#house of wax doctor sinclair

[barenecessiteas]

So I'm really not a writer on here, but I keep thinking of a bunch of headcanons about the Sinclairs in House of Wax. I think a lot of people aren't gonna agree, but I like adding layers and complexity to people' characters. And since I do mention Bo's abuse and scars I'll put it under the cut if people don't wanna see it. I'll do this in parts, but still this is gonna be long cuz I need to get all of this out of my head LMAO. First up is Trudy and Victor. Hope you enjoy 😊

Trudy & Victor

This section is mostly where I think people will disagree with me but here it goes - I don't think Trudy & Victor were *entirely* terrible parents. Don't get me wrong, it doesn't make the abuse any less horrifying or unacceptable, but like I said, I like to believe they're more complex than just plain evil

Now with my rant out of the way, onto the actual headcanons lol

Trudy picked out the names for the twins. She was VERY picky about choosing relatively uncommon names, or rather names that just weren't super popular

She picked Bo's name, Beauregard, because the first thing she said when she saw him for the first time was how beautiful his eyes were. Beauregard means "beautiful gaze" so she thought it fit well

Vincent's name was a compromise she came up with because Victor wanted a son named after him. Trudy adamantly refused because she thought "Victor Jr." sounded ridiculous 💀

Vincent and Victor both mean "to conquer" or "victory", so that's where she got the main idea. It wasn't a super common name, he would still technically be named after his father, and it just so happened to be the name of her favorite artist, Vincent Van Gogh

Victor picked Lester's name when he was born. He did not put nearly as much thought into naming his newborn child as Trudy did with the twins. He deadass just heard the name Lester somewhere and decided he liked it lol

Trudy had terrible postpartum depression after she had the twins. And it was exacerbated by the fact that they were conjoined

She couldn't shake the feeling that there must have been something wrong with HER body that caused them to be conjoined, like she must have done something wrong. She carried that guilt with her for the rest of her life

But instead of, ya know, seeking therapy and proper help, she ended up taking her frustrations out on the kids and Victor

Still, she does genuinely love all her boys, but love alone isn't enough to make you a good parent. She was a perfect example of that

Victor didn't tell Trudy that he was going to do the separation surgery himself. Trudy actually had some sense and wanted to take the babies to a doctor in the city that was properly qualified to perform such an operation

Yes, Victor was a surgeon, but we can see on some of the certificates and degrees in his study that he was only certified in general and vascular surgery. Those definitely aren't the right fields to separate two baby boys conjoined at the head

He waited until Trudy fell asleep one night, insisting that she should rest and he would take care of the boys if they woke up in the middle of the night. Once he was certain she was out cold, that's when he snuck the boys downstairs to separate them. Trudy was absolutely mortified

Both Trudy and Victor did genuinely worry about the boys' quality of life because of the way they were conjoined. But Victor was already used to doing sketchy surgeries on the side, and in his mind he was genuinely trying to help their boys

Trudy had a breakdown when she saw Vincent's little baby face completely wrapped in gauze after the surgery. That moment of holding him for the first time after the surgery was devastating because she felt powerless to help them

She was thrilled that Bo made it out of the surgery pretty unscathed, she never actually held that against him as they grew up. But he was still the victim of her anger anyway

The wax mask for Vincent was Trudy's idea, as I think most of us assumed anyway. When Vincent was around 3, he started asking why his face was so different from Bo's. His exact words as a toddler were "Why my face broken?"

His scars never bothered either Victor or Trudy in terms of appearance. The only thing that actually bothered them about it is that it was a permanent reminder of Victor's botched surgery that Vincent would have to carry for the rest of his life

The boys were identical twins, so she got the idea to start making masks of Bo's face to try to make Vincent feel better. She didn't expect him to become so dependent on it, and she never realized the damage it did to his self esteem

Trudy was kind of a hardass as a parent when any of the kids threw a fit or something. This was the 1970s, it was considered socially acceptable to spank or slap your kids from time to time as discipline. When she'd get overwhelmed with her depression or one of the kids was driving her crazy, that's when she would lash out

Obviously Bo's tantrums were the worst when it came to how she handled them. The highchair with the straps and tape was almost like their twisted version of a "time out"

It forced Bo to stay still, and they assumed that keeping him tied down was the only way to "calm" him because they were so unequipped to handle such frequent and and severe toddler tantrums

Once the boys outgrew the highchairs, Trudy and Victor would force Bo down long enough for them to just restrain him to a regular chair. It didn't have the straps anymore, so they just used a fuckton of duct tape

It did get a little better as the kids got older. Bo got better at hiding his emotions, so he didn't "act out" as much. She would still spank or slap him, Vincent, and Lester when they misbehaved

She did genuinely enjoy taking the boys out places, like the zoo or the park. It was her who took the majority of those pictures we see in the movie. It was partly a coping mechanism so she'd have reminders around the house that they did have happy moments as a family

*Most* of their everyday life was relatively normal, actually. Victor was usually busy with his medical practice, so most of the actual raising fell to Trudy (yet another reason she'd start feeling overwhelmed)

Most days Victor only really saw Trudy and the kids in the morning and in the evening at supper. On the occasional days off he had, he did genuinely enjoy teaching the kids different sports like football and baseball

All the boys do have genuinely fond memories of playing baseball together as a family in the backyard. They stuck with them so deeply because Victor was around so infrequently

Trudy didn't actually get a cyst in her brain, nor did Victor kill himself. Bo made that whole thing up

A clip from an interview with Brian Van Holt (Vince and Bo's actor) has him explaining that Bo pretty much just thought of it in the moment to string Carly and Wade along

I don't really have a headcanon for how either of them died tbh, but Victor did die before Trudy. He has a grave and headstone in the cemetery next to the church in town. The boys try to visit it (along with Trudy's... wax mummy disposition?) for things like Father's Day, Victor's birthday, and holidays

Welp, I think I've tortured you guys enough with my hyper fixation on this movie 🙃 Thanks for humoring me if you actually read this whole thing. I salute you lol

[kissofmourningdeath]

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[About Me]

Idk I'll write if you send me requests. I like marvel, books and sour apple flavored candy.

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My Main focuses|The Avengers, Poppy Playtime|

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Requests?|OPEN|

[charleslee-valentine]

♪ Now when I'm very good, and do as I am told I'm Mama's little angel and Daddy says I'm good as gold

And when I'm naughty and answer back and sass I'm Mama's little devil, and Daddy says I've got the brass. ♪

- What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? (1962)

~~~~

Fic word count: ~1,600

Warnings: Detailed depictions of child abuse (mental, medical, and physical,) canonical mistreatment of the Sinclair twins, the highchair/restraints being used on Bo, panic attack, near asphyxia, fear of death, smoking, psychological torment, weaponized love, Trudy and Victor Sinclair being horrible parents, childhood mental illness, all hurt no comfort.

~~~~

“Don’t you love your brother, Beauregard?!”

Does he?

Vincent is sitting in his big boy chair in the corner. His hair is parted neatly down the middle, smoothed by Mama’s doting hands and a lipsticked kiss. There’s no mask on his face today. His last one melted.

The brat left in the window where the sun could get it too long.

Not that it’s his fault actually. If the Doc didn’t insist on interrupting breakfast to prod at some scar tissue in Vinny’s nose that was making a whistle sound when he breathed, it wouldn’t have happened. Pulled him away and left his mask where it lie, forgotten for hours while he inspected and snipped the problem away.

And then there was a new issue.

Mama’s mold was still shattered. One problem the Doc’s cold, rough hands couldn’t piece back together into perfection. There's a hero cast somewhere that could make a new mold, but Mama wants a newer one. To replace Vinny’s year four mask.

Every second his scars stay exposed makes him cry. He doesn’t like being stared at and dissected like a bug with its wings pinned.

Bo isn’t in his big boy chair. He’s strapped into the too small highchair. The tray squeezes his stomach and the metal hurts his knees. Not as much as the straps though.

Not as much as his feelings when he’s asked about if he loves his brother.

Of course he does. Vincent is the only one in the house that Bo still trusts. And that means he loves him. Because it isn’t his fault the mask melted. It’s Doc’s. And it’s not his fault about the mold breaking, it’s Mama’s.

And it’s not Vincent’s fault that his face got messed up. That one is Bo’s.

Being a good boy and sitting still and letting Mama get her copy of his face should be just the easiest thing. He’s doing this for his brother. His only friend in the world.

It’s never easy.

Mama makes the mixture in a big bowl, hot water and some powder that turns orange. It’s slimy and smells an awful lot like marshland before a rainstorm. The schlop always feels clammy on his skin. Unpleasantly cold and wet no matter how dry it gets.

“Don’t you move now, Bo. Your papa’ll woop you.”

Lies aren’t allowed in this house, unless it’s ‘I love you.’ So Bo knows she means that threat. He’s got to behave or face worse than this.

Doesn’t mean he just can.

The alginate makes Bo flinch, rocking back to scoot his chair away from the sickening feeling. Mama don’t let up. She scoops up handfuls of it and spreads it on his face like it’s one of her fancy creams. At first she always leaves his eyes out, and his lips, and every time he thinks maybe he got lucky and she ain’t gonna drown him in it.

He’s always wrong to trust Mama.

All it takes is another handful, pressed against his mouth while he tries to scream his protests, but she presses her palm down hard so he can’t open it. Everything’s muffled, bottled up so no one can know.

The mixture sneaks tiny drops past his lips and makes him gag, once, twice- but Mama keeps pressing her clawed hand down until it starts to dry just enough that it holds itself. Then over his eyes it goes.

Bo tries to hold them open, but Mama always knows when he’s gonna do stuff like that. She purses her lips and blows a quick puff of cigarette air, makes him flinch again so his eyes close and she can take advantage of it.

Once it’s dark is when Bo panics for real. The healing wounds on his wrists tear right open again as he thrashes harder. The blood drips slow as honey, pooling around the leather straps holding him down.

It’s moments like this, that Bo questions his trust of Vincent.

Vincent who sits patiently in the corner for Mama to finish her torture so he can get back to being the favorite. Without his mask, he’s not wanted. An ugly, warped thing that needs covering up. Like a weed in the garden. Or a corpse in the Doc’s operating room.

Bo wishes his brother would help him. He wishes his mama would listen and take this stuff off his face. He prays that the Doc won’t come home yet and get mad and make things hurt worse. Or maybe that he won’t come home at all.

Mostly though, his brain is like static. Painful, heated, buzzing tv static burning a hole right through the back of his head. He’s in the middle of it, the dark, and sinking. There’s two little holes for him to breathe through, but he can’t get enough air.

Bo digs his nails into his own palms and draws even more blood, and underneath the sticky shell, he screams. And screams. And screams.

Nobody ever listens.

Mama tugs his messy hair in place of being able to slap his face.

“What did I tell you! Quiet while I finish!”

But there’s not enough air and he needs her to listen. Bo’s going to suffocate and all his mama cares about is making Vincent pretty.

Never learning, never getting used to the constraint, Bo tries to tear his arms upwards from the tape, to dig those blunted nails into Mama’s flesh instead of his own.

He can’t get them to budge.

She just keeps going, either not knowing about the mental threat to her safety or not caring.

The alginate starts to get tacky, so Mama wets strips of plaster gauze, the kind from Doc’s office like he used when he broke Bo’s arm putting him in his restraints a long time ago. Water splashing in a new bowl, rung out of each piece before its placed over top, just makes Bo feel even more like he’s dying. Drops landing somewhere in the abyss, his head underneath the water as he drowns.

Bo wants to die. Or he thinks he is dying anyhow. With the very last strip, Mama covers over his nose too.

Again Bo tries to scream, but barely a groan gets past his sealed lips. The full minute it takes to all harden up is far too long without breathing. What was a completely black void behind his eyes gets sparks of flashing red and white. He’s out of air.

A last effort to get his mama to listen, Bo rocks and slams his back against his highchair, desperately trying to tip it. The impact of the ground would force air back into his lungs.

He feels it start to give way, gravity suddenly weighing more heavily on him, but Mama hisses and rocks him right back upright. Her fault for putting a big kid in a little baby's chair.

Mama peels it all away then. From the outside it’s so easy, to cup the sides of his fake plaster face and ease the two layers back, only a couple scraps left sticking to his skin. She’ll help him clean up later if he’s well behaved at supper maybe.

First thing Bo does now is take a big breath in, but it’s too much at once after so long without air, he coughs, throat raw and dry, making Mama jerk back in disgust from him.

“Did you have to be so dramatic?”

Bo knows he’s crying when the image of his mama turns blurry. His face is already numb and cold and wet, but chest starts heaving with sobs, rising and falling all out of rhythm. Instead of his growling and screaming, Bo wheezes and cries and whimpers, unable to catch his breath, because of the tears this time.

The thing about alginate- it’s very sensitive.

Sure it doesn’t pull too bad once it firms up like jell-o, coming off easy from Bo’s eyelashes and eyebrows without disturbing single hair, but that’s just the thing. The rubbery, weak material ain’t meant to last long. It’ll dry out and shrink in a couple hours anyhow, the whole thing got no real structure.

Mama laid the fresh cast in a box of sawdust to pour plaster in it without spills or damage, and noticed, in the mess of Bo thrashing as it came off, a rip had formed. Right across the middle of his face from the side of his mouth to the opposite side of his nose.

Once upon a time, she’d tried to just patch it when it tore, only for the plaster face to come out warped, cheeks flattened and bumpy, nose crooked. One eye missing. She’d given it to the Doc to dispose of. Familiar story.

Mama clicks her tongue against her teeth, a noise of distaste Bo knows just as well. It sends a cold feeling down his spine, worse than the goop on his face.

“You know I’m gonna have to do that all over again now.”

His wrists won’t stop bleeding. They itch and burn as much as his tearful eyes.

Bo steals a glare over at Vincent in his precious, safe corner. His head down, he’s doodling something. Maybe drawing pretty pictures of Beauregard’s misery. All for himself. Selfish, selfish Vincent, doesn’t help and keeps the pain around as art.

Still, that’s no worse than stealing his brother’s face.

The scar on the back of Bo’s head aches.

“I love you.”

It’s for Vinny. To answer the question, he does love his brother.

Mama answers back, like she belonged between their bond,

“You love me. Well thank God you do.”

Her cigarette ash on his skin hurts worse than the burning in his lungs. The crumbling cherry touches his cheek and leaves a little singe by the corner of his mouth. His own tears soothe it.

Though smoke doesn’t make calming down any easier.

“You best love me, Beauregard. Show me. Be a good boy and sit still.”

[slasher-cam]

Hi lovlies!!

Guys, thank you so much for all the request especially from the poppy playtime fandom!! I just wanted to remind you guys that I alot of other fandoms and i would love if you sent me a request from oneᡣ𐭩

[not-neverland06]

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.

[loveandmurders]

Never forget: ya're a Sinclair (Part I)

Hi everyone!!! It's been so long I haven't posted anything new here and I'm so happy to come back with plenty of things to share with you.

I'm starting this new year with a new series that I wrote based on this little imagine here.

Basically it's an adopted sister x Sinclair!brothers. It'll be in three parts. I hope you'll enjoy! <3

Warnings : no proof reading, child abuse and a very dark past for reader, mentions of violence and starvation, mentions of terrible and toxic parents and abusive orphanage, mentions of suicide, angst, a few strong words, mentions of a nightmare, mentions of incestuous desires between the siblings (reader and the brothers) but nothing happens, let me know if I forgot something

Every time you drove past the House of Wax advertisement, you wondered what would have happened if Victor hadn’t found you in the orphanage, and more importantly what your life would have been if Bo, Vincent and Lester hadn’t fallen in love with you the instant they saw you. 

It had been a blessing, in a way. 

Yes, you were brought into a very toxic family once again, but this time, you were cherished and looked after. No one ever beat you again, no one ever made you cry without consequences again, no one made fun of what you were saying again either. You felt free to speak with the brothers. They always listened to you and they all tried to make you feel good about  yourself.

You never had been able to voice all the things that happened to you at the orphanage, but the boys made sure you knew you were safe from now on. They knew what abuse was; the thought of you going through all of this made them sick and overprotective with you. Lester always told you you deserved better than your past, probably better than being a Sinclair too. 

But you were happy to be one of them.

You shivered, despite the heat, at the thought of the orphanage. 

You would never be able to forget this place, no matter how much you wanted to. You had thought, more than once, no matter how young you were, that you would die there, because of the beating, the starving or because you would kill yourself. You never understood what you did to end up there. You never understood what happened for your parents to leave you like that, like you abandon a dog on the roads. 

They were your parents and you were just a child, so you really only had them. You were eager to be a good girl to them, because it was the only way for your parents to care a little about you, but you were always too much or not enough.

And because they were your parents, you believed them when they told you something. 

When they left you at the orphanage, they promised you they would come back to you. They promised it was just for a little while, because your mother wasn’t feeling too well. Everything was supposed to be alright.

You woke up everyday for three years, looking at the windows and thinking that today was the day, today your parents would come get you. You couldn’t wait to leave the orphanage and you even hoped your parents would be mad when they would discover the bruises littering your body and how starved you were.

They never came back for you. 

They promised they would, and they couldn’t have lied to you, right? You thought your mother died from a mysterious illness, and your father died out of sadness, or they had a car accident or something like that. 

One day, you got ill. Very badly. You didn’t even have the will to survive anymore, so it forced the orphanage to call for a doctor.

When Victor Sinclair arrived that day, the day you weren't even fighting anymore, he had been a dark hope in your even darker life. Your instinct knew he wasn’t a good man, and he hadn’t been very soft to you, despite your state of weakness and pain. Victor knew how awful the place was, but he never really cared about it. He never said anything about what he saw there; that was why they kept calling for him when they needed a doctor. Sometimes one or two kids died under his watch, but no one cared either. 

And yet you begged him to take you with him. You were the first child to ask for his help and to promise to do anything. You did promise everything an adult could want from you, even the worst things - adults always wanted the worst things. He thought you could be a toy for his kids, and nothing more. He agreed out of boredom and curiosity. His boys had never been the best around other children, so he was wondering how they would react to a new addition into the family. 

Deep down, he hoped it would be bloody.

And the way he agreed to “adopt” you at the condition you looked after his sons, made you feel fear. You could tell the boys weren't all soft and sweet, but you thought it couldn’t be worse than the place you were in. 

Victor never said anything about how surprised he was that his sons instantly adored you. If he had been smarter, he would have understood. Despite everything that happened to you, you were still full of light and good. You were eager to be gentle and to love, and it was all the boys needed.

You all were all grateful that Victor made you leave the orphanage; that way you met the brothers, and they finally got their little ray of sunshine.

You tried to focus your attention back on the roads you knew by heart. 

You couldn’t let the past hurt you anymore. You just needed to be back home and to hug the people you cherished the most. Their presences were always capable of driving the bad memories away. Everything was alright. You were a Sinclair and you were living in Ambrose with Bo and Vincent, because you hadn’t wanted to leave. 

Once Victor and Trudy died, and once Ambrose became a ghost town, you could have decided it was your time to start a new life. But you didn’t want anything else. Yes your family was made of killers, and yes their way of life could be dangerous. However, you knew you were safe by their side and you would rather die than leave. 

The boys wouldn't have fully let you go either. You were one of the rare things that could make them happy. 

The day Lester decided to have his own independence and to find his own house, Bo cornered you and asked you if you wanted the same thing. He was ready to convince you to stay, no matter what he would have needed to promise to you. Vincent and him agreed that nothing would be too much if it meant keeping you with them. Truth to be told, you had never thought about leaving on your own. So you quickly shook your head at his question. 

“As long as you have me, I want to stay here. This is my home” you replied, a little bit worried Bo was actually asking you to go. 

You were reassured when you saw Bo brightly smiling at you.

Since then, the twins made sure you would never want to leave. They needed you in their existences more than anything. You only left when it was time to go to work. The twins wouldn’t have minded having you home all day though.

But despite your abandonment issues, you still enjoyed being a little bit independent. Going to work allowed you this, while coming back home every night as well. 

It was getting dark outside so you were glad you were finally reaching Ambrose after a day of hard work. You were proud of yourself for bringing money to the family. At least you were useful, even if the twins often told you you didn’t have to. But you wanted to.

You were bringing dinner tonight, as well, because you had found a new Indian restaurant and you thought you could try it. Thus, for once, Bo wouldn’t need to cook for the four of you. 

You parked your car in front of the house. 

Bo was already opening the front door to welcome you home. He kissed your cheek with tenderness, before helping you with the bags of take out. What you loved with your family was that you didn’t even need words with them. You were understanding each other with just your eyes or body language. You had never felt such complicity and intimacy with anyone else. And you knew that Ambrose wasn’t your home per say, your brothers were. 

You removed your shoes and put yourself at ease as Bo was dressing the table. You were chatting around, telling each other about your day. You were relieved to know that the tourists had been easy prey that day, so none of your boys got hurt. Bo hummed in approval when you told him about your soon to be promotion. He was very proud of you. Vincent heard your voice so he went upstairs and walked straight to you to hug you. You gently removed enough of his mask to kiss the scarred side of his face and he hugged you even more tightly. 

It was a good life, really. You couldn't ask for more.

“Lester said he’ll come” you told Bo who was always putting a plate for his baby brother, no matter what. He nodded at your words, grateful you wanted everyone home as much as he did.

“Ya convinced him with the food?” he asked you and you giggled and nodded

“With the dessert, more precisely. That’s the only way to convince the little beast” you chuckled and the twins smiled. 

They had no idea what they would do without you. The boys were certain that they had one good thing in their life and it was you. They were so grateful to God or the Devil for you to not be scared of them despite everything that was happening in Ambrose. They were even more grateful that so far you had never been hurt because of their business. It was true they were more than careful when you were there, but an accident could always happen. And they wouldn't forgive themselves.

The three men also found you very desirable and they would have been more than happy to take care of you in other ways than siblings do, but you had never hinted that you wanted them as well. You had to admit you found them pretty much attractive and they were the only men you enjoyed to be around with, but you never tried anything with them either, too afraid to ruin your relationship with them. And they wouldn’t do anything that would make you feel uneasy or unsafe with them. 

As long as you were theirs, that you were coming back home every night and that you loved them, they were more than happy with that.

Lester arrived soon after and you were the first person he greeted with a kiss on the cheek and a hug, before he waved at his brothers. He asked you about your day as well, his whole attention on you as you all settled to eat together in the kitchen. You enjoyed the way you were always the centre of their lives (how could you want to leave them when you were taken care of that way, everyday, no matter what?). 

You always teased them by saying that it felt you were the matriarch of the family. They would smile or chuckle, without telling you that you indeed were. After all, your desires had always been their orders, since the first day you arrived in their lives.

Despite the good life you now had, nightmares of your past often came haunting you at nights. You would wake up, covered in sweat and gasping for air. You would be lost for a little while, wondering where you were before reminding yourself you were at home. 

The bad dreams were always about the orphanage or about your biological parents who had no love for you. They were always asking you to shut the fuck up, they were making you feel insecure and they rolled their eyes at you when you asked for affection. And because of everything that happened to you, your brain was sometimes tricking you, making you believe the brothers would one day fall out of love with you. Sometimes, you dreamt the twins beat you to death and Lester was insulting you and asking for more violence. 

You woke up when you died under their blows. 

And even if you were adults now, you were still sneaking inside Bo’s room for comfort when the darkness and silence of your own room were making you suffocate in fear.

You softly cracked his door open and closed it behind you. You knew his room so well, you could easily navigate through it even in the dark. You tried to be as quiet as possible as you slipped under his sheets, snuggling against his warm arms and chest. He woke up a little, instinctively bringing your body against his. 

He enjoyed having you this close to him. He kissed the top of your head. He was half asleep but his body knew the gestures by heart. He hated to know you were suffering from such memories but he loved to have you in his arms. He enjoyed being your protector too; it was the only moment he was certain he wasn’t just a monster.

“Nightmare?” he sleepily asked and you simply nodded, no trusting your voice. He shushed you “All safe, baby, I promise.” he murmured to you and you nodded once again, snuggling impossibly closer to him.

“Love you” you whispered to him and you felt him smile against your hair.

“Love ya too, more than anythin’ in this broken world. Ya’re a Sinclair, ya don’t have to worry ‘bout anythin’, ya know” he replied and you felt yourself calming down. 

He was right, you were a Sinclair now, and everything was supposed to be alright.

--

Part 2

[small-sinclair]

Musical Muse

Vincent Sinclair x reader

House of Wax Slasher band!au

Tw: Vincent was in a fire (he’s okay), some hints at sex but nothing graphic described, let me know if I missed anything!

A gift for @im-his-druidess and au by @arkunder

It was Vincent’s first night home for a 7-month-tour around North America. Late night FaceTime calls, texts messages, postcards, poems— it was good to see him home. The penciled in a two-week break for Lester’s doctor appointments and for a mental break. It was good to rest and sleep in for a moment. All three of them needed to recover from the accident—

He takes a deep breath and let it out slowly. He won’t dwell on it. Not now at least. Lester is safe and Bo’s hands were healing. That’s all that matters now.

Vincent tried to be quiet when he entered. He hung his base on the hook and stopped to look at the photos of you both. One of you two in the studio, another in a band shirt, and a lovely one of you and him at the alter, saying your vows.

As soon as he heard your footsteps flying down the steps, he felt his heart pull. “You’re home!” You shouted smiling, leaping up.

He threw his duffel bag on the floor in the doorway just in time to catch you. He spun you around in the air, smiling under his half wooden-plated mask. He blushes as your kisses littered his half-shown face.

“I missed you!” You yelled, giggling as he lowered you back to the floor. He rests his forehead against yours and held your hips just memorize you once more. “I really missed you, Vincent.” You lift your hands and hold his face. “You were gone forever.”

He nods in agreement. He didn’t want to sign anything, not just yet. Vincent didn’t want this moment to be over. Having you back made his unwritten melodies complete and he could hear notes play as he takes you in. You are his muse for most songs after all.

He took your hand and guided it to his mask, gesturing to you to take it off. Your feather-like hands took off his mask slowly and he closed his eyes, shivering at the cool air. His mask hung in your hand, and you smiled when you saw his face. He’s just as beautiful as the day he left you. Your free hand held his scarred cheek, his head leaning into your touch, while your eyes tracing every bit of him. He leaned down and kissed your forehead, your hand, then ending with your lips. He pulled away before holding you close to deepen his kiss.

He has time to make up. Seven whole months without your touch, your embrace… he is a sinner. Your sinner. His deity. He has to find forgiveness.

With ease, he lifts you up, carries you with his arms under your legs, and heads for the bedroom down the hall.

~~~~~~

As you slept on his chest, Vincent held up his song book, writing silently, as a watched eye on you. Your shoulders were bruised with his love and affection like his. He only wanted to be closer to you and more. What praise can he give but love for you?

A song will do.

A song just for you so others can sing praises of you, be followers of you, but none will ever be as faithful and loyal as him.

He hummed the chorus one more time before closing his book just in time for you to wake up. He sat his book aside and laid flat on his back. You nuzzled into his neck and left a small kiss over his adam’s apple. A relaxed sigh escaped his throat as he threw his head to the side.

“Did you miss me?”

He nods, tracing his answer in your skin, ‘Yes.’

“Bed was too cold while you were gone,” you noted, his thumb gently making circles in your back. “But sleeping in your shirt’s comforted me.” You drew a heart in the center of his chest. “I took care of the plants, too. The cactus gave birth so there’s baby cactuses. Guess that makes us grandparents or something.”

He smirks and chuckles.

Silence was warm and comfortable between you two. The soft thumping of his heartbeat made house feel like home again. “…I really missed you,” you murmured. You felt Vincent’s lips in your hair as he pulled you closer to him. In a way, that was him showing that he’s here and you’re safe. “For a while, I went crazy thinking you weren’t coming home. I saw the fire at that wax museum you and your brothers were playing, the wax falling Lester’s back, and they got a video of your mask melting…” your voice trailed as he stiffened at the memory.

If the silence is too loud, he can still hear his baby brother’s voice screaming in pain and agony. Bo and he made dirt out of the inferno, but Lester was trapped, scared and alone. He remember he took off his mask before running back on Bo’s heels; his mask felt too heavy to wear that night. He still sees how bright the orange and yellow flames were as Bo moved wood and metal off his back. He ended up burning some spots on his hands but he doesn’t care. He was just as desperate as Vincent to get their brother out. Each twin took an arm and raced out with him before the museum’s gas could explode. Bo and he cradled their brother then paramedics rushed to his side and took him to the hospital.

He remembered how the world of heavy rock and metal was quiet for the night.

That’s why Bo canceled two weeks of interviews that night, 16 days ago, so they can recover from everything.

He gripped your body tighter and held you closer. You figured he must’ve been scared because he didn’t give you room to wiggle or move. Your hands held his arms and closed your eyes. “I’m happy you’re okay and safe. I’m happy and thankful.”

Vincent made a soft noise, agreeing with you.

“Just want to stay like this and cuddle,” you said, not asking. Luckily he nods in agreement, lifting the blanket up higher over your shoulders.

He didn’t want anything else but this. Vincent wanted you in his arms, in his heart, engraved into his mind. He’ll finish the song and draw a picture of you to put up in the bus. For now, he’ll focus on you and the reality of this feeling.

The sunset over the town like a dream.

[mugerci]

Lester Sinclair icons?

ʟᴇꜱᴛᴇʀ ꜱɪɴᴄʟᴀɪʀ

from House of Wax (2005) "Trudy and the doctor didn't have two sons. They had three."

✧ Like or reblog!

[halloweenbitch2764]

Broken Home | Bo Sinclair x Reader

TW: Abuse

A/N: This is the reboot of my original series titled the same. This one is going to be better, I think, so thank you for reading!

Chapter One

I gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. I was terrified, angry, and overall hurt. I questioned why it happened to me but prayed it was a gift in disguise. Being optimistic wasn't easy, but it would be the only way I would get through this alive.

Tears streamed down my cheeks as I drove the deserted road, occasionally glancing at my map to try to navigate where I needed to go. My stuff was thrown haphazardly in the backseat, and my immediate needs were in the passenger seat. Things like my map, my purse, and so on.

I had a plan. I was heading to my hometown of Ambrose. Silent prayers filled my head as I hoped who I wanted to see still lived there. I hadn't seen him or his family since I was a little girl.

Bo. Bo Sinclair. To others, he was a menace, but to me, he was a protector. A memory came flooding back as I thought back to him.

I was young, probably about five or six, and I was being picked on while playing alone outside. I was shy when I was young and usually kept to myself. For some reason, a boy around my age had decided to pick on me. My mom swore it was because he simply had a crush on me, but I didn't buy it. Whatever the reason, he started throwing dirt and small rocks at me. I had tried getting away, but he cornered me. I fell on my butt and scrambled back.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing!?" A voice sounded behind him. Clearly, someone that was our age. The boy whipped around and dropped the rocks he had in his hand. "S-Sorry!" Was all the boy squeaked out before running away. I looked to see who it was and saw it was Bo Sinclair.

Bo was known to be a bully in his own right. He had a temper and was extremely protective of his siblings. He wasn't afraid of a fight. "And don't bother her again!" He yelled as the boy ran off. He offered me a hand, and I took it, standing up and brushing the dirt off my clothes.

"Are you okay?" He asked. "Yeah, I-I'm okay. Thank you." I replied and smiled shyly. He nodded and smiled brightly. "What's your name?" He pried. "Y/N L/N. Who are you?" I already knew, but it was only polite to ask in return. "Bo Sinclair." He said and grinned. "Oh, your mom owns the Wax Museum, right? And your dad's a doctor?" He nodded.

That moment was the catalyst of a fantastic friendship. He was protective of me, and I was never picked on in a mean way again. He, of course, picked on me, but it was always in a playful manner, so I didn't mind. I became sort of friends with Vincent and knew of Lester (he was too little to really be friends with). Vincent tended to be with his mom, helping her with the Museum.

Bo and I grew older together. He even became my childhood crush. But one day, the Sugar Mill went out of business. My parents were out of work, and that meant we had to move. I hated the idea. I wanted to stay with Bo. I begged my parents to let me stay, but I didn't have a choice.

When the day came for me to leave, I cried. I didn't want to leave Bo, leave the only town I'd ever known. I grabbed one of my stuffed animals and gave it to Bo. He said he'd keep it forever, and we hugged one last time before I left. I cried on and off the whole ride to the new town.

A smile came to me as I remembered Bo being so protective of me. It was a nice memory in a moment of such anguish. Would Bo even remember me? Would he even still live in Ambrose? Thoughts swirled in my mind as I drove.

Reality set back in fairly quickly, reminding me I was not coming back on good terms. I was coming because I needed an escape and fast. My ex was after me. I knew that if he found me, I was likely dead. My foot pressed on the gas a bit harder.

I checked my map one more time before seeing the sign I remembered from all those years ago. "Trudy's House of Wax". I smiled despite the tears. I knew I was almost to Ambrose.

After a little more driving, I arrived in the town. I parked in front of the gas station and got out. I headed into the gas station. "Hello?" I called out but got no response. I stood still for a minute before hearing some muffled music. I stepped out of the gas station and followed the music to the church.

I took a breath and slowly pushed the door open. The pews were filled, and a man knelt in front of a casket. A preacher stood off to the side behind the casket. My eyes widened, and I quickly closed the door, not wanting to interrupt.

I groaned softly into my hands and brushed the hair from in front of my face. I was about to walk away when the door opened. I looked up to see a man. He grabbed a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket and lit one before looking at me.

"I'm so sorry to interrupt. I'm actually looking for someone. Can you help?" The man nodded and took a drag. "His name is Bo Sinclair. I'm Y/N L/N, I know it's a long shot to even think he's still here, but -" His eyes widened. "Y/N...?"

[thewolffairytaler]

Isn't he harsh, my angel? - part 4 | Sinclair brothers x little sister reader

_____________________________

Summary: Bo’s has caused trouble again, of course, since when hasn't he? Victor is already so tired from work, and he just wanted some rest. Why couldn't Bo just behave for once? Well, at least he could use his daughter for good use, and the boy better behave this time.

Fatigue was a constant curse for Dr. Victor Sinclair, a bone-deep weariness that fueled a simmering resentment. He wrestled with a squirming Bo, the high chair buckles clicking like the tumblers of a lock on his dwindling patience. If he'd truly understood the relentless chipping away at his sanity that fatherhood entailed, perhaps… but the thought curdled into a harsher, unspoken regret. Bo, the little brat, had once again demonstrated his talent for trouble, this time escalating a schoolyard taunt against his ostracized brother, Lester, into a full-blown fight. Victor’s lectures about restraint and walking away were clearly lost on the boy, especially when insults veered into him and his twin. Grounded for a month - again - Bo remained stubbornly unmoved, only intensifying Victor’s simmering rage. The frayed ends of Victor's composure finally snapped as he yanked a handful of Bo’s hair, shaking him violently in the high chair, his voice a furious bellow, questioning why Bo couldn't just behave, how many times he had to explain this. The outburst left him feeling a bit calmer and satisfied, yet the underlying anger lingered. He stormed off to his bedroom, not caring that Bo had tears streaming down his cheeks, as the boy tried his best to control his breathing.

Trudy and Vincent were at the House of Wax, and Lester was too scared to stay behind, having taken his sister with him, Victor found solace in solitude. He changed his clothes in a huff, the motion a physical manifestation of his internal turmoil. He failed to notice his daughter's return, not until her quiet "Papa?" reached his ears. The sound, so small against the backdrop of his fury, startled him. His harsh "What!?" barked out, not intentionally, but the residual anger colouring his tone. She hesitantly mumbled that she'd bruised her knees in the woods and that they were bleeding under her long black socks. The sharp edges of Victor’s anger softened as quickly as they’d flared. With a sigh that seemed to deflate some of his tension, he rubbed his tired eyes before gently lifting his daughter onto the bed. He carefully dabbed rubbing alcohol on her scraped knees, his movements now tender as he applied band-aids.

Victor wasn't a nice man. He wasn't delusional, nor was he apologetic for it. His intrest of becoming a doctor didn't come from the idea that he wanted to help people, they were purely dark, a sick part of him wanting to put his anger out on things he knew he could get away from. The world could thank his nutcase of an uncle for that. Does it justify his actions to his family? Of course not, but he only has that much patience and care, and he guessed love to. He believed his so-called love would end with Trudy. He cared about the boys enough not to kill them himself or send them to an orphanage. But there was no love there. It was more out of an obligation and a bit of guilt because he knows it's his fault, too. That the boys are going to turn out like him one day, well maybe not Vincent and Lester, but Bo was a strong candidate.

So when anathor Devil Spawn was going to come into the world, a little girl no less, Victor had no idea what to do. It was the same when they started having the twins, but he was at least familiar with taking care of males. A female, though? He let Trudy do whatever she wanted with her. Women know their own kind better. What was he supposed to do? Play baseball with her like Vincent and Bo, or dress up? Hell no! He ain't got time to be doing all that, much less want to play with his children. Whenever Trudy took care of the girl, he noticed that his wife would basically project everything she wanted their daughter to be. She gave her dresses, dolls, along with girl like interests, and even told her what to avoid or who to avoid since Trudy didn't like all sorts of people. But he noticed his daughter didn't agree with everything Trudy liked, even though she followed them so obediently. The youngest Sinclair preferred animal plushies, wearing long dresses instead of skirts, and to stay close to those she knows. She's not much of a socialite, but she can handle a conversation just fine. If he puts those minor flaws aside, you could consider her the perfect little girl. And maybe that's why Victor cared more than he'd like to admit, that he could be mushy with one of his children. He did, after all, favour her out of all of them.

"What happened, sweetheart?" he questioned, his voice quiet. She explained about falling while tree climbing, and when Victor asked about Lester, her innocent reply that he'd gone to talk to Bo immediately rekindled Victor's irritation. With a frustrated groan, he abruptly left the girl, intent on reprimanding Lester for lingering around Bo and potentially enabling his brother's troublemaking. He found Lester lingering near the living room, and with a swift lift of the boy’s back shirt collar, Victor dismissed him. "Scram," he growled dismissively, "and don't come back until sundown." He practically tossed Lester outside as if he was a dog, not wanting him sticking around until he was needed. Lester just pulled himself up as he began patting his lower legs, giving his father a reluctant glance as he began walking down the street. Victor grumbled under his breath as he turned around, only to see the girl standing on the first couple of stair steps from afar. Holding onto the rails as her eyes looked back to his timidly,

Victor’s gaze flickered between the toddler, and Bo, who remained stubbornly buckled into his high chair in the living room. Even though the storm of Bo’s earlier tantrum had subsided to a simmering resentment, Victor couldn't help but notice the angry red welts blooming on his son's wrists, raw against his pale skin. An idea, or perhaps a compromise, began to form in Victor’s mind. He moved swiftly towards the stairs, scooping up his daughter in a practised motion, her small weight settling easily against him. He carried her toward Bo, who was still attempting futile escapes from the chair, Victor’s eyes rolling skyward as if wondering why he still even bothered.

"Bo," Victor said, his voice firm but measured, "Bo… Bo!" He waited until his son reluctantly met his gaze. "Here's the deal," Victor began, outlining his proposition. "You keep your sister on your lap, no trouble, for four hours. And you're out of this chair for the day. One wrong move, any trouble at all, and you're stuck in it all week. I'll call you in as sick for school, too." Bo’s sullen expression shifted to one of surprised calculation. Without hesitation, he nodded, a silent agreement. Victor carefully settled his daughter onto Bo’s lap, the little girl instantly still and quiet, leaning against her older brother. Once Victor had retreated, leaving them alone, the girl tilted her head and simply looked at Bo’s face.

"What?" Bo mumbled, defensive despite himself. Then, unexpectedly, she leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. A silent understanding passed between them; she knew Papa had been extra harsh today. A warmth spread through Bo, a feeling so unexpected it almost made him forget the stinging on his wrists. He gently nuzzled his head against her soft hair. Confined as he was, bored as they might soon be, at least he had this small, unexpected comfort, a silent blessing from a little angel.

Author's note: If you haven't realised it by now, I used the girl’s way of comforting him by kissing his cheek, as a allusion to how adult Bo kissed Carly's forehead in the film. As if Bo used what comforted him in his childhood to make his female victims feel peaceful, or at least his way of saying sorry, I don't think Bo kissed Carly just because he found her attractive. I think a part of him wanted to comfort her because he knows it's scary or that it hurts, so in a way, I made it make sense without having small gestures being a mystery. I wanted it to be Bo's way of recalling his sister.

[sketchy-rosewitch]

Crying at Death’s Door: Bo Sinclair x afab!reader

18+

Warnings: allusions to an abusive Bo, asking about dying, bondage,crying, Bo calls reader a dog (yes a dog and not a bitch), afab reader, no pronouns used.

A/N: I literally watched like 6 minutes before this scene and then the scene itself and I’ve watched this scene so many fucking times it’s not even funny. This is only lightly based on the scene. Movie is Dead Ringers it’s free on Tubi and I guess the shows coming out April 21st too (this time lesbians). Also me using “kneels properly” if your Catholic you know

Masterlist

You whine softly and wiggle your arms. They’re spread and tied across the metal footboard. You don’t know how long you’ve been like this. All you know is that prior to this you were in the basement under the gas station, then you’d been moved to a small doctors office in the house, and lastly to what you assume is Bo’s bedroom.

You didn’t bother to try to escape any of your situations, you’d given up on that a week into your kidnapping, there wasn’t a point when you had no contact with any of your family and your friends were all dead, you just had to wait for your death.

You assumed it would be soon, Bo used your body already and took so many pictures of you, hanging them in that dingy room. You’d seen all of the girls and recognized some when you had went into the wax museum that day. You know your friends are in there and god you’d do anything to be with them, especially with this growing anxiety of not knowing when Bo would pull the plug on your life.

The front door opens and you perk up, recognizing Bo’s footsteps immediately. Your arms tingle as you wiggle a bit more wanting to run to the man. The foot steps fade and you assume he’s going to the basement, which was Vincent’s work area. You put two and two together that that’s where the floor door had led to when you decided to look around when you were strapped to the medical bed in their father’s office.

Minutes later Bo is back on the main floor, you hear the sink go off, and the slam of the microwave. It hums then beeps a few minutes later.

Bo’s footsteps start up again and this time get louder and louder as he ascends the stairs.

The bedroom door opens and Bo can be seen on the other side holding water and a microwaveable pasta. You look tiredly up at him.

“You been good baby?” He asks, walking into the room and sitting in between your spread legs. You nod at his question, thinking you have been.

“Nice to know you like tellin’ the truth to me now. Asked Vincent if you’d been cryin’ or tryin’ to escape, said he couldn’t hear a thing from you. You’re so good. Such a good baby.” Bo coos and brushed his thumb across your face. You smile lazily and lean into his touch. “Made you a little snack.”

Snack? This has been lunch and dinner for months for you. Those stupid microwaveable meals, now he’s saying they’re a snack?

“Dinner ain’t until late.”

Bo takes the water and tilts it into your mouth, you drink until half of it is gone, not wasting a single drop and for once Bo isn’t trying to make you fuck up.

He takes the pasta and stabs some noodles with the fork, bringing it to your mouth you bite the noodles off of it. A snack. A little treat before dinner. What the hell was dinner gonna be then?

“Doin’ so good.”

Your heart flutters at his praise. God it’s done that since you first met him. Even when he had you in the basement he could fuck you up and his sweet talking would change your mind completely about him. Bo Sinclair had you wrapped around his finger since you two laid eyes on each other.

You finish the meal and Bo let’s you drink the rest of the water. He gets up and leaves only to be back a minute later with a refilled water he sets on one side of the bed.

“H-“ You let out a small noise when Bo walks in. He raises a brow and starts getting undressed, most likely to get into comfortable clothes.

“You can talk, what is it?”

“Hhow was your day?” Your voice cracks between speaking and a whisper.

“Was alright.”

You stare at him in only his boxers. You’d never seen him with little clothes on, he always had his shirt and pants on even if it was just a little when he fucked you. He finally takes his boxers off and walks over, kneeling and scooting forward setting you onto his lap. He touches your tied arms and smiles. Then Bo looks into your eyes and leans in kissing your lips softly, feeling up and down your thighs. You wiggle wanting to touch him. You never got used to being tied up, always begging to touch him, just for a second with your hands. Just to hold his face.

Bo moved his lips down your jaw and kisses your clothed shoulder, he unbuttons one then two buttons on the shirt and kisses your chest.

“Just waitin’ for me ta come back? Makin’ sure you were so good when I was gone. Such a good dog.”

You moan at the pet name and shift in his lap trying to get Bo’s cock to touch your clit. Bo kisses your lips again and moves his hand in between your legs. You don’t wear underwear, haven’t worn any since he tore them off in the basement. He has easier access to your cunt that way. He told you himself.

His middle and ring finger slide between your folds, only just brushing your clit, then dipping into your pussy.

Your mouth opens, you cry out and Bo smirks touching at your g-spot over and over again. He kisses your cheeks and bites your ear lobe.

“Been so good to me baby. You don’t fight me or nothin’ ain’t fought me since you got into that chair. You want me that much huh?”

Bo’s hand gets rougher and he puts more pressure into you.

“Yeah! Yeah Bo I-ah I- do!” Your back arches against the metal frame, it hurts but Bo’s fingers feel too good for you to care.

“I like hearin’ those noises, keep goin’.” Bo sucks on your neck. You whine, rolling your eyes up. You feel a tightness in your core.

“Please, Bo I’m gonna cum. Please let me cum. Please keep going!”

He quickens his pace and you squirm, squirting into Bo’s hand. You cry out vision turning white, your body trembles as he rides you though your high.

“Messy ass dog.” Bo says, before dropping you on his lap and licking the palm of his hand to his fingers, then sucking on them. You watch in a haze, smiling lazily, too out of it to feel flustered.

“You like cumming on my fingers?”

You nod frantically.

“What about my cock?” Bo teases, you nod again. “Say it then.”

Embarrassment unravels, your mouth opens, closes then opens again.

“Go on. Been so good, say it or you won’t get it.”

“I-I like cumming on your cock Bo.”

You can’t even cover your face to try and hide. Doesn’t matter anyways cause when you try and turn your head away away Bo grabs your face and tuts at you. “Say it again, bein’ truthful aren’t we? You’d admit it to me twice wouldn’t you?”

“Yes..” Your hips wiggle , trying to adjust yourself on Bo’s lap. You were getting worked up again.

“Then say it, no stuttering either.”

“I like cumming on your cock Bo. I like when you cum in me too.” Your eyes read desperate. He hums in approval and kisses your forehead.

“Good dog.”

Bo kneels properly, your ass slowly slides off of him but he holds you up, he holds his cock with his other hand and slowly slides into you, stretching you out. You moan into his shoulder.

“So tight for me.” Bo mumbles. He pulls out and pushes back in a few times, just sitting there for a some seconds each to get used to the stretch. Then he fucks into you somewhere between a slow and fast pace. Kissing you roughly. The bed creaks, especially the bars that you’re tied to, as you bang into them. Bo wraps his arm around your waist, and uses his other hand to hold onto the footboard.

You wanna grab Bo and hold him so badly. You let out soft cries, but hope Bo just mistakes them for you moaning. He seems to as his pace never stops.

“You like being like this? Always tied up for me? Like me being in control?” Bo grunts, you nod and kiss his shoulder and you his neck, stopping at his jaw.

“Yes, yes I do! I love being ready to be used. I love when you take control of my body and I don’t have to think.” You babble, Bo’s hold on you tightens.

“Always know what to say. You’re so good at not thinking. You’re a good dog.” Bo’s hand goes to move the hair from your face and kiss all over it. You mewl, your cunt tightening around his cock.

His thumb hooks into your mouth, it opens without hesitation and he spits in it. You pant and wait for him to close your mouth but he spits again. Then closes it. You wait again as he pounds into you. “Swallow.” And you do. You roll your hips into him and whine, your pussy pulsates.

“Gonna cum? Tell me.”

Your back arches. More loud loans come from your chest.

“Yeah, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum on your cock!” Your mouth hangs open, you let the moans escape you as Bo thrusts faster into you.

“Come on, cum on my cock.”

He thrusts a couple of more times and again, your eyes roll back and vision flashes white. You let out a loud squeal, your body shaking. He fucks you through your orgasm.

“Want me to cum in you?” Bo asks, you nod lazily. He keeps at his pace, your body shakes at the overstimulation, he cums in your cunt, groaning into your shoulder.

Bo kisses your cheek and unties both of your arms. He kisses your wrists softly, the marks still not as bad as his. Your arms are sore but regardless you wrap them around Bo. You kiss and hold his face, running your hands through his hair for the first time. You almost sob, in fact you do. How many more times would you get to touch him with your hands before he killed you?

Bo doesn’t say a thing as you cry, only softly shushing you. He hates crying, shit stresses him out and almost, almost pisses him off. He thinks it’s about sex. “You did so good for me.”

You nod into him and he shushes you more.

You finally calm down and lean against the footboard. “So how much longer do I have?” You ask, your eyes puffy and red.

Your lip trembled but you try and keep your composure, regardless of the anxiety swimming laps in your stomach.

“What do ya mean?” Bo’s brows furrow.

You reword your statement. “When are you going to kill me?” You look into his beautiful blue eyes. Something of anger shows in them before disappearing. Instead it returns in his voice.

“You tryin’ to leave me or somethin’?” Bo sounds accusatory. You ignore it.

“No, I just notice a pattern. You tie all of your victims in that chair, you take pictures of them as a trophy and kill them. I don’t wanna go anywhere but if I am going somewhere I’d like to at least know when.”

Bo sneers. “Ya ain’t gettin’ that same treatment. You told me you’ve been good and proven that to me. You ain’t goin’ no where. You’re mine.”

You suck in some air and smile. “Okay, that’s all I wanted to know.”

Bo kisses your nose and wraps his arms under your ass before standing and setting you onto his soft bed. “I got you some clothes and I’m makin’ dinner for us later.” Bo explains. He slides in next to you and and shuffle so you’re under the blanket and cuddled into Bo’s side. “I don’t want you ever thinkin’ I’m gonna kill you. I would’ve done it already if I wanted you gone.”

You nod into his chest and close your eyes drifting into a small nap.

[slashersdaddy]

Master list + Rules

This is an 18+ account. MDNI. For your own and others sanity and safety. I will not tolerate- Transphobia, homophobia, hate, racism, sexism, etc.. Be mindful and respectful. I write for: Slashers. I am willing to write for any slasher as long as they are 18+. DBD, Once more 18+. Creepypastas, Once more 18+. While i will write for all of these Fandoms, I DO expect to add more, and WILL say no if a request makes me uncomfortable. I will NOT write: Minors, Incest, SA, or other topics similar.

GENERAL SLASHERS:

HOUSE OF WAX:

Vincent Sinclair x GN! Reader "I'm Home"

Vincent Sinclair x Artistic Reader

Bo and Vincent as Boyfriends HC's HALLOWEEN: Michael Myers NSFW Headcannons SCREAM:

DEAD BY DAYLIGHT:

Types Of BF- Charles Lee Ray, Trickster, Doctor Charles Lee Ray: Charles Lee Ray!Yandere HC's

CREEPYPASTAS

Ticci Toby: Toby x Transmasc reader 'Infinity' Masky: Masky X GN!Reader I Love You

[jacobseed]

not tagging anyone bc this is just for fun but pls pick!!

[skylarsblue]

✦Who I Write For✦

Rules

(This will be added too over time)

SLASHERS

⭑Bo Sinclair ⭑Vincent Sinclair ⭑Lester Sinclair ⭑Michael Myers (OG, 2007, & Gramps) ⭑Thomas Hewitt ⭑Bubba Sawyer ⭑Jason Voorhees ⭑Ghostface (Billy & Stu) ⭑Tiffany Valentine ⭑Brahms Heelshire ⭑Billy Lenz ⭑Carrie White ⭑Baby Driftwood ⭑Otis Driftwood ⭑Pyramid Head ⭑Herbert West (if a male/masc reader) -Bonus- ⭑Carly & Nick; House of Wax ⭑Sydney; Scream

Dead By Daylight

♢Evan MacMillan - The Trapper ♢Anna - The Huntress ♢Max Thompson Jr. - The Hillbilly ♢Sally Smithson - The Nurse ♢Herman Carter - The Doctor ♢Ji Woon Hak - The Trickster ♢Danny Johnson - The Ghostface ♢Philip Ojomo - The Wraith ♢Amanda Young - The Pig ♢Rin Yamaoka - The Spirit (only SFW) ♢Kazan Yamaoka - The Oni ♢Frank Morrison - The Legion ♢Susie Lavoie - The Legion (only SFW) ♢Julie Kostenko - The Legion ♢Joey - The Legion ♢Adiris - The Plague ♢Caleb Quinn - The Deathslinger ♢Carmina Mora - The Artist ♢Sadako Yamamura - The Onryo (only SFW) ♢Tarhos Kovacs - The Knight ♢Adriana Imai - The Skullmerchant ♢Nemesis - The Nemesis -Bonus- ♢Jill Valentine ♢Leon Kennedy ♢Cheryl Mason ♢Carlos Oliveria ♢Claudette Morel ♢Bill Overbeck ♢Vittorio Toscano

Our Life; Beginnings & Always

❧Cove Holden ❧Derek Suarez ❧Baxter Ward ❧Elizabeth Last (x readers for non-sibling characters) ❧Kyra Preece ❧Tamarack Baumann ❧Qui "Autumn" Lin

Beetlejuice

⚂Lawrence Beetlegeuse Shoggoth ⚂Lydia Deetz (only SFW) ⚂Adam Maitland ⚂Barbara Maitland ⚂Ms.Argentina

Call of Duty; Modern Warfare

✚Simon "Ghost" Riley ✚Johnny "Soap" MacTavish ✚John Price ✚Kyle "Gaz" Garrick ✚Alejandro Vargas ✚Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra ✚Valeria Garza ✚Alex Keller ✚Farah Karim ✚Nikolai ✚Konig ✚Horangi

Random

❦Eddie Brock & Venom (2015) ❦Frankenstein's Monster - Mary SHelly ❦Classic Monsters; Dracula, Werewolves, etc. ❦Krampus(yes you read me) ❦Y/N from Stuck on A Childhood Crush/Friend & Killer (aka Cordelia)

Yes that's write. You can have your Y/N x Reader fics now.

[venus-haze]

I’m Battie (she/her), in my 20s, and I write fanfic🦇 I’ll expand this masterlist as I post more, but since I write explicit content, please do not interact with my blog or posts if you are under 18. Do not interact if you post ED/thinspo content.

Many of my fics have dark themes, and I include detailed warnings for each one. Please read the warnings carefully before deciding whether you want to engage with the fic. If you feel there is a warning I should have included for a fic, please let me know and I’ll add it. I do not condone the behavior depicted in the yandere/dark fics in real life. These are works of fiction.

You can find most of these fics on my AO3 also.

SLASHER MASTERLIST

Baby Firefly (House of 1000 Corpses)

Watch It Bring You To Your Knees (female reader, dubcon, dark themes, smut)

Bo Sinclair (House of Wax)

Howl (female reader, noncon, dark themes, smut)

Adam Raised a Cain (female reader, dubcon, smut)

Creep (female reader, dark themes, smut)

Who's Sorry Now (female reader, dark themes, smut)

It's a Nice Day To Start Again (female reader, dark themes, smut)

Brother's Keeper (female reader, noncon, dark themes, smut)

Night Shift (female reader, noncon, dark themes, smut)

Damned If You Do (female reader, dubcon, dark themes, smut)

Father/Doctor Charlie Mayhew (Grotesquerie)

Reach Out, Touch Faith (female reader, Kinktober prompt fill - thigh riding)

God's Got a Sick Sense of Humor (female reader, noncon, dark themes, smut)

Driller Killer (Slumber Party Massacre 2)

Mr. February (female reader, dubcon, smut)

Rip This Place Apart (female reader, dark themes, smut)

Mickey Altieri (Scream 2)

Rip 'Em To Shreds (gender neutral reader, dark themes)

Bad Obsession (female reader, dubcon, dark themes, yandere elements, smut)

Girls on Film (female reader, noncon, dark themes, smut)

Working for the Knife (female reader, dark themes, smut)

Headcanons

Mickey being told “No” when he’s in the mood (gender neutral reader, dubcon)

Mickey x Ghostface!S/O!Reader (gender neutral reader, dark themes)

Otis Driftwood (House of 1000 Corpses)

Pretty Tied Up (female reader, dubcon, dark themes, smut)

Father Paul Hill (Midnight Mass)

Sinnerman (female reader, dark themes, smut)

Power in the Blood (female nun!reader, dark themes, smut)

Foxy Coltrane (3 From Hell)

Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf (female reader, dark themes, smut)

Severen (Near Dark)

Rebel Yell (female reader, noncon, dark themes, smut)

Open All Night (female reader, dark themes, smut)

Eat Your Heart Out (woman reader, dark themes)

Thomas Hewitt (Texas Chainsaw Massacre)

Celebrity Skin (female reader, noncon, dark themes, smut)

Vincent Sinclair (House of Wax)

Enjoy the Silence (female reader, dubcon, dark themes, smut)

Bad Ritual (woman reader, dark themes)

[soupbabe]

🔪 Slasher Masterlist Part 2 🔪

[guess who hit the limit for links! this is a continuation of my slasher masterlist. below are the characters I can write for and you can request for listed in alphabetical order]

Last Updated: 9/4/2023

~~

Baby Firefly (House of 1000 Corpses)

-

Billy Lenz (Black Christmas)

- Billy w a Reader Who Has Broad Music Tastes

Billy Loomis (Scream)

- Comforting Billy During a Breakdown

Bo Sinclair (House of Wax)

- Arts and Crafts (fic, Dad! Bo)

- Bo with a Bookworm! S/o

- Bo with an Animal Lover! S/o

- Bo with a Naturalist! S/o

- Comforting Bo During a Breakdown

Brahms Heelshire (The Boy)

- Bath Time (fic, Bigender! Reader)

Bubba Sawyer (Texas Chainsaw Massacre)

-

Carrie White (Carrie)

- Carrie Comforting a Sensitive S/o

Chop Top Sawyer (Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2)

- Chop Top with a Plus Size! Transman

Daniel Robitaille (Candyman)

- Candyman comforting a Sensitive S/o

Harry Warden (My Bloody Valentine 1981)

-

Jennifer Check (Jennifer's Body)

-

Kurt Kunkle (Spree)

-

Martin Mathias (Martin 1977)

- Plus Size! Reader Tries on Clothes with Martin

- Martin w a Reader Who Has Broad Music Tastes

- Martin with a Bookworm! S/o

- Martin Comforting a Sensitive S/o

Michael Myers (Halloween 1978)

- Michael with a Flirty! Killer! Reader

- Comforting Michael Through a Breakdown

RZ! Michael Myers (Rob Zombie's Halloween)

- Michael w a Reader Who Has Broad Music Tastes

- Michael with a Bookworm! S/o

- Michael Comforting a Sensitive S/o

Nubbins Sawyer (Texas Chainsaw Massacre)

- Nubbins with a Plus Size! Transman

- Playing with Nubbins's hair

- Get a Room (fic, Male! Reader)

Otis Driftwood (House of 1000 Corpses)

- Coming Out to Otis

- Playing with Otis's hair

- Otis with a Plus Size! S/o

- Otis with an Insecure! Non-binary! S/o

Stu Macher (Scream)

- How Stu Takes Care of Slasher! Reader

- Treats (fic)

Thomas Hewitt (The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2003/2006)

- Playing with Thomas's Hair

- Hewitt Family Reacting to Tommy's Doctor! Bf

Tiffany Valentine (Bride of Chucky)

-

Vincent Sinclair (House of Wax)

- Vincent w a Reader Who Has Broad Music Tastes

- Vincent with a Bookworm! S/o

- Vincent with an Animal Lover! S/o

- Playing with Vincent's Hair

- Vincent with a Naturalist! S/o

- Vincent with a Gothic! Sculpter! Reader

~~~

Poly! Ghostface (Billy Loomis and Stu Macher)

-