#Vincent sinclair x you

[ghqstfqce]

Hola corazón ^^! No sabes la emocion que me da encontrar un blog que escribe sobre los slashers en español, asi que me preguntaba si podrias escribir unos headcanons por separado sobre Thomas Hetwitt y Vincent Sinclair acerca de ellos con una S/O muy tierna y amable que parece practicamente un angel y como reaccionarian cuando ella les pidiera tener un momento de mimitos y cariños <3, todo muy pegajoso y cursi! Si por alguna razón no pudieras escribirlo, lo entiendo<3, de cualquier forma ten un lindo dia uwu 💕

Warnings || Ninguna:), todo es suave y nada duele.

Pairing || Thomas Hewitt x Fem Reader — Vincent Sinclair x Fem Reader — Carrie White x Fem Reader.

WA || 993.

Nota de Autor || Hola, cariño, tus palabras son tan dulces, gracias. ❤️ Espero me perdones, pero agregue a Carrie al final:(, estoy enamorado de esa chica. Espero todo sea de tu agrado y que estés teniendo un excelente día.

Thomas Hewitt

Supo que no te podr��a negar nada desde el día que lo defendiste en la escuela secundaria y lo confirmó cuando a pesar de los años, la sangre y los cuerpos, te quedaste a su lado.

Eres la suavidad y tranquilidad en la casa Hewitt, ni siquiera Luda podría quejarse de que me quitaras el ser el lugar seguro para su hijo, ella está muy feliz.

¿Mimos? ¿Has pedido mimos? Ya se está quitando el delantal, ve y acomodate a esperarlo. Nada podrá detener a Thomas, no cuando has puesto tu linda expresión de cachorrito y preguntado con la voz más suave que tienes.

Vive para estos momentos, le gusta un momento de tranquilidad a tu lado, ni Hoyt es capaz de perturbar dicha paz(Luda Mae está lista para jalarlo de la oreja si cree que puede interrumpirse).

Aunque sabes que tienes cierto "poder" sobre Thomas, no abusas de él. Si, te encanta acostarte y llenarlo de cuidados, pero también sabes que la familia necesita comer y Hoyt no dudará en sacarte a patadas de casa si eso significa tener comida en la mesa.

A veces solo se acostaran juntos, acurrucados hasta que no quede ningún tipo de espacio entre ustedes, tararear algunas canciones que recuerdes para Thomas y todo mientras te mira con sueño y ojos de corazón inmenso.

Otras veces se abrazaran y jugaras con su cabello o se sentarán juntos y cepillaras su pelo, mientras él no se resiste a recorrer tu cuerpo con sus manos, ama sentirte y saber que estás ahí.

En ocasiones los mimos en casa no serán suficientes y no dudarás en planear un picnic, se recostaran en el campo de girasoles a unos kilómetros de casa y te dejará alimentarlo, verán las formas de las nubes o hablaran de un "¿Qué pasaría si?"

No importa lo que hagan en sus momentos de cariños, Thomas es feliz con solo tenerte a su lado.

Vincent Sinclair

Te ama, de verdad lo hace, desde que rechazaste el coqueteo de Bo aun cuando la ciudad era habitada y no dudaste en decir que lo querías a él y no a su gemelo engreído.

Pero era una batalla sacarlo de su taller, a veces Bo se unirá en tu misión por empujarlo a tomar sol y tocar el césped (si, estaba molesto antes, pero no pudo estarlo mucho tiempo al ver como mirabas a su gemelo).

Después de muchos gemidos lastimeros y amenazas de traer a Bo, él cederá, no sabe qué quieres hacer, pero él te seguirá a donde desees.

Espera, ¿querías un momento de mimos? Debiste decirlo antes, él con gusto tomará todos los momentos en que quieras demostrarle el amor que sientes por él.

Vincent vive para verte sonreír y chillar de alegría cuando él no duda en llenarte de caricias y besos por todo el rostro, su misión es hacerte feliz como tú lo haces a él.

Los momentos de mimos pueden ser en la cama en su taller, en el sillón de la sala principal o un día de campo a los alrededores de Ambrose o hasta fingiran una cita en el cine local, aunque casi no se paran ahí porque te aterran las figuras de cera >:(.

Cómo con Thomas, no duda en dejarse cepillar su gran cabello o hasta trenzarlo y llenarlo de flores. También le encanta cómo podrías convencerlo de tener un día de spa, no tema mostrarte su rostro, sabe que lo amas a pesar de todo.

Ama la tranquilidad que puedes darle con sólo recostarte a su lado, no lo haría de otra forma. Eres su dulce chica y adora como no dudas en compartirle de tu dulzura.

Carrie White

Tomará todo momento lejos de casa y de la escuela, más si es contigo. No le gusta detenerse mucho en este pensamiento, pero piensa que si hay un lugar parecido al paraíso, eso está a tu lado.

Al inicio solo consistiría en ustedes dos recostadas en tu cama mientras escuchan música desde tu tocadiscos. Escogerías lo más suave de tu repertorio para no hacerla sentir incómoda y eso crearía el ambiente perfecto.

Unas tardes se acostara de lado y recorrerán el rostro de la otra con la mirada. Ama el brillo en tus ojos cuando están sobre su figura y tú amas la ternura en su mirar cuando te ve, como si no fueras real.

Otras tardes no dudarán en bailar tomadas de la mano, fingiran un vals con movimientos improvisados, se moverán hasta cansarse y terminar recostadas en tu cama mientras se ríen suavemente. Amas verla feliz y soltándose de todo lo que la estresa o hace sentir mal.

Habrá días en los que ella solo desea que la abraces con fuerza y la ocultes del mundo, no dudarás en tomarla en tus brazos y hacerse un ovillo mientras ignoran el mundo fuera de esas cuatro paredes. Quieres protegerla de todo y todos.

Tarde, pero a su tiempo, se acariciaran. Iniciarían tocando sus rostros mientras cierran los ojos, quieren memorizarse todas las formas posibles. Bajará sus manos a tu estimado y espalda, el abrazo es leve, pero cuidadoso y amoroso.

Cuando terminarán de recorrer cada rincón habido y por haber de su ser, sólo bastará el estar pegadas hombro con hombro. Todo en casa es ruidoso por más que su mamá trate de traer la paz del Señor, la verdadera paz está a tu lado.

No te lo ha querido decir, pero ha aprendido tanto con solo estar a tu lado, le has mostrado el mundo del que su madre ha querido privarla y por ello, jamás te negaría un momento de mimos cuando se lo pides al finalizar las clases.

Sus momentos de caricias y mimos son solo en tu habitación, a pesar de que tus padres lo saben y hay algunos susurros en la escuela sobre ustedes, tiene miedo de exponerse y exponerte, quiere tener esta tranquilidad sólo para ella hasta donde se le permita.

[dreamerimpossible]

Slashers kinks

Warnings: +18 content, dark content manipulation, obsession, unhealthy relationships, many kinks...

Characters: Michael Myers, Chucky, Billy Loomis, Stu Macher, Patrick Bateman, Hannibal Lecter, Vincent Sinclair, Jason Voorhees, Leatherface, Art The Clown, Jason Dean, Alex DeLarge, Kurt Kunkle, Sweetly Slasher, Brahms.

Michael Myers

I've already said in my previous headcanons that I don't consider Michael Myers to be really interested in sex. However, if you manage to catch his attention, he would be inclined to:

Hunter/Prey: This one is too obvious, isn't it? It would certainly keep its essence if that primary desire for you was awakened. Chasing and killing is something that fascinates him enormously. But since he saw you running away from him, eager for him to catch you... the feeling of pleasure went straight to his cock. Seeing you so vulnerable and innocent before him is a sight that always makes him get hard in his pants. He chases you walking calmly. Just one push is enough to immobilize you.

Corruption: Another way to awaken his sexual appetite is to be the perfect prey to corrupt. Both sexually and mentally. He would like everyone to know that you are no longer as innocent as you were at the beginning. That your skin has the name of Michael Myers marked forever.

Knife Play: A must. He will do everything to you with his knife. He'll make marks on you, both superficial and not so superficial. He'll write things on your skin, like his name. He'll be violent and brutal. Your skin will be scarred. He loves to watch you fall apart in pain and pleasure. It's a show no one else could give him.

Chucky

He doesn't actually have as many kinks as you might think. He's a man of simple tastes…

Lingerie: Coming home and seeing you in lingerie is a surprise that will never bore him. Like I said, he's a simple man. Do that, don't tease him too much and you'll have him. It's that simple. He's on top of you in an instant, he won't listen to you if you tell him not to touch him and shit like that. He doesn't listen to anyone and he'll take what he wants.

Lap dances: Literally canonical. Sit him down and do a nice lap dance for him. He'll be mesmerized by your moves. He'll have a mischievous smile the whole time. His eyes will sparkle with lust. Finally, he couldn't hold back any longer. Also, it could work pretty well to make him jealous on purpose. He'll be aggressive with you back and it'll be rough sex.

Praise Kink: Praise him. Seriously. Do it. It'll boost his ego and he might give you a compliment back, telling you what a good girl you're being for him and that you're the best he could ever have. Give him your best compliments and he'll do it right back. He'll tell you that you're the best he's ever had and that he can never replace you and shit. I'm not saying he's lying, but let's just say he'll exaggerate his compliments because he's too turned on not to tell you what you want to hear.

Billy Loomis

Roleplay: The best roleplay here will be ghostface and his victim. He gets a huge turn on from seeing you in that vulnerable state, acting like a dumb girl who needs help. Every time he sees you like that he can't stand it. He needs to take out his violent frustrations on you. It's irresistible. Sometimes he won't even tell you it's role-playing, he wants you to believe he's genuinely considering harming you, it's kind of twisted. But you already knew that.

Cream-pie: He won't use a condom, he wants it to be just risky enough. He needs to fill you completely with his seed and see for a second the fear in your eyes. He will never give that up. He needs to mark you over and over again with his semen. He'll tell you how no one will love you if they know all the dirty things you've done for him.

Dirty talk: He'll tell you the worst things you'll ever hear. He'll threaten to kill you and say he won't if you agree to be his good bitch. He'll tell you all the things he could do to you while showing you his knife. He wants you to feel degraded and unable to help the pain building in your chest and the excitement you're experiencing in your crotch. He'll make fun of how turned on you are and increase the level of his insults.

Stu Macher

Threesome: At some point they'll have a threesome with Billy. It's guaranteed. He'll like watching you fuck and destroy you. The feeling of power they have over you drives him crazy. Being completely willing to him and his desires. It's all he's ever wanted. Billy, on the other hand, also likes to be in control of everything. So having you will be just another example of that. They both treat you like you're their whore, so your opinion doesn't matter much when it comes to what they do. Your moans are the only thing they care about.

Voyeurism: Watching you masturbate is something he'll do often. There will be days when you won't even notice he's there, watching you. But he'll be there. He'll leave minutes after you reach your orgasm. He likes the feeling of watching and being absolutely crazy to touch you and not always being able to. Torturously wonderful.

Phone sex: Every day before he makes his appearance as ghostface he tries to call you and say dirty things to you over the phone. He uses his voice changer. Things get hot quickly. When you ask him to go finish what he started, he just hangs up. He doesn't have time for that. He wants to leave you wanting and make you beg for him once he comes to visit you. He expects nothing less.

Patrick Bateman

Humiliation: He loves anything that involves humiliating you while he is in a position of superiority over you. It turns him on that you feel embarrassed and want to keep pleasing him even though he is fucking cruel to you. He will probably make you lick his shoes or make you cum on them. He might threaten you in your ear while they are doing it.

Master/Slave: This goes hand in hand with the previous kink. He will make you kneel before him and do everything he tells you. This could be extrapolated outside the bedroom to be honest, he is very controlling. You will always have to treat him with respect and he will punish you harshly if you reveal against him or make him feel that you have some discontent. His wishes are his command and he could openly express your position in the relationship in front of others.

Mirror sex: I suppose this does not surprise you. If he has a long-term relationship with you, he will not only enjoy seeing himself, but he will like seeing you too. It's a kind of pleasure that's been building up with you. It's become addictive to see your faces in the mirror, watching your body crumble under his touches and thrusts. He just can't get enough.

Hannibal

Discipline: I firmly believe that Hannibal will start to show his sexual kinks if he has control over you. At first, he will be totally vanilla and show no hint of wanting anything more. Later, after a while and he can see the obedience you show him, he will start punishing you sexually on certain occasions. He will discipline you in ways that will hurt. He will like to see how you change your behaviors when you feel pain. It's a good show for him.

Threesome: This one comes up again, because...he would have a threesome with Will Graham. It's so terribly obvious that it didn't even need to be put in. But it could become a recurring fantasy and something he would do more than once. The perversion, darkness, and secrets you share with each other would make him terribly hard. Having control of both of you really turns his sexual desire up. Not that you're complaining.

Begging: You have to beg him. Seriously, do it. It doesn't matter how committed you are to this. Do it. He'll like it when you get into an inferior position. If you're crying out in pleasure and need his help to have your orgasm, it'll be a nice image for him. If you're being bratty and pretending to beg him to get in the mood, he'll oblige (after disciplining you, of course).

Vincent Sinclair

Wax play: Another one that was awfully obvious. He'll blindfold you and drip hot wax over your body. Your shaky sighs of pain and pleasure will drive him crazy, but he's a patient man, he'll wait until he's satisfied and take his time, as it's the best thing he's done in a long period. He'll caress your thighs while you suppress a slight moan of pain. It's his way of comforting you, but he won't let you off the hook.

Vouyerism: He'll appreciate you lying naked while he's doing his job. He'll get distracted a few times by you, but he won't do anything until he's done. He likes to have a little desperation for you. You are the prettiest thing he has ever seen in his life, the most beautiful. And that is already a huge compliment coming from him. He wants your figure to always be in his memory. And he will keep you as long as he can.

Breeding kink: He wants to keep you and he is too excited by the idea of ​​getting you pregnant. He wants you to stay with him forever and not be able to escape from him. If he gets you pregnant, he will never have insecurities about it again and he could be with you and have you all to himself all the time. The orgasm is very strong when he paints your walls white and sees his cum coming out of you.

Jason Voorhees

Blowjob: At first, he would feel quite guilty while seeing your pretty lips wrapped around his penis. Afterwards, he would get used to it, but he would simply make you decide the pace. He would feel quite lustful and dirty if he makes you choke on his cock. He feels bad when he knows it would turn him on too much to ever do it…

Lap-dancing: His body will respond on its own when he sees your hips moving on him to the music. He will soon discover that he cannot resist you. It is impossible. His hands will grab your waist and he will squeeze it tightly. It will be very easy for him to grab you and drag you to the bed. You know it is the easiest way to provoke him, he will never be able to resist your half naked body on top of him, teasing you, without caring at all. He might think badly of you at first, but that feeling is replaced by the inevitable guilty desire. Which makes you irresistible.

Mutual masturbation: This is the best way to give body worship. He will do his best to give you pleasure and you will hear his grunts when you give him pleasure. He will become so desperate that he will want to hear your moan of orgasmic pleasure quickly. He lives to see your body tremble for him, begging him to make you cum.

Leatherface

Praise kink: He needs to be praised by you. Feeling that he is important to you and that you look at him with eyes of desire will always get him going. Praise how strong he is, how well he takes care of you, how safe you feel with him. Tell him those things and he will be around your finger. You don't need anything else.

Vouyerism: He will watch you while you touch yourself. At all times. Sometimes he will demand that you touch yourself in front of him, other times he will watch you secretly. He will like to see your fluids on your fingers and will be hypnotized by the sight of your wet and hot intimacy. He will want to enter but he doesn't want you to see him as a total pervert. He prefers to stay with the desire. At least at first. Afterwards, he will be more shameless.

Blood play: He likes blood, so it is not unusual for him to get excited seeing the blood of victims on you. You will have sex while both have their clothes and bodies stained with blood. If you ever felt shy or guilty about what they do, it quickly goes away. You're likely to be absolutely shameless afterwards. The kink quickly becomes routine, he's practically always covered in blood and will act on his impulses at a moment's notice.

Art The Clown

If I'm honest, I could have written something worse.

Free use: He'll use you at any time. In front of victims, at the mall, at a bar. Obviously he won't ask and he won't stop in case you're embarrassed or don't want to. You're his toy and the maximum compassion he'll have towards you will be to leave you alive. So, thank him. Thank him while Vicky mocks you for being a bitch. Thank him while the man dressed as Santa looks at you in horror. Thank him while you're being thrown out of that Halloween store forever. Just... thank him, okay?

Glory Hole: Obviously only he will be able to fuck you. He likes to remind both you and himself that you're just a hole for him. He'll fuck you and make cuts on your legs, making you understand that he could kill you at any time and that, in fact, it would be quite painful for you. He likes to hear your crying and how you try to escape. You're just so good at satisfying him.

Forced orgasm: He'll use toys to make you cry. You'll be on the verge of overstimulation, to the point that you can't fully control or enjoy the forced pleasure he's giving you. According to him, things aren't all that good without deep pain. So, watching you beg for him to stop is the best thing you can give him at that moment.

Jason Dean

Gun play/Gun kink: Another one that's obvious. He'll use his gun as both a show of power and a sex toy. You might see him threaten you with his gun too if you've upset him. He'll tell you that he owns you and that's why he has all of you in his hands. It's a psychological game that he loves. If you're submissive, you'll practically be drooling at his power. If that's the case, he'll become more obsessed with you.

Hunter/Prey: He's fucking good at hunting. It's a twisted game that he'll repeat over and over. It'll be much better if you use the safe word as little as possible. He'll give you time to escape and he'll play psychological games with you, saying scathing words and phrases to you. He'll find you every time and take what's coming to him. You might get too dirty if he wants to play it out in a forest.

Exhibitionism: He'll definitely fuck you before he ends someone's life. He'll do it in front of them and put on the best show. It's much better if the person watching you is attracted to you. That scenario is the one he likes the most. It's addictive for him to humiliate someone who can never have you. It's one of his many twisted fantasies.

Alex DeLarge

If I'm honest, I could have written something worse x2. Let's see, it's clear what his kinks are; among them, there is noncon. But in my analysis I doubt he does this to his partner, but this is not out of respect or anything like that, the real reason is that he needs to keep you by his side and for you to see him as your leader willingly and to follow his wishes always. For that, he needs to avoid you hating him. Therefore, he will not force you. The only scenario in which I see him doing this is if he no longer wants anything with you and needs to end the relationship somehow or you rebel against him like his droogs did. That said, his kinks:

Gangbang: Yes, he is a possessive man and all that. But, listen, give me a chance. He, at the beginning of meeting you, will not be attached to you enough to prevent this perversion from coming to light. I definitely see him being a jerk and he will definitely tell you that to enter his group you will have to sleep with everyone. I can see this happening in the first few months. Obviously none of them are detail-oriented or anything like that. Afterwards, when Alex becomes attached to you, it will no longer happen, because you will be his property.

Deep throat: If he hears you gag, it's better. He doesn't need you to try hard to limit it. He wants to hear how you struggle to take him. He needs to see the tears running down your cheeks. He needs to feel your throat every time he goes deep inside you. He won't even apologize. He'll like it when your throat hurts afterwards.

Exhibitionism: Another one that is obvious, but is a must. He needs to have sex with you in front of many people. He needs them to see how he gives you pleasure, how everyone envies him. He wants everyone to want to have you but no one can, to look at your body with morbidity, but to never be able to have you. He needs to see the look of disgust on conservative people's faces. It's his ultimate fantasy.

Kurt Kunkle

Angry sex: This will happen often. He always does what he wants and gets absolutely careless with you. So you'll be angry for a long time and the best way to let it out is by having angry sex with him. It's the only way, as he won't listen to reason and will keep doing whatever he wants. Hit him, degrade him and make fun of him. He'll let you do whatever you want. He'll laugh if you're too cruel.

Cam sex: This isn't even surprising. He'll be turned on by fame, so it will turn him on to have sex in front of a lot of people watching. He'll keep his followers happy, so he'll tell you anything they suggest he tell you. So you'd have to be pretty shameless to be with him, as you might come off pretty degraded and pretty much everyone will see you as just a sex toy for entertainment.

Sexting: They'll do this a lot too. He can't be physically with you all the time. So, in his free time he will write you dirty messages and expect you to reply immediately. If you don't, he will get upset and jealous, thinking that you are with someone else. If this happens, the sexting will become more aggressive.

Sweetly Slasher (Quinn from the time jump, obviously, from the time cut movie)

Again it cracks me up, because nobody knows this one, but oh well since I'm including unknown slashers, give me your best suggestions for movie slashers that are not included in this list so I can include them and make the list of slashers longer lol.

Dumbification kink: He is literally a genius who was rejected by a girl; so I think he will continually treat you like you are a fool, it's his way of dealing with the situation (apart from the murder, obviously). And in sex that will intensify much more. He wants to overstimulate you and make you unable to respond with anything coherent. He'll say you're his favorite fool and expect you to act like it. He will manipulate you too much to make you do the things he wants you to do and pretend to praise you at the end.

Power play: I don't know if it's really a conventional kink, but I add it because it's in character. This goes hand in hand with the previous kink. He will put you at a disadvantage on multiple occasions, as he constantly needs to make you and himself understand that he is in control of you. So he will literally make all the decisions. He knows your limits and your tastes perfectly, so he always tends to get it right.

Sex toys: He is usually very busy, so he will play with you from a distance with the help of sex toys. He will order you not to move or do anything that could distract or bother him. Just focus on the sensation he is giving you through the toys. If you behave well, he might pay attention to you.

Brahms

Vouyerism: This kink has come up quite a bit, but it is impossible not to add it to Brahms. He will constantly watch you from behind the walls. He will watch you change clothes, bathe, pleasure yourself. He will watch you all the damn time. You would practically be his entertainment and his desire for you will increase much more as he gets to know your habits and your body.

Objectification: After he watches you for a long time, he will see you as an object. It is inevitable. You are the object of his desires. Made for him. That is why if you do not react the same, things will not be easy for you. You are supposed to agree with everything he says. You are supposed to be his alone and belong to him. He will convince you sooner or later and when he does, he will make the mistake of looking at you as his sexual object every time. You will have to be strong to be able to control him.

Overstimulation: He will like it when you overstimulate him. He wants to cum over and over again for you. He likes you to try to make him cry because he is so hypersensitive. He will beg you to make him cum over and over again. It does not matter how much it hurts or how much he cries. He also likes to feel like your toy. Just play with him.

[calmcoldevening]

hello, I was wondering if you could a Vincent x reader were the reader normally doesn't sleep very good. Like they go a few days with getting very little sleep like, 2-3 hours. Then the next day after those few days they will sleep for hours on end. So pretty much a Vincent x reader with a bad sleeping schedule.

Thank you if do this! Have a good day and take care of yourself.

I'm back, yeah. Sorry for the long waiting, I just needed some time. But now I'm gonna write again

(;

Vincent Sinclair x reader with a bad sleeping schedule

• Vincent is very upset about your sleep problems, so he will try to make it easier for you in every possible way. He knows by himself how much it drains the body, after all, he stays in the basement for a long time without eating or sleeping. But it's a different story with you. He doesn't want your body to feel the same way.

• The man will try to make your bedroom as cozy as possible so that you feel comfortable and safe. A night light with soft light, soft clean sheets and a comfortable pillow. He can also buy you a special night light with colored light or a starry sky effect to lull you to sleep.

• In the late afternoon, Vincent makes you warm tea or milk to make you more sleepy. A small snack wouldn't be bad either. What about chocolate chip cookies or sweet marshmallows?

• If necessary, he will spend much more time with you before returning to the basement when you fall asleep.

• Vincent will give you a warm candlelit bath and use scented oil. Lavender oil will become your real best friend. Vincent has very strong and skillful hands, trained over years of working with wax, so he can do a very good massage. This man will massage your back or neck to reduce tension.

• He may also try to play some quiet music for you on one of the players Lester brought. The sounds of rain or the sound of waves can help you fall asleep.

• If sleep still doesn't come, Vincent will stay in bed with you for as long as you need it. He will hug you while you lie on his chest; his soft heartbeat is like a lullaby under your cheek. The man will gently stroke your hair, and from his chest comes a slight murmur and purr. It may be difficult for him to speak, but he can still hum a lullaby for you. The soft vibration of his chest is soothing.

• Every time you fall asleep for a long time after a few days of poor sleep, Vincent will make sure that you have everything you need. He will put a comfortable pillow under your head and cover you with a blanket. If you fall asleep on the couch, he will certainly take you back to the bedroom. He will also leave a glass of water or a box of your favorite juice on the bedside table on your side, as well as some small snack.

• Vincent constantly checks that there are pills in your bedside table in case you wake up with a headache, and mints so that you can feel better.

[suwann-11]

I obsessed over him again 😔😔

[cami040405]

Told you I’d get annoying in here >:) anyways, can I request Michael, Bo, and Brahms with a fem!s/o that talks like, a lot a lot, and gets really insecure about it sometimes so she just goes quiet? Very much a comfort thing needed :p if not then it’s totally okay!

THANK YOU SM FOR ANSWERING MY OTHER TWO REQS BTW, THEY WERE WONDERFUL <3

Michael Myers, Bo Sinclair and Brahms Heelshire with a Talkative S/O (SEPARATE)

Summary: Imagine Michael Myers, Bo Sinclair and Brahms Heelshire with a Fem! S/O who talks a lot but gets insecure about it sometimes.

A/N: I loved writing this request because I identified with it a lot, I talk a lot sometimes too, so I felt very much like the character, thank you for sending the request, your ideas are great!

Michael Myers

Being with Michael was… strange to most people. You were the girl who talked a mile a minute — whether it was about something you read, your thoughts during a horror movie, or even just wondering aloud if clouds ever felt jealous of each other. People often told you to "slow down" or "quiet down."

But Michael never did.

He wasn’t the type to speak — not even once. And yet, he was always there when you talked. He listened, you could tell. He’d sit with you for hours in total stillness, letting your voice wrap around the silence like a blanket. Sometimes you’d sit at his feet while he cleaned his knife. Sometimes you’d walk through the woods with him beside you, and you’d fill the air with your thoughts while he just listened.

At first, you assumed he just tolerated it — like you were background noise. But over time, little things started to make you question that.

He’d lean in slightly when you were excited. Tilt his head when you were rambling about something obscure. Once, he even handed you a book — not for him to read, but for you to read out loud. He sat there silently while you read three chapters, curled into his side, your voice the only sound in the house.

But even with him… you had your moments. Those creeping thoughts, the ones that told you you were too much — too loud, too annoying, too exhausting. That if he ever wanted peace, it meant without you.

One evening, you were pacing the cabin, rambling about a dream you had, hands flailing as you talked — until you caught yourself. Mid-sentence. You felt that cold wave of self-consciousness hit your chest like a brick.

“I talk too much,” you mumbled, suddenly frozen, heart sinking. “God, I don’t know how you put up with me…”

The silence that followed felt like punishment. You stared at the floor, not daring to look at him. You sat down, curled into yourself, quiet. The room felt bigger when your voice wasn’t filling it.

Michael, still standing in the doorway, just stared at you. His mask revealed nothing — but his body language changed.

He walked over slowly. You didn’t look up until he was kneeling in front of you.

His gloved hand reached out. Gently — so gently — he touched your face, his thumb brushing beneath your eye like he was memorizing your features. He held your gaze, quiet but intense.

You tried to laugh it off, still unsure. “I just… I know I talk a lot. I must get on your nerves sometimes.”

He didn’t speak. But he shook his head, slowly, once. Then twice. With quiet care, he moved behind you on the couch and let you curl into him — big, warm arms wrapping around you like armor.

His hands settled against your stomach. His masked head rested beside yours. You could hear his breathing — slow and steady. He wasn’t leaving. He wasn’t upset. He was anchoring you.

You felt tears prick at your eyes. “I just… don’t want you to think I’m too much.”

Michael leaned forward slightly, and you felt the solid press of his forehead against your shoulder — his version of a kiss. His hand traced slow circles over your arm, over and over, until your breathing matched his.

No words. Just presence. Just comfort. And in that moment, you understood:

Michael didn’t just tolerate your voice.

He needed it.

.

Bo Sinclair

You’d always been a talker — a storyteller, a rambler, a collector of strange little facts and chaotic commentary. At first, you weren’t sure how Bo would react. He had that whole Southern charm going for him, sure, but beneath it was a man made of sharp steel, biting sarcasm, and deep-seated shadows.

But surprisingly? He never shushed you.

Bo liked the sound of your voice. Whether you were sitting on the front steps of the gas station rattling off about some dream you had or pacing around the house going on about a podcast episode, he listened. Not always obviously — he’d still be working on the car, tossing a wrench from one hand to another — but he heard every damn word.

He even started teasing you playfully, tossing out smirks like:

“Ain’t no one ever tell you to breathe between sentences, baby?”

But he’d say it with this softness in his voice. Like he was entertained. Like he genuinely cared.

It was on a quiet afternoon when it happened.

You were curled up on the couch in Bo’s room, legs tucked under you, chattering while he tinkered with something by the window. But mid-sentence, the words caught in your throat. Your mind spiraled.

“Do I sound annoying?”“Maybe I’m just talking too much again.”“He’s probably sick of hearing me ramble.”

And just like that, silence. Bo didn’t turn right away. But he noticed. His shoulders stilled. His hands paused. The air shifted.

He turned slowly, blue eyes narrowing in that way he did when something wasn’t sitting right. “You alright?” he asked, voice low and even.

You managed a small shrug. “Yeah. Just tired.”

That was a lie, and he saw right through it.

“Don’t bullshit me, sweetheart,” he said gently, wiping his hands on a rag. He walked over, crouching in front of you. “You were goin’ a mile a minute a second ago. Now you’re all quiet.” He tilted his head. “What happened in that pretty head o’ yours?”

You bit your lip, eyes dropping to your lap.

“I just… I feel like I talk too much sometimes,” you whispered. “Like I’m annoying or—just too much.”

Bo blinked. And then he looked at you like you’d just insulted yourself in front of him — which, in his mind, you had.

“Too much?” he echoed, almost offended. “Honey, let me tell you somethin’ real clear.”

He leaned in, one hand coming up to rest under your chin, coaxing your gaze back to his.

“You think I’d sit there listenin’ to you talk about those weird little facts, or them stories you spin outta nowhere, if I didn’t want to?” His thumb brushed over your cheek with a gentleness that contrasted every rough edge of him. “Hell, half the time, you’re the only thing keepin’ me sane in this damn place.”

Your breath hitched — eyes glassy, throat tight.

“I like the sound of your voice,” he continued, quieter now. “I like how you light up when you’re tellin’ me somethin’. I like when you forget what you were even sayin’ ‘cause you got so excited.”

He chuckled under his breath, eyes soft. “Drives me crazy in the best kinda way.”

You blinked back the sting of tears, and Bo noticed. He leaned up, kissing your forehead, lingering there for a moment before resting his own against yours.

“You don’t ever gotta quiet down for me, darlin’. Not ever. You go ahead and talk my ear off — I’ll be right here, every time.”

You nodded, sniffling softly, and he gave you that crooked little smirk you loved so much.

Then, with a wink, he muttered,

“Now come on. Tell me the rest of that story about the raccoon with the donut. I was listenin’.”

And just like that, the words started coming again — hesitantly at first, then more freely — and Bo? He just leaned back, arms crossed, watching you like you were the only thing that mattered.

Because to him… you were.

.

Brahms Heelshire

The manor was quiet.

A strange thing, considering how much your voice usually echoed through its old walls. Whether it was humming while organizing the dusty shelves, ranting about something you read, or just talking to Brahms about literally anything, your presence filled the house like sunlight — warm, persistent, and impossible to ignore.

But today? Silence.

You sat curled on the far end of the window bench in the library, knees drawn up under your chin, hands tucked into the sleeves of your cardigan. You were staring out at the garden, not really seeing it, just sinking into your thoughts.

From the hallway, soft footsteps echoed. Brahms emerged from the shadows, face partially covered by his porcelain mask. His gaze drifted across the room—searching—before settling on you.

“Darling?” His voice was cautious.

You didn’t answer right away. Just a small, tired shrug.

He tilted his head. Something was off. You hadn’t spoken to him all morning. No cheerful greeting, no “Brahmsie, did you move my book again?” No rambling about your dreams or the weird crow you saw outside. Nothing.

A quiet Brahms was normal. A quiet you? Not at all.

“Why are you being so… quiet?” he asked, stepping closer.

You hesitated, biting your bottom lip before finally whispering, “I just… I don’t know. I talk too much. I get annoying. I thought maybe you'd enjoy a break.”

The moment those words left your mouth, Brahms froze.

Then, slowly, like he couldn’t quite believe what he heard, he took a step toward you. And then another. His long frame moved with that eerie grace he had — like a wind-up doll, gentle but uncanny.

“You think… I’d want less of you?” he said, voice low. “That I get tired of you?”

You avoided his eyes. “Sometimes I see your face and it’s like… I don’t know. Blank. Or distant. I just overthink, I guess.”

He was beside you now, sinking to his knees in front of the bench. His masked face tilted up to you, gloved hands gently finding yours and tugging them free from your sleeves.

“Blank doesn’t mean bored,” he murmured, voice softer now. “I just get lost in you, that's all. I listen to every word. Even the nonsense. Especially the nonsense. You fill the house. You fill me.”

You blinked. He tugged your hands to his chest, pressing them over his heart.

“When you go quiet,” he said, almost mournfully, “everything feels wrong. Empty. Like the house used to feel before you.”

His grip tightened just a little, as if he thought you might slip away with your silence.

“Say something,” he whispered. “Anything. Say I smell funny. Say you forgot how to spell ‘rendezvous.’ Say I’m a spoiled man-child. I don’t care. Just... don’t go quiet. Not with me.”

You finally laughed—a breathy, watery laugh that escaped your throat before you could stop it. And it lit his whole posture up like a switch had flipped inside him.

“There she is…” he sighed, pulling himself up onto the bench to sit beside you. “I missed your voice, little dove.”

And as you began speaking again — slowly at first, hesitantly, then with growing comfort — Brahms curled around you like ivy, head on your shoulder, arms holding you gently in place, like you were something precious he couldn’t bear to lose.

He didn’t say much else.

He didn’t have to.

His silence said: Talk all you want. You’re never too much for me.

.

[targaryenfelikayt]

headcanons: passing the night. |Boys from horror|

characters: Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, Lester Sinclair, Jason Voorhees, Michael Myers, Thomas Hewitt, Art the clown, Pennywise. wc: 1,630 summary: headcanons about what nights might look like beside some of horror's most terrifying icons — from cold and distant Michael Myers to unexpectedly cuddly Thomas Hewitt. tags/warnings: lots of fluff, romance (as much as possible), nighttime routine. note: how i love these routine headcanons, you should know.

Bo Sinclair.                                                  

He’s the kind of man who can fall asleep anywhere without batting an eye, so when Bo suggests you share the bed before dragging you into it — you might as well be signing a deal with the devil. A devil that’s damn handsome, charming as hell, but utterly oblivious to anyone else’s idea of comfort.

No matter how many times you try to move him — asleep or awake — Bo always ends up sprawling across the middle of the bed like a starfish.

Knowing his lover’s light sleeping habits, Sinclair is willing to allow any liberty: sleep on either side, throw your legs or arms over him, or even treat him like a human pillow and lie right on top go ahead, have fun. He won’t even stir.

But God help you or what’s left of Him after the priest left town in a pine box if you dare get up in the middle of the night. That’ll wake him up, and if he doesn’t hear a very good excuse, he’ll just haul you back under him, curl his body around you like a bear trap, and snore right in your ear.

He does not care if you’re hot, or uncomfortable, or squished. “Sorry, doll, but you’re leaving me no choice,” he’d murmur. Some might find it romantic. But when a grizzly like Bo steals your personal space, it’s mostly just... inconvenient.

Vincent Sinclair.

Catching this waxy fish from his sculptor’s pond is no small feat, he’s utterly consumed by his work, more so than most people can imagine.

He can disappear into the basement and not reemerge for three days — no food, no sleep. That’s the price of genius. And the burden... is mostly yours.

You’ve learned to tell him it's bedtime in a tone that leaves no room for discussion. You turn off the lights in the next room and wait patiently until Vincent finally puts down his tools and follows you to bed.

You might fall asleep in whatever position, but come night, the sculptor always drifts closer and clings tighter. Sometimes he holds on so firmly, it wakes you. Then, with a low, hoarse murmur asking what’s wrong, he’ll kiss whatever bare skin he can reach and stroke your hair until you calm down.

If you didn’t know him well, you might think he’d died, he breathes so silently without the mask.

Morning always starts the same: you wake first, trying to sort out what limb belongs to who is in the knot of bodies and blankets, before slipping out and leaving him to rest. Artists don’t exactly keep normal hours, let the man catch some sleep.

Lester Sinclair.

Lester took a bit from both his older brothers and made it into something uniquely his own. He can fall asleep anytime, anywhere, with anyone simply because it’s bedtime. He might toss you the truck keys and immediately move over to the passenger seat and pass out. No seatbelt, of course, he knows these roads. What for? He’s already snoring.

If you’re at home, he’s always the first one upstairs while you’re still wrapping things up downstairs.

He used to sleep with the dog before you came into his life, but he’s since adapted. If you want, Lexie will curl up at the foot of the bed. If not, she’s got cozy beds in the living room, on the porch, even the bedroom.

Be ready for snoring. This man works hard and barely rests. You can nudge him, but don’t do it too hard, he might get hurt and head to the couch. (Honestly, he prefers you over the dust mites, but he worries about whether he’s being too much.)

It’s hard to remember the last time you saw him well-rested. Oh wait, it was Thanksgiving, when he drank too much with Bo and couldn’t get up the next morning. Even disheveled, Lester looked so heartbreakingly peaceful in sleep.

Jason Voorhees.

You never really got to enjoy him fully when your need for touch crept in. Not because Jason didn’t like affection — he did. But he was never the one to initiate it.

You wanted to cuddle, to curl up beside him. But come nightfall, Jason always went off to patrol the camp, making sure no unwanted guests had wandered in. By morning, when you woke, he was already gone again doing another sweep of the grounds.

A hundred thoughts ran through your head: maybe he just wanted to keep things secure, maybe he needed control… or maybe he was afraid to let you see him without the mask.

Everything changed one summer day. You dozed off by the lake, drowsy from the sun, and when you woke, Jason was still there, unmoving, silently keeping watch.

After that, he started coming back earlier. And in the mornings, he lingered a little longer, waiting for you to wake up, understanding that in those quiet moments, you needed him just as much as he needed you.

On especially hot days, Jason would lie down beside you, acting as your own personal cooling system — machete in one hand, the other slipped under your head. Just… make sure he never mixes them up.

Michael Myers.

Michael either goes to bed in the dirty clothes he wore all day (if you're lucky, they're not bloodstained), or completely naked. There's no in-between with this man — nor does he consider any alternatives. Why bother? He's perfectly comfortable either way.

If you manage to convince him to shower before bed, it’ll only be if you join him. You can even scrub his back with a floral body wash, he doesn’t really care about scents.

Sleeps like a corpse, arms straight at his sides. He gets annoyed when you throw your legs over him, it disturbs his already fragile sleep. But he also refuses to sleep elsewhere, so you’re left finding creative compromises.

One night, seemingly out of nowhere, he brings you a pregnancy pillow, the most comfortable thing you’ve ever used.

Everyone’s content. Everyone’s happy. And on the rare nights when you’re sick or not feeling well, he taps into a hidden reservoir of affection, doling out careful, measured touches.

Thomas Hewitt.

At first, Thomas was terrified to share a bed with you. You scared him more than a loaded gun pointed at his face. He knows how to handle weapons, not delicate girls, he might have a crush in his sleep.

If there had been any books about human relationships in the house, he would’ve devoured them in a couple of nights. But the shelves only held trashy romance novels, basic crime thrillers, and not a single piece of classic literature.

He usually naps in the basement, but at night he comes upstairs to guard your sleep from the other housemates. You picked Cerberus and turned him into a house-trained puppy who melts under your care.

Some nights, the fear of his own strength fades, like when you have nightmares and he rocks you gently in his arms, stroking your hair before lying down next to you.

To help you feel safe, he even moves the bed so one side touches the wall. That way, your body is nestled between the bricks and its broad back.

And of course, he installs a bolt on the door from the inside.

Art the Clown.

It’s hard to say if he even needs to sleep, but Art is more than happy to pull out a black-and-white striped pajama set and make the bed like he’s playing house.

His bedtime routine plays out like the start of a bad joke — pulling knives, axes, a bloody costume, and a lonely shoe from under the bed. Then, seeing your horrified expression, he sheepishly shoves it all back in place.

He prefers to sleep with his head on your chest like it’s the softest pillow in the world or curled up on your stomach, perfectly content.

He suffers from what you call "bedtime hyperactivity", he can’t settle down, pokes your side to check if you're asleep, readjusts his pillow, changes position every few seconds.

Eventually, you give up and let him do whatever he wants, if he lets you sleep. At first, he finds ways to keep himself occupied… but that doesn’t last long. One night, your eyes adjust to the darkness, and you spot him standing in the doorway like a guilty child, pillow in one hand, the other gesturing desperately to let him back under the covers.

Pennywise.

This clown has a habit of falling asleep next to you in different shapes, which pretty much sums up your bizarre relationship.

No matter how many times you ask him to just stick with his human form (or at least the clown — just don’t look at him at night), Pennywise always listens… and does the exact opposite.

“Since when you have a ginger cat?”, your friend asks as she turns to leave. You glance at the stairs and spot a smug feline face watching from above. He swishes his fluffy tail dramatically as he struts past, and you’re forced to spin some tale about feeding stray animals and how this one just won’t leave.

He only falls asleep with you, the moment your breathing evens out, he vanishes into the shadows. It would be a waste not to use such a perfect opportunity to snack.

But mornings are reserved for human form, he senses the gentle warmth radiating from your sleepy self and doesn’t want to scare you… well, maybe just a little.

Expect naked strutting and elaborate breakfast trays in bed. Pennywise is still adjusting to being “one of you,” so give him free rein to try all the weird things he’s seen on TV. Maybe a few of them will even grow on you.

[k1ng-ej]

vincent often makes you pose so he can draw you. you’re stuck in awkward positions for a few hours while he studies and memorizes your body to draw. he notes all of your curves, the slight dip in your hips, a few long scars that line your back and your thighs. he briefly wonders how you got them, and plans to ask you later if you’re comfortable sharing. he makes sure to add the barely noticeable freckles across your face, and the birthmark that was so delicately placed on your jawline.

vincent is very satisfied with his work, he thinks he has captured you perfectly in his drawing, and he is excited to show you. you’re glad to finally be able to move and stretch. your heart flutters in your chest when he shows you the drawing, to see how someone else views you through their eyes feels surreal, you are so used to seeing yourself through mirrors, or cameras, that you overlook details about yourself that vincent didn’t. you didnt notice the tiny freckles on your collarbone, or the small moles on your mid back. you were sure vincent had memorized all these physical details about you. he already had your favorite foods and drinks memorized, he knew what toppings on pizza you preferred, how many ice cubes you liked to have in your drinks. he was a man that paid close attention to detail, but that wasn’t surprising given how he made such beautiful but intricate wax sculptures, he was talented, and you praised him every day for that.

he was also very caring toward you, a trait his brother, Bo, didn’t exactly possess. vincent always made sure to include you in things so you wouldn’t feel left out, he would let you draw in his sketch book, something he didn’t even let his brother touch— for some reason. you’ve looked through his sketches, and found nothing bad, so you weren’t sure why he guarded it so much. if anything, his sketches were beautiful, you even found a few he did of you, and you could easily tell that he did these on a whim when sitting near you. they weren’t as detailed as others, just a quick something to busy his hands, or maybe he just wanted to capture your face in that moment.

vincent loved you dearly, and you could feel it through his actions and words… or letters. that was another thing he did. late at night, when he was left with nothing but his thoughts, he would write you heartfelt letters explaining all of the traits he loved about you. these letters were often multiple pages, to make up for all of the things he doesn’t say.

in conclusion, he is an amazing partner, and you love everything about him, and everything that comes with being with him, which includes his brother, who can be a bit mean sometimes, but you’ve learned not to take it to heart.

[kiss-theggoat]

Gonna need a part two where the slashers realize their s/o is alive >:’(

Slashers Fix You Up

Slashers Included: Thomas Hewitt, Billy Loomis, Stu Macher, Asa Emory, Michael Meyers, The Sinclair Brothers

TW: Violence and Gore

Thomas Hewitt:

The wound to your stomach was deep. It tore through deep tissue and muscle, but lucky for you, Thomas knew exactly what to do.

Not only had he been stabbed like that, but he’d become really good at sewing and stitching up human skin.

You woke up, feeling groggy, but immediately recognized the basement you were in. You laid on Tommy’s workbench, shirt off and torso numb.

When you looked down you saw Thomas hunched over you, huge hands trying hard to delicately sew you up, fingers covered in your blood.

You whispered to him, and you could’ve sworn you saw his heart skipped a beat. He jumped up, immediately grabbing the side of your face with relief written all over his face, eyes wide and breath heavy. He wouldn’t know what to do with himself if he lost you.

Billy Loomis:

Nothing when like it was supposed to that night. Sydney got away, Stu stabbed him too hard, and the worst of all…he stood above you, watching your blood pool on the hardwood of Stu’s living room.

He bent down, putting pressure on your wound while looking around the room, taking deep breaths and trying to think rationally…he needed to get you out of here. He quickly lifted you, trying to ignore your pained groans. He hated seeing you like this.

The moment he got your arm around his shoulders and your feet on the ground, he heard them…sirens. He was conflicted. Relief washed over him. He knew you’d be getting help soon but…if he didn’t run…Syd would tell them everything. He’d go to jail, be found guilty for murder.

In that moment, he didn’t care. He helped you limp towards the front door, pushing it open. You’d lost too much blood…you didn’t even realize that Billy was sacrificing himself to save your life.

Stu Macher:

Stu watched his entire world fall apart when Billy stabbed you. He watched you fall, holding your gushing stomach, blood seeping from between your fingers.

He rushed to your side, hands covering your wound as he laid you back onto the ground.

“Just look at me. Don’t worry, keep looking at me.” He refused to let you look at your wound. He didn’t want you to be scared about how hurt you were. He lifted your hands to inspect your wound…he sighed in relief.

“It’s okay baby…the bleeding is slowing down…you’re gonna be okay…”

Asa Emory:

Asa never expected you to fall into one of his traps. He was beating himself up about it, but there was no time. He lifted you onto his operating table, covering your entire body with gauze.

He started slow, sutures and thread in his precise hands. You were covered in deep wounds, caused by rusty nails…he whispered his apologies, holding one hand as he poured antiseptic over you. It burned, it was unbearable…but you trusted him.

He carefully sewed each wound with a single suture, making sure to reassure you and stop the bleeding whenever it happened. It took him hours, but nothing would stop him from fixing you. Fixing your skin, fixing his love.

Michael Meyers:

For the first time in his entire life, he felt guilt. He felt a storm of emotions, but as he stared at your knife wound- the one his dumbass caused…- he knew it wouldn’t kill you. He’d never felt so terrible and so relieved in his life.

He quickly scooped you up, carrying you into the bathroom with shaking fingers. His hands had never shaken before…

He slammed open your medicine cabinet, hard enough to crack the glass, and popped open the first aid kit, sending gauze and band-aids onto the bathroom floor. You’d patched him up plenty of times so it should be easy…right?

Six butterfly bandages, four bandaids, and two complete rolls of gauze later, you felt like you might be suffocated by the first-aid supplies but…he’d tried his best. And, you weren’t bleeding anymore.

Sinclair Brothers:

The blow to the face had broken your eyebrow and sliced your skin, and the fall to the floor left you with a concussion and a sprained wrist. Vincent carried you downstairs gently, knowing he had the supplies to fix you up in his workshop.

All three brothers stayed by your side, and you were never alone over the course of the next week, especially while you were sleeping, until your concussion headache finally went away.

Your face was bruised and swollen and it hurt like nothing else you’d experienced, especially the cut on your eyebrow.

But, every morning when you walked downstairs, you received a kiss on the eyebrow from each Sinclair brother, and they all treated you like you were made of porcelain, even Bo.

[callie-the-creator]

the sinclair brothers’ reactions to you getting nipple piercings

mild nsfw. mdni. warnings: suggestive content, nipple piercings, etc.

author’s note: i tried to write the reader as gender-neutral as possible.

bo sinclair

• once you lifted your shirt up, bo’s jaw dropped to the floor as his eyes widened. he was still in his work getup — did you do this when he was gone? he had so many questions…but, it didn’t take bo long to shake his initial shock and replace it with his smirk

• he thinks your new piercings are hot as fuck and even made you all the more attractive. hell, he didn’t even think such a thing was possible!

• bo immediately tossed all his stuff to the closest chair and walked over to you where he moved his calloused hands up from your hips to right under your chest

• even though he likes to admit to it, bo can be quite the charmer at times. so, after he did this, bo started to shower you in compliments and as he did, lowered himself onto his knees as his hands rested on your as, like you were some deity

• all of this was a pleasant surprise, just what he needed actually, and bo cannot wait to see more of your piercings, especially in the bedroom

vincent sinclair

• he first thought you accidentally got hurt, so he came rushing to your side to help you out, only to have you you explain to him what they were

• he was, at first, confused. sure, vincent has seen a few piercings in his time because of the wax statues he makes…but…he’s never seen any that were on someone’s nipples

• when asked if he understood, vincent simply nodded his head as he moved closer to inspected your new piercings until his chest was almost touching yours

• he outstretched his hands, but didn’t touch you right away. instead, vincent glanced between your nipples, to your eyes, back down to your piercings, asking for permission. with a laugh, you gave him exactly that

• vincent made sure to be especially gentle with you as he caressed the sides of your chest, his rough and large hands slowly creeping closer to your nipples before stopping when he got close to the piercing. he didn’t want to touch them since there was a chance you were sore, so vincent merely moved his hands around the area, all the while he admired your new jewelry

• he likes them, it’s just going to take some time getting used to them is all…

lester sinclair

• “now, why’d you have to go ‘n do that?” was lester’s question when you told him you had gotten nipple piercings as he drove down the road to the house

• he didn’t want to believe you because of how unlike you it sounded. this must’ve been your way of trying to pull a prank on him…

• he kept denying that you got piercings there until you had enough of the bickering and lifted up your shirt, prompting lester to do a double-take at the sight of your new jewelry

• his breath was taken away and he was left speechless. he cleared his throat as he turned his attention back on the road whilst you pulled down your shirt to cover yourself up

• the drive to the house was mostly quiet

- that is, until lester parked his truck

• just as when you were going to hop out of the truck, lester stopped you by calling out your name, so you hesitated and looked back at him quizzically, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t somewhat upset with him

• “can i, uh…see ‘em again?”

[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.

[capybar00stash]

vincent doodles

i'll mostly be posting doodles for now, i had an idea to draw #mouthwashing stuff but maybe later on.

[dreamerimpossible]

Slasher Reaction When You're Not Interested In Sex

Warnings: +18 content, manipulation, obsession, unhealthy relationships, dark content, there is a hint of non-con in Art the Clown and Alex DeLarge (are you surprised?), angst, mentions of infidelity in some.

Characters: Michael Myers, Chucky, Billy Loomis, Stu Macher, Patrick Bateman, Hannibal Lecter, Vincent Sinclair, Jason Voorhees, Leatherface, Art The Clown, Jason Dean, Alex DeLarge, Kurt Kunkle, Brahms.

Michael Myers

Does he really care about that stuff? I feel like you'd have to actively provoke him to get him interested in having sex with you. If you don't bring out that side of him, he won't care. Seriously, he doesn't care. It's quite likely that he won't even care whether or not you want to have sex. He'd rather have you have a bad side that you can't control, something that makes you more like him than anyone else. He'll enjoy that badness and chaos. Sex takes a backseat.

Chucky (Human Version)

I honestly don't think it would work. However, if he really wants to keep you for himself, you'll have to agree to let him have sex with other people. In that case, I think it would work. He'll try to convince you anyway, but he won't force you if you say no. But you'll probably fight, because he'll think it's personal and that you have something against him, and then you'll have an argument that escalates and you'll end your relationship in the worst way. After that they'll get back together and then break up again. And so on. Although, if we're being honest, that scenario is going to happen either way (Chucky is toxic).

Billy Loomis

Okay, he will. But he'll be very manipulative; he'll push you all the time about it, and it'll be much worse if you know he's Ghostface since he might threaten you, and his manipulations will be much worse than if he was pretending to be a good boyfriend. I think you'd eventually agree, but he'll get used to you giving it to him, and it'll be much worse when you say no. I think he wouldn't force you physically, but he'll pretty much use psychological manipulation to get you to do what he wants from you, which is still forcing.

Stu Macher

If you're just another low-level conquest, he'll cheat on you or leave you for someone else. If you're someone special, he'll stick with you even though he gets frustrated. He could be very loyal if you push his weaknesses correctly without Billy finding out. He will insist that you have sex with him in a silly way, acting innocent and playful, but you will be able to see his disappointed and upset face when you say no. However, if you play your cards right, I think he might continue with you without cheating on you; but you have to manipulate him, which will make your relationship even more toxic, but at this point…who cares?

Patrick Bateman

Tough scenario for you. If he thinks you are a person worthy of him, but you just happen not to want to have sex as often as he does, he will overlook that little flaw of yours. However, that doesn't mean it will be good. He wants you to admire him, to be the center of his life, to moan his name loud enough for everyone to hear. If he doesn't feel that way in the sexual realm as well, he will end up cheating on you with other people, but he will keep you by his side selfishly.

Hannibal Lecter

He doesn't care. Just give him control over you in all the other areas of your life. Give him the pleasure of watching you break down to the point of questioning your own morals and life choices. Make him play with your mind and show him your reactions. Tell him everything that happens to you so he can see if he can use it in some way. Give him a challenge and keep him entertained with your conversations. Provide him with a context that leaves him in euphoria and maximum exaltation. If you can do that…who needs sex?

Vincent Sinclair

He will be slightly disappointed, but he will respect you. He will not treat you differently or anything like that. He will not cheat on you or betray you in any way either. He will be very frustrated if Bo finds out and starts bothering him, but it is nothing he cannot handle. Other than that, I don't see any other problems. He cares more about your loyalty and that you follow the orders imposed on you. That's all.

Jason Voorhees

The best scenario for him. It will be much better if you do not want to have sex ever. He likes not having to fight those instincts that disturb him greatly. It's not even going to be brought up; just tell him you're not interested, and the subject will be forgotten as if it never even existed. This doesn't change your relationship at all. In fact, I think it will be better, because for Jason you won't be an unwanted temptation for him, so he won't have two opposing thoughts about you to deal with.

Leatherface

It's okay; he'll understand. He won't force you or anything like that. He won't treat you differently either. I don't think he cares about those things, if I'm honest. He's more focused on his family and loyalty. And that includes you too. He asks that you get along with his family and be okay with what they do. That you don't have a problem, basically.

Art the Clown

He doesn't care in the conventional way. But if he finds out that the subject is sensitive for you, he will use it against you. So it's best not to let it show or say anything to him, because this man is a fucking madman who enjoys other people's pain (you know that). If you don't say it, the subject will go unnoticed for a long time. If Art ever feels sexual desire towards you and wants to have sex with you, he will simply take you and use you. Seriously, he won't ask questions. He sees you as his toy.

Jason Dean

For him not to care, you would have to be crazy like him. In that case, he will overlook it, because he will believe that something as crude as sex does not have to hinder a love as perfect as yours. I think that at first he will feel personally offended by your refusal; he will try to explain to you that he feels rejected. If you explain it sincerely, he will understand and will not insist further. But he will use it against you in arguments to get you to give him more attention and spend more time with him, claiming that he does a lot of things for you.

Alex DeLarge

Uh… no. He wouldn't take you seriously if you didn't want to have sex as much as he does. He likes sex quite a bit; he's not going to give that up. I think he might keep you around if you like ultraviolence and enjoy it as much as he does. I don't think he'll leave behind a person to help him and follow his orders. But you two can't be a couple; it just wouldn't work. He'll actively try to provoke you into falling for it. In your case, it would be much more fun if you gave it to him consensually, because that would mean he has complete control over you and can make you do things he wants of your own free will. However, if he doesn't want you around him because he's not interested in you in any way other than sexually… then things get darker. We already know his tendencies.

Kurt Kunkle

If he doesn't feel rejected, he doesn't care. If he feels rejected, the relationship will be more toxic. He is manipulative and obsessive. He wants you to admire and love him; if he feels that you dislike him sexually, he will not force you, but he will be excessively controlling, and you will argue a lot. He uses it to victimize himself. There will come a point where he becomes a nuisance to you. On the other hand, if he does not feel rejected, that is fine; he will be toxic in other aspects of the relationship.

Brahms

He will take it personally, no matter what you tell him. He will manipulate you, and it will be emotionally draining for you. You will probably agree on several occasions to get him to shut up, or you will end up manipulating him with sex to obey you. He will obey you every time if you offer him sex. He would like to resist, but he is too hungry for contact and needs to feel the sensation.

[calmcoldevening]

Slashers x child!reader [PLATONIC]

Characters: Thomas Hewitt, brothers Sinclair, Mark Hoffman

Tw: mention of murdering, violence, drinking

Thomas Hewitt

• You came to the Hewitts almost as a baby, you were the child of one of the victims. Surprisingly, you were left behind. Or rather, Luda stood up for it, she couldn't let them kill such a baby. Besides, she was always ready to take a new child under her wing again if he needed it.

• Thomas was a little confused, he couldn't figure out if he liked you or not. In general, he always wanted a family and children, but he knew that he would not have it because of his appearance and lifestyle. And so you came into his life.

• At first, he will be very hesitant about spending time with you in principle. He's just afraid of breaking you with your fragile baby bones. Besides, Thomas is not sure how to react to your frequent screams and tantrums, it pisses him off a little.

• Over time, he will really get used to you. A man will hold you in his arms most of the time if he is not busy working in the basement. Thomas will hold you tightly to his chest, clutching the diapers you were wrapped in, and looking down at you with warmth and love.

• Even if you screamed a lot when you saw Thomas's face, you always calmed down. It warmed his soul very much.

• The only problem was the food, because you were obviously very small and had to be breastfeed. Fortunately, there was enough dry mix in that victim's bag for the first time. Then Hoyt had to drive around the city.

• Thomas was very protective of you, always watching over you and taking care of you. You literally didn't get off his hands, constantly clinging to his clothes and long hair. He didn't mind. A man often kissed you on the forehead, gently stroking your tiny cheeks with his big hand. He loved hugging you so much and he was glad that you liked it too. Thomas's hands were carefully dressing you and washing your fragile little body. He never hurt you, not in any way.

• Thomas made a baby cot for you, which was in his room. Although you often liked to sleep with him. At such moments, you would unsteadily stand on your baby legs and stretch out your arms in his direction. The man's heart sank. He gently took you out of the cradle and put you next to him, hugging you protectively. You cooed and smiled as you fell asleep in comfort.

• Thomas was very happy about your first steps. It was difficult and slow, but he patiently sat on the floor two meters away from you and waited, arms outstretched in an embrace for you. When you finally found some kind of balance, you walked slowly towards him, giggling happily. You hugged him tightly. The man almost cried, watching the formation of his baby.

• He was looking forward to your first words, hoping that you would actually talk, unlike him. At first it was a strange babble of children. Thomas was almost sure that you would call Luda mom, even though the thought of it hurt him. When you said the awkward 'Dada', he started crying. Thomas hugged you tightly to him, kissing your baby face and body. God, you were so sweet, so precious. He felt such a pleasant warmth in his chest when you called him daddy, your daddy. Thomas thought he would die of happiness on the spot. Now you were his little ray of light, his child.

Brothers Sinclair

• You were the victim's child. Lester found you in the backseat of the car. He awkwardly picked you up and pulled you out of the car. He was the youngest brother in the family, so he understood absolutely nothing about children, he understood at most that what needed to be taken care of, for example, like a dog.

• Lester brought you to the Sinclair house. Vincent was in the workshop, and Bo was sitting on the couch, with his feet on a small table in front of the sofa, and enjoying drinking beer. The appearance of Lester, and even with a child, greatly strained him. Really, what should he do with such a baby? You didn't look more than five months old. Considering his childhood, Bo hated children, although he could take some care, after all, he participated in Lester's upbringing, one way or another. And it was still quite a big shock for him. There wasn't a single woman in town who could tell them what to do with you, the men were confused. When you woke up, you started screaming and crying. You were scared that your mom wasn't there. Rude men terrified you even more. I wanted to hide somewhere, but you couldn't do anything.

• The situation only improved when Vincent arrived. He was the most gentle and understanding of all the brothers. Vincent grabbed you out of Bo's rough hands with a little alarm, hugging you to him and stroking your head. Bo just rolled his eyes and went into the kitchen. You snuggled up to Vincent, feeling safe at last. You weren't crying anymore, but you were whimpering softly against his chest. You were scared and hungry. You clutched a man's clothes in your little fists, wanting to be comforted and cared for.

• Vincent, like the others, didn't know much about children. But unlike his brothers, Vincent was naturally quite sensitive and kind, he could not leave the child to these jerks. The man pressed you against his warm sweater, giving you peace of mind. He gently stroked your little body, checking for wounds or damage. Your diaper was full. Not the most pleasant part. Maybe you were really too scared. Vincent asked Lester to go back to that car and bring everything there that could be useful for the child. There was a whole bag of toys and baby food, as well as enough diapers and some clothes.

• Vincent immediately bathed you and gently changed your diaper and clothes. Then he fed you from a bottle. It was a little awkward, but he liked to see that you finally felt calmer. You were lying in his arms, making baby noises and greedily swallowing milk. Your eyes were red and swollen from crying. The man hugged you protectively, stroking your little tummy.

• In total, Vincent took care of you. He fed you, dressed you, and bathed you. Lester used to play with you a lot. Bo didn't pay much attention to you, he just went to the city to buy children's things.

• As you grew up, you started spending more time in Vincent's basement. You saw him without a mask and so gently grabbed his scarred cheeks with your soft baby hands, it made him cry. He now had a small cot in his workshop with lots of pillows and blankets. This is where you played while he was working. A man made you wax toys that you really liked. He even taught you how to sculpt wax yourself. Now you had your own little collection of wax ducks. You called Vincent Dad. When you did it the first time, he cried, hugging you tightly to him. Although Bo is sometimes very jealous of your brother, because Bo is just an uncle to you.

• You've become very friendly with their dog, Jesse. Jesse always protects you from the next visitors to the city.

• They tried to pick you up a couple of times. Once it was a married couple. The woman held you tightly in her arms, saying that these people in the city are monsters, and that she will become your mother and take care of you. You threw a tantrum asking Dad to come over. The couple almost ran out of town until Bo shot them in the back of the head. Vincent pulled you out of the dead woman's tight grip and held you close, stroking your hair. You cried and squeezed his neck, asking Dad not to leave you anymore.

• In general, you are a child who grew up in cruelty, but the Sinclairs themselves never raised a hand against you. You were cared for and loved. Bo especially loved giving you a lot of gifts. So you've grown up to be a mentally healthy child with them.

Mark Hoffman

• You turned out to be the child of his dead sister. At first, it even hurt a man to look at you because you looked so damn much like your mother. But he understood the responsibility. Mark realized that you are the only thing he has left of his sister. Besides, you didn't have any relatives anymore, and the man didn't want to take you to the orphanage. So he took custody of you.

• It was difficult. Mark was already tired with his job, so taking care of the child only added to his stress. But he tried. For you. For his sister's sake.

• When you were still young enough, a man often left you alone at home, even though he understood that it was unsafe. At that moment, his depression reached its peak, and he simply did not see any other way out. He started drinking. The man spent almost every evening at the bar, getting drunk to unconsciousness. It was after midnight when he returned home. Mark came into the apartment, heading to his bedroom, and your face greeted him. Your chubby baby cheeks were red and wet with tears, but as soon as you saw Mark, a slight smile blossomed on your face. You were already standing freely in your cradle, so when the man entered the room, you desperately stretched out your arms to him, muttering an inarticulate 'dada'. It broke a man's heart. In an instant, the intoxication was gone, and his whole being was filled with a vile sense of guilt. You were afraid to be alone, afraid of being abandoned again, and he was so brazenly leaving you alone in an empty dark apartment. But Mark couldn't help himself, he was in pain too. And so it is almost every day.

• When you went to kindergarten, he often picked you up later than everyone else. Fortunately, your teacher was a good woman and spent time with you personally, playing together. You were a smart and funny kid, but you still had trouble speaking, you didn't speak. Perhaps the fact that your 'dad' never responded to your attempts to talk to him because of your abilities influenced you.

• One day Mark got off work a little early, hoping to pick you up. He was standing in the hallway in front of your kindergarten room, his hand on the door handle. He saw you laughing while playing with the tutor in the playroom. You threw your arms around her neck and joyfully shouted "Mommy!". It broke Mark's heart. He was such a bad father, such a bad guardian. You drove home in silence this evening. Already at home, you didn't understand why Mark was so sad. You tried to hug him or ask for his hands, but the man just looked away. When he put you to bed, he knelt in front of your bed. The man took your little palms in his hands, kissing them gently. Tears were streaming down his cheeks.

"She's not your mommy... I know I made a mistake, but she's not your mom. Please.. don't do that anymore. I'll get better. I'm really going to get better. I treated you badly, I understand, but.. But I can't help myself. I miss her too, your mom.. the real mom..."

• You didn't quite understand what he was saying, but you leaned closer and put your arms around his neck. Mark hugged you convulsively, pulling you tightly to him and burying his nose in your hair.

• It got a lot better after that. Mark tried to drink less and spend more time with you. He took you to the park, amusement park, cinema and cafe. Now he knew the names of the characters in your favorite cartoons and bought you toys with them. The man bought you a lot of sweets and just treated you gently.

• "I want a balloon... Daddy!" Mark looked down at you and a pleased smile spread across his face when you first called him that. His chest was filled with warmth. He found a reason to keep living.

[suwann-11]

My favorite boy :33

[cami040405]

Since you have officially become my like, number one slasher writer for my manzs Michael and Bo:

Could you pretty pls do Michael, Bo, and whoever you would like to write for with a fem!s/o that looks and acts like a ‘sweetheart’ in a (non republican lol) 50’s housewife type of way but cusses constantlyyy if that makes sense? Like, think Bree from Desperate Housewives with Gordon Ramsay’s profanity, so really sweet but just aggressive about it (I’m sorry if it doesn’t really make sense and feel free to not do it :))

Michael Myers, Bo Sinclair & Charles Lee Ray with a S/O who's a Sweetheart but Swears a Lot

Summary: Imagine Michael Myers, Bo Sinclair & Charles Lee Ray with a S/O who’s very cute and a sweetheart, but has an explosive temper and swears a lot.

A/N: As always your ideas are great, sorry for the delay in responding to requests, this week has been crazy, thank you for always sending requests, I'm always happy to write them.

Michael Myers

“Oh sugar, could you hand me that fuckin’ chainsaw?”

You were a contradiction wrapped in satin gloves.

The first time Michael saw you, you were standing outside your little retro house at the end of a quiet suburban street. The morning sun hit your lemon-yellow dress like a halo, and your lipstick was cherry red — perfect, untouched. You were watering your garden, hips swaying to some old doo-wop song playing faintly from a vintage radio inside.

You looked like you belonged on the front of a Betty Crocker box.

Until you dropped the hose, stepped in the mud, and muttered loud enough for God and the birds to hear:

“Goddamn motherfucker, not these heels again, Christ on a fuckin’ cracker—”

And then, sweet as pie, you looked up and waved at your neighbor with a sunny:

“Good morning, Mr. Owens! Hope your prostate’s treatin’ ya better today!”

Michael stood there in the bushes, frozen. Not stalking you — yet — just... watching. Bewildered. You were both doll-like and chaotic. Sugar-laced thunder.

He kept watching. Days turned into weeks. You vacuumed in heels. You baked cupcakes with little fondant pumpkins on top and left them on porches. You told the paperboy to “be careful on that shitty-ass bike or I’ll be scraping your spleen off the sidewalk,” with the voice of a lullaby. He was obsessed.

You didn’t even flinch the first time you saw him up close.

You came home from grocery shopping to find a six-foot-tall man in a boiler suit and mask standing in your hallway. Most people would scream. You? You just exhaled like you were annoyed and dropped your bag of produce.

“Jesus tapdancin’ Christ, you scared the goddamn soul outta me. You one of them freaks from next door? If you’re gonna kill me, do it fast, I’ve got a roast in the oven and it’ll burn to hell if I don’t baste it in the next twenty minutes.”

He didn’t kill you.

You made him dinner instead.

From that point on, you just… accepted him.

You’d hum old love songs in the kitchen, apron tied tight around your waist, pearl necklace shining against your throat, muttering about the broken mixer like:

“Piece of shit sounds like it’s possessed by a meth head raccoon…”

And Michael? He just loomed in the doorway, silent as a shadow, following the scent of cinnamon and soap and that one perfume you always wore — something old-fashioned and soft. You never demanded anything from him. You didn’t cry, you didn’t run, you didn’t try to “fix” him.

But you did talk to him constantly.

“I made your favorite today, sugar. Meatloaf and mashed potatoes. The potatoes are fluffier than Satan’s ass cheeks, swear to God.”

“I put some more knives in the drawer for you. Good ones. Japanese steel, sharp as hell. Don’t say I don’t treat you right, you giant homicidal marshmallow.”

“If that little bitch Laurie peeks over my hedge one more time, I’m gonna march my ass over there and shove my spatula up her perky little nose.”

Michael never responded. But he stayed. That was his answer.

You weren’t scared of the mask. You even joked about it.

One day you got up in his face while adjusting his collar and whispered,

“You ever wanna try a pastel pink one, baby? I could match it to my oven mitts.”

And then you cackled like it was the funniest thing in the world while he just… stared.

And yet, somehow, your softness reached him. The way you’d gently rub circles on his hand when he sat at the kitchen table. The way you left him little notes like

“Gone to the market. Don’t kill anyone in the living room. ”

You swore like a sailor, but loved like the 1950s housewife you dressed as. Tender, thoughtful, present.

You patched up his wounds without hesitation, gently dabbing antiseptic and muttering,

“Jesus Christ, who put a fuckin’ meat hook through your shoulder? I’m gonna find that bastard and slap ‘em so hard they piss alphabet soup.”

Your touch was gentle even when your words were vicious.

The day he killed someone for you, it was the neighbor who kicked your cat.

You weren’t mad. You just sighed and kissed his jaw, eyes bright with a kind of knowing warmth as you said,

“Aw, baby… you didn’t have to. But hell, that guy was a dick. You want lemon bars?”

And he nodded.

In the end, you became the calm in his storm — even if you swore like the thunder itself. Michael never needed words, and you didn’t need answers. You just needed someone who let you be exactly who you were:

A loving, doting, cupcake-baking, vintage-dressed, profanity-flinging badass with a heart of absolute gold.

And he needed someone who didn’t flinch when he got blood on the floor — someone who just sighed and muttered,

“That better not fuckin’ stain. I just mopped.”

.

Bo Sinclair

When Bo Sinclair first laid eyes on you, he thought he was hallucinating.

You were standing outside your charming little home just outside Ambrose — watering the flowerbeds, your pastel yellow sundress cinched at the waist, matching heels digging into the gravel as you shifted your weight. A vintage kerchief held back your curls, and a string of pearls hugged your neck. A picture-perfect 1950s vision — you even had a cherry pie cooling in the window.

He was halfway through imagining how to flirt with you when you turned, looked him dead in the eye, and called:

“You just gonna stand there like a goddamn creeper or you got somethin' to say, sugar?”

His jaw damn near hit the dirt.

You smiled so sweetly it gave him cavities. The kind of smile that made men forget what day it was. But the voice? You had a tone like a shotgun — all honey and gravel.

Bo didn’t know whether he wanted to date you or put you on a leash.

Bo, being a man of his own… colorful vocabulary, finds your style hilarious and magnetic.

You’ll bake him biscuits, hummin’ along to old vinyls in the kitchen, your frilly apron hugging your curves — and then you burn the second batch and shout:

“MotherFUCKER, I knew I set that damn oven too high, son of a BITCH!”

Bo leans in the doorway and just watches you — beer in hand, shit-eating grin on his face.

“You kiss me with that mouth, darlin’?”

“Damn right I do, sugarplum. You love this fuckin’ mouth.”

He does.

He likes to walk into rooms just to hear what’ll come out of your mouth next. It’s like a sport to him — poke the bear and see what kind of filthy poetry you’ll spit.

You’ll talk about needing to clean the curtains and insult Lester’s entire lineage in the same breath. You’ll lovingly rub Bo’s shoulders while telling him he’s your “big, sexy bastard,” then flip off a tourist from the porch with a fresh batch of lemonade in hand.

You don’t let Bo get away with being a temperamental shit. And that’s what really draws him to you — you challenge him, but in that sexy, playful, Southern-goth way.

“Bo, if you slam that fuckin’ door again, I swear on my mama’s ashes I’ll superglue your dick to a car battery.”

“You gonna wear that sleeveless shit in front of company, darlin’? Or are you tryin’ to start rumors?”

“Boy, I love you more than pie, but if you touch my ironing again, I will throw hands.”

Bo isn’t used to that. He’s used to people being scared of him, tiptoeing around his moods. You? You threaten to shove a wrench up his ass and then kiss his cheek and ask if he wants sweet tea or whiskey.

And what’s worse? It works. He actually listens to you. (Sometimes.)

You're fiercely loyal, despite your loud-ass mouth. If anyone — anyone — says anything sideways about Bo, they’re gonna have a whole lot more than tooth decay to worry about.

You’ve absolutely cornered some poor soul before like:

“Say one more fuckin’ word about my man’s scars and I swear to God I’ll take that spork and carve my name into your eyeball.”

Bo just stands there, arms crossed, biting back a proud smirk while you defend him like a rabid chihuahua in heels.

You're not just sass — you're his protector in your own unhinged, mother-hen way. You patch him up after fights, rub his shoulders when he’s tense, and kiss his jaw like it’s sacred. You tell him he’s handsome even when he’s covered in motor oil or blood.

“You look good, baby. All sweaty like that. Like a filthy mechanic Calvin Klein ad.”

“You need Jesus, sweetheart.”

“What I need is you to bend me over the fuckin’ sink after dinner.”

He chokes on his beer often thanks to you.

Living in Ambrose with you is chaos in pearls.

You clean up the Sinclair house — which Bo doesn’t even realize is possible — in floral gloves and heels, all while calling the dead bodies “inconvenient little fuckers” and the flies “Satan’s tiny bastards.”

You paint the walls pastel and cuss out the wiring.

You host a tea party for yourself, Bo, and Vincent once — complete with scones and the most aggressive table manners known to man:

“Vincent, sweetheart, pass the cream — and Bo, if you scratch your balls at the fuckin’ table again I will knife you in your sleep.”

Bo’s never laughed harder. Vincent hasn’t stopped blinking.

Bo never knew he needed a woman like you — sweet enough to charm anyone, but savage enough to start a war. You keep him grounded, even when you're threatening to “gut-punch God himself if the washing machine breaks again.” He thinks you’re the hottest thing in heels, and no one — no one — gets to talk shit about you without losing a tooth or two.

Bo loves you because you’re wild, loyal, gorgeous, and completely yours.

And when he sees you fixing your lipstick in the mirror, muttering about “those damn tourists ruining your front lawn with their crusty-ass footprints,” he leans in, smirks, and says:

“You’re somethin’ else, sugar.”

“Damn right I am, baby.”

.

Charles Lee Ray

From the second Charles laid eyes on you, he was in love — or as close to love as a scumbag soul trapped in a plastic body could get. There you were, standing in your sunlit kitchen with checkered curtains, a powder-pink apron cinched over your dress, red lipstick perfectly applied, and a frilly headband keeping your victory rolls in place.

It would’ve been a Leave-It-To-Beaver wet dream if it weren’t for the fact you were scrubbing blood off your floor with a mop and muttering:

“Fuckin’ hell, I just waxed this floor yesterday. Asshole couldn’t have died somewhere useful, huh? Like the goddamn backyard?”

And then, as if the universe wanted to seduce Charles specifically, you turned around, smiled at him sweet as peach pie and said:

“Well hey there, sweetheart! You want lemonade, or are you just here to stare at me like a constipated jackrabbit?”

He burst out laughing. Loud, genuine, amused-as-all-hell laughter.

You didn’t flinch. You even giggled, because you knew what you were — a contradiction wrapped in satin gloves and peppermint-scented rage. Charles was used to blood and chaos. What he wasn’t used to was someone matching his energy while wearing kitten heels and pearls.

You were affectionate, sweet, doting — calling him things like “darlin’,” “my little firecracker,” and “handsome devil” while simultaneously using language that would get you banned from network TV. You’d make him a sandwich and say:

“Here ya go, baby. Don’t eat it too fast or you’ll choke like a goddamn dumbass. Love you.”

He adored you. Couldn’t get enough. He never knew whether you were going to kiss him or insult his life choices, and honestly? That was his favorite part.

You had this voice — soft, airy, almost sing-song — and everything that came out of it was horrendously explicit. You’d read cookbooks aloud while replacing every measurement with swear words:

“Two goddamn cups of that floury bullshit… half a fuckin’ teaspoon of baking soda — NOT powder, unless you want it to explode like my ex’s tiny-ass ego…”

Charles would just be there on the counter in doll form, cackling, kicking his little feet while watching you flounce around like a pissed-off Stepford Wife.

You and Charles were murder soulmates. You looked like the type who’d faint at the sight of blood, but no — you were the one snapping the guy’s wrist while Charles stabbed him in the neck.

And every time, without fail, you'd pause mid-murder to scold someone:

“You absolute dickweed — who the hell tries to run in heels? You're making me chase you in my good apron, and I swear to Christ if you get blood on my fuckin' blouse I’m gonna give your corpse a goddamn makeover and parade it around like a prize hog at the county fair.”

It was poetry. It was obscene. Charles would be doubled over laughing while also violently stabbing someone. It was romantic, really.

You kept your home pristine. Pink appliances, floral curtains, vintage everything. But the second something went wrong — toaster didn’t pop, radio signal cut — the cussing started.

“This stupid, limp-dick, crusty-ass bread ruiner of a toaster is testing my goddamn patience!”

Chucky: “I love you so fucking much.”

You once threatened to strangle a Jehovah’s Witness with your phone cord because he insulted your dress length. Another time, you told a nosy neighbor:

“Oh honey, if you spent half as much time worrying about your own pussy as you do about mine, you wouldn’t be getting cheated on every weekend. Want some brownies?”

Chucky was so proud he cried. Actual tears (okay, blood, but still).

What stunned Charles most was that underneath all the murder and swearing, you were incredibly level-headed. You kept him grounded. You could disembowel a guy and still remind Charles to take his medicine or brush blood out of his hair before bed.

You kissed his scars. You never judged the way he looked — even as a doll, you’d sit him on your lap, stroke his fiery red hair, and say:

“You’re my cute little bastard. Don’t care if you’re plastic or not. You still get me wetter than a hurricane, baby.”

He blushed. Chucky actually blushed.

You helped stitch him back together after a fight with Tiffany (who lowkey respected you but also wanted to fight you for being too hot and fun). You two would get drunk together and throw knives at moving targets, taking turns insulting each other:

You: “You throw like your dick’s on backwards.” Chucky: “You flirt like a grandma with dementia.”You: “Still sucked you off better than she did.” Chucky: “...Okay, fair.”

Charles never expected to be happy — truly happy — until you. He was chaos incarnate, a murderer, a soul in a broken doll. But you? You were delightfully unhinged, dressed like a Disney character but cussing out reality like it owed you rent.

And the weirdest thing?

You made him feel safe.

You didn't just tolerate his psychotic tendencies — you embraced them, matched them, outpaced them, all while baking cherry pies and yelling about flaky crust like it was a war crime.

He never stood a chance.

.

[targaryenfelikayt]

headcanons: joint trip. |The Sinclair Brothers|

wc: 1,029 summary: this installment of road trip headcanons showcases three very different sides of the Sinclair brothers - Bo, Vincent, and Lester - as they go on a road trip with you. tags/warnings: very fluffy fluff, lots of romance (not typical for movies), a trip for two, a bit of realism. note: if you read this in Russian, then yes, I am translating my works into English.

Bo Sinclair.

— Before heading anywhere, he always makes sure everything under the hood is in perfect order, and the tires have been changed. The car’s condition is important to him, can’t risk getting stranded on some highway like a few of the victims did. So while still at home, Bo checks every detail. No exaggeration. Literally every single one, without exception.

— Once he’s satisfied the metal beast is roadworthy, he tosses the packed bags into the trunk. Then, after buckling your seatbelt himself, he circles the car and slips into the driver’s seat.

— Half-jokingly, he’ll suggest you hold the wheel while he searches for his cigarettes. But once he realizes there’s only one left, he slips into that strange state somewhere between frustration and despair.

— At the gas station, he starts pestering the local clerk: Is the fuel watered down? Why does the oil smell funny? What do you mean you’re out of his brand of smokes? You’ll practically have to drag him out by the arm before someone ends up bleeding (and honestly, it’s unclear who would start it first).

— Then comes his little ritual again, Bo leans in to fasten your seatbelt with deliberate care, only returning to his seat once he’s done.

"Baby, I just don’t wanna replace the damn windshield if some asshole causes a wreck," he mutters, adjusting his cap as he shifts the mirror and tries to look effortlessly cool.

He’ll never say it’s your safety he’s worried about — the only real threat here is him.

— Be ready for Sinclair to drive with one hand, the other wandering between shifting gears and letting his fingers graze your thigh. Gentle, steady touches always within reach.

— And don’t be surprised when that hand occasionally moves higher, teasing with soft strokes. He likes seeing the way you unconsciously hold your breath when he does that — it gives his ego a little boost. Bo just can’t bring himself to deny that little indulgence.

— Hours into the drive, he’s still riding the high of cicadas singing and the sharp tang of the night air. It makes him feel alive and maybe, just maybe, like he could do something right for once. He’s done plenty of things others would call wrong, sure, but right now? Everything’s just fine.

— After all, if there’s still a pack of cigarettes in your pocket — today can’t be that bad, right?

Vincent Sinclair.

— Vincent settles into the back seat, perfectly content to spend the ride in quiet comfort.

— But first, he takes care of packing the suitcases, everything arranged with such precision and spatial logic that you can’t help but wonder if he secretly played Tetris while the wax was cooling on his future creations.

— He enjoys the scenery outside the window, holding your hand the whole time. If something especially catches his eye, he’ll try to sketch it in his notebook.

— Of course, the motion will eventually get to him. His inner ear’s not the best. And while he’s trying to steady his breath, you’re tearing through the bags he’d packed so carefully, looking for the right pills and not finding them.

— He ends up spending the rest of the trip in the front seat, staring straight ahead with a bottle of water clutched in hand. He knows it’ll be at least another hour before the next town.

— Passing a field of sunflowers, Vincent insists on stopping again, subtly, politely, but with a kind of quiet determination. The massive yellow blooms draw him in like magnets. He disappears among them, wandering from one flower to the next.

"Vince, we need to go unless you wanna sleep in the car. If you really like it," you gesture to a sunflower that looks exactly like all the others, "take it with you." He mumbles something that sounds both like agreement and protest, then leans in to press waxen lips to your forehead before turning back toward the field.

— Two minutes later, he comes jogging back, clutching a sunflower roots and all. You're informed, in no uncertain terms, that it’s now your duty to plant it by the front door when you get home.

— Now he’s not afraid of anything. Unless, of course, the plant dies. Then you’ll have to throw it away and that’s a nightmare he’d rather not face.

Lester Sinclair.

— He’s ready to go anywhere, anytime. Just say the word, and he’s already starting the engine, even if it’s the middle of the damn night.

— Unlike his brothers, Lester actually prefers riding in the truck bed or the open-back area, stretching out like he owns the place.

— First thing he does is throw all the snacks back there with him, devouring half the stash in the first leg of the trip. After that, he turns into Donkey from Shrek, hitting you with a constant, “Are we there yet?”, even though he knows every roadside diner in the state by heart.

— When the speedometer needle starts climbing in direct correlation to your rising temper, he finally shuts up and pretends like he doesn’t even exist.

— But of course, he pipes up again the moment nature calls and all you’ve got around are endless stretches of farmland. He takes the opportunity to "multi-task," stealing as many ears of corn as he can carry in his hands, shirt, and shorts. What a resourceful man. Always thinking of the homestead.

— Long trips aren’t easy for him. The wait alone is enough to dissolve whatever tiny bit of focus he has. But he really tries not to annoy you out of sheer boredom.

— Eventually, he flicks on the radio in hopes of livening things up and naturally ends up singing along. And then he surprises you again, dropping random backstories about the old songs he likes best. "How do you even know that?". He just shrugs.

— By 9 PM, when you finally pull into a diner parking lot, hunger hits him all at once. He’s the first one out of the car.

"You city folks ain’t never had cherry fritters this juicy," he says, and soon the tray in front of you is overflowing with local delicacies, half of which look nothing like anything you’ve ever seen at home or in a restaurant. At least there’s French fries. You won’t go hungry. And Lester? Already eating like he’s feeding twins.