#house of Wax

[theroosterfairytaler]

Brian Van Holt as Beauregard "Bo" Sinclair

House Of Wax (2005 - remake)

The Rooster Fairytaler: Why does the evil one's always have to be so attractive? He's a literal reminder of daddy issues, but a part of me craves the familiarity.

[25bohemianmoons]

The stockholm syndrome was effortlessly and expertly captured! The use of subtle details to set the tone here was *chefs kiss* Well done! 😍

To be held.

°Part 2 to 'dead to the world' ♡

Just a couple of minutes felt like eternity. An eternity spent staring at the woman across the room. Her eyes looked wild, eye bags denting the area beneath her eyes. After a while, finally, she stands up from the mattress. Briefly shooting back daggers in Bos' direction before shutting the door as she left. No click though, she hadn't found the keys to lock it yet. As he could recall, the arm of the gurney had been wobbily, weakened down with years of use. It might be loose enough. With two strong kicks, it breaks. A little too easily though, it'll have to be fixed later. With one arm a little more free, he reaches out and grabs a knife from his toolbox. Using it to cut away at the leather restraints and tape. It took a good couple of minutes, occasionally shooting a look at the door before resuming. The moment he was free, the knife was promptly stuffed in his pocket before wiping the glistening sweat off his brow. By the time tonight was over, he was going to need a good couple of beers. Maybe budweiser.

You searched through his stuff for anything else helpful, finding another bottle of warm water in the process. Noticing the yellow truck outside, you popped open the drivers seat with no troubles. Promptly searching it throughly just to be stopped by the gun pressing to the back of your head. It was Bo. You didn't need to look back to know. The tension was overwhelmingly silent as he slowly leaned forward until he was close enough to whisper into your ear, tone calm yet laced with threat. "Who are you?" Not answering led to the gun pressing firmer against you and a firmer tone. "Answer me." You laughed, so hard it hurt. Your lungs felt tight. You don't know what more from, though. The laughing or his hand now wrapped around your throat, squeezing forcefully.

The laughing pissed him off to a new degree. Not even throwing and manhandling you eased the anger clawing at him from the inside out. Bashing your head hard against the truck leaving a gash on your forehead. He only began calming down once you were chained up by the ankle in the basement. Looming above for a moment before bending down to your level, meeting your gaze. "I'm not going to have to ask again am i?" You slowly shook your head. "Spit it out then."

Time passes and the basement practially becomes prison over the course of what might have been weeks now. You honestly don't know anymore, there was no point in counting anymore. The only thing you kept track of was how often he'd come by. Sometimes if you were lucky enough he'd remember to bother feeding you. The food was typically cold or just leftovers. Sanity slowly slipped through your fingers, and he was to blame for it. You'd catch yourself waiting for the sound of his footsteps, the click of the door before it swung open. Each time you got a little too inpatient for it, you cussed yourself out throughly. Almost on cue, the door clicks and creaks open. You head must've popped up a little too enthusiastically because he doesn't miss the chance to remark "missed me?" Sitting up, he kneels down in front of you and reaches out to cradle your head in his hands. They were cold bizarrely enough considering the summers heat. You don't what force compelled it but you ended up leaning in, pressing yourself firmer into his grasp. His thumb slowly beginning to caress your cheeks before he wets his chapped lips and leans in pressing a firm kiss to your forehead. For a moment, just a second your eyes flutter shut savouring that odd piece of warmth. The kissed lingered before being ripped away. The only piece of affection you've had in who knows how long. Opening your eyes, he smiles

back at you. It was disgusting how it made you crumble, melt into his grasp. Falling right into where he wants you. This wasn't supposed to happen.

His chest was flush against yours, hands all over the place before settling on your hips. His blue eyes fixated on watching your face with each snap of his hips. The thrusts were slow but deep, pressing himself to the hilt. Keeping a firm grasp on his sweaty back, you bury you head into the crook of his neck just to be yanked away by the back of your hair clenched in his fist. His hands were rough, they always were and yet you forced yourself to find comfort in it. Made yourself at home, accepting the gore and grime which came along with that home. Anything for the feeling of security. In anyone's arms. Even Bos.

[psychotic-star-girl]

[goryhorroor]

“1950s horror movies contrast radically with their 1940s predecessors. understandably – they were reflecting a whole new world. audiences wanted stories that connected directly to their lives, to the ever-expanding technology in their homes and workplaces. they also wanted horror movies that played to their fears – stoked by politicians – of the shadows that lay beyond their immediate, personal experience of the shiny american dream (applies to some of these movies).”

[zvonkayatishina]

Autumn is coming so do Halloween

Sketchy work with Vincent Sinclair from House of Wax

[black-brained]

Me: I watch house of wax for the plot!

The plot:

[the-thot-clown]

This is an old one from Patre0n but I think I've never shared it here?

[angelbarelywrites]

♡ slashers scenarios | sharing a bed

♡ fandoms; The Boy, Halloween, Texas Chainsaw Massacre (original + 2006), House of Wax, Dead by Daylight, slashers (general)

♡ characters; Brahms Heelshire, Micheal Myers, Thomas Hewitt, Bubba Sawyer, Vincent Sinclair

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡ cw; very suggestive content, implied smut

♡note; swapped out billy in this one bc i can’t imagine him sharing a bed with someone and not getting literally pornographic

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Brahms Heelshire

> Once he decides he wants to share the bed, he finds the biggest guest room bed and brings all of the comfiest pillows and blankets he can to make it perfect

> For you more than him, but he doesn’t feel too hurt when you push half of them to the foot of the bed

> It was a lot even for a king bed

> You’re reluctant at first, not used to sharing a bed

> But you find he’s very hard to say no to once you’re in that deep

> He tries to give you space, but it’s not long before he’s wrapped around you, clinging for dear life

> And he almost immediately falls asleep like that, head tucked into your chest

> You sigh and try and relax, petting his hair

> And you fall asleep with your hand still tangled in his black locks, holding him close to you

> You wake up to him nuzzling your neck and practically whining

> “Baby…wake up…”

> You’d ask him what the problem was…if you couldn’t feel it against your leg

> You spend most of the morning still in bed, lazily fixing his predicament

Micheal Myers

> He doesn’t get why you want him to do this

> You know he doesn’t cuddle

> You know he usually gets restless and wanders at night

> But there’s no reason to say no, and even he can’t stand how sad your pout is

> You hum and stretch, tucking yourself in and look at him expectantly

> He takes off his boots and lays on top of the covers beside you, stiff as a board

> You have to coax him to even take the mask off, but he still won’t relax

> You quickly realize he’s used to high security psych ward bunks, not big comfy queen beds full of stuffed animals

> “…do you…wanna sleep on the floor?”

> He pauses.

> Shakes his head and closes his eyes.

> After you finally fall sleep, he sits up, intending on leaving

> But you look so peaceful…he can’t help to stay and watch you. Just for a little while.

> When he touches your cheek, you press into his hand. Maybe a while longer.

> When you wake up he’s still staring at you, hand long gone from your cheek

> But once you blink awake, it creeps somewhere else..

Thomas Hewitt

> He’s almost nervous of the idea

> Y’all are certainly intimate with each other - just as intimate as you would be if you were married like his mama was planning

> But what if the family noticed you were in there? He’d kill Hoyt for calling you anything nasty-

> When he sees you in skimpy PJs, he immediately forgets his worries

> He has a huge bed because he’s a huge guy, so when you curl up in it alone, it’s almost comical

> He’s staring at you as he climbs in after you, cautiously removing his mask

> His shoulders relax a little when you smile up at him, still so amazed you can stand to look at him

>“Hold me?”

> He grunts and takes no time in pulling you flush, spooning you. He’s more relaxed than he’s been in a while, sure he’ll fall asleep in no time

> Until you give a tiny sigh and shift your hips, innocently adjusting

> It doesn’t take much for you to set him off- he’s touch starved and obsessed with you.

> Along with feeling him against your ass, you can literally hear his breathing change.

> “…Tommy baby? Want me to take care of that?”

> It takes another two hours before you fall asleep, both sticky with sweat and sated, your head laying on his broad chest.

Bubba Sawyer

> He’s so happy to have a sleepover- even if you live right down the hall in the same house (I cannot imagine you dating him and being allowed to leave the farm tbh)

> He gives you an updated tour of his room- he’s very happy to show you the collection of polaroids of you he hung up.

> You were wondering where those went

> Finally he drops you on the bed, giggling quietly

> It’s old but comfy, and he has plenty of stolen pillows and blankets, and even some stuffed bears

> He strips right on down to his heart boxers, leaving his mask on for last

> He takes it off slowly, giving you that shy look he always does

> You grin and open your arms and he’s more than happy to scoop you up with a coo.

> By the time you’re settled, you’re curled around his back

> He loves being the little spoon, even if he’s a big brute

> When you wake up he’s bursting back into the room with some slightly burnt toast for breakfast

> It’s a sudden wake up call, but a welcome one

> And you repay him in tons of kisses, all over

Vincent Sinclair

> Like some of the others he’s hesitant

> But you want him to relax, he’s been working so hard- so you take him away from the studio, and into your room

> You’re not even letting him so much as sketch until he sleeps

> He tilts his head and is almost pouting, trying to guilt you - even more so once you help him remove his wax

> Until you coax him into his stomach so you can massage his back, that is

> You’re clumsy and certainly not a professional, but your hands on him is enough to melt away the stress

> He suddenly rolls over and grabs your hips as he hears you yawn

> It’s your turn to pout down at him

> But eventually you relent and let him cradle you close to his chest as he hums a nonsense lullaby

> You keep him trapped in bed the next morning as revenge, again straddling him before he can get up to leave

> But this time, you’re most certainly not yawning

[minilev]

The hunters are being hunted

[seasonofhorror]

HOUSE OF WAX

jaume collet-serra, 2005

[lemonadeslice]

siblings in horror: ride-or-die edition

the strangers: prey at night | nope | house of wax | the lost boys

codependent | blood-soaked | haunted | damned | dumb-ass

[eerie-candid]

They both fear what the answer is

[suwann-11]

I obsessed over him again 😔😔

[factorydefaultlu]

Headcanons for Vincent, Thomas, Brahms, Michael Myers with an s/o who is really good at riding them, like riding them to oblivion till they can’t think right

Vincent Sinclair

Loves when his darling is on top, he gets to watch his beautiful work of art use him like a toy.

His hands grip their hips, and he rolls his own in rhythm with their movements.

Dark hair sticks to his forehead with sweat, his mouth hangs open. His mask was discarded long ago, he looks immaculate in the low light of his workshop.

His breathing is heavy and his moans are strangled. He's trying to keep quiet so he can hear his lover, their groans and sighs.

Vincent loves the way they feel when they bounce on his cock, he thinks he's died and gone to heaven.

Brahms Heelshire

He's such a sub it's not even funny. He begged his lover to make him feel good before bed and they happily obliged.

He doesn't regret asking for this, but he knows he's gonna get fucked stupid.

They're bouncing on his cock, tight little hole squeezing around him deliciously.

Brahms moans loudly, and his hands wander their body. Groping and grabbing the soft skin. He begs for more, tears forming in his eyes.

His beloved smirks down at him, his mind melting the more they rock their hips. He doesn't want it to stop, yet at the same time he needs to cum.

Thomas Hewitt

He's very much a giver. Whatever his lover wants they will get.

He protested being laid on his back only because he wants to make sure his beloved is getting as much pleasure as he is.

Tommy is convinced that they're enjoying themselves as well when he sees the way they look down at him.

Their hips rolling, their tight hole squeezing his fat cock just right. His mask was discarded, and he was flushed from his neck to the tips of his ears.

Low grunts rumbled in his chest, his cock throbbed as his darling bounced. They looked like a work of art above him.

Michael Myers

Selfish. That's the best word to describe him in bed. When his beloved climbed over him he remained completely still.

If they wanted to fuck themselves on his cock, they can have at it. He's tired, he won't help, not unless they cum before he does.

His nonchalant attitude melts away within minutes, his lover bounced along his shaft. The tip of his cock hit something delicious inside them and he nearly lost it.

Heavy pants emanated from behind his mask. He was losing himself, watching as they use him like a fuck toy. Their tight hole milking him for all he's worth.

[evilvvithin]

HOUSE OF WAX jaume collet-serra, 2005

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

It's almost Halloween, so I thought I'd bring this back...

No one could do "sensation, horror, and shock" like Vincent Price!

House of Wax (1953) dir. Andre De Toth