town. It seemed exceptionally lively — plenty of stores, the chattering ambiance of a quaint neighborhood, and vintage, neon signs that pointed you toward your destination.

You were delighted to discover the gas station and mechanic shop, which already seemed to be inhabited by someone. An old, beat-up pickup truck sat by the gas pumps, back of the bed shoddily cleaned-out, save for a few remnants of roadkill and animal bones. There was an ‘L. S.’ carved into the worn metal above the back wheel, which you curiously traced your fingers over.

The hot sun blistered down upon you, making it stifling due to the now-faded asphalt you stood upon. You quickly ducked underneath the shaded cover of the gas station, almost colliding into someone when you rounded the front of the truck.

“Oh!” You gasped, chest tight with a momentary lapse of fear. “I’m so sorry!” The energy you carried was akin to that of a nervous nelly, clearly unnerved by her surroundings. You felt horrible for running into some innocent bystander — the owner of the truck, you figured.

You were met with the skeptical, hazel-eyed gaze of a man who reminded you of a possum. Rugged, scraggly, and clearly meant for the woodlands. He straightened his hat out, head cocking to one side when he peered down at you — prettiest thing he’d seen in ages. “Nothin’ to be sorry for, sugar! Guess I wasn’t watchin’ where I was goin’, neither.”

His voice bore that native Southern dialect, but he didn’t sound hostile whatsoever. When you finally got a good look at him, he seemed scrappy — maybe he lived in Ambrose. A large buck knife was holstered to his hip, neck adorned in a series of chokers and necklaces, decorated in some sort of animal bone.

“Say, what’cha doin’ ‘round here, anyway?” He inquired, leaning against the door of his truck. “Y’look a little lost.” His tone remained friendly, high-spirited, even. He was somewhat grimy, covered in a layer of dewy perspiration, wiping his hands off on a damp cloth.

“My friends and I were coming up here to visit the town, but our truck got stuck in that patch of marsh just around the bend,” You sighed, somewhat agitated with the whole scenario. If they would’ve listened to you, the truck would be just fine and not tire-deep in the mud. “I was just looking for some help.”

There was a sparkling in his eyes, a peculiar glittering that intrigued you to no end. A chuckle escaped him, finding humor in the situation. “They should’a jus’ drove ‘round.” He mused, and you had to laugh, even if it was a bitter sound. You kept your hands tucked together, idly fiddling with the strap of your purse.

Your expression was somewhat amused, lips twitching into a sardonic smile. “That’s what I said,” You sighed, happy to be away from the oppressive glare of the midday sun. “Either way, we’re stuck. Do you know if there’s a tow truck around here, or someone who could help?” You asked.

He grinned — a toothy, wolfish grin. Lester wasn’t blessed with Bo’s natural handsomeness, but he certainly had the personality to offset it all. He liked that you smiled and laughed along with him, didn’t treat him like backwoods trash, either. “M’brother’s got a tow truck! Bet he’d help ya out! Why don’t I give ‘im a call?”

Finally — your savior.

Relief rippled through you as you nodded several times over, rifling through your purse to unveil a crumpled twenty-dollar bill. “Here,” You insisted. “For the call and for your help. I can’t thank you enough.” You nodded, but the man simply pushed your hand away.

Being around you was a reward in itself — and once his brothers took care of your friends, you would be his prize in all of this. He couldn’t have been any happier with how all of this was progressing. Lester opened up the driver’s side door, grabbing a rather shoddy-looking flip-phone. He was still trying to figure these things out.

One call to Bo later, and his older brother was coming out with the tow-truck and all of that oozing charm, like a shepherd leading the flock to the slaughter. Lester insisted that he keep you out of it — you were sweet, he could tell.

He liked that.

“He’s on his way,” Lester chimed, swiveling around to face you again. He stuck out his hand in greeting. “M’Lester, by th’way! It’s real nice to meet you, sugar. Say, if you’re bakin’ in the sun, could sit in m’truck with me while the rest do the heavy liftin’.” The offer was absolutely tempting to you.

You reached out, introducing yourself with a charming grin and another burst of bubbly laughter. “It’s nice to meet you, Lester. Thank you so much for all of your help, again. You’re an angel.” He was very kind and upbeat — Jesus, you even found him to be cute. “Are you sure? I really don’t want to be a bother.”

Lester grinned again, completely and utterly enamored with you as he waved a hand towards the truck. “I’m real sure, promise! Don’t want that pretty little face of yours t’melt right off. You can sit with me while Bo works his magic.” He insisted, opening up the door as a sign of invitation.

A pleasant wave of heat flooded throughout your body — and while you thought it was from the weather, it was from Lester’s subtle flirtation. You couldn’t help but giggle, nose wrinkling in amusement as you climbed up into his truck. Lester stood behind you, shamelessly admiring the way your dress fit you, from lovely curves to the faintest glimpse of your thighs.

As you crawled into the cabin, you noticed the morbid array of bone and rope dangling from the top mirror. The inside smelled of stale blood, damp dirt, and the faint scent of cigarettes. You folded one leg over the other, swiping away a thin layer of sweat that built up along the back of your neck.

A tow truck came soaring down the road, rickety and beat-up. The driver wore a mechanic’s uniform and a ball cap — you assumed it was Bo, the man Lester was referring to. “M’gonna drive us back down to the bend. No reason for you t’walk.” He mused, hopping in beside you as he started the engine.

The truck roared to life, and Lester maneuvered the vehicle out of the gas station, whipping it back around to approach the swampy wash where your caravan had gotten stuck at.

“Have you lived here your whole life?” You asked, head canting to one side. You leaned up against the door, palm tucked underneath your chin. Whenever you weren’t looking, you were completely oblivious to Lester’s constant ogling of your body.

He kept one hand perched atop the patchwork, leather-covered steering wheel, the other resting along the edge of the window. “Mostly,” Lester piped up, letting out a low whistle. “Ambrose ain’t on the map. Hard for anybody to come out this way without lookin’ real close.” He replied, truck slugging along at a crawl.

“It’s pretty out here,” You hummed, tracing a finger along the dashboard, collecting a layer of dust in the process. “I wouldn’t want to leave. You’ve got everything you need here in town. It’s peaceful.” When you adjusted your position, your dress hitched just a little higher.

“Yer welcome t’stay, if y’like it so much.” Lester mused, which got you to laugh. As tempting as it sounded, nestled away within the Louisiana wilderness, you knew that your friends would go against it. “They even got a beauty pageant, Miss Ambrose.”

Intrigued, you cocked your head to one side, letting out another giggle as you peered outside towards the forests. “A beauty pageant? I’ve never done one of those before. I’m sure I’d have plenty of competition.” You sighed, idly fiddling with the hem of your sundress. The jean jacket you were wearing over it only made you nearly collapse from heatstroke.

Lester grinned, a playful chuckle escaping him. “Naw, I think you’d win th’whole thing.” He was really laying on the compliments and old-fashioned charm, driving the truck down the path and around the bend. “You’re the prettiest thing I’ve seen ‘round here!” Singing your praises was one way to get you flustered.

This was the last thing you ever expected, being hit on by a rugged stranger you’d just met. Nevertheless, the attention you were receiving was amazing, something you weren’t used to. “You’re really sweet.” You accepted the compliment without retort, idly preening your fingers over the top of your head.

By the time you’d gotten back to the wash, Lester’s brother was sitting in the cab of the tow-truck, attempting to haul the other vehicle out of the mud. You waved at your friend from the window as he put it into park, letting it idle. Josie and Tate happened to use it as something to lean on, but Lester didn’t say anything to protest.

“Ain’t you jus’ gorgeous?” Lester crooned, pinching the hem of your dress between his thumb and forefinger. Your skin felt abnormally hot, like a fever as you shifted in your seat, visibly sheepish to the man’s seemingly harmless flirting. “Real nice dress, too.”

“Thanks,” You mumbled, ducking your head as his knuckles innocently brushed over the top of your thigh. Goosebumps erupted in his wake, causing you to shiver as you averted your gaze. “Maybe I should get out and see if everything’s okay.” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

Lester cocked his head to one side, eyes glittering with something indiscernible. The rough, calloused pads of his fingertips traced over your thigh. “Y’sure, sugar? I was thinkin’ you could stay here with me,” He mused, lips spitting into a toothy smirk. “Could make it worth yer while.” His voice was sickly-sweet, like honey.

Something hung heavy in the air — suffocating heat coupled with the flurry of tension crackling within the cab of Lester’s truck. Admittedly, you were more aroused than you should’ve been, given how forward and crass this was, but there was certainly a thrill in it.

You swallowed the growing lump within your throat, stealing another glance outside the window. Your friends were just outside of the truck — if you made too much noise or squirmed, they would notice. “What if somebody sees?” You whimpered, feeling a rush of oozing warmth coalesce between your thighs.

“Looks you’ll have t’be real quiet,” Lester hummed, hand prodding at your dress again. “Why don’t you go on an’ lift that up for me, gorgeous?” You shouldn’t have been this riled up and turned on for a complete stranger, but he was tempting — maybe it was his kind demeanor coupled with lust. You weren’t sure.

A fluttering sensation erupted throughout the pit of your stomach, prompting you to shift your thighs together as you began to shyly tug your dress up. Lester had subtly shifted closer, shorter than an arm’s length distance as you let some of the fabric pool around your hips.

There was some sick thrill you got with this, buried deep down — in hindsight, you shouldn’t have been entertaining this, but Lester seemed more than willing. You glanced toward the window, breath hitching when Josie glanced back at you with a puzzled expression.

To quell her concern, you swiftly gave her a thumbs-up, perspiration creeping along your spine as you subtly shifted a little closer to your new friend. His soft snickering filled the cab, calloused palm gingerly kneading into your thigh.

“Nice n’soft,” Lester mumbled, Southern drawl dropping to a hushed octave. “Y’feel like velvet.” His compliment made you shiver with anticipation, legs parting as you shyly began to ruck the skirt of your dress up. He leaned in, giving your hair a sniff — you smelled sweet, like a fresh bouquet of honeyed flowers.

You swallowed the lump within your throat, angling yourself a little more in his direction, enough to remain inconspicuous. Lester traced his hand along your thigh, drinking in the feeling of your velveteen complexion underneath his fingertips.

Without missing a beat, you sluggishly placed your hand atop his, guiding it toward the heat coalescing between your legs. Lester appeared surprised, cracking another bemused grin as you let his fingers settle along the waistband of your panties. You were desperate, wriggling atop the sticky leather beneath you.

Your fingers curled into the seat, chest tight with a familiar fluttering once his fingers finally crossed the threshold, slipping beneath the thin, cotton material. He nudged your legs further apart, deliberately stroking at your cunt, toying with you just a little bit. “D’aw,” He crooned. “That all fer me?”

Part of you wanted to simply melt into a pile of nothingness, lips parted as a sweet moan escaped you. His touches were tantalizing, feather-light and leaving you aching for more. “Y—Yeah,” You sighed, keeping your voice low as Lester pushed past your folds, two digits beginning to glide against your cunt. “Keep going.” You mewled.

Lester rarely, if ever, did anything like this.

Admittedly, once he saw you, that beautiful beam of sunshine, he had to have you — he wanted to keep you for himself, too. Your willingness to let him touch you made you all the more tempting, something to be coveted, worshiped. Lester would do it all for you if you’d let him.

Quietly, he obeyed your breathy command, ministrations becoming more vigorous. His fingers were erratic and choppy, sloppily sliding across your cunt with a fervor. You didn’t care, lulled into submission by the myriad of sensations, pleasure rippling throughout your stomach.

Your gaze occasionally flickered toward the outside of the truck, but your worry of getting caught was steadily subsiding. Lester’s calloused digits glided along your slit, moving up until they found that clutch of sensitive nerves buried between your thighs. His thumb sluggishly circled your clit, causing your hips to jolt forward.

“S’at feel nice?” His drawl had dropped into a husked purr, voice wrought with desperation. Lester liked having this level of control over you, but he enjoyed seeing your reactions even more. Embarrassment washed through you, knowing how insane this scenario seemed.

A sweet whimper tore past your lips, and you nodded your head, attempting to keep the gesture subtle. You wanted more, shifting your thighs together to relieve some tension until Lester prodded you with his knee. He began to rub at your clit, prompting you to press the back of your hand over your mouth.

Lester snickered, swatting your hand away. “Don’t keep those sounds from me, sugar. You’re jus’ so pretty like this.” He murmured, causing you to bite at your lower lip. Your thighs shook, cunt throbbing and oozing with liquid heat as he continued to touch you.

There was a thump against the front of the truck, nearly making you leap out of your own flesh, hastily covering your lap with your jean jacket. It was just Cody, huffing and puffing as Lester’s brother continued to try and pull the truck out of the mud.

“W—We should probably stop,” You whimpered, voice low and hushed, attempting to grab at his wrist, but Lester stopped you. “Lester, please.” The terror of being caught outweighed pleasure, but he shushed you, tugging you just a little closer, until you were nearly leg-to-leg in the cab.

“Jus’ keep quiet, sweetheart. They ain’t gonna catch us, swear.” He reassured you, coercing you into a more docile state — admittedly, he really wanted to make you cum on his fingers. Lester was hellbent to receive that from you, whether you protested or not.

As much as your mind screamed at you to stop, you wanted to keep going. You nodded, still keeping the jacket tucked within your lap, but Lester nudged it aside, wanting to watch everything. Your dress was all disheveled and ruffled around your hips, panties halfway down your thighs.

You began to squirm, hips jolting and spasming into the sensation of his hand, nails digging into the old, cracked leather of the truck’s frayed cushions. Your mind stopped worrying so much, submitting to basic desire and instinct, letting pleasure hold the reins as he flicked his thumb around your clit.

Honey-sweet arousal pooled between your legs, coating Lester’s digits in a fine sheen. You almost pleaded for him to come back when he withdrew his hand, watching with complete and utter shock as he licked his fingers, saturated in saliva. The noises he made were crass and somewhat lewd. “Taste jus’as good as y’look.” He murmured.

A molten wave of heat dropped right into the pit of your stomach, prompting you to whimper as his fingers hotly returned to your core. He was vigorous this time, using those spittle-slathered digits to invade your cunt, pushing two fingers inside of you as he began to piston them in and out. His rhythm was intense, and you nearly clamped your thighs together.

Your limbs felt heavy, weighed-down by the waves of ecstasy that consume you, as if dragging you down to the bottom of an ocean. You can barely distinguish what’s happening outside of the truck — you don’t care anymore, either.

This stranger fingerfucking you in his cab is all you can concentrate on.

Another soft, throaty moan escaped you, tearing past your parted lips as you rolled your hips sporadically, in-tandem with the motion of his fingers. They pushed inward, nearly knuckle-deep inside of your cunt before dragging out halfway, only to ram right back in. You sighed, pleasure scrawled all over your face.

Lester kept a watchful eye out, knowing that Bo would take his sweet time, damage your friend’s truck in the process. He was happy to have snatched you up when he did, gaze flickering toward you. Your body was contorted with delight, a glistening sheen of perspiration shimmering along your collarbone.

Tension crackled through the air, and you were none the wiser to Lester’s little plot to keep you. His thumb toyed and circled your clit, pouring fuel on the fire as your hips bucked forward again. “M’close,” You whimpered through the dizzying carnality, knuckles tense and tight as you clawed at the seat. “Oh, Lester! S—Shit, please don’t stop!” You squeaked.

He was enthralled, as if trained to obey your every wish. He didn’t slow down, keeping the same pace, fingers scissoring in and out of your weeping cunt. The thick scent of arousal hung heavy in the cab, intermingled with that of fresh earth and a coppery twang from the blood of roadkill, baking away in the back of the truck.

The thin straps of your pretty dress began to sag upon your shoulders, giving way to the faintest glimpse of your breast. If it weren’t for the oblivious audience outside of the truck, Lester would’ve been sucking on your chest. Instead, he settled for a brief peek of your heaving tits, and nothing more.

When the truck rattled, you barely paid it any mind — just your friends sagging against it. Lester snickered, opting to add a third finger, if it were a possibility. “Can y’handle another, sugar? Yer almost there.” He whispered, and when your friend began to step back towards the passenger door for shade, your eyes went as wide as saucers.

Again, Lester silenced your worry with the softest coos and gentle shushes, thumb working away at your clit as he attempted to wriggle a third digit inside of you. You were all wound up, chasing after your orgasm as you turned your face away, skin feverishly hot, as if you’d been scorched by the Louisiana sunshine.

As soon as Lester’s fingers rocked into your cunt for the umpteenth time, curling just slightly, you were gone — wasting away in a white-hot explosion. The tension within your stomach unfurled as you coated his digits in your slick nectar, huffing and puffing as you attempted to compose yourself.

“Lester, Lester,” The breathy, hushed way in which you whimpered his name made him want to devour you. Your cunt clenched pathetically around his fingers as he withdrew them, watching the tension unfurl from your body. You looked embarrassed and downright flustered, having made a mess of his seat. “M’sorry.”

“Sorry?” Lester cajoled, grinning a toothy, bemused smile as he began to lick his fingers clean. “Don’t gotta apologize none for that. Jus’ do it again sometime.” He teased, watching as you hastily covered your lap with your jean jacket when your friend thumped a hand against the window.

“Hey, we’re going up to this guy’s house. He said he has a tire that we can borrow, one on the truck is flat. Are you coming?” Josie asked, ogling Lester with skepticism and a high degree of disgust, too.

You gasped, heart pounding erratically in your chest. As you opened your mouth to answer, Lester interjected on your behalf.

“Yer friend here is goin’ through a bad wave of heatstroke. I’m gonna drive ‘er back t’my place an’ get her some water. It’s a cabin ‘long the path, you can’t miss it.” Lester confirmed, but Josie looked at you for an answer instead.

You nodded several times over, mustering up a smile after having experienced one of the best highs of your life. Pretending that you hadn’t let him touch you just moments ago made you feel strange. “I’ll be alright, Josie. You guys can meet me at his place once the truck is all fixed up.”

Josie nodded and reluctantly moved away from the window, joining Tate and Cody as the three of them followed Bo towards the tow truck. You were impervious and oblivious to the fact that this would be the last time you would ever see your friends alive.

Fortunately for Lester, he had other intentions.

He started the truck again, peering toward you with a twinkle in his eye — it wasn’t the same high-spirited, innocuous man you’d encountered at the gas station. This gleam was different — obsessive, possessive, and absolutely enamored with you.

“Why don’t we see what we can do about this heatstroke of yours, sugar?”

[i-arch-my-backula]

Slashers with an s/o who steals their clothes

I got this idea from someone writing this about cod characters if I find their account I'll tag them for credit but I thought this was a very cute idea. I tried to stick to bigger slashers so it makes more sense that a wider net of reader can fit in their clothes.

Includes: The Sinclair brothers (separate), Jesse Cromeans, and Jason Voorhees

Warnings: Vague mentions of different body sizes for reader, mostly fluff, possessive language used, reader is heavily implied to be shorter than most characters in this

Lester Sinclair

He'd be very happy to share clothes with you. If you're a similar or smaller size than him he adores seeing you in his clothes. Doesn't matter what of his you're wearing he loves it.

If you're a bigger size than him he'll honestly steal your clothes with permission, "Hey sweetpea is it ok if I wear one of your shirts?" You'll often say yes.

If you get comments from either of his brothers he'll defend you. Why should they care if you're wearing one if his shirts? What does it matter?

Your wardrobe will really consist of his clothes if you're a similar size to him once you're officially a new member of Ambrose. He could give you clothes of victims but he honestly doesn't want you wearing their clothes. You wearing his clothes makes him feel more connected to you.

Bo Sinclair

He's very smug about it when he sees you wearing some of his clothes. Oh you thought you could just wear one of his shirts without getting him to be an absolute ass about it? You're wrong.

"Well I don't remember telling you that you could wear my clothes darlin'." But don't try to take it off when he says that, "I'm not saying you can't wear it. Just ask me first."

If he's feeling really possessive that day he'll have you walk around the house or the town in all of his clothes if you can fit into them. He likes how something as simple as the shirt you're wearing can tell him and you just who you "belong" to.

Like with Lester, when you first really become a resident of Ambrose he'll offer up some of his old clothes for you to wear. You're probably going to opt for clothes from victims but when the time rolls around that you wear one of his shirts he's not letting you hear the end of it.

Vincent Sinclair

Please wear one of his sweaters he's begging you. Well not really begging out right but when he sees you wearing some clothes of his he stops in his tracks and picks up his sketch book immediately.

Loves it if his sweater is baggy at all on you. Also loves it if his sweater fits you just right. No matter how his clothes fit on you he's taking time out of his day to memorialize it. Whether that be by filming you in his clothes, drawing you, painting you, sculpting you, etc, he's going to do it.

If he can fit into your clothes he's stealing them too. He'll avoid getting paint and wax all over them and if you're wearing his clothes he'll make sure you wear ones that don't have wax and paint all over them.

Won't force you to wear his clothes when you're first staying with him because he doesn't want to scare you more than he has to.

Jesse Cromeans

This man really only wears a suit and everything else he owns is black. I'd assume he owns countless black suits that just look the same so if you're into black suits you're in luck. But if he ever saw you trying on one of his suits he'd laugh with you about how big it is. Because Jesse is like 6'7 and a mountain of a man.

Would stop to admire you if you're wearing one of his just regular shirts or whatever pants he sleeps in. Let's be honest, he has cameras everywhere in his house so if he's out on "business" and you're wearing his clothes, he expects you to be wearing one article of his clothes when he gets home.

When he knows he's going to be gone for awhile he'll douse some of his clothes in his signature scent and conveniently leave them laying around for you to find.

But when you are wearing his clothes he can't keep his hands off of you, unless you tell him to stop, then he will. But if you seem ok with it or if you go as far as to tell him you want him to hold you even more he's going to have you in his lap all night long.

Jason Voorhees

When it's cold outside he's already giving you his coat to wear. He worries so much about you all the time and he wants to make sure that you're comfortable Y/n.

He finds sharing clothes to be very intimate and very romantic. When he notices you wearing his clothes he gets all red faced and has to step out of the room for a moment.

If you're smaller than him he finds it very cute how baggy his clothes are on you. But if you're similar in size to him he just adores how good you look in his clothes.

A lot of your clothes come from victims at first and Jason wishes he could get you better clothes, but when you start sharing clothes he feels a little better about it. Also likes how it serves as a reminder that he's always there for you.

[small-sinclair]

Emergency Glass

Whumptober 7: Only for Emergencies, Prompt Idea

Lester Sinclair x Vampire!reader

Tw: starved reader, blood mention, hints that the reader was tortured

Prompt Idea: In need of Blood

When he found you, you were barely hanging on to life. Your eyes were glazed and lost in the murky waters, and your hair was tangled like broken vines from a willow. Your shirt was torn and shred from some animal he didn’t know; he’s never seen claws that big before. Whatever took you out and left you for dead wasn’t in a hurry; it took its time with you as if you were a plaything to its own muse.

Lester was gentle as he scooped your body in his arms and cradled you like a child. You were too light in his hold, and he could see the outline of your bones and veins under your skin and how they connected like a spider’s web. Your cold form shivered as his warmth kept you awake and relaxed. Your eyes fluttered then rolled as he removed you from the hellish waters and twisted tree limbs. You struggled a breath, and he hushes you like a mother towards a frighten child. In a way, you were a frighten child after the past few days in a hunter’s den. You were torn apart then stitched back together in an unforgivable fashion. You felt violated and stripped of what little you had left of yourself, of the line that separates you from monsters. Now, a stranger, kind and true, was carrying you out of the swamp and placing you inside his track with carefulness.

With the rumble of his truck, it roared to life, and he drove down the rough, beaten road to poorly done gravel road. The bitter smell of decay and dried blood was enough to make your mouth water, but you bit your tongue and clenched your jaw. You’re hearing wasn’t the best, but you knew the stranger was speaking to you. The voice was too muffled and quiet due to your ears ringing and buzzing like a light. Hunger was starting to set in, and it was burning a hole in your chest. You don’t attack humans; only animals. But the driver...you could smell his blood from under his skin and it flowed like a clear river. It was enough to make your stomach rumble and your fangs to grow. You felt your eyes change colors to a deep red. Even in his eyes, you saw your reflection and how it made him shiver once he realized who is in his truck.

Lester’s heard stories about what lurks in Louisiana shadows. He’s heard about the string of attacks in the cities and how there seemed to be a hive somewhere. Finding you out in the middle of the swamp after he was done setting up traps for gators should’ve rung alarm bells. But the claw marks on your body and the scratches that marked your body, making you look like a map of tortured and torn souls, should’ve made him run off for his shot gun in the back of his truck, but it only would’ve made things difficult. His hands aren’t as clean as Bo’s or Vincent’s, but it wasn’t as stained or darken by rich blood. It wasn’t as messy as the twins and their twisted artwork.

He saw you as a hurt deer, something that can be nursed back to health and let go into the wild after tending to your needs. He was Whatever called him to stay and help you...whatever possessed him to look after you, he’ll be as helpful as he could be. Besides, it’s his southern hospitality kicking in along with his nature to give a hand. He was always too kind, and it never scared him until the points of your fangs glowed in the starlight.

Lester swallowed the rock in his throat, his Adams apple bobbing like a toy boat down a rocky stream. The smell of his blood was intoxicating, and it drowned you in your own thoughts. If you had a taste, just a nibble, what harm would that do? He may be thin, but he had enough meat on his bones and blood in his system to serve you well and good. Only for emergencies, you bite humans. Only for emergencies, you feed off their blood and hang on their necks like a vise. The worry gleam in his eyes didn’t call you away or scare you; he knew what you needed.

The truck began to slow down until it stopped. He threw the car in park and turned off the engine, killing it with ease. He stayed in the driver seat as if he was reflecting what his next move would be. You watched as he closed his eyes and let out a soft breath.

“I’ll help you,” he said after a while. “I’ll help you, vampire.” His puppy brown and blue eyes looked down at you. “At least lemme getcha in the house before ya bite me, yeah?” When he saw you nod slowly, he unbuckles both himself then you and hops out of the truck. It wasn’t long until he was holding you once more in his arms. “You’ll be a’right, little vampire.” Why did the words make you blush? Why was the nickname repeating in your head over and over? “Les’ll make sure you’re alive after dis.”

Going into his house and heading to his little guest room by the back door wasn’t a long walk. From what you gathered from his little walk, his home wasn’t that big, but it wasn’t too small.

“Oh, I’m Lester, by the way,” he introduced himself as he laid you down. The mattress and cold sheets under your touch was soft like a moss bed, and he watched as your tensed body unfold like a blooming flower. “There you go,” he praises in a hushed voice. “I’ll get a rag; don’t know how long you were out there and—”

His voice trailed and stopped as soon as your pearly white fangs showed through your lips, plumped and bruised. Lester closes his mouth and swallows a thick, awed gasp. To him, you looked just as right as rain. A part of him hopes you drain every drop of him and turn him into a husk of a person. The way the moonlight laid over you like a blanket made you look like royalty. “Right, you need blood, little vampire.”

Lester lowered himself on the bed and awkwardly shifted you to be on top of him. He rubbed your back and turned his head to expose his neck until. You could practically feel it in your mouth even though you haven’t bitten down. You could taste it and feel it flow over down your throat ever-so-smooth and slick. His comforting warmth and slow circles on your back only made you feel more relaxed.

He almost felt like home.

Only for emergencies, you can break down and shatter the glass to that safety case. Only for emergencies, you can feed off humans and drink deeply in rich and sweet blood. Only for emergencies...just until your hunger is gone.

[dolliestfairy]

Dolliest 🎀

PART 2 Bo sinclair, Lester sinclair, Billy loomis & Bubba sawyer with Chubby!fem!reader who dress like a Doll.

ᜊ Request : You've probably already answered this but...would you be willing to do a sequel to Dolliest with Billy Lenz, Bo Sinclair, Lester Sinclair, Billy Loomis and Bubba Sawyer?

ᜊ A/N : sorry for not making the billy lenz part, i'm not really that bond with him and i'm scared i will gave you something that is far from his personality so i just done the rest :)

ᜊ Warnings : Pet names (princess, doll, ect), thinking of murdering someone & implied wanting to gouge someones eyes out, implied slit someones throat, killing, and maybe some misspelled words. this is a Poc friendly reader.

gifs aren't mine.

ཐིiཋྀ Bo Sinclair

• Omg look at you!.

• thinks you annoying at first, but as he knows you further he start to fall in love quick.

• although he would never admit it anyway.

• he really love how when you step into the room, the whole people would stare at you with such admiration, makes them think that they can have you when you're completely his.

• but if someone talks down or look down about you, you'd best believe they will be the next person who will exist in the News because of something terrible thing that has happen to them.

• what? do you think bo made the terrible things happen to them? of course ye- of course not.. why would you think like that? he only does that because he loves you..

• calls you "princess" or "babydoll".

• depends on his mood. if he's feeling more like a bad mood, he sometimes called you "princess" in a irritated tone.

• but we know this man has some major anger issues or some shit so yeah, not so surprised isnt?

• one of the things about this man is that, if you have a stretch marks, he loves to see you in a clothes who will show & compliment your stretch marks. he thinks you look really adorable, espesially if its pink!

• if you dont have stretchmarks, but if you do have a navel piercing, he also love to see your piercing gets it shows & compliments.

• but if you dont have both? its ok honey, this man will still love you regardless. (but he would rather die than admitting this)

ཐིiཋྀ Lester sinclair

• A goddess. thats what he thinks of you.

• man he fucking loves you & literally worship you so much sometimes you caught him staring at you for hours nonstop, had to slap or bump him or not he would for sure not stop staring you.

• calls you "honey" or "my goddess"

• really love how the pinks really compliment your features, and your bellies!!

• he fucking adores the stretch marks that traced over it. eveytime sometimes he likes to track his finger into it while showering you with compliments.

• and another thing about this man is that he would die to have cuddles with you.

• he really loev cuddles. after he had done his work, he goes straight to you to ask cuddles.

• if someone talks bad about you, he would gave them the nastiest death stare you'd ever imagine.

• he doesnt care what your skin is, pale, beige, brown, dark, whatever, you still beautiful, you're his chubby goddess, and he would -- of course, worship you to death.

ཐིiཋྀ Billy loomis

• really proud, no shame.

• just like bo, this guy loves when people think they can have you, when little did they know -- you're already off the market.

• he would rather die than admitting this, but he really love cuddling with you. your soft plush is literally much better than any pillow he ever bought.

• thats why he always lay his head on your belly. he really comfy there, dont push his head on the side or he will be grumpy.

• calls you "baby" or "doll"

• really love seeing you compliments yourself in your outfit omg! he fucking adores it, would die if that means he can see you compliment yourself again.

• he would not hold back to slit anyones throat who dare to talk down on you.

• no need to talk down actually, a nasty stare is enough to make him want to gouge out their eyes

• need Have to hold back this guy intentions before he really does gonna kill them all.

• and after he killed those shit? he goes back to you -- clinging over you, and cuddling you to death will not minding any fucks about those fuckfaces that he killed.

ཐིiཋྀ Bubba saywer

• this big boi..

• everytime you walk in on room he always cheered up, like everytime.

• no matter if he is sad, or angry or just having a bad mood.. if he sees you walking into the room he will be back to his cheered self.

• love the pinks omg! those pink nails and those vanilla strawberry scent perfume of yours..

• you're a very intoxicating woman to this guy, and he loove every single of it.

• and we all know his family are literally tease you both to death lmfao..

• they always called you both "love birds" and everytime one of his family sees you or bubba alone with no each other of you companying, they will start to annoy you with questions like

"where are the love of your life?"

"where are your birds-mate?"

but they do it all because they are just really curious lol and that family is actually -- hoping that you can stay together forever with him. running around in the house with your pink personality & outfit..

• with how your vanilla strawberry perfume scent filled the room..

•and with how your love to bubba, and bubba's love to you is filled in to the house.

[blakeswritingimagines]

Dating Yandere Lester Sinclair Would Include:

He'd be extremely possessive, obsessive, and clingy to the person he's interested in. He would stalk you to the point of knowing every aspect of your life and using that information to manipulate you. He'd be extremely jealous and aggressive towards anyone who even looks at you. He'd constantly want to know where you are and who you're with, and he'd probably get overly violent if you tried to leave him or if someone flirts with you. His entire life would be dedicated to obsessing over and controlling you.

And if you were to reject him, he'd probably just force you to do what he wants anyway, and he'd be very manipulative and controlling in the process. He wouldn't care about your feelings or your boundaries, as long as he gets to keep you to himself.

He might even go to the extreme of kidnapping you and holding you captive in a secluded place where no one could find you, or force you into a relationship with him through blackmail or violence. He'd use any method necessary to get what he wants and to keep you under his control.

He would also have a tendency to isolate you from your friends and family, as he would want to be the only person in your life that matters. He'd try to manipulate your perception of him to make you believe that he's the only one who truly loves and cares for you and that everyone else is out to get you.

He'd likely be very emotionally abusive, using guilt, shame, and gaslighting techniques to keep you feeling like you can't function without him. He'd be constantly critical of you and would put you down to make you feel worthless and inferior.

In front of others, he'd likely act like a charming, charismatic, and friendly person. He'd be very convincing and deceptive, trying to come across as a good and trustworthy person, especially if he's around your friends and family. He'd go to great lengths to hide his true nature from others, so he could keep up his act. He'd probably even go so far as to act protective and caring towards you in front of others, to keep up the image of the perfect partner.

He'd want you to believe that he's the only one who truly understands and appreciates you and that you're the center of his world. However, behind the scenes, he might be extremely insecure and constantly doubt whether you're truly loyal and faithful to him leading him to need a lot of reassurance.

He'd likely use rewards as a method of keeping you under his control and to reinforce your dependence on him. He might give you things you like or want as rewards for behaving the way he wants or for doing things he approves of.

Punishments would likely be very harsh and extreme. He'd use various forms of punishment to make you feel guilty, scared, or ashamed, and to make you do things he wants. He might punish you through physical means like physical violence or confinement, or through emotional means like guilt tripping, emotional manipulation, or shaming. He might even use threats to keep you in line.

Fighting with him would likely be a very manipulative and emotionally exhausting experience. He'd probably start arguments over small and trivial things, and he'd use emotional manipulation and guilt-tripping to make you feel like you're in the wrong even if you're not. He'd likely keep the argument going for as long as possible, not letting it go until he gets his way or until you give in. He'd probably try to make you feel guilty and remorseful, and he'd likely use past mistakes or incidents against you to make you feel worse.

He'd likely be very affectionate towards you at times, and he'd probably shower you with physical and verbal affection to make you feel special and loved. He might give you hugs, kisses, and other forms of physical affection as a way to demonstrate his love and possessiveness towards you.

His brothers would likely be aware of his behavior and his tendencies, as they have lived with him for a long time. Over time, they would probably become used to his behavior, though they might still try to caution him from time to time but nothing more nor would they attempt to help you.

He would likely kill for his darling if he felt like it was necessary to keep you safe or to protect you. He'd probably kill anyone who he felt was a threat to your relationship, including your friends, family, or any other potential romantic interests. He'd consider it his duty to keep you safe and to keep you all to himself.

He'd try to manipulate and gaslight you into believing that he's the only one who truly loves and understands you and that everyone else is out to get you. He'd likely try to control your thoughts, emotions, actions, and behavior, and he could become violent and aggressive if he felt like he was losing control over you.

He'd likely be very paranoid about losing you and he'd be very protective and possessive. He'd likely have a constant fear that you will leave or cheat on him, and he'd do everything in his power to prevent that from happening, even if it means using extreme measures.

Marriage with him would likely be a nightmarish experience. He'd likely rush into a marriage with you as soon as possible, as he'd want to make sure that you are completely tied to him and that you can't easily escape. He'd likely use marriage as a way to keep you under his control, and he'd use it as a way to possess and control you even more than before. He'd likely still be extremely possessive and controlling after marriage, and he'd likely use his wedding ring as a symbol of his ownership over you.

Having children with him would likely be a very stressful and uncomfortable experience. He'd probably want to have children as soon as possible, as he'd want to tie you to him even more and make it harder for you to leave. He'd likely also be very overprotective of you and the child, and he'd likely be extremely possessive and jealous of anyone who tries to come near you and the child.

If you didn't want or couldn't have kids, it would likely cause a lot of tension and conflict in the relationship. He'd likely try to convince you to change your mind and try to get you to agree to have children, as he'd want to fulfill his desire to have a family and to further tie you to him. He'd likely use manipulative and emotional tactics to try to change your mind, and he'd likely become angry and resentful if you refused to give in to his wishes.

"You're mine, and mine alone. I can't bear the thought of sharing you with anyone else. You're the most important person in the world to me, and I would do anything to keep you by my side. I would go through hell and back for you, just to see you happy and safe. No one else understands you like I do, and I won't let anyone come between us. You're the brightest star in my sky, the flame that burns within my heart. I love you more than anything, and I always will. You're my everything."

Bondage and Restriction - Securing you with ropes, chains, or restraints allows him to exert total control over your movements and sensations. Knowing you're helpless to resist his advances only amplifies the pleasure he derives from dominating you.

Breath Play - The delicate balance between oxygen deprivation and release is a thrilling high-wire act for him. Watching your face contort in a mix of fear and euphoria as he restricts your airflow is a sight to behold.

Temperature Play - Exposing sensitive areas to extreme temperatures, such as ice or scorching heat, can elicit a wide range of reactions from pleasure to pain. He enjoys pushing your limits and witnessing your responses to these stimuli.

Forced Orgasms - Making you climax involuntarily, often through relentless stimulation or coercion, is a potent display of dominance. The helplessness and surrender on your face as you're forced to come undone under his control is intensely satisfying.

Sensory Deprivation - Blindfolding, gagging, or otherwise restricting your senses heightens your other senses and leaves you completely dependent on him for stimulation and guidance.

[ninakuli]

Nightmare

Idea come from @small-sinclair here

Hope you guys enjoy :)

Bo Sinclair:

It's middle of the night and you been wake up by Bo.

He keep gentle shaking you and keep call your name softly "Y/N? Y/N? Y/N wake up? Are ya okay? Are you still alive? Y/N..."

You wake up and sleepy answer "What's wrong honey?" you look up to meet his eyes.

He be quiet for a moment and his eyes never leave you for a second.

He bury his face into your chest, hearing your heart beat and feeling your smell, he sigh slightly for relax and hug you tightly.

"Have nightmare again? Want to talk?" You whisper.

He was silent for a while then he hug you more tight and slowly whisper "I...I dream about that I kill ya, just...want to sure you still alive."

You little shock and gentle stroking his hair and say "I'm alright darling, I'm here, ain't going anywhere." You keep comfort him until he fall asleep again.

"I love you Bo." You whisper and kiss his forehead slightly and enjoy him to sleep.

You will keep remember this because this is so rare that he show you his weak but you won't tell anyone about this.

Lester Sinclair:

You woke up by a crying sounds, and you find out Lester sleep next to you and he sweating and crying then suddenly he wake up and still crying.

He restless to look at you and he bury his face to your shoulder and cry, he hug you tightly.

"Hey hey sweetie you have a nightmare? Want to talk?" You gently pet his head.

"I..I dream about Bo being crazy...and he...he kill ya!!!" He cry out, his trembling body snuggle closer and grabbing you tight don't want you leave any inch.

"Shhhh... I'm here! Don't have any scars or wounds, I'm alright, I won't go, and no one can hurt we even your brothers okay?" You cradle him.

"K..." He sobs and try to calm down when you keep saying something and petting his head to let him relieved.

When he calm down and feel tired you whisper "Let's go back sleep okay? I'll make sure all that bad dream won't bother you again, I'll protect you okay?"

He slowly nod and gradually fall asleep.

You kiss his forehead slightly "Nighty and love you Les." Then you fall asleep again.

Vincent Sinclair:

When you go to your shared room and climb on bed to sleep Vincent still in his basement and working.

He glance to the time and decided to take a little nap at his workbench.

He wake up and fall down to the floor from a nightmare that about he turned you into a wax.

Even he knew it's just a nightmare but he still feeling uneasy so he decided to check on you that you're fine.

He slowly go into your shared bedroom and try to not wake you up.

He walked to you and slowly sit next to you, he gently brush your hair and kiss your temple slightly, he staring at your sleep face and smile.

When he leave the bed decided to go back the basement you suddenly grab his hand and pulling him.

"Don't go... let's sleep together tonight... okay?" You groggy said.

He look back to you and take off his mask put on the bedside table, he climb back to bed, he hug you tightly more than usually.

You notice and whisper "What's wrong honey? Are you okay?"

"I dream about that I turn you into a wax." He sign to you.

"I'm here, you take so good care to me, I'm alright, I won't leave or go." You slowly kiss his cheek.

Then you two snuggle with together and peacefully fall asleep.

[lebenspurpur]

what do they smell like

AN: I know I did this before, but I need to correct myself. Plus, it was like 2 years ago, so..

ℝℤ 𝕄𝕚𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕖𝕝 𝕄𝕪𝕖𝕣𝕤

Most of the time, he smells like sweat and that sweet coppery odor of blood.

That changes whenever he actually decides to take a shower and change his clothes.

Suddenly he smells like nothing. And I mean nothing.

If you inhale deeply enough, you might get a faint whiff of sanitizer, like the kind they use in hospitals, but that's it.

You can decide for yourself if that's a blessing or a curse.

𝕍𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕊𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕝𝕒𝕚𝕣

Paraffin wax.

So he smells like plastic and, like, the worst kind.

Maybe you need to convince him to use some bee wax candles for a change. Or some wax that smells like something nice, at least.

Which makes me think of another headcannon: Vincent hates the smell of cheap scented candles. He can not stand them. You'd think his nose might be desensitized to bad smells by now, but no.

The only scented candles he allows in his basement are the expensive ones, with real dried flowers or some good essential oils.

Other than paraffin wax, he smells like his body wash, which is the same as Bo's.

(You can not convince me they do not share one. Maybe buy him some nice shampoo while we're at it.)

The smell of the wax easily overpowers anything else, though.

𝔹𝕠 𝕊𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕝𝕒𝕚𝕣

Bo prides himself on owning some really nice cologne.

So, if he applies that, he actually smells really nice.

Other than that: cigarettes.

I feel like he actually has a nice smell, though. He smells like someone who'd call you sugar, if that makes sense.

𝕃𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕊𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕝𝕒𝕚𝕣

I know, we have the ongoing joke of Lester smelling bad, but I've changed my mind.

Of course, after working, he smells very bad. Like a dead animal that has been cooking in the sun for way too long.

But he's a clean boy! After he takes a shower, he smells like a mix of leather and something flowery, airy. Kind of like a freshly picked bouquet of wildflowers. Don't ask me where that comes from.

When he's been crafting something, he also smells like hot glue and wood, but it's not powerful enough to be unpleasant.

𝔹𝕣𝕒𝕙𝕞𝕤 ℍ𝕖𝕖𝕝𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕣𝕖

Dust.

Like, you know when something smells old because it's been standing somewhere without being touched for too long?

That's what he smells like.

He doesn't need to, though. He probably has an arsenal of really expensive perfumes and colognes standing somewhere in that mansion.

After he meets you, there's a slight chance that he'll take more care of himself. And in that case, he will finally use those fragrances.

As soon as he does that, he smells like that mansion looks. Rich, educated, charming, handsome even.

𝕋𝕙𝕠𝕞𝕒𝕤 ℍ𝕖𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕥

Hay, dry earth, Tommy smells like a hot day on a field.

When he spent some more time in the basement, the smell becomes even earthier and damp. Like a crypt.

Though, most days the 'warm' smell is stronger and it's really wholesome. When you hug him, it feels like you're hugging a cat who's been lounging in the sun for a while and got all heated up. (I just want to hug him, man.)

𝕆𝕥𝕚𝕤 𝔻𝕣𝕚𝕗𝕥𝕨𝕠𝕠𝕕

Now, that man smells bad.

Rotting corpses, vomit kind of bad. It's not good.

When he does his makeup and actually showers, it's not that bad anymore. Then, he just smells like the makeup he applies (you know, the stuff they paint children's faces with?) and (probably Baby's) body wash.

𝔹𝕒𝕓𝕪 𝔽𝕚𝕣𝕖𝕗𝕝𝕪

Baby loves sweet perfumes, especially when they have a fruity note (pun intended).

She has a few fragrances she always uses, and they make her smell really nice, and really sweet, kind of like candy.

If she doesn't apply those, she smells like lotion and body oil.

Pretty, that's what she smells like.

ℝ𝕁 𝔽𝕚𝕣𝕖𝕗𝕝𝕪

Motor oil, leather and rain.

Motor oil from working on the trucks all day long, leather from his jackets. Where does the smell of rain come from? Don't ask me.

He smells really masculine in that sense, like a ride on a motorcycle.

𝕁𝕒𝕤𝕠𝕟 𝕍𝕠𝕠𝕣𝕙𝕖𝕖𝕤

Do corpses emit smell if they're still alive?

Well, Jason does.

He smells like wet earth, rain, and the forest. A really grounding smell overall.

Hugging him feels like laying on the forest ground after it has been raining for a while. In a nice way, though.

It's really refreshing, and really pleasant.

𝔸𝕞𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕒 𝕐𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕘

Amanda uses really nice body wash. Something that smells like pine needles.

Other than that, she smells like old metal and disinfectant.

Old metal, because she spends half of her days designing traps and disinfectant because of John.

[bitchyfoxymama]

Saviors - Sinclair Brothers x F!Reader

Warnings: abuse but not from the Sinclairs, murder, language used against reader, Bo being out of character. Fluff, let me know if I missed anything.

A/n: this is possibly the second longest one-shot I've ever written besides petals and bullets. I hope you all like this one.

...

You, your two friends, well they were technically your boyfriend's friends and said boyfriend had decided that driving from California to Florida to go to Disney world would be cheaper and way more fun than flying. What a dumb idea that was. Your clock read just after midnight and you've made it just forty miles out of Baton Rouge when your back left tire blew on your Volkswagen minibus. 

"Fuck," you moan out as you gently pull to the side of the empty road.

"What? What happened?" The sudden jolt from the blow tire woke everyone including your easily irritated boyfriend, Ben. 

"I think we blew a tire so I pulled over," you say un buckling your seat belt just as you turned the key in the ignition. You open your door, the Louisiana air is sticky and wet. Of all the places to break down it had to be here. 

You stop next to your back left tire and inspect it, a rusted nail sticks out of the tire as it slowly deflates. You begin mumbling swears as you open the back of the minibus searching for the spare you are more the positive you replaced when the front tire blew six months ago. 

"Fucking damnit!" You place both hands in your hair giving a frustrated tug. 

 had already gotten out at this point and was standing next to you, his voice making you jump. 

"I asked you if you had put the spare back in, god do you always have to be so stupid!" He slams his fist against the side of the minibus. 

His anger makes you feel small, if there hadn't been people in the bus he would have punched you instead of the bus. 

"I-I could have sworn I put it in," you say barely above a whisper. 

"Yeah? You thought? Well you didn't and now we're stuck out here in bumfuck Louisiana!" 

"Hey, what's going on?" Rebecca rubs the sleep out of her eyes. 

"Y/n forgot to replace the spare tire and now we're stranded here til morning when another person probably comes down this road." 

You look down ashamed, reaching out to grab the camping gear and flashlight. You head off the road and just want to set up camp and sleep. You've been the only one driving for the last couple of days. 

"Come on let's just set up camp so we can all sleep and hopefully get help in the morning. 0 on, let's find level ground." You don't want to make Ben any madder than he already is. 

Everyone gets out of the van and follows behind you with sleeping bags and backpacks, in case someone stumbled upon the bus and decided to have some sticky fingers. 

Once you're all settled, you finally turn in for bed. Ben, still angry and annoyed, decided to sleep next to Rebecca and her boyfriend, leaving you alone near a tree stump. You let the tears flow freely from your tears. None of you noticed the truck slowly driving past with their lights off or the man that got out and took the spark plugs.

…

When the sun begins to rise you peek your eyes open and see everyone has already begun packing up camp, it seems they forgot to wake you. It's silent. Not the friendly enjoyable silence, no this silence is awkward, as thick as the Louisiana humidity. 

You walk back to the minibus, packing everything up as they all wait for a car as they lean up against the bus. Maxwell, Rebecca's boyfriend, opens the side of the bus to sit half inside and half out. 

You decide to turn the keys in the ignition to at least getting the inside of the bus cool. But to your surprise the ignition does turn over. 

"What the fuck is wrong now," you groan getting back out of the car and popping the hood, "where the fuck are the spark plugs?!" 

You slam the hood shut and walk over towards the trio standing outside the bus. 

"Who took the spark plugs out of the bus?" 

"What are you talking about?" Ben asks giving you an annoyed look. 

"The sparks are missing, did you guys hear anything last night?" You ask again looking around the three of them. 

However just before you can get your answer a truck comes round the bend. It's an old beat up pick up. The driver slows and stops just before you guys. 

"Well howdy there? Whatch y'all doing out here so early in the mornin'?" He's a scrawny man with a cute dog in the bed and you think that makes him all the more attractive too you. 

"Oh well we-" you're cut off by Ben. 

"Well my girlfriend here, she blew a tire and seemed to forget to get a new one. She also says she's missing her sparks but you know how women are with cars," he says roughly slamming his arm over your shoulder, making you flinch. The stranger's eyes flickered to you softening for just a moment before going back to a stoic look and staring at Ben. 

"I see well, I can take you to Ambrose, it's just 12 miles up the road, my brother owns a mechanic shop and he should be able ta help yall with yours problem. Only this is I only got room for two of ya's," he says rubbing his chin. 

"Why doesn't Y/n go? It is her car after all," Rebecca says looking at you. 

"I'll go too right babe? Can't have you going alone," Ben says, squeezing your shoulder painfully, you have to bite your lip from crying out. 

And so you and Ben pile into who you all found out to be Lester Sinclair. He was the youngest of three. 

"So where y'all from anyway? Don't seem like locals round these here parts," 

"Oh well-" 

"Were from California, driving cross country this summer to go and see disney world" 

You stay quiet now and just look down at your lap. You don't feel like getting Ben angry once again.

Lester looks at you from the corner of his eyes. Planning on ways to make your boyfriend shut up and let you speak for once. He had this overwhelming sense to protect you. Don't go thinking that healing black eye and the way you flinch any time that no good asshole would touch you. 

that. But why did yall choose to drive and not fly? Seems like you'd saved some time flying?" 

"Yeah well it seemed fun at the time until this one had to go and get the tire popped" Ben says annoyed. 

"Well shit, I forgot the roads flooded. We may have to go the long way." Lester says stopping in front of the road that leads into Ambrose. 

"Oh that's OK! We can walk from here, that way you don't have to worry about going an extra way," you say, smiling up at him with a genuine smile. He smiles back at you but doesn't miss the scowl on your boyfriend's face.

You wave at Lester after you've both exited the truck, you give jonesy a rub behind her ears and head over to the little step stones that have taken place in the washed out road.

"Come on, the faster we get into town the quicker we can get the shit we need and on the road again," Ben said, grabbing your arm and pulling you hard. He drags you all the way to the mechanics shop. He knocks on the front door. 

"Hello! We were told you were open and could help us!" Ben yells. 

…

Unbeknownst to the two of you, Bo was on the back roads talking with Lester. 

"She needs our help, he doesn't treat her right neither. She's got a healing black eye and every time he touched her she flinches, and you should've seen her, she's finer than frogs' hair split four ways," 

"Hmm, and you say she's got two other with 'er? Well bring them back to Vin and he can take care of them while I go and help our visitors. You grab them sparks and hide them in the house, right?" 

Lester shakes his head headed back into his truck to get Rebecca and her boyfriend. 

…

Back at the shop, Ben was getting impatient and you were bored. 

"I'm gonna go explore, since I'm just a woman and wouldn't know anything about cars right?" 

"You don't have to be such a bitch you know," he huffs. 

"Well you are such an asshole, after this all over and we're in Florida, I'm going to drop you all off and head home, beauce this," you say pointing between yourself and him, "is over. For good this time." 

He back hands you hard enough to draw blood from your lip that his fist made contact with.

"Fuck you Ben!" You screech, "find your own ways to Florida you fuckwad" you walk away up towards the house of wax wanting to clear your mind and maybe have a good cry. 

You are amazed when you make it up the hill to the beautiful building, only realizing as you got to the front that the architecture was made entirely of wax. You gently pushed open the door and stepped inside, giving  yourself your own guided tour of the house. 

Everything was beautiful and the little intimate details intrigued you. 

"These look so life like, the artist must have such magical hands," you say in a hushed voice as though you were in an art museum and let's be honest here you really were. 

Hiding in the shadows, watching you as you gushed on and on about his art work was Vincent Sinlair, the middle son of the Sinclair brothers and the artist behind the house of wax. 

His eye stared at you as though you were a beautiful piece of art that needed to be taken care of and looked after. He silently followed you around like a lost puppy. 

Once you finished admiring the art work and decided enough time had passed and Ben more than likely got the parts needed to get back on the road. You walk towards the exit when the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. You peak over your shoulder and you are more than certain you saw a flash of long raven hair. 

…

Back at the mechanic shop just after you had left Bo's voice was heard booming from inside.

"Hold your fuckin' horses, I could hear you banging like all hell!" He opens the door with a scowl on his face, Bo hopes to see you there as well. With the way Lester was talking you up he was excited to see the beauty that was you. But alas you were there, only you annoyed looking boyfriend. 

"Whatchu need?" Bo asks, folding his arms over his chest. 

"My girlfriend's minibus has a popped tire and missing sparks. We need them as soon as you can give them to us. And I can make the pot sweeter," Ben says, pulling out a $100 from his wallet. You see Ben, Rebecca and Maxwell were silver spoon babies, you were lower middle class. 

"Well I'll be damned. As much as I'd like to take you up on your offer, I'll have to check in our basement to see if we have them. Why don't you come with and we can work out the price," Bo says, making room for Ben to come in through the door. Ben walks in further into the shop not paying any attention to where Bo had moved. Rookie mistake. Bo hits him over the head and Ben is out cold. 

When Ben wakes he is secured to an old barber chair under a grate in what he assumed to be the mechanic shop. He's gagged and wiggling trying to escape. He's screaming but nothing comes out. 

…..

When you make it to the mechanic shop, you try the door and are happy to see it's finally open. 

"Hello! Is anyone here? Ben! Where are you, you still here?" You ask out walking around, fingerings all the different products on the walls. 

"Why hello there darlin'" you jump at the sudden voice behind you. You are greeted with quite the sight, a gorgeous man with a trucker hat and mechanic overalls.

"H-hi! I um, I'm looking for the guy I was with, he came here to get a new tire and spark plugs. Have you seen him?" You can feel a blush creeping up your neck. Curse your affinity for getting nervous about gorgeous men talking to you and making you lose all sense of yourself. 

"That one fella with the permanent annoyed look? Yeah, I sent him on up to our house, we didn't have the right type or sparks here so I sent him up there to get help from my twin Vincent. I could take you up there if you want or you could wait here?" He says while taking his hat off and running his hand through his damp hair. It makes him look all the more attractive to you.

You smile at him, "is your brother the one who made the art in the house of wax by chance?" 

"That he is ma'am, that he is. He's our own lil family artist," he says showing off his award winning smirk, now how about we get you on up to your friend? Maybe even get some food in yall too. You must be hungry." Just as the words left his mouth your stomach growled causing you to blush and wrap your arms around your noisy tummy. 

You smile at him. You've smiled more around these two strangers than you ever had in your entire relationship with Ben.

"Of course, please lead the way," you follow after him and to his pick up truck, this one much nicer than the one you previously rode in only hours before. The silence on the drive to the house is silent but peaceful. 

You get a better peak at him as he drives, he's attractive and knows it. His hands are big and veiny. Suddenly you are having thoughts about how they'd feel between-woah there y/n you have a boyfriend. Wait wait no you don't you broke it off with the fuckwad. Yes continue with the thought of his fingers in between your thighs as he moves them in and out of your- 

"Doll?" Bo lays his hand on your shoulder startling you. 

"Yes?" The blood rushes to your cheeks and head almost making you dizzy.

"I said we're here now," he says while fixing his hat and getting out of the truck. 

"Oh." You peep out as you follow him into the house. It's beautiful, it's very homey and definitely has the feel that three grown men live here. 

"I'll get started on some lunch for you" he says walking to the kitchen as you stand awkwardly in the living room. 

There are footsteps heard coming up from what can be assumed is the basement. When the door opens you are met with a beautiful sight, a man appears sporting long black hair, half up in a mini bun. He's wearing a wax made mask. He was beautiful. 

"Wow you are beautiful," you say out loud. 

He head snaps towards you and he then signs 'Thank you' you smile, you took a few ASL classes in high school. 

"Are you the one who made all the beautiful sculptures in the wax museum?" 

'Yes, did you like them?' He signed again.

"I didn't just like them, I loved them! You have such a beautiful talent!" 

'Would you like to see more?' He signs, 'I have just finished one at the workshop I have in the basement of the house of wax,'

"I would love to, but I'm only in town until my minibus is fixed. It would've been a great honor to see it though!" 

Just ask he was about to reply, Bo is calling you both to the dining room table. 

…

The 3 of you are enjoying a wonderful meal when it's interrupted by the front door being slammed open. All three of your heads look towards and see Ben. 

"B-ben!" You stand abruptly. 

"Get the fuck away from them y/n! They are a bunch of freaks!" 

Neither man speaks as they are stiff as a board.

"What do you mean? They've been nothing but nice to me this entire time," you say staying put. 

"That one locked me up in some torture device!" He says pointing to Bo, causing you to look at him, "I think they're the ones behind the missing sparks and blown tire," this causes you to slightly step back. 

"Now darlin' it ain't what you think, ok maybe it is," Bo begins looking at Vincent for help. 

"Get the fuck over here now, so help me. Don't be fucking stupid!" Ben says. 

"What did you say?" You look at him. Without you even realizing, you subconsciously grabbed the knife on the table. You don't even realize what your doing until you hear Bo say "don't go at the throat or head. Vinny needs those intact." 

"I am so sick of you abusing me and belittling me! I am so sick of it!" You scream. 

"You wanna stay with the freaks you crazy bitch? Fine you do that but dont you ever forget who owns you." He says stepping back away from the three of you. "You don't own me, you've never owned me!" You land the first blow in his stomach twisting the blade. You don't stop until Bo is pulling you off of him. Holding you close to his chest as Vincent wipes away the tears that have begun to fall. You're free, you're finally free of the abuse. 

"We'll always protect you doll, always." Bo says as he holds you close and kisses the top of your head. 

[dootys]

Random cute and tender moments with slashers - part 2

I'm already thinking about part 3 (but it will take a while), so if you want me to draw someone specific, let me know 😊

(part 1 is here)

-----------

Slow dancing in the music hall? Absolutely! This is a new rule on the list. Brahms is sucker for romance he has read about in his books. And he can't be happier when you ask him to dance one day after dinner ❤️

Oh, did I say tender? Sorry, that doesn't apply to Bo, this motherfucker is scared to death to be vulnerable and if you ask him for cuddles, well.. you shouldn't have provoked him 🤭

Vincent is always over the moon when you show your interest in his art, especially when you ask him to teach you how to paint. You haven't even finished the question and he alreay has new apron in hand. Every few second you catch him staring at you with adoration, and everytime he gets embarrassed and starts blushing 🥰

Lester is the biggest sweetheart of them all. He loves every minute he spends with you, the cuter and goofier, the better. He always finds a reason to give you piggyback ride. But don't be surprised if he gets carried away by fooling around and both of you end up in the water, with Jonesy happily running around you 🥰

BONUS

I was just kidding. I have soft spot for Bo and I know, that he can be affectionate with his s/o, because deep down he craves tender touches and the sappy romantic shit.. So when nobody is around, he can be very soft ❤️

🩷Taglist: @sketchbook-of-shadows

[zapreportsblog]

❝forgotten memories❞

✭ pairing : Lester Sinclair x reader x Bo Sinclair x Vincent Sinclair

✭ fandom : slashers

✭ summary : whiles out hunting Lester comes across a beaten and battered young lady in serious need of medical attention so what does he do? He takes the little lass back to his hometown to get treated by his brothers, but she happens to wake up and at first they expect her to freak out since she’s surrounded by three men but the only thing on her mind is why can’t she remember anything but her name

✭ authors note : art work by @kasiawoe found it on Pinterest also this was requested by @shadowraven-02 you sent this in to @fandomnationwhore a while back and I’m here to fulfill it since I’ve taken over doing some of their top requests :) if at any moment you wish to be untagged, do inform me as I have no problem with it I just thought I’d tag you and let you read what you sent in

✭ slasher masterlist

Lester Sinclair had always found solace in the woods. The dense canopy of trees, the gentle rustling of leaves, and the distant calls of woodland creatures were a symphony of tranquility. It was his sanctuary, a place where he could escape the demands of his hectic life and find a sense of peace.

On this crisp autumn morning, with the sun barely peeking over the horizon, Lester set out for a hunting expedition. He carried his rifle with practiced ease, each step taken with a careful consideration of his surroundings. His brothers, Bo and Vincent, would join him later, but for now, he relished the solitude.

As he ventured deeper into the forest, Lester's keen eyes caught sight of something unusual amidst the fallen leaves. There, sprawled on the ground, was an unconscious young woman. Her clothes were torn, and her face was marred by a bleeding wound on her forehead. It was a sight that sent a jolt of concern through Lester.

Kneeling beside her, he carefully examined her condition. She was still breathing, albeit shallowly, which was a relief. Gently, he brushed her hair away from her face, revealing her pale complexion. Concern etched his features as he noticed the deep bruises marring her arms and legs. It was clear that she had been through some kind of ordeal.

Lester's instinct to help kicked in immediately. He knew he couldn't leave her here, injured and alone in the woods. Carefully, he reached into her pocket and found her wallet. Opening it, he discovered her identification. Her name was (Y/N), a medical student still in college.

With determination in his eyes, Lester decided to take action. He scooped her fragile form into his arms, cradling her gently. She was surprisingly light, making it easier for him to carry her. As he began to make his way back to his pickup truck, he couldn't help but wonder how she had ended up in such a dire situation.

The journey back to his home felt like an eternity, the forest passing by in a blur of green and brown. Lester's mind raced with questions, but his primary focus was ensuring (Y/N)'s safety. He knew his brothers would be just as concerned as he was when they saw her.

When he finally reached the old, rustic house that he shared with Bo and Vincent, Lester carefully carried (Y/N) inside. The warmth of the living room enveloped them, a stark contrast to the cool autumn air outside. With great care, he laid her down on the couch, his worry deepening as he took a closer look at her injuries.

Bo had been planning to join Lester for the hunting trip, but he arrived later than expected. He pushed open the creaky front door of their rustic home, a cheerful greeting on his lips. "Lester, you out here, buddy?" he called, stepping into the warm and cozy living room.

His voice trailed off when he laid eyes on the unexpected scene before him. His gaze fixed on the unconscious girl lying on the couch, her disheveled appearance a stark contrast to the familiar surroundings.

"Who the hell is she?" Bo blurted out, his voice tinged with some kind of emotion though Lester wasn’t sure what.

Lester turned toward his brother, his eyes filled with a mixture of worry and confusion. "I found her out back in the woods," he explained, "She was unconscious, and there are bruises on her, and she had this nasty wound on her forehead."

Just as their argument started to brew, the connection between the twins kicked in. Vincent, who had been working away in the basement workshop, felt Bo's growing frustration through their twin link. He abandoned his tools and made his way upstairs, his face a mask of concern. He signed, asking if everything was alright.

Bo's agitation was clear in his voice as he responded to Vincent's silent inquiry. "No, Lester here is putting us all in danger."

Lester frowned at Bo's accusation. "How am I putting us in danger?" he retorted, his voice rising in frustration.

Their argument continued, voices escalating, as neither brother noticed the subtle movement on the couch. (Y/N) began to stir, her eyelids fluttering open. She blinked in confusion, disoriented by her surroundings and the voices she heard. Her vision was blurry at first, but gradually, the room came into focus.

Vincent, who had been watching the argument unfold, suddenly noticed her awakening. He took a step back, positioning himself between Bo and the girl, his curiosity piqued. He wanted to observe her reaction before drawing attention to her presence.

As (Y/N) began to regain consciousness, she felt a dull ache in her head, which sent a wince across her features. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the room, and as she sat up, she couldn't help but notice the three men now staring at her. Their expressions ranged from concern to curiosity, and she blinked owlishly at them, her confusion evident.

"Where am I?" she asked, her voice slightly shaky.

Lester, the one who had found her, stepped closer and replied, "You're in my home. We found you in the woods unconscious, and you had some injuries, so we brought you here."

(Y/N) furrowed her brow, trying to piece together the events leading to this moment. "How did I get here?" she wondered aloud.

Bo, ever the standoffish one, folded his arms and said, "That's exactly what I'd like to know too."

Vincent, who had been observing silently, stepped forward and signed a question, his hands gracefully moving through the air. However, (Y/N) was caught off guard by the unfamiliar gesture and simply responded with a confused "Huh?"

Lester quickly intervened, introducing his brother. "That's Vincent," he explained, "He was just asking if you're okay."

Still somewhat disoriented, (Y/N) nodded uncertainly. "I think so?" She winced again, a hand gingerly touching the bandage on her forehead. It was clear she had many questions, but her priority was trying to make sense of the situation and her surroundings.

“So how did you get out there.” Lester asks, he watches her brows clench and that’s when his concern deepened as he watched (Y/N) struggle to recall her recent past. He leaned closer and gently asked, "I mean do you remember how you ended up out here in the woods? You're pretty far from town."

(Y/N) closed her eyes, trying to summon any memories that could explain her current situation. However, her efforts were in vain, and her frustration grew as she shook her head, her voice trembling as she admitted, "No, I don't remember."

Bo, always quick with a sarcastic remark, couldn't resist but quip, "Does she even know anything?"

(Y/N), taking Bo's question more seriously than intended, felt panic start to creep in. She tried to think back to her life, her home, her studies, but everything seemed to be shrouded in darkness, leaving only her name as a lone beacon of familiarity. Tears welled up in her eyes as the realization sank in that she couldn't recall anything else.

Vincent, noticing (Y/N)'s distress, reacted impulsively. He smacked Bo on the arm and then swiftly signed at him, "Look, you made her cry."

Bo's temper flared. "I ain't do a goddamn thing to that girl!" he retorted, defensive.

Lester, always the voice of reason among the brothers, interjected firmly, "Enough, you two! We need to help her, not argue." He moved closer to (Y/N) and spoke in a soothing tone. "Hey, it's okay. We'll figure this out together. Take a deep breath."

He reached out to offer her a comforting hand on her shoulder, hoping to ease her panic and bring some clarity to the situation.

Lester gently held (Y/N) in his arms, offering her a comforting embrace as she cried out her fear and confusion. His heart went out to her as he whispered soothing words. "It's okay, (Y/N), you're safe here. Everything's going to be alright. This is just a hiccup in the road. You'll remember, I'm sure of it."

She clung to his words, her sobs gradually subsiding. In his arms, she found a flicker of solace amidst the storm of her lost memories and newfound uncertainty.

Meanwhile, Bo's frustration had not subsided. He was growing increasingly impatient and wary of the stranger in their midst. He couldn't shake the feeling that (Y/N) was a threat, not just to Ambrose, but to all of them.

In the quiet of the kitchen, Bo took Lester and Vincent aside, his tone hushed but determined. "We need to get rid of her," he declared, his voice filled with urgency.

Lester frowned deeply, appalled by his brother's suggestion. "Bo, we can't just... get rid of her. She's clearly in trouble, and we need to help her."

Bo's eyes narrowed, his frustration boiling over. "She's a danger to Ambrose, and she's a danger to us all. We don't know who she is or what happened to her. We can't trust her."

Vincent, ever the voice of empathy and caution, hesitated. He signed his thoughts, "We need to be careful, but killing her? Don’t you think that’s a bit much?��

Bo was unwavering. "Think about it, Lester. We have no idea who she is or what she's involved in. We can't risk our safety, or Ambrose's."

Lester shook his head firmly. "No, Bo. I won't do it. We'll help her, keep her safe until she remembers. We can't resort to violence."

The tension in the kitchen grew palpable, as the three brothers faced a difficult decision that would shape their future and the fate of the mysterious (Y/N).

Bo's frustration reached its peak, and he reluctantly conceded. "Fine," he grumbled, his jaw clenched. "But she's your responsibility, Lester."

With those words, Bo turned on his heel and stormed out of the kitchen, the door slamming shut behind him. Vincent, sensing his twin's anger and knowing that arguing further would only escalate the situation, hurriedly followed, hoping to calm Bo down and find some common ground.

Lester was left alone in the kitchen, his thoughts swirling as he watched his brothers leave. He knew that taking care of (Y/N) was a responsibility he was willing to shoulder, even if it meant facing uncertainty and danger. She needed their help, and he was determined to be there for her, no matter what challenges lay ahead.

[slasherhoe87]

Hi, sweetie. May I have Bubba sawyer, Thomas hewitt, michael Myers, bo, vincent, lester, Jason Voorhees, and brams heelshire. With s/o who is very submissive and will do anything to be able to have slasher sex. S/o also has high sex and always wears sexy clothes 👙👠💋 and lingerie. I hope this isn't too much for you but, what if you can't accept my request it's okay you can freely ignore my request. Your Blogs are treasure troves and very hard to find 😭.

Don't forget to take care of your health sweetie. Have a good day ❤

Hey Anon, sure I'll do this request for you. Hope you'll like it. However, like in my previous request with Norman amongst the other names, I'll have to skip Brahms as I don't know his character too well.

SLASHERS WITH A THIRSTY S/O:

Info: NSFW / Fem!Reader / mentions of breeding, light bdsm, medical play kinks

BUBBA SAWYER:

LOVES the tiny little denim shorts you wear. You have them in almost every colour and often wear a breezy little crop top with a plunging neckline to match them.

Whenever you skip into a room that Bubba's in, his eyes drink the sight of you up like lemonade on a hot texan day

Happy squeals galore when you giggle and jump into his big, meaty arms

You like to tease him when he's alone - whether he's in the basement, barn, your shared bedroom or anywhere really when the fam is not around

You'll call his name in a playful flirty manner and when he looks towards you, you'll quickly untie the strings of your crop top and flash him before running away

You manage to shock him with pure delight every single time you do it

You'll hear heavy, eager footsteps behind you as you run away, then you shriek in glee as you feel his large arms encircle your waist, lift you up and carry you somewhere secluded

Cue heavy make-out sessions if its day time and there's still work to be done. But if the day is over? You'll be tossed onto the bed like a ragdoll with an over-eager and lust-filled Bubba devouring you like the chocolates he loves so much

You can never get enough of this big, murderous puppy dog. Not his musky, sweat laden scent, not his big meaty body, nor his mop of dark hair and especially not his long, thicc cock

Bubba especially likes it when he lumbers upstairs after a hard day's work to find you lying on the bed, waiting for him while wearing the pretty lingerie sets he loves so much - the ones with butterfly or strawberry prints on them, with bows and frills - he ADORES them - cue more excited squealing and many, many orgasms by his skilled and eager mouth, hands and cock

As you do your chores for the day all you can think about is beautiful Bubba and his big fat cock.

When you REALLY can't hold your desire for Bubba at bay (which is more often than not) you'll slink down to the basement and give Bubba THAT look - the one that tells him that you're down there with him for that one little act you nor he can get enough of

He's still nervous as ever when you crawl under the table while he works, worried that one of the household will come down and catch the two of you

But the moment you wrap your warm, gloss stained lips around his hardening cock, all worries and fears leave him. His butchering momentarily forgotten as his sweet, lusty little y/n pleasures him like only she could

THOMAS HEWITT:

Like Bubba, just the sight of this big, sweaty, hard working man drives you insane with lust

You're always staring at his thick forearms littered in marks, scars and a smattering of dark hair - just knowing how strong those arms are, how easily they can lift a grown man, farming equipment, farm animals and heavy machinery drives you wild

Luda Mae often catches you staring heatedly at Tommy during dinner when he's all sweaty and grime covered from a hard day's work with a knowing smile

Luda Mae slyly encourages you and Tommy to spend lots of "quality" time together because she desperately wants a house filled with grandbabies

You however, see right through her. And not wanting children just yet, you secretly remain on birth control pills - because lord knows you would have been pregnant ages ago with how much cum Tommy shoots into you at a time

Your need for Tommy is insatiable - just the mention of his name causes your cunt to clench and drip with arousal

When Tommy is alone in the barn fixing up some farming equipment or tending to the animals you like to perch yourself up on one of the square hay bales in nothing but the short, little sundresses he loves so much

When he turns to look at you, you like to send him a mischievous smile and lift your dress, showing him that you're not wearing any underwear

Tommy always drops what he's holding and makes a beeline for you - just how you wanted.

Cue rough, animalistic barn sex. The bleating of the goats, the moos of the cows, the chains swinging above you, the scent of fresh hay, Tommy's laboured grunting above you, the sound of sweaty skin smacking against sweaty skin - it all brings about fast and intense orgasm after orgasm

You always leave the barn satisfied, thick cum and your own juices dripping from your gaping cunt (thanks to Tommy's sizeable girth), a slight limp to your gait

But your thirst for Tommy never fully quenches.

You eagerly await the night where you like to tease Tommy's eyes with some revealing lingerie - he is especially fond of the satin and lace emerald green set you have

You submit yourself to him, laying spread beneath his hefty weight, legs wide open, your wrists pinned above your head by a large, hot hand, Thomas pounding into you until those delicious tears stream down your cheeks from overstimulation.

This man is relentless. His body blessed with an immense pool of stamina from years of hard outdoor labour.

But even though your poor little pussy is puffy, red, swollen and stretched beyond limits you want more. Always more. And to ensure Tommy doesn't get any ideas about stopping and to get what you want - your belly swollen with his seeming never ending supply of cum, you need only whisper two words in his ear

"Breed me"

RZ MICHAEL MYERS:

You notice Michael is more hands-on with you and hovers around you more often when you wear those skin tight black mini dresses with the lace-up chest area and band print on the middle. He's especially fond of the KISS and Slipknot one

So in turn, to get Michael to engulf you with his touches and presence like you so desire, you wear them more often

You find yourself shopping a lot more for lingerie than you used to... Michael doesn't pull the lingerie off of you - he tears and rips the pieces off. Leaving the tiny bits of fabric destroyed on the floor before going to town on your eager body

You go to cheaper stores now for lingerie as you simply cannot afford to replace the expensive sets as often as you seem to need to

Michael likes you in black and red lingerie. The more obscene in design, the better. Think crotchless thongs, no material covering the breasts save for the nipples and pussy thongs too

They serve no purpose save for getting Mikey's cock hard and enticing his eyes

But you love it all the same. You crave the possessive and desire filled gaze you receive from Michael when your body is wrapped in the obscene garments

A present for him, that only he and he alone may see and unrwap

Your pussy moistens and aches at these thoughts

Before he can unwrap the gift that is you though, you tease him through predator/play games

You LIVE for Mikey chasing you through the house, his breathing heavy with excitement and lust, his sharp knife gleaming menacingly in the moonlight of the windows

An when he catches you, you nearly orgasm as he lifts you up against the wall with one hand held firmly against your throat. The other dragging his knife gently against your chest, over your pert nipples, down your stomach before eventually rubbing the blunt top of the tip of the cold blade against your throbbing clit until your sopping empty pussy clenches around nothing and you see stars from both oxygen deprivation and a mind blowing clitoral orgasm

You count the minutes while you're at work. All you can think of is your behemoth of a lover. His massive hands, his toned chest, those strong arms and thighs, his silky smooth long hair and those deceptively soft lips

When you get home, you'll both have a nice dinner and enjoy each other's company before you retire to your shared bedroom where you submit yourself to his power, his lust as his little fuck toy

You wouldn't have it any other way

BO SINCLAIR:

When you first made your relationship official, Bo told you exactly how he liked his woman to dress

Well, no fucking way were you gonna doll yourself up to look like an 80s bimbo who bar-hopped for a living with the big hair and leopard print

However, you did compromise and incorporated certain elements of that "style" into your own modern look

Bo was pleased as punch with the outcome and so were you

This beautiful man of yours likes to be fed snacks (particularly cherries, grapes and cheesy crackers) while he watches Nascar

You eventually get bored from the car racing and want to indulge in a far more fun sport with Bo. You always set his sports to record so he can watch later

He eventually notices your fingers slipping in a little deeper, lingering a little longer inside his hot, wet mouth as you pop another piece of fruit inside

Bo dons his signature smirk and turns his body towards you, a hand always placed on either your hip or thigh

"Feelin' a tad neglected there baby?"

You look up at him with puppy dog eyes and a pout (he loves that shit) and nod

"Well let's do somethin' 'bout that, hmm?" In one swift motion he has you slung over his broad shoulder and stomps upstairs to the bedroom for round after round of intense, rough sex

When you feel like giving Bo a real treat, you'll don skimpy leopard print lingerie and red lipstick. Wrapping yourself up in a black satin bathrobe you'll wait for him to come to bed and when he enters the bedroom and sees you in that robe with that particular coy smile, he knows he's in for one of his favourite things: a lap dance

No longer does Bo have to drive two towns over to the strip club - not when he has his beautiful baby in his life now

Bo is always mesmerized by the slow sultry sway of your plush hips, the way your pretty eyes bore into his own - that look you give him says that you're his and only he could ever get the pleasure of watching you dance so intimately for him

Not a day goes past when you don't find yourself slinking into Bo's garage, craving his firm, rough touch

Quickies in the small office of the garage are a must. If you don't get Bo to pound into you on his desk for whatever reason then your mood is soured for the rest of the day

But rest assured y/n - if Bo has been busy all day and was unable to indulge your needy desire for him, then he'll more than make it up for you tonight in your shared bedroom

VINCENT SINCLAIR:

On many nights you'll often be in Vincent's basement, sweat coated from the heat of the room, laying posed on his sofa in black lingerie with various nature or dark bohemian prints on them while he takes photos, videos and makes sketches of you

Your eyes drink up every inch of this talented man

You close your eyes for a moment picturing those large, artist's hands of his on your body... massaging, caressing, tracing, fondling.. you sigh and squeeze your thighs together, growing wet at the thought of his touch

Eventually Vincent notices your heated stare and the way you clench your thighs together. With a smirk behind his wax mask he puts his pencils or paint brushes down and stalks towards you, intending to reward you for your patience as his muse

Expect silky caresses and deep, passionate fucking from this masked man

On nights when you're feeling particularly starved for dangerous thrills you offer Vincent to indulge in a game of predator/prey

He's always eager

Adrenaline pumps through both of your bodies as he stalks and chases you throughout Ambrose

Where a heady mix of fear and arousal courses through your veins, Vincent's are flowing with power, anticipation and a deep primal lust

When caught, you'll always shriek from a short burst of terror from Vincent's strong, hot grip on your biceps, waist or shoulders

If he doesn't savagely fuck you right then and there then he'll places his large hand over your mouth and hauls you kicking with muffled screams down to the basement where he first strips you of all your clothing, then restrains you on the waxy metal table

Your chest rises and falls heavily with both fear and lusty eagerness as Vincent indulges in hot wax and medical play with your prone and helpless bare form

You can't ever complain about your very active sex life with Vincent. He gives you exactly what you need, when you need it - no questions or hesitations

If you want it soft and passionate? You have it. Dark and extreme? He's more than happy to provide that too

Suffice it to say, you are very happy in Ambrose living with your masked lover

LESTER SINCLAIR:

You drive Lester WILD with your daisy dukes and cowboy boots

He CANNOT keep his eyes or his hands off of you when you wear them - which is exactly what you wanted

This dirty, crazy little opossum of a man makes your blood run molten hot with his cheeky smiles and mischievous eyes

And those hands! Those lithe, hard working hands are too skillful for their own good - not that your tits or pussy is complaining...

Seeing as you work evening shift at the gas station you like to ride with Lester in his truck during the day while he clears up roadkill and makes deliveries to Ambrose for his weird brothers

While in the truck you glance at Lester's thighs, then at their junction

You lick your glossed lips and gently place your hand on his thigh. He smiles to you and squeezes your hand before his eyes are back on the road

Your returned smile however is not quite as innocent

You swiftly lean down over to Lester's lap, unbuckle his belt and pull down the zipper of his worn out old jeans and whip out his cock

Poor Lester never knows how you manage to do all of that so quickly

His cheeks redden and his breath quickens

"Baby" he breaths out as you lick him from balls to tip

The truck swerves a little but Lester is quick to bring it back under control

"Darlin' you're killin' me here" his tone says disapproval yet his hand is firm on the back of your head pushing your mouth further down his throbbing, weeping dick

You found yourself humming in contentedness - the vibrations from your throat causing his cock to pulse in your hot, wet mouth. Few things gave you more pleasure than your mouth being plugged by Lester's veiny cock

Eventually Lester can't take it anymore and would bring the truck to an abrupt stop down a small unused trail off the road and into the woods

He'd then lean his head back against the seat's headrest and let out a stream of praises with a few words of degradation here and there

"You're doin' so well darlin'"

"That's it.... yeah, just like that"

"You take my cock so well in that purdy little mouth 'o yours"

"You're such a slut for my cock huh baby?"

You moan and take him even deeper at his words - you were right where you belonged

This as usual eventually leads to him taking you hot and rough on the back of his truck. With you either leaning forwards against the back of the cab or you on your back on the truck bed

If you asked nicely Lester would sometimes hold his bowie knife to your throat while he mercilessly pounds into your greedy wet cunt

As far as lingerie goes, Lester goes wild for that baby pink set with the fluffy trim and pompom strings

The man can't keep his eyes and hands away from your form when you're wrapped in those little pieces of fabric.

He'll snap a shot or two of you in the set with his polaroid and keep it with his other photos of you behind his truck's sun visor

When Lester picks you up at the gas station at night when your shift ends you both like to drive to his favourite spot overlooking the woods. You'll chat and stargaze for a while before the two of you indulge in soft love-making, relieved by a cool breeze tempering the warm humid air and cacophony of the Louisiana wildlife surrounding you

JASON VOORHEES:

Please don't tease this big innocent baby

His pure, precious little heart (and dick) simply can't take it

He just about drops his hammer when he's fixing the window pane in the front of your shared cabin when he looks over his shoulder to see you sitting comfortably on the lawn chair in nothing but a tiny spring green bikini with little daisy prints, facing him with a glass of iced tea

"Keep at it babe... I'm just admiring the view" You say, as a fat drop of sweat runs down your neck and between your perky breasts

Jason's good eye follows that drop of sweat before he gulps and tries to go back to concentrating on the task at hand

You internally giggle at his flustered form and visible tenting of the crotch of his work pants

Teasing this big, sweet, easily flustered murder man is a guilty pleasure of yours

But you just can't help yourself. When you see his bulging muscles strain behind his shirts as he performs chores around the cabin or his thicc, strong thighs and meaty behind test the strength of his pant seams you go feral with need for him and his huge veiny cock

You just have to be patient with his initial timidness and embarrassment when initiating sexy times as this poor baby has a lot of issues with sex thanks to his strict christian upbringing

But once you get past those hurdles your Jason turns into a feral grizzly bear in the sheets

You can't walk properly for hours once he's done with you

Before he comes back at night from ruining the lives of once happy campers, you slip on his favourite set of lingerie for you - the baby blue ones with the cherub and cloud prints and wait for him on your shared bed, ready to alleviate the tension and stress from his powerful body

Taking a stroll through the woods alongside the lake in the late afternoon hand in hand you sigh happily and smile up at your sweet Jason. He looks down at you and by the crinkle of the corner of his eye behind his mask, you know he's smiling back at you

Suddenly you push Jason against a broad, sturdy tree

He's momentarily shocked by your action until his thoughts all go to mush as you drop to your knees on the moist soil of the forest floorbed and whip his quickly hardening cock out of his pants

Jason groans behind his mask as you take the swollen, pink head of his cock in your mouth and suckle for a few moments - his large hands flying out to grip your head

Cue lots of garbled nonsense, groans, whimpers and moans to be heard amongst the sounds of the forest for the next while

Eventually you're rewarded by being roughly shoved face first against the tree, your short skater dress gets lifted up and you hear another groan from Jason as he sees your bare bottom and slick cunt

Your loud moans, cries and gasps join the cacophony of the forest as Jason ruthlessy pounds into your pussy

Your nails scratch at the bark of the tree, tears stream down your cheeks at his relentess and bone rattling pace

"Yes Jason! Yes fuck FUCK fuck... baby you're doing so fucking good"

You play on his praise kink and he rams even harder and faster in you with a loud garbled moan - the swollen blunt head of his cock ramming against your cervix in delicious pleasure-pain

Once the both of you are spent he likes to carry you back to the cabin where he treats you so good and tenderly with him wiping you clean, giving you a drink and then snuggling his large, warm body close to you on the sofa while you both listen to music on the cd player

Getting lost in the woods two years ago was the best thing that could've happened to you in your once unhappy life

You smile to yourself as you and Jason spoon on the sofa, your eyes fluttering closed for a nap

Jason better be ready because when you wake up you'll be pouncing on him again for round two

[i-arch-my-backula]

Slashers when you succumb to Stockholm syndrome part three

So part one and two are really popular so I thought I would make a third part with more characters. These are kind of shorter because there's more characters but I still hope y'all like them.

Includes: Bubba Sawyer, Harry Warden, Asa Emory/The Collector, Lester Sinclair, and Danny Johnson/Ghostface

Warnings: Kidnapped reader, Stockholm syndrome, manipulation kind of, possessive language, Asa compares reader to a butterfly, petnames used

Bubba Sawyer

It's time for breakfast and Bubba gets up out of bed. He looks down at you with a smile. You've been staying with the Sawyers for almost a month and you've given up on fighting and screaming and trying to run away a week ago. But today when you stretch and wake up you look at Bubba with a smile.

"Good morning Bubba. I hope you slept well," You tell him. Bubba smiles and goes back over to his bed. You sit up and he pulls you into a hug, and you hug him back much to his delight, "I'm hoping there's something I can do to help out today, I haven't been pulling my weight around here very much."

Bubba doesn't understand your change but he's so happy you love him that he's able to look past it. He presses a kiss to your forehead and goes back to getting ready for the day. Your smile stays wide on your face as you get ready with him. He's also happy that you're comfortable changing in front of him.

"I'm really grateful that you've been taking care of me like this. I honestly needed this for awhile. I love you Bubba, I really do." Your smile stays genuine and you hug him again. He hugs you back with a delighted squeal.

When you're both done Bubba takes your hand in his and walks with you downstairs. He can't wait to tell his brothers that you're officially in love with him.

Harry Warden

Harry was stalking you for weeks before he finally professed his love for you on Valentines day. When you rejected him and tried to run away he had no choice but to take you back to his house and keep you there where you'll be safe with him.

It's been a few weeks since then and Harry's coming back home early in the morning. He gets in the house and goes into the room he keeps you in. He finds you sleeping on the mattress he gave you. He walks over and lays down next to you. You sleepily turn over and wrap your arms around him with a sigh.

Harry is caught off guard but he soon returns your affection. You run your hands over the material of his coveralls and rest your head against his chest.

"You know I was so scared of you before. But I know that you never meant to hurt me. You just love me, and I love you too." You tell him. Harry is overjoyed to hear this news. He holds you tighter against him and runs a hand over your hair. He has a suspicion that you're experiencing Stockholm syndrome, but he doesn't care. All he cares about is that you finally love him back.

He starts to think about the life the two of you can live together now that you're in love with him. It doesn't matter if it's manipulated or not, you're his and that's all that he wants from you.

Asa Emory/The Collector

It's eight pm and it's time for Asa to check in on you again. He's been keeping you at the hotel for a month at this point. You stopped trying to escape and scream for help your first week here. Asa also gave you a journal to write in. Of course he checks it every day. Today the check in started normally.

Asa unlocks and opens your door. He steps in and finds you sitting on your bed like he's told you to do when he comes to check on you. He spends a few minutes looking around the room and gives you a pat on the shoulder when he sees that you've kept it clean and haven't tried to hide anything from him.

He picks up your journal and flips to today's page, where he finds you outright admitting your love for him. He saw the beginning of your Stockholm syndrome developing in your journal entries and actions a week ago but now he sees that you're fully in it now. He slightly smiles as he reads your entry and shuts your journal. He sets it back on your dresser and walks over to you. He looks down at you and caresses your cheek with a gloved hand.

"I hope you know I'm keeping you here because you're like a beautiful, rare creature. You're my prized possession, the rarest butterfly in my collection. I'm happy to see you've accepted your place here with me." You smile up and him.

"I'm happy you think I'm so worthy of being yours." Asa lets out a soft chuckle and pats your head. This is going to be a very fun experiment for him.

Lester Sinclair

Today is the first day that you've had free roam of the house while Lester was out. He has his ways of making sure you stay at the house. He's been out all day but he's periodically had Vincent check in on you. When he got back home and smelled something cooking concern grew in his body. He made his way to the kitchen and found you peacefully cooking.

It hits him that you've reached Stockholm syndrome after he puts together your recent affectionate behavior and now you're cooking like nothing is wrong. He can't deny the guilt he feels in his gut. You look over at him and smile. You set down your wooden spoon and walk over to him, giving him a hug.

"Welcome home Lester. I hope you're hungry. I'm making dinner tonight." You walk back over to your bowl and look down at an old cook book you found. Lester can't help but smile at your affection. That part of him that feels guilty starts to shrink as he watches you happily cook.

"Well I'm glad you're happy here peaches," He says with a smile of his own "If you keep acting like this I won't have to keep you locked up all the time ya know?" He walks over to you and stands behind you, wrapping his arms around you and looking over your shoulder.

"Really? I'd love that Lester. I feel like I need to start pulling my weight around here. Since you've been taking care of me for so long." He nods and presses a kiss on your cheek.

"Of course peaches, of course."

Danny Johnson/ Ghostface

After stalking you for weeks Danny finally took you to his cabin. He had to spend the first few days watching you and proving to you that there's no escaping him, no matter what you do. After a few weeks of living with him you started to exhibit signs of Stockholm syndrome. He recognized this and kept track of it.

It's early morning when he gets back to the cabin. He walks into your room and watches you tossing and turning in your sleep. A few moments later you sit up in bed panicking. Tears fall down your cheeks and you rush over to hug him. He hesitates briefly before he hugs you back.

"I was having an awful nightmare and I couldn't wake up! I was so scared I felt like I was going to die!" You sob to him. He can't help but smile to himself as you hold him for comfort.

"It's alright, it's alright. I'm here now, don't worry Y/N I'm here for you now," He runs a hand over your hair and looks down at you through the mask, "I'd never let anything bad happen to you doll. I promise." You sniffle and look up at him while you're still holding onto him.

"You promise? Do you love me as much as I love you?" You ask him. Danny smiles and nods his head. He knows you're not really in love with him. That this is just Stockholm syndrome. But why should he care? You don't know the difference at this point.

"Of course doll. I love you too."

[small-sinclair]

But like kissing Sinclairs before they leave for work. You can read this as poly! x reader:

Bo leaving to work down at the shop, so you follow him to the door and kiss him twice: first to remind him you love him and second to say goodbye. But it sometimes ends up with him kiss your neck, jaw, lips, cheeks, so you gently have to pushes on his chest so he’s not late. His eyes shine down at you and leaves you with a kiss.

Vincent finishing his coffee and getting his sketches ready. You kiss him on the cheek then on his lips before he goes down. Signing, he promises to be back for dinner, but he takes your hand. His thumb smooths over his skin and he smiles under his mask at you, but you can see it in his lone eye. He kisses your hand and leave for the basement.

Lester running late on his run, but you already made his lunch and coffee in his thermostat (the one with the animal stickers :3 ). He gives you a quick kiss, but it’s not good enough. So you pull him by the waist and give him a real kiss, passionate and all. After pulling away, you tell him to drive safe and be home soon. Lester has never worked so hard and fast in his life every time he gets a kiss like that.

[toescratches]

The Sinclair brothers have work to do. A couple of tourists adventure into town. But unfortunately after they've been hunted down and cleaned up, the brothers come across more work and more problems. That being the now abandoned baby in the car. (SHOULD I CHANGE THE SUMMARY AT THIS POINT?!?!?!)

Tw: Bo is Bo, they're slashers what do you expect, they won't kill the baby obv, the baby is a girl or AFAB, Vincent is here 😱, Lester bbg is here 🤭, they're conflicted, timeskipping cuz I'm lazy, lots of cursing, prolly awkward and cringe but idk, sorry this is short

tags:@wheresmyson @kitty11sstuffig @swaggbella @imnotevenherern00100 @kait0sicecre4m @peyton-peyton @wildaces @small-sinclair @santa-carla-boardwalk-1987 @number1120 @blurrymango

—————————————————————————

{timeskipping to toddler age😨}

Bo sipped his beer as he sat on living room couch and watched TV. The thunder loudly rumbled outside and made it feel like the whole house shook.

He took another big swig out of his bottle, in the background, the television kept making loud noises of the show playing.

Suddenly his attention is stolen by the sound of little feet, coming down the stairs. Bo looks to his right, up at the end of the staircase.

"Y/N? You know you're supposed to be in bed." Bo yells at the staircase as he turns down the volume of the TV.

A loud, pitiful and annoyed whine sounds down the stairs.

Bo sighs and stands up. He turns off the TV and walks to the bottom of the stairs. He spots the little girl, sitting at the top of stairs with a pout.

"C'mon baby... You gonna go to bed or do I have to take you...?" Bo asks with hands on his hips.

Y/N whines again. "But Daaaddyyy–! It's scary!" She pouts.

"What scary, sweetie?" He softly questions and begins to mske his way up the stairs, towards his young child.

She points down at the window.

"Oh, the thunder?" He coos at her.

Y/N sniffs and nod her head.

"Well how about... I'll take you back to our room and I'll help you sleep? Okay?" Bo asks with a raised eyebrow.

She nods her head with a frown and reaches her hands up to Bo, wanting to be picked up. Bo chuckles. He reaches down to hus daughter, picking her up by her armpits. He places the little girl on his hip and kisses his forehead.

A loud thunder sounds from outside and scares Y/N, making her flinch. Y/N curles up against her father's side and Bo softly smiles at this.

"You sleepy, baby?" He asks and caresses her head. He gets a nod as a answer.

"Okay, let's go to sleep." He sofly smiles and walks up the stairs, and to their room. Bo gently pushes the bedroom door open, and steps inside, with his daughter on his hip. He puts her down on her bed, next to his own.

"There you go..." Bo whispers and tucks her in. He puts the soft blanket over her, handing her, her teddy.

Y/N tightly hugs the teddy bear. and turns to lay on her side, to look at her father.

"I don't like the storm..." She whispers to him. (how do toddlers speak💀)

"Oh me neither, baby... But don't worry. I'll be here so you can go to sleep..." He whispers down to her and caresses her cheek.

She nods with a yawn. Bo smiles softly at her and leans down to kiss the girl's cheek.

...

Bo waits, sitting on the side of her bed, till she falls asleep.

—————————————————————————

Im so sorry I didn't write anymore, I was so bored 😭

PLEASE SUGGEST ME SUMMARIES AND IDEAD ETC!!!

i didn't know what else to write

[a-writer-on-elm-street]

Characters With An S/O Who Has OCD

mentioned: bo sinclair, lester sinclair, brahms heelshire, adam stanheight, lawrence gordon

warnings: implied contamination ocd, mentions of hand washing, mentions of injuries (cuts on hands), checking compulsions, counting compulsions, hurt/comfort

a/n: so this is probably one of the most personal things i'm gonna post on here since i actually do struggle with ocd but i hope you enjoy! also, lawrence and adam might not be 100% accurate because i'm only just starting out writing for them.

Bo Sinclair

Initially, you intended to keep the fact that you had OCD hidden from him, but you were eventually forced to tell him when he spotted the bloody cuts that covered your hands one day.

"The hell's wrong with your hands?" He asked, his face twisting in disgust as he pointed to the raw skin there.

"It's nothing." You said, shrugging him off.

But he wouldn't leave it alone. "Bullshit, ain't no way that's nothin'."

Eventually he wore you down and you tried to explain that it was from excessive hand-washing, to which he simply pulled a face, obviously confused.

There was no way he would sit down and listen to you explain in full though, so you opted to give him a brief explanation of your disorder before walking away, too scared to see his reaction.

Little did you know, he'd later show up to your room with what looked to be some sort of pharmacy bag.

"Look, I don't understand why the hell you'd do that to yourself, but it looks like it hurts." He said, awkwardly adjusting the hat on his head. "So I went out, got you some stuff."

He dumped the contents of the bag onto your bed, revealing an assortment of lotions and creams, and finally a roll of bandages, before stepping towards you slightly. "Didn't really know what you'd need, so I hope this is alright."

You couldn't help the smile forming on your lips as you looked up at him, his simple gesture making you feel less alone in your struggles. "Thank you."

He just shrugged it off before proceeding to silently take care of your injured hands.

Lester Sinclair

You told him pretty early in your relationship about your OCD and whilst he didn't fully understand it, he still supported you nonetheless.

He knew that you would often have bad days so he always made sure to ask how you were doing, sometimes offering to take you for a drive to help clear your head.

He could always tell when you were struggling because he'd notice how you would suddenly become reserved, quiet.

"You want some water?" He'd ask. "Or we could go into town for a little bit?"

He couldn't even begin to understand what you were going through but that didn't stop him from trying to help in any way that he could. And you definitely appreciated his kindness.

Brahms Heelshire

Honestly, when you first told Brahms you had OCD, he'd never even heard the term. But once you explained it to him, he immediately related to your need for control.

Obviously, not in the exact same way, but he understood how it could be distressing to go against certain routines, considering that was how he felt if he didn't stick to his own routines.

He didn't really understand what OCD was and he struggled to understand just how it affected you, but he understood that sometimes you would need space, time alone until you could get back on your feet.

He noticed how when you were having a bad day, you would be less physically affectionate with him, avoiding hugs and any close contact.

He wasn't a huge fan of the limited hugs or kisses and although his kiss goodnight had become an integral part of his nighttime routine, he tried to be okay with it not happening sometimes.

Brahms loved you and only wanted the best for you. He wanted to make sure you were okay and if giving you the space you needed was what helped, then he would definitely make himself scarce, probably retreating into the walls for a while until you were okay to spend time with him again.

And you would always assure him that he wasn't doing anything wrong and that you just weren't doing too good, and that you still loved him.

Adam Stanheight

For the first few months of your relationship, you decided to keep your disorder a secret from Adam, worried that he wouldn't understand and you would simply embarrass yourself.

But when you finally did tell him, well, he seemed pretty confused.

"So like what, you're a clean freak?"He asked, his brows still knitted together in confusion.

Your immediate thought was to get angry at him for saying such an insensitive thing, but Adam had seemed so kind during the months you'd been together so he surely didn't intend for it to be so insensitive.

You took a breath, proceeding to calmly explain to him that it was much more than just being a germophobe, which prompted him to begin asking a whole array of questions.

"Have you had this your whole life?" "If it hurts, why do you keep doing it?" "Have you talked to someone about it?" "Does that mean you don't like it when I hug you?"

And finally, "Are you okay?"

You couldn't control the smile on your face as you looked at him, the confusion still evident in his eyes even though he just spent the last ten minutes bombarding you with questions.

You told him that you were okay and that you had coping tools, but sometimes you would just have bad days.

He then joked that he was dating a superhero because it takes a strong person to live with something like that.

And then he ended with one final question. "Can I kiss you?"

Lawrence Gordon

There was never any hiding your disorder from Lawrence. He wasn't necessarily a psychiatrist, but he was still a doctor. The second he spotted all the repetitive behaviours he realised something was wrong.

He would often notice you checking the locks at night when he stayed over, or your countless trips to the bathroom, or the fact that it always took you exactly twenty seconds before you could walk away from the light switch.

He knew you were showing signs of OCD, he just didn't know if you knew.

One day whilst you were in the kitchen together, he brought it up. "I think you need to go and talk to someone."

You were slightly confused and a little taken aback at his sudden comment. "What?"

"I didn't want to say anything because I didn't want to intrude, but I've seen your behaviour and I'm worried about you."

You just gave him a nervous laugh, knowing exactly what he was trying to say now. "What do you mean?"

He took a short breath before speaking again, as though he were giving a patient bad news. "I think you might have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder."

"Oh, I know." You answered. Now he was the one who was confused.

"What?"

"I didn't wanna say anything because I knew you'd probably just go into doctor mode and start treating me like a patient. And I didn't want that."

You both left the conversation like that, and you assumed that things would probably be awkward between you two now.

But the next morning, you walked into your kitchen to find Lawrence stumbling about as he attempted to plate up what looked like pancakes.

"I'm sorry about yesterday, I really need to learn not to bring my work home with me." He explained, an apologetic smile on his face. "I thought I'd make you breakfast, if you're up for it."

You offered him a small smile as you sat down with him, a warmth filling you at the sight of the misshapen pancake on the plate.

"Thank you for making breakfast." You told him. "And thank you for trying to diagnose me yesterday. I really do appreciate that you were just trying to help."

"If you ever need anything, you can come to me okay? I promise I won't treat you like a patient. I don't see you like that."

"Thank you."

[Main Masterlist]