#imbleedin-out

[applesontheground]

💕 Riri!

❤ LILY! ❤

[vincent-sinclair-deserved-better]

"it sounds like his dick is a deranged yard sprinkler" ahsjfjaj

also how can the woman grab his dick and then scratch his back with both hands

though I guess him having five orgasms back to back at least means he's got some... stamina? or smth?

gonna tag some people because everyone deserves to see this ajsjjdjaj

@bluecoolr @rottent33th @myers-meadow @devil-doll13 @solmints-messyocdiary @damien-mlm @probably-a-plant-thing @bisexual-horror-fan @early20sfailingplenty @aggravatetheaxe @darklylucid @ace-of-hearts-and-spades @visceravalentines @ventiswampwater @spookyscaryslashy @house-of-slayterr @brandnewhuman @goldrose-star @soupbabe @doomh3ad @frracturedjaw @sinfulwrites @slutforguts @the-pinstriped-hood @slaasherslut @shonkgobonk @imbleedin-out @creepswrites @eruden-writes @vaya-writes

[slasherlouvre]

just popping in to say hi and sorry for the spam I’m about to do 😔💕

Me following you around now bc you gave me attention

[saltysskin]

Sweetpea,

Hey there. Now, I ain’t the best at words but I jus’ couldn’t stand to see ya lookin’ so sad with those friends o’ yours. I had to keep ya. You understand, right? I made my brothers promise to make it fast, they didn’t suffer. you got my word. I promise.

I’m gon’ take care of you. Give ya everything you ever wanted. nice lil’ weddin’ in a small church with our family all around. Bo and Vincent are already gettin’ it all set up. Mighty kind o’ them. we’ll have to remember to thank em’. maybe you could bake em’ a pie or somethin’.

I, for one, am rather excited for the honeymoon. Gonna treat ya real nice. you won’t even miss them friends o’ yours, not when I get between them legs. gonna make you mewl. gonna have ya shiverin’ and shakin’. You’re gonna make all kinds o’ pretty sounds for me.

Don’t that sound nice? My thick, veiny cock inside o’ ya? You don’t know what you do ta’ me and we ain’t even started yet…

Gonna make ya’ cum over and over with my tongue and then, when yer’ nice n’ wet, slick with that delicious honey o’ yours and my saliva, m’ gonna fill ya’ up and enjoy the feelin’ of you squeezin’ around me. Gonna pound you so hard you won’t be able ta’ walk for days after m’ gonna make you cream around my cock.

You’ll clean me up, won’t ya, sugar? Use that pretty little mouth o’ yours to suckle your man? taste us all mixed together and know that nobody else will ever be as perfect for ya?

Anyways, that’s all the time I got for now. I got some gettin’ ready to do too. gotta get all cleaned up for our special day.

- Lester

Hope you enjoyed! 😂 - Lily

A-a wedding? I never thought of myself to be the married type, but seeing how I don’t have much of a choice and the fact that it’s to Lester….👀

H-HONEYMOON??? I reckon I forgot all about that part… 😳😮‍💨🤤

Do I get a pretty dress? 🥺

jeez Lil,

you sure know how to make a girl blush 😅

[bisexual-horror-fan]

hey, friendly reminder that you’re wonderful and talented and ily 💕

Hey friendly reminder that I fucking love the shit out of you dude and that YOU are talented as fuck too.

[fancycandy]

WAIT ITS YOU! The “EVERYTHING IS ALRIGHT” AUTHOR! IVE BEEN LOOKING EVERYWHERE FOR SO LONG 😩😩😩 I USED TO REREAD THAT ALL THE TIME IM SO HAPPY

I’m sorry for the spam

tis I! oh goooosh that was my first posted fic 😳 oh goodness this made my day!

[pondslime]

welcome to the fandom darling!!

aaaa, thank you so much!! 😭💖 very happy to be here!

[visceravalentines]

YOU!!! Just the person I was looking for! I hope you have a lovely day :)

that’s all. bye!

😮 thank u, I wish u the same!! 🖤

[aggravatetheaxe]

FINDERS KEEPERS - Chapter 5: Roads

Murderer. Monster. Serial killer. Abuser. Freak. These are words you would be well within your rights to use when describing Bo Sinclair. But when a trip to dispose of a body doesn’t end up quite as planned and a nameless waif enters the picture, he might have to add one more label to the list: protector. How long can Bo justify the presence of a child who so critically throws off the tenuous balance of life in Ambrose? How long can he stand it?

CW for this chapter: canon typical darkness re: the wax sculptures, allusions to child abuse or neglect, allusions to child kidnapping, the r-slur used in a flashback by Trudy Sinclair, upsetting descriptions of relationships with their mother

This title is SAFE FOR WORK.

Taglist: @blackrose8425, @shirtlessfelix, @popsnapopera, @slasherblog, @toastysalt, @sweetbird-sinclair, @imbleedin-out, @pharmacykeys, @venusanatomica, @katerinabythesea95

Soundtrack: Roads, Ambience

Words: 2,992

Chapter 1

Chapter 4

Masterlist

***

Bo woke to someone jostling his elbow, a light but annoyingly insistent touch that had him grouchy before he even opened his eyes.

Shit. Fell asleep again.

He groaned, shifting the warm weight on his chest and waving a dismissive hand. "Vincent"—he didn't know how he knew it was Vince, but he knew—"leamme alone, I'm nappin'."

Vincent was persistent, though, grunting and nudging Bo's elbow hard enough that he swayed in the recliner. A streak of rage coursed up Bo's spine, and he opened his eyes to glare at his twin.

"Wh— Can I fuckin' help you? If you don't getcha hands off me..."

Vincent ignored his threats, pointing at the child in his lap. Bo's voice seemed to have woken her up; she was rubbing her eye with one little hand, Sprite can clutched in the other.

Bo glanced at her, then returned to glaring into his own perfectly placid, wax face. "What?"

"Shut up," Vincent signed sharply. "What do you mean 'what?' You said you would bring her to the police."

"Hey, watch ya mouth. You don't tell me ta shut up; you shut up."

But still, the artist persisted: "I don't need to tell you why keeping her around is a bad idea. I don't need to tell you why keeping her around is a bad idea. Bo—"

"I get it, Vin!" Again, Bo glanced at Bird before standing. Her eyes were glued to Vincent, watching his hands intently but not with the glint of curiosity. "Keep it down, will ya? She don't know sign and your flailin's scarin' her."

Vincent vented his frustration with a groan and turned away from the two momentarily, but he wasn't two steps into the kitchen before turning back to continue his lecture. "So what happened with the police? If you don't take her, I will."

Like hell you will. Bo might have mustered a cruel laugh if he wasn't so tired. Vincent avoided the outside world at all costs. He could hardly imagine him climbing into his little yellow tow truck and puttering up to Hammond PD.

He must have rolled his eyes or smirked or something, because Vincent snapped, "It's not funny, Bo."

Vin was so much like Momma sometimes.

Bo clenched his jaw until his teeth hurt, then released the tension. "Look, Lester said he'd ask around, see if he could find 'er folks. I figure if we c'n settle this without the cops, all the better—she don't like 'em and I don't wanna run the risk of 'em findin' us. It should be our last resort, right? So I brought 'er back." When Vincent responded only with a weary stare, he added, "Won't be more'n a week. We can keep a baby fed for a few days."

After a few moments, Vincent walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. Bo took it as acquiescence, allowing his body to relax. He couldn't help but notice that when he relaxed, Bird did, too.

He sunk back into the recliner again, staring into the dead screen of the TV and listening to Vincent move around the kitchen. Bird didn't move an inch, resting her head on his shoulder. Eventually, Vincent emerged to shove a plate with a sandwich into Bo's hand. Bo's mind wandered as he disassembled it and fed Bird the bologna—his head was filled mainly with questions. Everything about her was such an enigma.

Vincent sat in the armchair next to them, hesitating before taking off his mask to eat. The girl watched him sidelong, only shifting a little uncomfortably at the sight of his profound disfigurement. Either way, Bo knew Vincent wouldn't care. At thirty-five years of age, the artist had grown used to making people uncomfortable.

They ate in silence, the three of them. Jonesy jingled through the back door and sat, sighing, at Vincent's feet. Bird's discomfort eased.

Vincent didn't clear his plate. He rarely did, a fact that had personally wounded Momma at every mealtime. Chewing hurt his face, and often, the medication he took made him nauseous. He and Bo had never talked about it, really, but there were some things they just knew about one another.

Bo always cleared his plate.

Vincent tossed Jonesy his crust, then, for the first time the entire meal, looked over. "Do we have any clues as to who her parents are yet?" he signed.

"Some drunk—see 'er face? Someone from this parish, I hope, 'less she walked a helluva long way. Guess that's possible." Bo considered her. "An' there's this thing she—"

"Pchhewww," Bird exhaled.

"Yeah. That."

Vincent, too, considered her. He put on his mask. "Anything else?"

"Uhh ... naw. No one in Edward knew 'er or who she might belong to."

Vincent said nothing—didn't even look at her. He only stared at Bo. That fucking stare again. Bo clenched his grip on the arm of his chair. How could a guy wearing an unreadable expression at all times be so ... judgmental?

"She's leavin', Vin. As soon as possible." Bo had to believe he sounded convincing. "Lester'll figure it out."

***

It was Vincent's idea to go look at the new wax figures. Bo knew it had to be done—he had to approve the spot Vince had chosen for them—but he was wary. After all, there was a reason he didn't want Bird up and runnin' around the town. There was a chance she might see something that scared her.

Wait, he thought at once, why did he care?

Well, she could tell someone. She could ruin somethin'. The thought of her breaking one of the sculptures opened a pit in his stomach.

—BEAUREGARD Sinclair you goddamn RETARD, what did you DO—

She couldn't go around breaking things, ruining Momma's happy little town. She really couldn't. Momma did not like it when things weren't kept nice. She'd always said that, You just can never keep things nice, Bo.

He opted to keep her in his arms, on his hip, and instructed her sternly, "Don't touch nothin'. It's all fragile."

Vincent led the way to the chapel. Interesting choice. A biker and two tatted up chicks in a church? Bo wasn't one hundred percent on board yet, but he wanted to see where Vin was going with this.

As they ascended the stoop and entered the double doors, he watched Bird for her reaction. There was none. She looked at the church the same way she looked at any other building, equal parts wariness and passive interest.

What kind of people were her momma and daddy?

Vincent stalked silently to the front of the church and pointed to his newest creations. The man and two women were sitting expectantly and attentively in the choir pews, all gussied up in old fashioned blue robes. The kind of robes the choir in this kind of town should have, with a big white cross on each of their chests.

Bo studied them as he approached, not looking down at Momma. Not yet. He almost felt he had to save up the anticipation, let it build. Business first. "Huh. Where'd ya get the robes?"

"Made them. Remember the old choir?"

"Chyeah. How could I forget Mrs. Laeddis squawkin' every Sunday mornin'?" From the shadow he could see of Vincent's left eye, he knew his twin was smiling. "I mean, it's a choir, girl, not a competition. For th' love a' Chri— Well, you know."

"What do you think?" Vincent asked.

"Hm ... they ain't exactly the churchgoin' type. I expected you ta put 'em ... I dunno, near the gun shop or somethin'?" When Vincent said nothing, Bo looked the sculptures up and down again. "But, ah ... we did need a choir. Liturgical choir. Like a proper Catholic church."

Then, an idea occurred to him, and he laughed.

"I guess this is our way of savin' their souls, huh, Vin? Eternity stuck in a chapel. Sheep c'n always come back to the flock."

Vincent straightened a bit, nodding decisively. He liked it when Bo understood what he was going for with his art.

He'd never said that, but Bo just ... knew.

***

Watching Bo with the child was a surreal experience. As they chatted back and forth about the town's newest additions, it was as though the handsome twin forgot he was holding her altogether. He was focused on the choir, only the choir, mulling over their placement and styling. He hadn't even looked at Momma.

"When I die," Momma had said—years and years ago, before she had even known she was dying—"I want people to mourn. None a' this celebration of her life crap. I want y'all to wail in the streets 'n' tear at your clothes!" She'd give one of those white smiles, crinkle her nose, make her crystal blue eyes sparkle. Momma's face was beautiful. "Hire mourners if ya have to!"

And then they'd all laugh, although Vincent had never found it funny. Talking about Momma dying wasn't funny. It was terrifying. She'd told that joke well into their adulthood. Each time, he would glance at Bo and see worry nested deep in his laughing eyes.

Terrifying.

Maybe, on some level, she'd known that, because she talked about it an awful lot, especially while angry: "I won't be dead five minutes before you ungrateful little shits forget all about me! Throw all my belongings away and forget all about me!"

As though she was Jesus Christ about to die on the cross.

And from that had come the idea of the choir. More mourners. He thought that'd make Bo happy. Sure enough, here Bo was, warming up to the idea.

As his twin got a closer look at the sculptures, Vincent watched the child. Bo had lowered her from his arms, but he still kept a tight grip on one of her hands, and she kept a tight grip on her empty Sprite. Despite a very obvious interest in the wax figures, she stood still, quiet, looking around with her big eyes. Drinking it all in.

She was unobtrusive in this way.

This way and this way only.

To Vincent, she was like ... a wild animal, almost. Unpredictable and strange. But even that wasn't an appropriate comparison. After all, when Lester had brought home Jonesy, Vincent had warmed up to her almost immediately.

A child wasn't a pet. A child was a human. A human knew to fear and abandon this place. A human told everyone the grisly truth. He didn't trust humans, so he didn't trust this child.

At length, Bo seemed satisfied with the quality of the work on the bikers. He looked down at the girl, hoisted her into his arms again, and finally, finally, turned to the casket.

"This is my Momma. Ain't she beautiful?"

Vincent's gaze slid to the wax-encased body cradled within the coffin. Momma wasn't beautiful. Not anymore. She was ugly, like him.

Every time he saw her, there was this voice in the back of his head saying, She would want you to make her a prettier face. She'd tell him jokingly to "tart her up." She'd be furious if he refused. She'd accuse him and ask, "What did I do to make you hate me so much?"

Guilt sunk venomous claws into his chest.

"One a' these days," Bo said at length, quietly, to the girl, "this whole town'll be filled, streets 'n' everything. We'll figure out some way ta keep the wax from meltin' in the sun, and the smell—" A heavy pause. "Trudy's Town of Wax ... that's what she wanted ta call it. She never could finish it."

Bo separated himself from the child, then, the hallmarks of an oncoming meltdown written in his features and movements. She looked up at him from where she stood, watching. Watching so closely. She was trying to learn, but she didn't know yet when to leave Bo alone—what to look out for.

Vincent knew. He snapped to get her attention and motioned her over to him. She came and slid her hand into his and, awkwardly, he let her. They left together.

He wasn't entirely certain what Bo would do in there. Scream, sob, hurt himself, break something? Sometimes he wondered if Bo knew what he did half the time, when he got like this. As a child, his eyes had glazed over, and you could tell—just tell—that little Bo Sinclair wasn't there anymore. Like a fugue. Momma had referred to that side of her handsome boy as a demon often, with varying degrees of seriousness.

As they'd gotten older, the fury had become far more pointed, focused, calculating. Except when it came to Momma. Then, he was a child again.

Acting like everything was fine when it was not came very naturally to Vincent. While the little girl glanced over her shoulder at the chapel, wincing at the sounds coming from it, he walked them calmly to the gritty concrete road. He reached into his apron pocket, produced a piece of chalk, and handed it to her.

Despite it now being dusk, she crouched and set to work, drawing what amounted to nonsensical scribbles. An abstract artist, then, he quipped to himself.

He wasn't sure how long he watched her draw. She completed what he thought must be a house, and maybe a car, and maybe some people? But it soon devolved into whatever uneven shapes struck her fancy.

Eventually, the chapel doors opened and slammed.

Vincent gave Bo a once-over as he approached them. His face was still a little pink. His wrists. His knuckles. The knees of his jeans were scuffed up. Nothing too bad. Nothing bleeding. Vincent averted his eyes.

The girl dropped her chalk and studied Bo, glancing at his twin before deciding it was safe. She walked into Bo's arms, and he yielded to her, though he didn't seem particularly enthusiastic.

Vincent swallowed. He wished he'd just stop picking her up at all. He wished she was scared of Bo like everyone else. Maybe he should have left her in the church, let her witness the real Bo. The "demon."

"You draw that?" Bo asked gruffly, squinting at the chalk scribbles.

"Mmmm. Agh."

"Hmph. Ya gonna give Vince a run for his money."

With that, he passed Vincent, trudging up the winding road toward the house of wax and their home. The masked twin bent, picked up the chalk, and put it back in his apron.

"Hey, Vin."

He straightened, turning expectantly.

Bo pointed with his chin. "The choir. Make the robes black."

***

"I'm sorry, sir, but are ya absolutely sure?"

"One hundred percent, miss. We haven't seen anybody by that description come in, with or without a li'l girl."

Olympia clutched the phone receiver tighter. Suddenly, the stale air of her mother's trailer seemed a lot staler in her lungs. A big, slimy rock had been dropped into her stomach. She suppressed a gag and swallowed.

"Are you sure?"

"Miss, I don't mean to be rude, but you're tyin' up the line. Now, if there's something you wanna report, you can come down to the station anytime an' we can—"

"No, thank you. Sorry for wastin' your time."

Ca-chunk.

"Olympia!" Ma crowed from her bedroom. "Don't slam the damn phone down like that! It was your grandmother's!"

"Yes, ma'am," Olympia called back, happy that she couldn't quite hear what her mother mumbled afterwards. "I'm goin' out for a walk. I'll be back in half an hour."

"Go to Walmart and get some milk!"

She pulled on a hoodie and headed out the screen door without responding. Once she was a safe distance away and had a few gulps of good, fresh air in her, she murmured, "Fuck Walmart." God forbid she do something as simple as take a walk, have some time to herself. Naw, better do a chore at the same time.

Still, there was no excuse. She wished Walmart closed earlier than it did.

Olympia walked along the stretch of road, as close to the darkening swamp as she dared get. She gazed into the dusky gloom, like the answer to her troubles might appear before her.

He'd said he was going to take her to the cops. He'd said. He'd lied. She'd known he was lying.

I mean, it had all been so weird. The girl's shaven head, the bandages, the vintage clothes, her quietness compared to the man's too-friendly chatter. Something had been wrong, so wrong.

Was that poor little girl going through hell now, all because Olympia had been too weak to stop him?

But then, why had he brought her in in the first place? If a creep found some kid wandering around, surely he wouldn't want anyone to know. Surely he wouldn't want anyone to see them together.

Maybe he'd taken her to another police department? But that seemed so unlikely. Hammond was the closest, and it was a twenty minute drive from Edward. Maybe, by some miraculous turn of events, he had run into her parents?

Maybe...

But there was this sinking feeling in her stomach. Dreadful, gnawing. She didn't know why or how, but she just knew that wasn't the case. That man had taken that little girl, and Olympia was the only one who knew it.

She stopped at the edge of the swamp, trying in vain to see clearly through the darkness. Where did he live? Where had he taken her? Was it somewhere out there? How far?

The police wouldn't do anything; she knew that. There was nothing they could do, she'd been told, because no one had reported a missing child. But I'm reporting a missing child, she'd thought in the moment. She shoulda said it.

No parents. No police. She felt like a thread tethered her to that girl. Her only lifeline, her only hope.

If Olympia did nothing, she'd never sleep right again.

She had to find her.

***

Chapter 6

Masterlist

Tip Jar

[applesontheground]

I wish you’d write a fic where you make bo beg to touch you oops

huh. seems you dropped this in my inbox, lily. 👁 lemme just give it back along with a little something...

NSFW | Word Count: 904 | Bo Sinclair x GN Reader

contains: orgasm denial, dry humping/thigh riding, we’re making this son of a bitch whine tonight

He wasn't fooling anyone with the twisted expression trying to be racked with anger, jagged edges on display and sneer like a tightly wound coil on his face -- but something was unable to make it all come together to make that searing glare that you knew all too well. His brow folded, sweat slipping into the creases as he gave you an expectant look up and down. To you, this was nothing but a pout. A boy who wasn't getting his way hid in the venom under his eyes as they peered up at you, filled to the brim with betrayal of some sort.

You tipped your chin, and realized something was beautifully different about getting to look down at him for a change.

"Come on." The first couple words out of him were held with some sort of dignity, his bottom jaw grinding slightly as he jutted in a restless fit that was finally bubbling to the surface. You ignored it, focusing on your rhythm of dragging up and down his left thigh all the same. Your own strides weren't giving you much on the pleasure end, feeling more like an itching heat you were idly scratching for the time being, but still enjoying the stretch your hips were feeling from all this movement. Meanwhile, you could easily find the heat of his erection as it continued to surge against his inner thigh, trapped under the pant leg of his jeans.

His hands tried to raise from his sides, playful as they neared the bare skin of your torso ominously slow and he tipped his chin up again in a smug hope. You only stared at them with a frown. He blew air out dramatically, and they slammed back against the couch as you carefully stopped rubbing your sensitive spot along his leg.

You had barely crossed your arms before he finally hitched his breath and let it out in an uncomfortable groan, jostling you with another adjustment in his seat. You clutched one hand on the arm of the sofa, seeing him still bear his teeth in an ugly countenance but letting the little word slip out in another fed up roll of his hips against you. "Please."

In an exaggerated manner, you let your jaw fall and your eyes blow open. "What was that, Bo?" You murmured in mock surprise. Both of you had heard, but you almost couldn't believe it. This fucking piece of work didn't say please for anybody, especially not you. He squinted up at your face in offense, trying to straighten up and stay silent. You didn't miss the little splotches of red rising up from the collar of his shirt, or how it kissed the edges of his cheekbones.

His eyes fell from your face when you resumed your slow dragging along his leg, staring right at your hips and settling down again. Another needy sound was strangled out when you uncrossed your arms, now holding yourself steady with your hand close to his crotch but not quite, a thumb and index finger hooked around where his hip and thigh met and the other running over the side of his neck to soothe, getting caught in the sweat accumulating.

"[Y/N]..." Your name fell from his mouth as he leaned against you, still keeping his hands off like you asked. Every moment more that he gave to head the warning only made your curiosity pique harder. Where would he get off? Bo wasn't known to be patient when it came to things, especially these deep urges. Whether it was feeling the blood on his hands, or chase that release through this kind of "skin-on-skin thing", as he might call it.

A tight snap of that familiar tickle in your core had gone off at the tone of his voice, and you murmured quietly again, "What, Bo? You can tell me."

"Y...Y-" He was heaving breaths, almost panting like an animal as he tried to meet your hips halfway again with another restless thrust from where he sat, "You're gonna make me lose m’damn mi-ind-" You hummed in response. The absolute surrender heard in his voice as he jolted, straightening his back just to fall back and sinking into the couch, finally drove you to press a hand into his chest. You felt the scorching heat and the slickness hiding under the light, brown curls of hair under your fingers. He shuddered under your pressure, but you finally tutted at him.

"Shhh." His attention snapped back to reality as you hissed, blinking rapidly to get the sweat out of his eyes. Finally, you took his hands with your own, guiding them to your sides. It only took a few encouraging pulls against the gentle skin of your hips before he was feeling for himself, fingers curling into your waistband and the next moan that left him having the confident lust return just as quick as he had lost it to your lack of mercy.

"Get over here," He muttered low and sickly, pulling you close enough into his lap to start mouthing along the curve of your neck, holding the hinges of your legs for dear life to keep you against where he needed it. "Bout time you let me have my way..." He muttered into your chest.

You hid the smirk in his shoulder, because as much as he was trying he sure didn't scare you.

[early20sfailingplenty]

This is inspired by a conversation @imbleedin-out and I had about hugging the brothers out of the blue and I’ve been feeling quite badly this evening so I wanted to write it out kskskskk I hope you all like this!!!! There’s plenty more fics in my drafts which I’m excited to write out and share with you. I only started writing for the Sinclairs two weeks ago and it’s just amazing how many of you have been reaching out with questions, requests and the like. Thank you for your patience while I work out the formatting issues; fics will only be posted once now!!!🌸✨💖

GN!reader, no coded language, “you” & Y/N used.

Walking up to the Sinclairs and hugging them out of the blue (comfort, fluff).

Word count for all three sets: 1, 170.

Sweetheart Lester🥺😭💖 // 318 words.

You had known that you weren’t feeling good this day, but you hadn’t expected for the very sight of Lester to cause you to want burst into tears. You were even more tender than you had first thought, your mind in a spin and your thoughts a hurricane which was threatening to destroy you from the inside. A lump built up in your throat. If your thoughts were a poison, then Lester was the antidote and, oh, how you needed him. 

Your heart ached at the sight of him. The mismatched colours of his outfit - which only he could pull off. No other in the world could wear what Lester did and look even half as good as he did. He was leaned up against his truck, his arms crossed as one of his boots scuffed at the dirt. Restless.

“Hey, Y/N!” Lester’s face threatened to split in half with how widely he smiled, and you felt your bottom lip wobble as you attempted to smile back at him. The softness in his brown eyes, the way the sun caught his hat and cast a darker shadow across his face, the way Lester was just there when you needed him to be... it was too much for you and you broke.

You threw yourself at Lester, trusting him to catch you. He did. He always did. His arms wrapped around you tightly, just as you began to cry, and Lester chuckled awkwardly. “Hey, now, shush,” Lester rubbed your back, his hand travelling up and down in solid, fluid motions, confident could he be when it came to taking care of you; his one and only. “Y’re all righ’, darlin’.” Lester shifted his weight, leant up against his truck was he, and he resolved to stay there until you pulled away from him or felt better. Whichever came first.

Nothing was more important to him than you were.

Bo and Vinny under the cut!!!

Pretty Bo😍💖 // 428 words.

Of all the Sinclairs, Bo was arguably the hardest one to create and then maintain a relationship with. It was one step forward, two steps back and a whole lot of patience. Every time you had thought in the past that you knew him, he had said or done something which went against the construct in your mind; a contradictory man could he be. Bo was not an easy man to get to know, to be involved with, to love. But nothing worth doing was easy, and you had always loved a challenge. 

It had taken a long time for the both of you to become comfortable in the carefully cultivated, delicately crafted relationship in which you found yourselves, and even after months of being together was it difficult sometimes for you to know how to interact with Bo. His mood could change in a second, a soft hug could turn into a tight grip with just a whisper, his wants could move from one end of the spectrum to the next with a single touch. You never knew from one moment to the next, unpredictable was he, but your current low mood was such that you were willing to risk it all just for a hug.

You made your way down to the garage slowly, your every step heavy. Weighed down were you by your own existence this day and completely craving a kind touch from Bo. What you would be met with, you knew not, but you were past the point of being able to care. You just wanted Bo and you wouldn’t stop or give up until you got him.

“Bo.” Your tone of voice caught his attention immediately and Bo looked up so fast that you thought you heard something crack. His eyes meeting yours made you lunge forward as you threw yourself at him. Bo caught you swiftly, grunting with the exertion but refusing to let go.

“What is the matter wit’ you?” Bo muttered, half curious, half worried. He held you tight and you shook your head as you wrapped your legs around his waist, curling into him all the way. “All right,” Bo chuckled, “S’pose I can take a break.” The humour in his tone matched not his tight grip, the slight tremble in his hands, the way he walked with you clinging to him further into the garage, shielding you from the outside world and from yourself.

You stayed there in his hold for as long as you wanted to; nothing and no one could harm you. You were safe.

Ethereal Vincent (Vinnyyyyyyyyy ~ 🥰🥺🌸💖) // 424 words.

Ambrose was a beautiful town, it was true. The illusion of it being a quiet but busy town was one easily maintained, and only someone who dared to look beneath the surface would very easily begin to see the decay which wracked the town. You had always loved exploring the town on your own terms, though sometimes one of the twins accompanied you; both to ensure that you didn’t try to run away, but also because they could spend some proper time with you and experience the town through your eyes. Vicarious experiences in Ambrose, a well loved and worn town, were very rare and the Sinclairs jumped on them. 

You loved the town, but Vincent’s basement was your number one favourite location. You could, would, and did spend hours there every single day, simply basking in your love’s presence. The scraping of his tools, the hissing of melting wax, his hands rubbing down appendages and the altogether tender sounds of Vincent lovingly crafting a sculpture was one of your most beloved sound combinations. The quiet rustling of his clothes as he moved, the roaring of the fire underneath the vat of wax, the soft snores Jonesy emitted from her place on the twin bed... it was absolute heaven and you could never get enough of being down there.

Vincent was a solitary man but he loved you being down there with him and he only turned you away when he felt that it was necessary. You spent time together separately, but on this day even being right beside Vincent wasn’t enough. You needed more. More of him, of his space, of his touch, his scent, his quiet rasps and gentle gestures. He treated you like glass, loathe was he to be rough with you even when you asked for it. You were amongst Vincent’s treasures, and he treated you as such.

Did you dare to interrupt him, working such as he was? No, you didn’t; he shared a temper with his brother, though its expression was quieter. It was just as deadly, however. Even so, with baited breath did you climb into his lap. Your arms looped around his neck and Vincent huffed in amusement; he knew you too well. His arms closed the distance and he pulled you tightly against him. His muse wanted his attention? He’d give you all of it and more... and so on, until you didn’t know what to do with yourself in the face of all of his love for you.

Vincent never did anything by halves.

[mutual-monsters]

My rec list 🩸

Hello!! These are my recs~ Keep in mind that some of these may be older as I have been keeping a rec list for a while :) Obviously, these aren't all the fics I've ever loved, but they are the ones I've kept track of over the past few months.

Smut is marked by a 🌶️

A 🌷indicates a fic is new on the list for the current month!

@becca-e-barnes

random ask (bucky saying "baby"/"angel" (Bucky Barnes) 🌶️

random ask (beefy!bucky x short reader) (Beefy!Bucky)

breeding kink ask (DBF!Bucky)🌶️

playing with Bucky's hair (Bucky Barnes)

@buckyhoney

just for me (Bucky Barnes) 🌶️

@qyllenhaal

Got Any Candy? (Dark!Lee Bodecker) 🌶️

@thewritingdoll

𝒷𝑒𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒾𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓂𝒶𝑔𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝒹𝑜𝓃𝑒 ⎹ 𝓜.𝓜. (dark!Matt Murdock) 🌶️

@jobean12-blog

Hero Next Door (beefy!lumberjack!Bucky)🌶️

@bvccy

Possessive WS ask (dark!Winter Soldier)🌶️

@shamevillain

Heat Of The Moment (Steve Kemp)🌶️

@frenziedslashers

billy w/ a cuddly s/o (Billy Loomis)

bo, vincent, & billy w/ a clingy s/o (Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, Billy Loomis)

@imbleedin-out

soft!yan!billy blurb (Billy Loomis)

bo w/ a s/o who is scared of bugs (Bo Sinclair)

@laserbrains

Kinktober Day 01 - Ice Play (Cobb Vanth) 🌶️

@stardust-kenobi

Unforgiving Heat (Cobb Vanth x f!reader x Din Djarin) 🌶️

@bisexual-horror-fan

How Annoying (Bo Sinclair) 🌶️

@wndalovebot

lee bodecker breeding kink 🌶️

@vase-of-lilies

au revoir (dark!Steve Rogers)🌶️

@scuddisher

rather be the hunter than the prey (Bo Sinclair)🌶️

@slasherscream

mirror soulmate au with stuilly 🌷

This is what is have for now! I try to update monthly :)

[glitchstoxicwaste]

@aggravatetheaxe and @imbleedin-out are responsible for my Soft Bo Brain rot, this NSFW idea is the result.

Sorry I tagged you guys just wanted to give y’all the credit cause y’all deserve it

Bo is a man who is more than merely “Rough around the edges”, he’s more of, bent, broken, and beaten but still going. A man stripped of a lot and deserving of the best despite being a murderer. He has his moments of lashing out, the times you stand there with your arms crossed, being more patient than you thought you could be even after you reach your breaking point, all for one strong reason; you love him.

He has flaws, all humans do, it’s a natural thing for humans. You accept his flaws, loving them when he doesn’t. Gently caressing and kissing his scars to show you love even those. He knows he’s not easy to live with, not easy to love, he knows you’re going out of your way to make him happy… or… at least he FEELS that you do.

He’s rough with you, grabbing your wrist a bit too tight, pushing you to the side when you’re in his way, bumping into you when you’re in a room with him and he needs to get past you. You’ve grown used to him being this way, accepting that he is this way.

In the bedroom it’s no different, pushing you into whatever position he feels. Choking you a little too hard to where you’re turning colors all because you tighten around him. Smacking your backside to hear you yelp. Marks were destined to form. Some days you weren’t sure if it were love or just him using your body to feel good.

Tonight was barely any different, he had again manhandled you onto the bed, pinched and bit your flesh, sitting on his quads, back straight with large hands gripping your waist tight, and was thrusting inside your tight cavern with force that put new holes in the walls from the headboard again. The window was open, he had opened it to make the room more chilled from the night air. As the curtains gently blew open he had looked out to see the full moon, shining brightly and beautifully close, he had smirked and turned back to you to say something snarky, but had paused at the sight below him.

Your body glowing, chest rising and falling, shaking softly. Shaky puffs of breathy moans leaving your slightly open lips. Cheeks dusted with pink, eyes closed with tears threatening to fall, the moon reflecting from the small beads of salty liquid while it slowly flowed down your cheek.

He sucks in a breath, icy blue eyes wide, glistening with a new feeling. He slows his hips down and releases your hips from his grasp, laying down with his chest pressed against yours. Wiping the tears away and stroking your cheek softly. He gently places his lips onto yours in a passion filled kiss, his hips moving as a slower speed than before.

You expect him to degrade you, him calling you a good little slut, or telling you good you feel while creating a new name to call you. But instead, you got something better.

“Yer absolutely stunning, god I love ya.”

[bisexual-horror-fan]

me coming to stalk ur blog cause am sad 🥺🥺. you’re one of my major comfort blogs right now ahh

Aweee Lily sorry you are feeling sad! Am I really one of your comfort blogs tho? Cuz that's so fucking sweet! If you ever need go talk you know my DMa are always open, especially for you!

[fancycandy]

Holaaaa ❤️ I have heard you’re amazing, so I look forward to STALKING YOUR ACCOUNT AND FALLING IN LOVE MYSELF AND THAT IS A THREAT! A THREAT OF KINDNESS AND SUPPORT ❤️

sorry. Just wanted to say hi. hehe. Hope you’re doing well!!

hello! that's so sweet!

oh you brave, brave soul. however I will ACCEPT THIS KINDNESS AND SUPPORT AND I RECIPROCATE THIS THREAT! 💕

but hi hallo aloha. I'm doing alright. I have a job interview tomorrow morning, so that's something! I hope you're doing well also!

[lovexbunny]

Not me out here doing the lords work, showing @imbleedin-out Re-Animator