House Of Wax - Blog Posts

Vincent got a little bloody :)

I just drew the Sinclair bros :)

my favorite rednecks

Lester Sinclair: enjoys the taste of plain carbonated water

Bo Sinclair: hates plain carbonated water and hates Lester for enjoying the taste of plain carbonated water

Vincent Sinclair: hasn't had a glass of water since he was 17 (lives entirely off of chocolate milk and orange juice)

YAYY MORE LESTER FAN FICC🥳

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

heatstroke.

( lester sinclair x fem!reader. )

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: lester sinclair x fem!reader.

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓: one-shot — requested.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4.3K.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finally — your savior.

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

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

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

He liked that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lester rarely, if ever, did anything like this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fortunately for Lester, he had other intentions.

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

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

UGHHHH I LOVEE LESTER SO MUCHHHH MY CUTIEE PATOOTIE BABYYY 😭😭

Hiiii! Could you write some like basic relationship headcannons for Bo and/or Vincent? I’m curious about your interpretation of them

How they behave in a relationship

House of Wax headcanons

A/n: Thank you for asking, anon! I really like doing some relationship headcanons when I get into writing for a new fandom (did the same with The Lost Boys), because it makes me think about how I want to write these characters and their dynamics in the future. So it's basically a good base understanding of the characters and how they behave. This definitely turned out longer than I anticipated! Guess I had a lot of thoughts. I also added some for Lester as a little extra! Hope you enjoy!

Warning: obsessive and possessive behaviour

Bo

So we all know that Bo has issues, which would definitely lead to some bumps in the development of your relationship.

The whole concept of unconditional love is probably foreign for him, given his relationship with his parents as a child and the lack of proper affection he received from them. And the man also has a problem with trusting people.

So of course he has a hard time believing you at first when you say you have feelings for him. It would also take him a long time to realize what he was feeling for you.

He would get jealous when you spent time with his brothers, not completely understanding why he was so frustrated, and of course he would lash out. You had no idea why he would suddenly go into these foul moods and sulk the rest of the day. It’s enlightening for both of you when you finally figure out that he was jealous, and why exactly he was feeling that way. After that, you make it your mission to show him as much affection as he allowed to reassure him that he’s important for you and is not in any way less than his brothers in your eyes, even if he was that way in their mother’s eyes.

I cannot emphasize enough how emotionally constipated this man is. Sure, flirting and working his charm on people is one thing, but emotional vulnerability is a whole other universe.

Even after he would start to slowly open up to you, he would get scared that you would leave him. For a while he doesn’t trust you to actually stay because life was so cruel to him before.

Like one day it would feel like you’re finally getting somewhere with him, and the next he’s cold and distant again because he feels like if he lets this go any further he would just get hurt.

It’s hard work to get this man to open up to you and it would get immensely frustrating sometimes when he would close down again, but the end result is absolutely worth it.

Because I headcanon that Bo would be soft on his partner. Once you get this man to trust you and open up to you, it’s all over, he’s gone for you and he never lets you go. Of course he would still be a teasing bastard who can be mean sometimes, that’s just his nature and you love him for it. But he would never intentionally hurt you.

Given his hot headed and aggressive personality, there are times when he says stuff in the heat of the moment that he doesn’t mean and hurts your feeling without meaning to. For the most part you know how to deal with him when he gets like this, but sometimes he says something that cuts too deep.

He would always come to apologize all embarrassed. Or he would leave you small gift as an apology.

Now, he wouldn’t be soft in front of his brothers or be very obvious about it. In his words “He’s not doin’ all that sappy shit”. Rather, he would show his affection for you in little ways, and only when the two of you are alone. Like when you would patch him up after a victim gave him a hard time or in the morning after you guys just woke up. Those lingering touches, soft eyes and gentle kisses were only for you to witness.

However, even if he’s soft on you, he’s still who he is. Meaning, Bo is very obsessive and possessive when it comes to you. When he finally feels secure in your relationship he won’t get jealous when you spend time with his brothers, but he would still feel the need to make his claim over you obvious. He would leave hickeys on your neck or walk in when you were talking to one of his brothers only to pull you into his lap, his grip on your thigh hard to ignore. You would just roll your eyes good naturedly.

He also likes to show you off when there are visitors in Ambrose, introducing you as his pretty partner. But god forbid a guy stares for too long or tries anything with you. They would die a slow and painful death.

He likes to involve you in their business, mostly as distraction and keeping up the façade. He wouldn’t be against involving you in the actual killing if you show interest, but he wouldn’t push it either. Playing your part in front of the potential victims and helping the boys with traps and stuff is one thing, putting you in the line of fire is another.

He’s VERY protective. And of course it comes out of him in a violent way. Anyone looks at you longer than he likes? They’re dead. Anyone lays a finger on you? They’re dead. Someone actually dares to hurt you in any way? They’re absolutely butchered. You don’t have to like his way of dealing with things, but you learned to accept it.

His way of showing his love can also be rough. Think bruises on your skin from his grip, passionate kisses with a lot of possessiveness and lip biting, shoving you into various surfaces during your makeout sessions. Think lots of teasing and denying you what you want. But you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Bo’s wild nature in very enticing and frankly addicting. Even if his flames burn you sometimes, he always makes sure to show you how much you mean to him. He’s not a talking-about-feelings guy, he doesn’t know how to adequately articulate what he’s feeling most of the time. But he will sure as hell show you through his actions.

Vincent

Let’s start with something everyone in the fandom agrees with. You would have to make sure Vinny takes care of himself. We all know he has a tendency to get so immersed in his work he forgets everything else.

So you bring him food to the basement, convince him to take showers etc. If you’re feeling sneaky, you can also ask for his help with something to get him out of the basement every once in a while, because he simply can’t say no to you.

Just like Bo, he probably also has some obsessive and possessive tendencies, but he shows them in a less violent way.

Example #1: hovering

Whenever he’s not utterly immersed in his work, he will follow you around and hover. You’re talking to one of his brothers? He’s right behind you listening. You’re cooking in the kitchen? He’s watching over your shoulder.

It can be sweet (he just wants to spend all his time with you) or it can be overbearing (he’s literally always there, breathing down your neck). It probably depends on the situation and also your interpretation.

Example #2: tons of art he secretly or not so secretly makes of you

This is another one where it can be interpreted in two ways. It can be endearing to see that he loves you so much and is so enamored by your looks that he would want to capture every little moment with you. He would do tiny sketches of you all the time, whether you’re spending some quiet quality time together, or maybe he walks into a room you’re in and the lighting is just right and you look so beautiful in that pose that he has to secretly draw it.

Or it can be overwhelming when you discover piles upon piles of sketchbooks all filled to the brim with drawings and paintings of you. (But I know which interpretation all of you would rather choose;))

I think he likes to see you interacting with his brothers, because it means you’re comfortable with them so it’s less likely that you would leave him. It’s probably something that he would be worried about at the beginning of your relationship, even more so depending on how exactly you ended up in Ambrose. He would be anxious about how you got along with Bo especially, given his temperament. But the more time you spent with them and the closer you got with them that anxiety would slowly dissipate.

Also, he wouldn’t hesitate to protect you from Bo’s anger if something you did irritated him. He would silently stand between you and Bo, shielding you with his body or he would even drag his brother out of the room if that’s what was needed in that situation.

I think his love language would be quality time. He loves those quiet moments you spend together when he would be sculpting something small (maybe another animal figure to your growing collection) or sketching you sitting there next to him, while you read or do some art as well.

He treasures everything you make him, be it a painting, a drawing or even some small and simple wax figure he showed you how to make. Even if you’re not very good at art, he would still keep every little thing and decorate his workshop or his room with them.

Another way he shows his affection is small physical touches. He likes holding hands or have your legs in his lap when you’re hanging out and sketching, he gives you hugs from behind and rests his chin on your shoulder when you’re making breakfast, and he definitely likes snuggling in bed. Good luck trying to get up and start your day when he’s in the mood to cuddle!

When it comes to things like kissing, he’s very shy at first, but he becomes braver as your relationship develops. He’s not really big on long makeout sessions, but he likes to give you smaller kisses on your cheek and hands. When he does kiss you on the lips, I think he either prefers it gentle and sweet or slow and deep with a hint of possessiveness.

A big reason why it takes him some time to build up your relationship to kissing is obviously his mask. He likes it when you pepper small kisses on his face over the mask, but it was hard work to gain his trust enough for him to take it off in front of you. He would be incredibly anxious about what you would think of him, how your opinion of him would change once he showed you his face. So when he eventually takes it off and all he receives is love and support, he knows he will never let you go and will do everything in his power to protect you.

Just like Bo, he wouldn’t hesitate to hurt someone if they hurt you. When visitors come to Ambrose he probably insists that you stay down in the basement and don’t come up until he comes to get you. But also just in case he would leave a knife with you (he most likely carved the hilt himself just for you). I think unlike Bo, Vincent would want you to stay out of the whole killing business as much as possible.

If the situation got out of hand and you got caught in the crossfire, his one and only focus would be to keep you safe. And once he made sure that you’re okay and far enough from danger he would viciously hunt down whoever dared to lay a finger on you. They wouldn’t become part of their gallery, their body wouldn’t be in a presentable state by the time he was done with them.

Lester

He treats you like you’re the most precious thing in the world (and for him, you probably are), but he’s also a cheeky little bastard.

Loves to make suggestive jokes or complimenting you, basically anything to make you blush in embarrassment. It’s his favourite sight, your rosy cheeks, and you can bet that he will have a little self-satisfied smile on his face every time.

He’s VERY handsy. He just loves touching you any chance he gets. He has a hand on your thigh whenever and wherever you’re sitting next to him, be it his truck, the couch, even under the dining table. He also likes holding your hand, playing with your hair (if you have longer hair he definitely learns how to braid it), having his arm around your waist when you’re talking to visitors. And he’s not above getting handsy when other people are around, his touch wandering to places that make you squirm.

And the kisses. He loves kissing you. From little pecks all over your face to sweet and passionate kisses on your lips. Long makeout sessions are a must in your relationship. He could spend hours with your lips against his, teasing and tasting you while you’re in his lap in his truck on some secluded side road, his hands wandering over your sides and your curves.

So yes, his love language in definitely physical touch.

He also likes giving you gifts: wildflowers he picked in the woods, little trinkets he made you from bones, nice rocks he found.

Since he’s not as involved in his brothers’ business, it’s less likely that you end up in risky situations. Even so, there’s still the occasional asshole when you’re interacting with potential victims before showing them the directions to Ambrose. You’ve had your fair share of disgusting stares and flirting attempts. That you can manage. What you can’t tolerate however is when these assholes find out you’re with Lester and starts making comments about him. He finds it incredibly hot when you get all mouthy and talk back in defense of him.

In turn, he can’t tolerate the unwanted attention on you. That’s when he starts visibly playing with his knife, and that usually does the trick. And even if it doesn’t, he feels better knowing what happens to them after you turn them over to Bo and Vincent. He gets even more touchy after incidents like this, and you’re happy to satiate his neediness with hugs and kisses.

Even though he’s not a killer as much as his brothers and does everything in his power to stay out of it – and to also keep you out of it –, if the situation escalates and you’re in danger, you can bet he’s ready to do whatever he has to do to keep you safe. Even if he doesn’t like it, your safety and wellbeing is always his top priority.

Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

Dont steal,repost!

Параллельно сюда кину, ибо мне скучно и тревожно сидеть в поликлинике 😔

Silly doodles for peace of my mind and fun

(There's a small spoiler for the Vincent/Michael art, I hope I'll finish it someday)

💖

so hot these days

I heavily associate Vincent with the colour green for some reason

ive heard almost everybody saying johnny slaughter looks like some guy from resident evil but i see a younger bo sinclair tbh and i think im the only one that sees it

hello, I was wondering if you could do a female reader x Vincent Sinclair. Where the reader is very needy. Like she constantly just wants to be around him. They don't have to be talking just being around him is fine. If you don't write for house of wax that's fine. If you do this thank you. Have a good day!

Thank you for the request, I hope you like it. As I’m posting this I realized I kind of made the reader gender neutral because I never actually used pronouns. 🤍 gn!reader

You’re overwhelming, to say the least.

And that’s being kind. 

Vincent was his mother’s favorite, but even she had to cover his face. She might have favored him over Bo, but she didn’t love him, not the way a mother should. 

At least, that’s what you told him. 

Vincent was never sure if he should believe you or not. Bo had instilled in him that their mother was a saint. It was hard to lose that idealized image of her and replace it with the one you presented. But with the way you clung to him, hovered around him without a word, he started to wonder if maybe you had a point. 

Growing up, he wasn’t allowed to take the mask off. If he had to eat, his parent’s didn’t watch. He didn't know if it’s because he was so grotesque to them or because they couldn’t stand to see their failure. His mother was an artist, his father a doctor, yet somehow, they had created him. Formed him into this ugly and deformed creature. 

He struggled to reconcile with the fact that, maybe, someone truly could love him. He struggled with coming to terms that someone as kind as you, could love him. Most days he didn’t believe you. He would watch you carefully while you sat by his side. 

He waited for the inevitable, a look of disgust, a flinch when he came near. It never happened. He figured you were biding your time, sweetening him up and getting him to trust you before you made your escape. It wouldn’t be the first time one of the victims had done that to him. 

He almost wished he was right, that you were just a liar. He waited for you to slip up so he’d have a reason to keep you here forever in Ambrose. But you never did. Each day, you grew bolder, your presence nearly suffocated him. 

You don’t always touch him, you rarely ever talk. Your days are simply spent lingering around him, watching him work or reading while he sculpts. It’s odd, going from so many years on his own in his workshop to suddenly having a constant presence. 

He wonders why you don’t just go with Bo. He was the more handsome twin, more charming and funny. He could talk, he could walk around without a mask and be comfortable with himself. There was a clear language barrier between you and Vincent. 

His sign language was choppy at best because he’d had to learn it on his own. Bo and Lester learned some for him, but the family was pretty against it. You struggled to decipher his odd language but you still tried. He didn’t understand the effort. There was a “better” brother to choose from and, still, you stuck with him. 

Just as he looks over at you, you move from your spot by his desk. His fingers loosen around the tools in his hand while he watches you. You stretch, back bowing and a low groan leaving you as you finally move for the first time all day. You shoot him a smile before heading up the stairs out of his workshop. 

He stills and listens to the way your footsteps echo across the floorboards above him. You’re in the living room, you give a muffled greeting to Jonesy before heading towards the kitchen. His hands fidget restlessly with his tools but he can’t bring himself to get back to work. 

He hates when you go upstairs without him. He’s worried that one day he’ll hear the door open and close and he won't be able to get upstairs in time to get you back. He worries that he’ll hear Bo and you together upstairs, either in a fight or doing something worse. 

But you always come back. You’re never away from him for longer than you need to be. Your footsteps rush back towards the stairs and he feels some of the tension leave him. 

When you come back downstairs, a plate of food for you both, he pulls your chair closer to him. A silent invitation to stay close, one you eagerly accept. You sit beside him, leaning over his shoulder, and admire the sketches splayed out across his desk. 

You reach out, before he can stop you, and tug at the corner of one, pulling it out from under the others. Your eyes rove over the drawing of yourself, one of you sleeping on the couch he now keeps down here for you. You smile and glance up at him. When you lean forward and press a kiss against his masked cheek he wonders if maybe he needs you around just as much as you need him. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the movie House of Wax, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

𝕄𝕒𝕞𝕒'𝕤 𝔹𝕠𝕪

Bo Sinclair x Fem! Reader Smut !18+! !MDNI! Syn. Bo has the tendency to compare his wife to his mom, and she's getting real sick of it. Tags. unprotected sex, p in v, housewife-reader, toxic/dysfunctional marriage, implied verbal abuse, mommy-kink, hurt/comfort, slightest breeding-kink, mommy-issues (Bo's, not child's), Bo & reader's son's name is Billy, (no use of y/n) Word Count. 2.9k

Droplets of scalding oil fly off the heavily greased pan and hit your skin like prickles, shit hurts. Not as much as your eardrums do, though, same as your other arm you aren't using to hold the handle of the pan that's carrying the twenty-five-pound toddler in your other arm that's screaming bloody murder. 

"'Wanna play outside! MORE PLAYTIME!" another shriek of baby babbles wrecks the barrier protecting the shell of your ear. You groan, attempting to bounce Billy while also attempting to not burn the dinner on the pan, yeah that'd hurt more. Bo's been working 'round Ambrose all day, as usual, you don't need two temper tantrums to deal with over a burnt supper.

"God damn.." You suck in a breath when Billy knees into your side and you almost drop the food cooking. He's a growing boy for sure, pudgy small legs of his grown enough to land some fatal kicks. Bo would've laughed, except it's not funny, not when you're the one dealing with the kid all day. "You can't go outside, it's late baby." You try and reason with the kid, but you know, he's a kid.

"No! Wanna play! WANNA PLAY OUTSIDE!" He retorts, it's a nonexistent counter-point, not like he could make one anyway, his vocabulary is as small as he is. 

Another bubble of sizzling oil scars your wrist shaking the pan and you damn near snap at it. All things considered, to say you were overwhelmed is an understatement. The grip you have on Billy snugs and you let go of the panhandle, leaving the frying food on the stove, instead drifting your full attention to Billy's. 

"Enough." You elongate your words, mommy voice pitching deep and you wrap both hands around him, staring him down. "Daddy's gonna be home soon and that means supper then bed for you, no more playtime, 'specially when it's dark out." You scold. Billy whines and tosses around in your arms, dramatic showmanship but doesn't screech back at you anymore, at least. 

At this point, your patience is out the window, and while thank god your ears ain't bleeding, you need the toddler to just calm down so you can get back to finishing up dinner. About to burst, the door swings open first, cutting off the next little lecture you were going to dump on Billy, familiar taps on the old wooded floor, Bo's home. 

His boot turns and he grins at you and Billy, stepping to the kitchen quickly. "How're my babies?" Bo said before he could really process the exact situation he stepped into. 

Turning to face Bo rather than the miniature of him in your arms, your brows furrow at him, and Billy just keeps, whining. Squirming around in your arms while you glare at Bo, not that you're mad at him, okay maybe you are but not justifiably, at the moment you're just mad. Bo doesn't acknowledge it, instead looking around then to the stove. 

Shit, dinner. 

"You burnt supper," He gestures to the now char-blacked mix of ingredients inside the pan, nose and eyes crinkling in disgust at it. Funny, he's seen plenty of burnt shit, like corpses, but god forbid his dinner be burnt. 

You choose to ignore the statement. "Can you take him?" You ask instead, reaching your arms outward for Bo to take Billy out of them. He wails between your arms, tiny nails digging into your skin while you try to hand him to Bo, let him help out. 

"Can't handle him yourself?" Bo replies and doesn't take Billy out your arms, raising a judgemental brow at you. 

"Just take him so I can fix the food." You respond, nudging your chin up in the direction of Billy for Bo to take him, but he doesn't.

"Bo." His name parts from you in a restrained growl. 

Billy is out of your arms into Bo's now, but there isn't any sweetness in the expression Bo gives you when he does. Mercy isn't present in his gesture, taking the kid and giving you another judgy look in lieu of a willing expression as he does. 

Circling between the kitchen to living room Bo rocks Billy over his shoulder, letting him wail it out till he gets exhausted by his fit. Eventually, the whines soften to snores. A momentary silence as Bo rocks him in his arms, you opting out of remaking the earlier failed meal with Billy now sound asleep. For a second your eyes meet Bo's while you wash the burnt remains off of the pan, as he walks off with the sleeping toddler to put him to bed.

"Need help with that too?" He balances himself against the hardwood kitchen counter clicking his tongue from behind you, there's the tiniest amount of condescension in his voice. See that, that shit hurts a lot more than hot oil. Can't control that mouth of his, has a mind of its own, he told you once too many times by now when, if, he'd bother to check up on you after airing out his bullshit onto you. 

"No." You've learned not to engage with whatever got him pissed by now, not with Bo. Vincent doesn't, hell even Lester doesn't, why would you? Would be stupid to. Not like he hits you or anything anyway, just mouths off sick filth with absolutely no filter. Got the worst of tempers but he does enough gutting and beating in his own time when getting Vincent his wax muses.

A mock laugh erupts from Bo and he tilts himself forward to your side of the kitchen, leaning over the sink to look you in the eye. Once again, you ignore the bubbling rage emanating from him, boiling up. But you can handle heat. Spend half your day on the frypan taking care of the boys, even if it means the boys just burn you twice as much. 

Bo sucks in his teeth, and you can feel the room getting warmer, not the arousing kind, Bo's signature can be being a horny fucking mess, but also an angry one. "I don't get it." He scoffs, shaking his head at the unsaid words he isn't even gonna try and hold back on. "It's one kid, for fucks sake."

Now this, you know where this one's going. Reuccering theme of your husbands, the never-ending need to nitpick at your parenting. He bitches about damn well everything, but there are those times you feel the tips of your nerves itch all wrong, like a sixth sense at this point when he's about to spit those abhorrent words. 

"My Mama managed fine with three so," Ah, there it is, your least favourite words to ever grace God's green earth. Broken record at this point with how often Bo brings it up. 'My Mama never-' 'My Mama did-' Words that seemed to toss any left sanity you had in you into the fire you thought you had grown used to, but no you didn't. Because it burns more hellish each time it's said. 

"I'm sure she did." Your teeth grit while you speak feigning little control as you try and remain docile, not to fan the flame any further. 

"Shouldn't be burnin' dinner, you know your way 'round a fire." He adds, voice raising with each sentence. Damn straight you know your way around a fire, dealing with Bo's frenzies all the time, you've gone numb to the temperature he inflicts with his tongue.

"Billy was having a tantrum." You gently defend.

"You call that a tantrum?" Bo snorts, taunting the notion. "Small lil hissy-fit at best, darlin'. My Mama ain't never burnt no meals over my tantrums." 

"Well, I'm not your Mama." You snarl cutting him off, pupils jolting away from the dish you were scrubbing to Bo's. Sick and tired is one way to describe the crazy you were experiencing right now at Bo's statements. A band snapping in the kitchen between you and him 

The edge of his shoulders stiffens into a line, and for the first time since you've known him, you think you've burnt him instead. A woefully pathetic air casts in his over his eyes, turning pitiable. "No, you're not." He replies as if he's testing the words, tasting them in his mouth as he verbalizes them, and they taste bittersweet sort of wrong. An unfortunate truth. 

Not sure if you're more shocked at yourself, or Bo right now you simply pause at the sight. Bo is, in fact, not yelling back at you. Shutting you up in some pseudo-volume battle that'd sure to have woken up anyone asleep in the house. Instead, he just looks at you like a kicked dog, not too far from what he was, his life considered.

The air goes cold, bedsheets feeling extra plush around you, that sort of featherlight coolness engulfing you on the bed, odd. Rarely cold in Ambrose, even in the dead of night. Much less soft, you're more used to suffocating in heat, wax requires it to meld and shape, And Bo pours it out in all his hot-headed tantrums you get burdened with. 

Bed post creaking you look over your shoulder from your side and the familiar dip on the other side has Bo there finding his usual spot beside you. 

This isn't hellfire hot, this is limbo, off-putting quietude, yet not tranquil. A second passes and Bo just stares off at the rusted ceiling. Did you break Bo? Did you fuck it up this time, like seriously fuck it up with what you said? More disturbed by the blue tune of silence than hollering, you turn completely to him. 

"Uhm," You start, unsure of where you're going with your question. "You still mad at me?" If he was, you're sure you would've known it, Bo doesn't shy away from his anger or showcasing it. Still, you question. 

"I'm not mad at you, darlin'." Bo sighs, shutting his eyes to avoid yours, wrinkles of the eyelid creasing in some kind of negative emotion.

Gently rolling to Bo's side you land atop his chest pressing your cheek flat against it, hearing the thump of his heart, familiarized with it by now. His arm finds place around your side rubbing your back instinctively. "Just, you know, my Mama... My Mama was real different than ya. Different to how you're with Billy."

There's an internal tick being set off because you've heard him sing this song too many times, about his Mama. Not that you had anything against the lady, bless her for raising your man, and bless your man for respecting her, it's sweet. But it's the constant comparing that had you getting all worked up.

"Different to how you're with me..." He adds, swallowing back a lump, and perhaps if you haven't gone crazy officially, a tear as well. So, this is not where you were expecting the conversation to go. Bo's not mad, not picking at you for the expectation his mother set. 

"You're so, so patient. With Billy, with me." He praises, he's praising you. Not mad, not disappointed, grateful. "Don't hurt me, at all, only," He groans, the bridge of his brow pinching, eyes still shut as he speaks. A vulnerability in his tone. "You only do me good. Make me feel good."  He means it all, with complete genuineness. Almost as though he's shocked at you for it, 'cause Bo's never seen you hit Billy, the kid's only got scars from scruffy tree branches that scrapped his knees. Bo's are all too vivid, leather and duct tape that's no longer there but still stings in his wrists and ankles. Never knew a woman could get so gentle, not with how his mama was, yet you were.

You smooth a hand over his chest where you lay, up to his cheek, hovering over his waterline wiping off the tears before they've fallen with a soft motion. "Shh, Bo." You soothe.

"Christ darlin'. You're such a good Mommy..." Bo murmurs, releasing a shaky breath, opening his eyes to look at you. Disbelief apparent from the quake rumbling through the way he speaks right now. He mumbles something else intangible and pulls you flush closer to him. 

Sweat salts your skin, snapping hips up and down against each other room re-enveloped with familiar warmth while you swallow him whole. 

"O-Ohh.. S'good, such a good boy, Bo." You warble in mixed moans, absolutely drenching the sheets under the round of your ass Bo pounding languidly into your gushing cunt. Tips of your finger pushing indents into the muscle of his back. 

Fervor spilled through his mind as you tugged him down closer, pussy sucking him in the same. Pulling then pushing his cock by the full till the tip nearly slipped out then slamming in deeper. "Fuck yeah, feels good Mommy? I makin' you feel so good, huh?" He purred, dipping his head into the crook of your neck breath fanning right over your ears fuzzing out the sound of his balls slapping against your ass. "Oh fuuuck, Grippin' me like crazy, Mommy." 

Saliva doused into the crook of your neck, Bo sucking in the skin and lapping at it. Wanting to kiss you whole, fuck you full. Maybe fill you with another baby, because you've done so well with the first he's given you. Another time, though, right now all that swelled was his cock lodged deep into you and awe in his mind. 

You tossed your legs around his waist, shivers twisting the inside of your abdomen, Bo fucks good every time. His mouth is so much more lovable stuck on the sensitive inches of your flesh making out hickeys and love bruises rather pissy words. "Close! Mommy's s-so close!" You gasp, tugging him closer, close as can be so his body heat can burn you right, the way you deserved it. 

Feeling you pull him till bodies melded like molten wax, and your insides warming his cock, clenching in a steady increase, Bo hugged his arms around your waist. Pelvis slamming harder, quicker against yours, increased pace jackhammering your cunt. 

"Cum f'me. Come on, Cum for me, pretty Mama. Cum all over my cock Mommy," His voice mumbled in a strained groan, bordering a whimper, heavy breathed against the sticky spot he'd left into the corner of your neck and shoulder while he pushes you to climax.

Felt good to burn like this, to be loved by Bo. Your brain turned to mush and white stars of bliss flooded from your spasming cunt to your brain. "Fuck, Ohh yes! Cumming! Cumming!" Gripping his cock so tight he almost came right there and then, but graced himself while he plunged deep into you restlessly, riding out the onslaught of euphoria that burned your veins. 

You were fucked out, that much was certain, first orgasm hit hard, harder than any words he could beat you with. Already stressed out day, Bo fixing that for you, dutiful husband the such. Rolling his hips in slower motions as you calm down from your high, your thighs clamp around his hips feeling the sting of sex continue passed your orgasm.  

"Stay wimme Mommy, gimme one more, yeah?" Bo tilted his head, raising it so it hovered over your forehead, staying atop you with a lustful adoration in his eyes. He was lucky, that much was certain. Not much luck in his life, crazy dead daddy and mommy, favourite freak of a twin brother, got you though. He got himself the sweetest baby mama a man could ask for. That shit is the best luck if he'd ever felt it.

"One more, sweet Mommy, and I'll fuck ya full. Mhm?" He cooed, pressing his lips to yours and snapping his cock into you, regaining his previous pace as your pussy relaxed around him. Building his thrusts back into quickness while hugging you close, kissing you with love.

You warmed impossibly hot, like an unbridled flame. Clinging to him while he does to you, because you're his everything, because you're his wife, his mommy, his darling. "O-Oh, Oh god Mommy, gonna... Gonna-" Bo choked out, cock throbbing in you with each slap of his balls against your ass. body churning and tense fucking you quick as could be.

"Me too- Oh fuck!" You felt it coming harder than a tidal wave this time, Bo nearing his as well. Your eyes rolled behind your skull and Bo slammed his lips to yours again to shut his own pornish moans from spilling out, your pussy driving him to pure rapture.  

Ecstasy ran through you two's bodies and he delved his cock straight into you in a final thrust of needed high, balls tightening and spilling deep into you with strangled cries of pleasure filling your lips that parted his. Teeth clattering messily against each other while he rode out his high in your spasming pussy, you washing into the second state of bliss the night cumming hard around his cock.

Bo could be a horrid husband at times, but God be damned, was he a grateful one. So grateful, wanted to send you to heaven, and push you through it over and over. Hoping to keep the fire churning in you forever. 

But for now, his dick was spent. And his Mommy was already exhausted as be taking care of his kid all day, and also getting fucked stupid by him. He pulled out with a grunt and flopped to his side in the bed. "Supper would've been good, now." He mumbles in a snort, wrapping his loose-jointed arm around your waist and rubbing a hand over your bare curves.

"Don't even start.." You grumble softly, before letting out a soft giggle, the type that makes him go stupider than emptying his balls in you. A dumb grin overtook his face and he smiled at you, rolling slightly in the bed to face you. 

"Sorry, darlin'." Sorry's only happen after Bo fucked you, not after he yells, never after he scalds you with words. But you'll take it, if it meant getting dicked down by the best man in Ambrose. 

"It's okay." You reply in a soft sigh, nuzzling against him. His perfect Mommy.  

Brian Van Holt as Bo Sinclair in House of Wax (2005) 10/??

Roberto Ferri's Resurrection study

BRIAN VAN HOLT as Bo Sinclair in House of Wax (2005)

Louisiana’s summer nights

Hey! I'm back from the dead!

I was struggling with art block recently, but this meme thingy helped me to get back into drawing. At least for a while..

I already did this trend with Steve and Eddie, and I couldn't help to draw Sinclair twins like that too 😊

Kinda smutty but: Imagine the Sinclairs in a craze for you…

Vincent coming up behind you and wrapping his string arms around your waist, nuzzling into your neck, kissing your skin, loving you. He whimpers lightly until you look at him. He stops and kisses your lips, holding you closer and tighter until you melt away. He spins you around and lifts you up; you weigh nothing him. He kisses until you both pull away breathless. You hold his face and rests against his forehead, hanging your arms over his shoulders as he carries you to his bed. Vincent lays you down and treats you like royalty, taking everything nice and slow, rough and tender. He loves you so much that he doesn’t know what to do sometimes besides being near you.

Lester lifting you up to sit on his tailgate so he could rest his head in your chest, hands running up and down your thighs before warping you in a warm embrace. Your hands taking his hat off so you can play with his flatten curls while his kisses linger down your jaw over your neck. He just wants you in his arms and litter you with so much kisses while mumbling “I love you” the whole time. Then he cups your cheeks and kisses you deeply and passionately, bruising your lips until they’re numb. His hands fall over your breast and massages you, whispering your name like a prayer, and he praises you like you’re his god. He’s so much in love with you that it drives him over the edge sometimes.

Bo having a bad day and just sees you coming to the shop with a jug of sweet peach ice tea. Him just meeting you in front of the shop to lift you up by your legs and smash his lips against yours. He wants you more and more, deeper and deeper the pit in his chest grows for you. He smiled against your lips and sits you on the front counter, kissing your neck, nipping at your skin, repeating “mine; all mine” until he’s so drunk off your scent he can’t stop staring at you, and his hands are so focused on rubbing your arms, thighs, neck. His lost eyes closing as he leans into your hands, kissing the palms and starts praising you for every little thing you do. “Le’me worship you, darlin’,” he’ll drawl, his southern voice so deep and heavy as he kisses you again. “Need you, sweetheart. Need ya bad.” And he lifts you up again only to carry you to a tailgate in the shop, lowering you down, kissing and marking you all over because he wants more and more and more of you. Bo loves you so much that he would burn for you, kill for you, die for you, hunt for you— everything he does, he’ll do it for you until you tell him to stop.

my height compaired to some slashers (im 4'11")

fangoria’s may 2005 issue #243.

Слешеры мои слешеры..

I’ve seen a lot of headcannons on the Sinclair brothers in high school and here’s my take on them:

Bo Sinclair

I don’t think Bo was popular AT ALL.

He’s the kid that gets in fights all the time, disrespectful to teachers + peers, and just doesn’t give a shit whatsoever about anything.

He’s super smart though. He never does his work but he understands what’s going on. I think he was a naturally gifted kid, didn’t have to try in school to get good grades, probably could have been in the top of his class. He probably tried to use his grades when he was younger to get his parents attention but when that didn’t happen, he just gave up.

Along with being smart, I think he’s also pretty good at art too. I feel like if Trudy gave Bo as much attention as she gave Vincent and his art, Bo could have been just as good as Vincent. But since Trudy neglected Bo and his interests, he kinda gave up on it. Thought that it really wasn’t good enough.

His favorite class was probably math. I know most people would think shop but i really think he’d like math.

I think he did play sports in high school, or at least tried to. His temper got him kicked off most of the teams. Out of all the sports he played though, I think he probably enjoyed wrestling. It was a sport where he could get on the mat and all he had to focus on for a few minutes was getting a pin and scoring points. No thoughts about home or his parents, just the sport.

He probably didn’t have many girlfriends in high school. I feel like his whole demeanor in school kind out girls off so he didn’t get much action till high school was over.

I think the one teacher to actually like him was the librarian. The librarian probably knew about how Vincent was favorited and they felt like he was misunderstood. He probably ate lunch in there too since it was quiet and no one was around. He’d even help shelf books and things like that.

I don’t think Bo really had friends. Sure he’d hangout with the douchebag jocks, but it was never more than being friendly and cracking a joke here and there.

Probably started smoking bc of them.

Wanted to be an electrician and would read any books he could find on it while eating lunch in the library. ( That’s why the town still has power and everything works electrical wise down there. )

Vincent Sinclair

I’m gonna say it, Vincent was probably popular. He’s the kid that’s nice to everyone, teachers love him, and he’s always willing to lend a hand.

He was on student council. He helped make decorations for the dances and design the class shirts.

He did get bullied a little in school, only by certain kids, but I feel like he got through school pretty unscathed.

Like Bo, Vincent really didn’t have any true friends. Sure he was friendly with people, and would eat lunch with them sometime, but they weren’t super close.

Vincent had a lot of pressure put on him by Trudy. He always felt like his every move was being watched. As the “gold child”, Vincent felt like he had a lot to live up to.

Vincent was average in school. He wasn’t terribly bad but he wasn’t a child prodigy either. He had to study, things didn’t come easy to him, but he got good grades.

He HATED high school art. When he signed up, he thought we he’d be able to create whatever he wanted, but when he got into class and realized he had to follow assignment rules and didn’t get to have as much creative liberty as he would like, he dropped the class.

His favorite class would have to be English. I can see him liking the classics they had to read in class and would often go home and draw the scenes from the books. His favorites are To Kill a Mockingbird and Mice of Men. He cried while reading both of them.

I’m guessing Bo and him went to high school during the 80s/90s? But i think they both dressed somewhat similar, in that twin way that most parents dress their young children. Probably band t-shirts, pearl snap shirts (since they’re from a rural small town), and jeans. Vincent would have a turtle neck or sweater thrown in there somewhere though.

Vincent wanted to be an art teacher, so that kids wouldn’t have to get projects with little room to take creative liberty.

He drew comics for the school newspaper.

He took french. Just look at him. He DEFINITELY took french.

Also like Bo, he’s very awkward with girls. Not as much as Bo. He’s just shy and i think he doesn’t realize when someone hits on him.

Lester Sinclair

He’s no different than he was in the high school.

He was very much the class clown. Cracked jokes in class all the time and definitely planned the senior prank.

Unlike his older brothers, he had lots of friends. He had one or two super close friends but he got along with everyone.

No one was a stranger to him. He got along with people so well that when a new student came, he was asked to show them around.

He’s also very much like abi when it comes to school. He’s super smart but plays himself down to make people laugh.

HATED math class. Didn’t like the material, didn’t like the teacher, thought he was super creepy bc he flirted with all the female students.

Wore Vincent and Bo’s hand-me-downs.

He played soccer in school. I can see him play forward/striker. He’s super fast and very aggressive.

Unlike his brothers, he’s a ladies man. Always had a date to dances, always had a girl fawning over him. He’s funny and nice, true southern gentleman.

Favorite class was science. Loved learning about how things work, why things are the way they are.

If you looked in his senior yearbook, he’s on almost every page.

Wanted to be a park ranger. I don’t have to explain why, it fits him so well.

Went to parties all the time. He was the life of them too. He smoked pot a couple times too. Still does to this day just to relax.

Outfits based on horror films 🦴

Horror High belongs to @1percentcharge

Here they are!!!

House of Wax (2005)