kiss-theggoat

[kiss-theggoat]

400 Followers!!!

AAAAAHHHHH!!!! I cannot thank you guys enough. Seriously, it’s so fucking cool that 400 people!!!! Want to read what I write! Thank you thank you thank you!!!!

MWAH!!! 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

#slasher x reader #slashers

[kiss-theggoat]

How would the Slashers react to Their s/o hasn’t been getting sleep and randomly passed out as they were doing something 🤔

Slashers Reacting to a Sleepy S/O

Slashers included: Michael Meyers, Jason Voorhees, Asa Emory, Thomas Hewitt

Michael Meyers:

You hadn’t been getting much sleep lately. Most nights, you stayed awake with a book or the TV on, sitting anxiously on your bed, waiting for him. Whenever Michael went out late or disappeared for a few days, you could barely even relax, let alone catch a few hours of sleep. This week was particularly stressful for you. Michael had been gone for three days now, no where to be found.

Finally, the morning of day four, you were startled out of your novel to a bloodied and mud covered Michael slamming your front door, shoulders hunched and jumpsuit absolutely coated in filth.

A few hours later, you were scrubbing blood off of Michael’s shoulder, his entire body submerged in the bath you’d ran for him. Now that he was home, and you knew he was safe…you felt your entire body become tired, eyelids feeling like concrete. The warm water and smell of the eucalyptus body wash was lulling you to sleep, and before you know it, you’d fallen asleep, head resting against the wall and hands still on Michael’s shoulders.

He was confused at first, but he knew that you were stressed when he was gone. He stood from the bath, feeling clean and comfortable, and saw you, passed out against the wall with soap still dripping from your hands. He grabbed a towel, first drying your hands and then wrapping it around his waist, finally scooping you up off of the stool you sat on.

He carried you to the bed, laying beside you as he set you down on your pile of pillows and blankets.

Jason Voorhees:

You’d been helping Jason all day, cleaning the cabin, picking up garbage from the lake, taking the wood he chopped back to the shed. It was hard labor, and you had to admit, it was tough to keep up with your early rising, hard working boyfriend.

Jason was busy chopping wood. He swung the axe with ease, slicing through the wood like it was a hot knife through butter. The pile was stacking up, and his little helper hadn’t come to collect anything in a while. He set his axe down, scanning the trees for you. Nothing.

He began to walk down towards the cabin, where he hoped you were. It was hot today, sweat dripped down his neck as he walked. Finally, he made it to the cabin but still…no sign of you. He tilted his head, genuinely confused as to where you were.

But as he looked towards the shed, and there you were. Your skin was glistening, cheeks pink and head resting against the door of the shed. His chest swelled with warmth. You looked beautiful, and as he got closer, he saw that you’d fallen asleep.

He decided that even though there was plenty more work to be done, this was the perfect time to join you for a break. He plopped down beside you, resting his aching back against the shed. He leaned against your side, and when you rested your head on his shoulder, he wasn’t sure how he’d ever be able to get up again.

Asa Emory:

Asa had been relentless lately. You two had just moved to a new city, and of course that meant it was time to start a new collection. He’d been keeping you up for days on end, rambling about his plans and showing you his drawings, collecting new species and documenting them in his journal, all with the lights on.

Usually you welcomed Asa’s rants and rambles but after the move, getting a new job, and taking care of your new puppy, you were absolutely exhausted.

Now, you were seated besides Asa at his desk. He was telling you about something or other about how he wanted to do a collection about something or something…you couldn’t do it anymore. You closed your eyes. You thought to yourself, I’ll just rest my eyes for a moment…

Asa’s head whipped around as he noticed yours fall to hit the desk, a tiny thud sounding as your forehead made contact with the wood. He stared at you for a moment, but knew that his project was important. He leaned back in his chair to grab a small throw blanket off of your shared bed.

He wrapped it around your shoulders, rubbing your back gently as he picked his pencil back up, continuing his detailed sketch.

Thomas Hewitt:

The humidity was killing you. Sweat was beading on your skin and rolling down your forehead, it felt like you might be suffocating down in Thomas’ basement. The smell was off putting, but you’d gotten used to it at this point.

He was sewing, and you couldn’t really focus on what he was making without feeling a tiny bit nauseous, but to be honest, even without looking, you were nauseous. You were overly tired, hot, sweaty, and had been trapped down in the basement for hours. Without warning, you stood up quickly, holding your stomach and taking a breath. “Tommy, I gotta go upstairs and lay down.”

He stared at you, a little bit concerned, but he knew you didn’t really like it down here. He gave you a nod and went back to his project. You quickly began to walk up the stairs, excited to finally lay down in your own bed that didn’t smell like rotting meat. The moment the door opened, you felt better, fresh air hitting your skin.

Your body felt fatigued, and you sat down on the top step, taking a deep breath. When the nausea faded, you were overtaken by the sleepiness, eyes sliding shut. Thomas didn’t hear the door shut, and he knew you would’ve if you’d left the basement. He stood, walking towards the stairs and seeing you…asleep on the top two steps, head leaning against the wall.

He let out a little laugh, walking up the stairs while wiping his hands off on the apron he wore. He slid one hand beneath your knees and one around your shoulders, holding you close to his body. He couldn’t stop smiling as he carried you towards your room.

#slasher x reader #slashers #horror movies #horror fanfiction #slasher x y/n #michael meyers #jason voorhees x you #jason voorhes x reader #asa emory #asa emory x reader #thomas hewitt x y/n #thomas hewitt x you

[kiss-theggoat]

I know it was self indulgent but…. DAMN. The one you just did with ghost face and the boot. That was - I want another 😂

Idk why but the idea of reader being taken and or finding those photos one day and she just hears “told you they were only for me.” Or something. Idk.

-🪴🖤

A/N: AAAHHHH I’m so glad you liked and I’m so excited to do a pt 2 okay mwah into the story

Combat Boots Pt. 2

Ghostface x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: After your encounter with Ghostface, you can’t get him out of your mind…and it seems he feels the same way.

TW: ⚠️Heavy Kinks⚠️, Blood and Knives, Degradation, Dub-Con (GF takes photos w/o permission)

A cold breeze blew in from underneath the tarp that was supposed to be covering your shattered back door. The window company wouldn’t come until Monday, and of course, it was going to cost an arm and a leg. You grabbed your mug and your phone, shutting the kitchen light off behind you as you strolled up the stairs.

It’d been two days since you’d been visited by Roseville’s most infamous serial killer, Ghostface. As you opened your phone, the first thing you saw was the news…another body. Crude blurred photos gave you just enough information to know he didn’t hold back on this victim…just as he never held back on any other. It made your skin crawl that the man that had his hands on you just two days ago already used those same hands to slaughter another person.

But, even though you knew it was wrong…it made you feel like you were on fire. Excitement coursed through your veins when you saw a photo of that mask and you made a point not to report your broken door as a break in, just an unfortunate accident due to a crazy storm. That way, it was covered by insurance and your visit from Ghostface was kept under the radar. You sighed. This was sick wasn’t it? You could actually be helping the police catch someone who’s terrorizing your town, and you weren’t. Why? Just because he fucked you? As you walked up the stairs, you couldn’t think about anyone else but him.

Maybe you just hadn’t gotten action in a while. That’s what you told yourself but you knew it was deeper. Your attraction to the masked murderer was like a bonfire you couldn’t put out. The way he spoke to you, the way he could take your life at any moment, the thrill of it all…it made it irresistible.

You finally made it to your bedroom and set your mug full of tea down onto your bedside table, relieved to finally relax in bed, read a little bit. Hopefully get your mind off of things. You set your phone down next to your mug but…that was where your book was. You could’ve sworn you left it right there, next to your bed. You looked around for a second, eyebrows furrowed and hands on hips. You’d always been a little forgetful, but you’d just seen this book less than an hour ago when you got out of the shower.

You walked to the door and turned on the overhead light, and with the extra illumination, you spotted your book on your desk, beneath a t-shirt. You knew you didn’t leave it there, but you decided to ignore it, walking over and grabbing the shirt off the desk. Papers fluttered to the ground, making you take a step back and look down. Polaroids. Only one landed face up, but it was very, VERY clear what it was. Your face, mouth open, covered in cum. You could feel your cheeks immediately go hot as you knelt down to gather the photos. Flipping the other two didn’t help.

Ghostface’s white mask almost hid your face as he held you up by your hair in one photo, eyes glazed over and lips parted, a truly fucked out look. The last photo, a shining silver knife pressed to the center of your chest, a bead of blood pooling around the tip. You knew he’d taken photos of you when he visited you last but you never expected him to print and deliver them.

You tried to ignore the warmth in your chest and your belly, scanning your bedroom. If he’d moved this book, it was recently, within the hour. That meant he was most likely still in the area. Why would he come and drop off photos, but not interact with you at all? That spike of panic, the possibility that he could kill you made that heat all the more intense.

There weren't many spots in your bedroom to hide. It was fairly small, probably only under the bed and the closet was large enough to conceal a human. You got on your hands and knees, pressing your cheek to the carpet as you scanned beneath the bed…no one there. That left the closet. You stood, tip-toeing over to the closet doors. You gripped the handles, and in a flash, threw them open. Again. Nothing.

You sighed, moving some clothes aside to confirm that no one was there.

“Looking for me?”

A gruff voice from behind you nearly made you jump out of your skin, your entire body jumping up as you turned to face the speaker. Two black eye holes stared back at you, mask tilted down to meet your height.

“You look so pretty when you're scared…” he whispered, gloved hands moving up to your shoulders and pushing you up against the wall beside the closet, hard. The air was knocked from your lungs, head aching as it hit the wall. You winced, pressing your hands against his chest to brace yourself.

“Did you like the photos? I had to stop myself from sending them into the news…all that Roseville Gazette has of me is murder and blah blah blah…they don’t see the nice things I do for people…”

His hands trailed down your body as he spoke, hands finding your sides and sliding beneath the baggy t-shirt you wore.

Panic filled you with his statement. Would he actually send those in? Let everyone know that you’d fucked him and hadn’t reported it? “T-th…the news…? You were going to give those to the newspaper?”

He laughed, deep and hearty. “Oh relax, sweet cheeks, I would blur your face…well part of it, takes away all the fun if you can’t see the way you took my cum like a slut…such a wonderful model.”

With shame you looked away, eyes finding his boots. The same ones you’d grinded on like a dog in heat just two days ago. He yanks on your shirt, pulling it off over your head. “I’d like to take my time with you, but I’m kind of in a rush today. Got things to take care of but…needed to see you.”

As he spoke, he grabbed your hand leading it to the bulge in his jeans. You could feel how hard he was, and this made you feel…proud. He wanted to see you specifically? When he could just break into anyone’s house. You knew it was sick, but you felt flattered.

Your hands were shaking as you rubbed against his hard on, savoring the way his breath echoed inside the mask. He gripped your shoulders firmly and turned you around so you faced the wall, shoving your chest against it hard.

“Told you, I don’t have time for teasing.” He growled, voice deeper. Angrier this time. Frantically, he grabbed your shorts and panties in one, shoving them halfway down your thighs. You pressed both hands against the wall, listening to the clinking of a belt buckle. You knew what you were in for, and you couldn’t tell if you should be scared or ecstatic. You felt something hard against you…but not what you expected.

That familiar blade was pressed against your neck, sharpness threatening to slice the delicate skin at any moment. “Stay still, pretty girl.” He whispered, free hand holding your hip tightly. Now, you felt his cock pressed against you. Your breathing got heavier, but you made sure to stay as still as you could. This was only your second time ever being near him, you still weren’t sure if he’d actually kill you. You hoped he wouldn’t but deep down, in your gut…you couldn’t be sure.

Your thoughts were cut off by the feeling of him pushing inside you, a sting accompanying the familiar feeling of fullness that you craved. You dug your nails into the wall, letting out a wince. He was big, and you weren’t used to that, but you knew that after the pain went away, it’d be worth it.

And oh it was. You felt like your knees had turned to jelly, his body pressed hard against yours, forcing you into the rough wall, face shoved against it, cheekbone and jaw aching. The knife still kissed your pulse, threatening to slice at any moment, but the burning pleasure in your stomach made you too delirious to care. Ghostface’s grunts and groans fill your ears, along with the sound of slapping skin, his pace fast and ruthless.

“Aww…cute girl…” he whispered, sounding breathless. His eyes were focused on your legs, both of them trembling, struggling to keep yourself upright. It’d only been a few minutes since he started but you already felt like you were close. You couldn’t stay quiet, loud moans and whines leaving your parted lips, you were practically drooling at how good he felt.

He fucked you hard, knife pushing into your skin hard enough to cut it now, beads of blood rising to the surface. That sting is what did it, what sent you over the edge. Wetness dribbled down your leg as you clenched down around him, letting out a guttural moan that you couldn’t control. Your legs gave out, and the knife clattered to the floor as Ghostface dropped it to support your body.

You could’ve sworn you went deaf, ears ringing and vision spotty for a moment. After about a minute, you regained your composure, but only due to that familiar flash of his camera. He was on the floor between your legs, taking photos of how his cum leaked out of you and onto the floor. You could hear him laughing, and could only imagine the shit-eating grin he wore.

“Such a good girl…posing for me so pretty.” He whispered, gloved fingers gathering some of his cum and pushing back inside you. You flinched, legs slamming shut at the overstimulation.

He stood, his pants buttoned and belt buckled. He’d gotten cleaned up while you were in a daze, and other than the wet patch you left on his pants, he looks completely normal. But you on the other hand, you were a mess on the floor, sweaty, shaking, lips covered in drool, cum leaking onto the floor.

Ghostface shook his camera in your face, taunting you with it.

“Gotta go, sugar. I’ll get these to you as soon as I can…”

#slasher x reader #slashers #horror movies #horror fanfiction #slasher x y/n #ghostface #ghostface fanfiction #ghostface x you #ghostface x reader

[kiss-theggoat]

billy loomis x stu macher x reader

hi hun! could u do something where billy loomis and stu macher find out reader is like them? but reader is like, cold, calm, and manipulative?

anything but smut pls <3

thank you! have a cool day :)

A/N: You got it babes 🫶🏻 Hope you like!

Three’s A Crowd

Billy and Stu x F!Reader

Word Count: 800

Summary: After discussing the murder of Casey Becker, Billy and Stu think they’ve found someone who might be committed to their cause.

TW: Canon typical violence

You sighed as you plopped down on the concrete beside Sydney and Tatum, sitting between the two couples. Randy was ranting about something or other, like usual, but you couldn’t be bothered to pay attention. To be honest, all this fuss with the murders was…annoying. You’d been pulled out of class twice to be “checked on” which is a nice way of saying interviewed, and offered grief counseling from some girl who’s been rude to you since middle school.

Now, all anyone can talk about is Casey and Shane. You’d hoped that sitting next to your friends would give you a break, but alas, Randy was spewing some shit about movies and rules and killing. You rolled your eyes and picked up the small bag of chips from your bag, tearing it open.

“Did they ask you guys if you liked to hunt?” Stu asked, looking towards Billy and Randy, who both nodded their heads.

“They didn’t ask us if we liked to hunt.” Tatum pointed out, shrugging her shoulders. Which was true. None of the girls were asked any questions pertaining to the death of Casey or Shane, just where they were and if they’d like grief counseling, while the boys were looked at more carefully. Which, you thought, was pretty offensive.

Stu laughed, popping a grape into his mouth “Because a girl couldn’t have killed them.”

“Wrong.” You said frankly, voice monotone, chip crunching between your teeth.

Everyone looked towards you, Stu and Randy with the usual misogynistic mansplain face on. “I heard they were gutted. A girl couldn’t do that.” Stu stated, and Randy immediately followed up, “And most serial killers are men.”

“First off all, Randy, a killer has to rack up three kills to be labeled a serial killer. And second of all, Stu, women can, and have, kill people like that.”

Billy sat up onto his palms, now paying more attention to the way you spoke.

“Oh yeah? Give me an example.”

You scoffed, crumpling your now empty chip bag and shoving it into the pocket of your backpack. “Are you stupid? Have you ever heard of… I don’t know, Elizabeth Bathory? One of the first women to be accused of serial killing. She’d capture virgins from the village, torture them, then bathe in their blood. She believed it kept her young.”

“Yeah, accused. And she used servants.” Randy rebutted, giving you a cocky smile.

“Okay… Aileen Wuornos.”

“Just shot her victims, never gutted them.”

“Randy, I’m not arguing if a woman could gut someone or not. Don’t be an idiot, of course a woman could. I’m saying that women are just as capable of being killers. What about Juana Barraza? Killed like…50 innocent elderly people. Just because she didn’t gut them doesn’t mean she is a better person.”

Stu nodded a little bit, eating another grape before speaking. “I guess you’re right.”

You looked over to Sydney, seeing how uncomfortable she was, which made you feel a little guilty but you’d been walking in eggshells around her for a year. You shifted a little bit and leaned back against your hands, sighing. “Doesn’t matter anyway. They won’t catch who did it.”

Billy finally chimed in. “Why do you say that?”

“I heard a couple cops saying they found no evidence at the scene. Like a ghost killed them.” You said nonchalantly, causing Billy to look over to Stu. They made eye contact for a moment, but nobody caught it.

Billy watched you carefully. It seemed like you couldn’t care less about Casey being killed…and that interested him. The bell rang, and everyone stood and disbursed, except for Billy and Stu.

Stu leaned over, whispering into Billy’s ear. “She doesn’t care at all dude…this is awesome.” He was giddy. Billy knew Stu’s always had the hots for you, and this caused him to roll his eyes just a bit. But he couldn’t lie…this excited him too.

“Don't get your hopes up, Stu…”

“You think she’d help us?”

Billy turned to stare at him for a moment…maybe you would.

#slasher x reader #slashers #horror movies #horror fanfiction #slasher x y/n #ghostface #ghostface fanfiction #billy loomis x y/n #stu macher x reader

[kiss-theggoat]

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

Slashers Fix You Up

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

TW: Violence and Gore

Thomas Hewitt:

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

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

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

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

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

Billy Loomis:

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

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

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

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

Stu Macher:

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

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

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

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

Asa Emory:

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

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

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

Michael Meyers:

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

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

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

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

Sinclair Brothers:

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

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

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

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

#slasher x reader #slashers #horror movies #horror fanfiction #slasher x y/n #thomas hewitt x y/n #thomas hewitt x you #thomas hewitt x reader #billy loomis x y/n #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #stu macher #asa emory #the collector #michael meyers #bo sinclair fanfiction #bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x you #lester sinclair

[kiss-theggoat]

Uhh I’m not sure if I’m doing this right but

Could you write a thingy where the reader and Ghostface are watching scary movies together and the reader is trying SO HARD to stay awake for the entire thing (and they fail)

Gotta love fluff 👍

A/N: Short but sweet, I hope you like 🖤

Tired?

Ghostface x GN!Reader

Word Count: 800

Summary: Your favorite slasher comes over with a stack of flicks, but you’re exhausted.

TW: None

The phone call startled you, your entire body jumping off of your bed. You were right on the edge of sleep before the shrill ringing yanked you back to consciousness, making you groan. You grabbed the landline, pressing the answer button and holding it up to your ear, eyes barely open.

“What?” You snapped, sounding very irritated to whoever was calling you.

“Oh, not in a good mood, hm?”

The sultry voice on the other end made your anger dissipate every so slightly. You knew exactly who it was, and you laid back against your bed once more, feeling its warmth envelope your sleepy form. “Not a good time, Danny.”

“Thought I told you not to call me that over the phone, sweetness.”

“Sorry. Ghostface.”

“Better. You wouldn’t want to be rude to someone who went through the effort of coming all the way to your house, would you?” There was a sense of arrogance to the way he spoke, a chuckle sounding through the speaker. You sat up in your bed, shoving your comforter down your legs as you stood. The large window in your room faced the front of your house, giving you a good view of the front door.

As you moved the curtains to the side, that familiar screaming face stared up at you from your porch, gloved hand waving at you. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but smile at the fact that a man who was wanted for murder was standing in front of your door like a lovesick puppy.

You hung up the phone and walked downstairs, unlocking the door to see him with a stack of horror movies and a bag of your favorite candy. He laughed, the sound booming from deep in his chest. “Must’ve been sleeping, huh?” He asked teasingly, pushing past you into your living room.

“Sure, come in?” You said sarcastically, shutting and locking the door behind him.

He sat on your couch and made himself comfortable, boots up on the coffee table like he owned the joint. You tried to pretend like it annoyed you, but in reality, it satisfied the domesticity that you craved. “Okay I have…Nightmare on Elm Street, My Bloody Valentine, The Exorcist aaaand Black Christmas. Although, not really cold enough outside for a Christmas mo-”

You plopped onto the couch, listening to him talk about the horror movies he brought over as he sorted through the VHS tapes. You interrupted him, putting a hand on his shoulder with an exasperated sigh. “I was almost asleep.”

“Okay, so lay down and watch a movie with me?” He said as if you’d just told him the dumbest thing on earth. You wanted him to leave? No way that was happening. You groaned and laid back onto the armrest of your couch, stretching your spine and hearing a few cracks in the process.

“If you don’t pick a movie, I'm gonna.”

“Fine. Nightmare on Elm Street.” You grabbed the blanket that was over the back of your couch and started to get comfortable, watching him as he started up the movie. The intro scene to the movie began to play, but you really couldn’t be bothered, eyelids already feeling heavy with the warm blanket wrapped around you.

It felt like you were laying on a cloud, and you slowly stretched your legs out over his thighs. His warmth mixing with the softness of your blanket made your eyelids seem like they might have super glue on them. You tried hard to focus on the movie, head held carefully by a plush throw pillow.

“You really are tired.” Ghostface teased, hands finding your bare calves beneath the blanket. He had taken his gloves off and his hands radiated heat through your skin. Firm fingers slowly began to rub circles into your calves, and with the other hand, he rubbed up and down your ankle, almost like he was trying to get you to sleep. Before you knew it, the sleepiness overtook you like a tsunami, you couldn’t help it.

For once in his life, he felt like he’d done something right as he watched your chest rise and fall, eyelashes resting against your cheeks and lips parted as you slept peacefully, wrapped up like you’d never been more comfortable than here, on the couch, with him.

#slasher x reader #slashers #horror movies #horror fanfiction #slasher x y/n #scream #ghostface x you #ghostface fanfiction #ghostface x reader #ghostface

[kiss-theggoat]

I’m back again! I’m a sucker for Thomas Hewitt okay, and there isn’t enough about him! I was wondering if you could do another fic about him, a childhood friend of Thomas’s who moved away comes back in town. She ends up staying with them while she is in town, unknowingly having interrupted their killing plans, leaving a victim down in the basement and unknown from reader. But when the family isn’t home (who knows why) victim escapes and attacks reader. Reader attacks back but ends up killing the victim on accident. In fear she hides the body but the guilt kills her and she ends up telling Thomas. (I know out of character stuff)

A/N: Thank you for the request, I really love writing for Thomas and hope you like! 🖤

Surprise!

Thomas Hewitt x F!Reader

Word Count: 3K

Summary: After years of being away from home, you finally decide to visit your hometown…only to see it’s been shut down. Only one family still lives there, and thankfully, you know them, and they offer to let you stay there! But…after a few days, you start to sense that something isn’t right.

TW: Canon-Typical Violence

The drive to Texas was long, but as you watched the dust and sagebrush go by, your chest swelled with excitement. You hadn’t been back in your hometown since your parents made you leave when you were younger, and now that you finally had your own car and your own money, the first thing on your list was to visit that sleepy little Texas town you’d missed since you left. The only issue was that as you kept driving…you noticed that all of the street signs leading to town were decrepit. You thought…well, you’d been gone a long time…just normal wear and tear under the Texas sun, right?

Wrong.

As you drove into town…you felt your chest tighten at the state of things. Almost every single building was boarded up, windows shattered and spray painted, signs on the ground and covered in dust. There was no way that anyone lived here, hell, the only stoplight in town didn’t even work…

Your car sputtered to a stop in front of what used to be your favorite little convenience store. Where you used to go inside and beg your mom to buy you all of the candy she said was off limits. The same store you got caught stealing a candy bar with your best friend and thought you both might get arrested by the sheriff. You slammed your car door shut, dust clouding around you in a plume of sadness in nostalgia. It was so quiet…not even a cricket…until you heard a siren.

How can an abandoned town have law enforcement? You raised a hand to block the relentless sunlight, turning to the source of the sound, where an old cop car rolled up beside you. The tint on the windows was definitely illegal, but thankfully, the sheriff slowly rolled it down, revealing his scowling face, eyes blocked by sunglasses.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doin’ in town?” He asked, lip stuffed with chew. His voice was gruff, but sounded so oddly familiar to you. You leaned in closer, eyes squinting in order to get a better look at him. You peered at the name badge…Hoyt. That didn’t sound familiar at all…but then he said your name. You continued to look at him in confusion as he pulled his sunglasses off, his eyes full of recognition. This man obviously knew you…but who was he?

He stepped out of the car and shut the door, leaning against it as he spit a puddle of black sludge onto the ground. “Well I’ll be damned. Thought I’d never see your pretty face again.”

“I’m sorry…it’s been a long time since I’ve been here and…the name Hoyt doesn’t ring any bells.” I told him, pointing at the nameplate on his chest.

“Oh this is a buddy’s uniform. Lost my own badge. The name Hewitt ring any bells? Charlie Hewitt.” He spit again, closer to your shoe this time, making you cringe and step away just a little. At first, you didn’t remember the name Hewitt either…until you remembered Thomas. The one boy in your class that never came to school, was always bullied or called names because of his face. Your eyes lit up as you made eye contact with him, a smile spreading onto your lips.

“Hewitt! Yes! I remember Thomas.” You said happily. If the Hewitt family was still here, then the town couldn’t be completely shut down, right?

This seemed to annoy Charlie in a way, his lip curling up into a sneer at the sound of Thomas’ name. “Course you remember that big oaf. Hard to miss ‘im.” He spat the rest of his chew onto the ground, wiping his lip with the back of his hand, “Where you plannin’ on stayin’?”

This made you sigh. You were hoping the little motel would still be open, but you’d just driven past it, and from the looks of it, its only residents were probably rats and roaches. “Well, actually…I probably have to drive back to Austin tonight. I didn’t know the town had…” you stopped talking, eyes landing on Charlie’s wrinkled face, not wanting to say anything rude about the hometown you shared.

“Gone under?” He broke out into a wheezy laugh, making it very clear to you that he’d probably been smoking like a chimney since you left. “Yeah. Not a lotta folks left. But Austin’s a long way and it’s gettin’ dark…not safe for a pretty little thing like you to be alone.” The way he spoke sent shivers down your spine. You knew him…but he seemed …different. His eyes had a sinister glow to them, the way he stared down at your chest made you want to hop in your car and never come back. “Why don’t you come stay at the house? M’sure Luda Mae would love havin’ another girl around.” He took a step closer to you, eyes still focused where they shouldn’t be.

You spoke quickly, definitely quick enough to make your uneasiness known. “No, that’s okay…I really don’t mind driving back into the city.”

This seemed to amuse Charlie. “Oh, we insist. Tommy will be there…don’t think he’s seen someone like you in his whole life.”

For some reason, the mention of Thomas made you actually want to go. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but your memories of Thomas, while very little, were only fond. He was a big kid for his age, and very misunderstood, but always very kind and quiet. And…he did say there would be another girl there, right? So you wouldn’t just be alone with this creep. Maybe going to visit the Hewitt’s would be a nice walk down memory lane.

“Okay…sure. It is getting pretty late, I guess.” You agreed, making him smile and show off his stained yellow teeth.

“Perfect. Just drive behind me.” He told you, opening the door to his cop car.

The drive to the Hewitt’s home was longer than you’d thought, and their house was huge. As you parked behind Charlie, you stared up at the house in awe, seeing every single window illuminated. You supposed that with the entire town pretty much out of commission, they owned whatever property they wanted. Your shoes crunched against the gravel as Charlie led you inside, and the moment he opened the door, a feeling of discomfort settled deep in your stomach.

The house was cozy, but eclectic. Too eclectic, like every item inside belonged to a different owner at some point in time. It smelled like a mixture of expired perfume and rotting meat, a sickeningly sweet film settling on your sweaty skin, making it hard to breath inside the home. You stuck a smile on your face anyways, not wanting to seem rude as you were led into the dining room. It seemed as though you were interrupting dinner, everyone already seated in front of their bowls, full of some sort of stew. Your presence immediately turned heads, all six eyes fixed on you and Charlie standing in the doorway.

“Well I don’t believe it…” The lady whispered, who you immediately recognized to be Luda Mae. God, she’d gotten old. You remember her being old when you were in elementary school, and part of you wondered how she was still alive. Across from her sat an elderly man, who somehow looked twenty years older than her. He was sitting there, eyes on you but unfocused, like he was staring at the air between you and the table. Last to meet your gaze was Thomas.

Your heart sank when you saw him, or what was exposed. The leather mask covering his face upset you beyond reason. You knew that Tommy had been bullied for his looks when you guys were little, but never thought he’d make a custom mask to wear, even around his family, and at dinner for god's sake. That’s when it occurred to you, he wasn’t even eating.

“Found ‘er down by the old gas station lookin’ for a place to stay. Ain't she pretty?” Charlie asked, his voice low and predatory as walked towards his seat at the head of the table. The way he spoke about you, like you were just a piece of meat, made your skin crawl.

You gave everyone a polite smile and a little wave before speaking. “Well, I expected the motel to still be open…really, I can find somewhere else to stay, I hate to impose if-“

“Oh don’t be silly!” Luda interrupted. “We’d love to have you. You’ve just gotten so pretty…hasn’t she Tommy?” Your eyes shot to a very flustered looking Thomas, his eyes fixed on his steaming bowl of stew, still untouched.

“Please dear, have a seat, you’re just in time for dinner.”

To be completely honest…you didn’t want to eat their dinner. Something about the house and their demeanor made you want to leave, but if there was one thing you learned about growing up in Texas, it was to accept the hospitality.

“Thank you, Luda Mae.” You said softly, accepting the seat beside Thomas. Charlie scooped a full ladle of soup into a bowl and set it in front of you. With clammy hands you grabbed the spoon, noticing that none of their silverware matched. The spoon you had was delicate, handle slim with swirled details adorning the shiny silver.

All of the Hewitt’s stared at you with prying eyes as you scooped yourself a bite. It contained a chunk of meat, a carrot, and an onion, along with the broth they soaked in.

The moment that stew touched your tongue, you knew something was wrong. The meat tasted off, way too gamey. You’d had your fair share of meats, different kinds of game and homemade foods made with hunting prizes but this…unlike anything you’d ever tasted. It was tender, and didn’t taste bad, but the unfamiliar taste tainted the whole soup, causing alarm bells to go off in your head.

You were soon distracted by the sounds of the family scarfing down their own dinner, spoons hitting porcelain and lips smacking. In no time, your bowl was empty, and so was everyone else’s…except for Thomas’. But, this seemed normal among dinner time as Luda Mae cleared the dishes without a word.

“Tommy. Show our guest to ‘er room for the night, would ya?”

The wooden chair screeched against the floor when Thomas stood. He just seemed to keep going…he towered over you. You craned your neck to stare at him, mouth open and eyes widening. You stood from your own chair, noticing how much larger he was than you. You stood at his chest, and he easily doubled you in width.

Without a word he started walking past you, and you figured he meant for you to follow, so you did. The more you explored the house, the less cozy it got, and by the time you made it to the guest room, it was plain and simple, just a bed with white sheets in the middle of an empty room. Thomas stood at the door, taking up the entire entrance.

“Thank you, Thomas.” You said quietly, giving him a small smile that made him turn away from you. “It’s really nice to see you.”

The longer you stared, the more you realized that he was still the same old Tommy. A gentle giant with pretty brown eyes that sucked you in until you didn’t want to look away.

Just as you were getting lost in your thoughts, Charlie shoved Thomas aside, holding your bag that you’d left in your car.

“‘Ere you go, gorgeous.”

“Thanks, Charlie…” you said softly, grabbing the bag. That was nice of him, but you don’t remember giving him your car keys…

“My rooms just downstairs if you need anythin’.” Charlie sent you an uncomfortable wink, reminding you to lock your door tonight, and walked away. Thomas stood with his head down, still in the doorway.

“Uhm…goodnight, Thomas.” You said softly, a smile gracing your face again. This time, he looked at you. And you could’ve sworn that before you closed the door, his eyes crinkled, like he might’ve smiled too. You closer the door, and grumbled at the lack of a lock, finally getting ready for bed.

A shriek yanked you from your peaceful slumber, making you sit up straight in bed. Your heart was pounding, and you reached over to turn on the small bedside lamp. You were hoping it was just a nightmare, something you could just ignore and go back to the weirdly comfy mattress but the longer you sat there, the more you heard. Footsteps, whispering…but they sounded so frantic. Not like someone getting up for a glass of water or a midnight snack.

Slowly and hesitantly, you walked towards the door and pulled it open, bare feet finding every single splinter in the floor until you were finally in the hallway, staring down the stairs in the dark with wide, fearful eyes. Everything seemed fine…until a woman stumbled into your field of vision. She was bloody, open wounds on her back in an odd spot…did she just break into the house? She was near the front door and none of the Hewitt’s were with her. You stared at her, panicking, especially when you made eye contact.

Your blood went cold and you quickly backed up, barely hanging onto the banister.

“You have to help me, please! You have no idea what is going on here, we have to get out, you have to help me!” The girl started to ramble, but her voice was a whisper-like scream. Her bloodied hands hit the stairs and she began to crawl towards you.

You stared blankly, overcome by the fear and shock of seeing her inside the home…before you knew it, she made it to you. She gripped your ankle with a sticky hand, pulling you closer to the stairs. “Please!” She hissed, her eyes wide and crazed.

Instinctively, you tried to kick her hand away from you, pulling away. You felt your breathing speed up, panic overwhelming you. “Get off me!”

Her eyes flashed with realization, and she immediately recoiled. “You…you’re one of them…oh my god!” She wailed, voice full of dread and tears flowing down her cheeks. One of them? What did that even mean? This sorrow and dread only lasted a few seconds…before she turned to rage. Her face scrunched and it was like she’d been struck by lightning, body invigorated and suddenly strong enough to function. She stood and lunged at you, hands on your shoulders.

Your breath left your lungs as she slammed you against the wall, the back of your head aching in a way it never had before. In an attempt to get her off of you, you pushed her as hard as you could, feeling the slick blood on her shoulder and her neck where your hands hit her. Your eyes were closed tightly as you shoved, but it didn’t take vision to know what happened to her. Her body stumbled down the stairs, thumping all the way down, groans and grunts escaping her as she trailed blood all the way down.

You covered your mouth with your trembling hands…you’d just killed someone…you felt nauseous, you could feel your stomach turning as you stared at her body at the bottom of the stairs, laying limp. You prayed and prayed that she’d move, but she never did. A door slammed open from somewhere downstairs and that’s when you realized…

You’d just killed someone inside of someone else’s home. Tears rolled down your face and you slid down the wall to the ground, knees shaking and unable to support your weight anymore. Heavy footsteps approached the dead body at the bottom of the stairs…and Thomas came into your field of view. He stared nonchalantly at the woman, but turned to face you when he heard your sob.

“Thomas I’m so sorry I don’t know what happened…” you whispered, face bright red from crying and entire body shaking. Thomas stood still for a moment, but when he started moving, nothing could’ve stopped him. He knelt on the stairs in front of you, huge hand taking yours.

The warmth radiated through your fingers and up into your arms, making them feel less shaky and cold and traumatized. You stared up at Thomas, bleary eyes filled with tears, realizing that he wasn’t mad…or scared…he wanted to help you. Relief overwhelmed you, and you couldn’t stop yourself from moving closer to him, arms wrapped around his broad waist, head buried against his chest. With your panicking, you barely noticed the fact he wore a button up and a leather apron, droplets of blood smearing against your cheek. You didn’t care. Thomas wrapped his tree trunk arms around you and held you against him…it was like nothing else mattered. Comfort washed over you and for a moment you felt like you hadn’t just killed a woman for no reason.

“S-she just attacked me, she jumped at me and grabbed me and she was yelling and-“

Thomas’ hand gently stroked your hair as if to shush you, his cheek resting against the top of your head as he held you as close as he could.

There was nothing that would stop him from being close to you. Not the three bodies in the basement, and definitely not the bitch that hopped off the hook.

#slasher x reader #slashers #horror movies #horror fanfiction #slasher x y/n #thomas hewitt x y/n #thomas hewitt x you #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt

[kiss-theggoat]

Happy Holidays!

-🪴🖤

AHHHHH I could cry, you’re so sweet. I’ve been inactive for so long and haven’t seen many messages, but thank you everyone for the kind words. 🖤 I’m back to my bullshit, and I’m working on a couple requests right now, and I hope I can be more consistent coming up. Thank you so much MWAH

[kiss-theggoat]

I wanna know your opinion on billy loomis getting jealous bc his s/o was hanging out with someone else more often

A/N: Thank you for this request and I can’t handle writing for Billy I’m so in love with him it’s crazy 🧍🏻‍♀️ I might do a pt. 2 to this 😍

Eyes on Me

Billy Loomis X Reader

Word Count: 1K

Summary: Billy hates how much attention you give to that nerd, Randy Meeks.

TW: Possessive Billy, Suggestive, Mainly fluff/domestic stuff

It was a perfect, stormy October evening. You and your beautiful boyfriend Billy had decided to have a night in, watching scary movies and indulging in all of your favorite sweets and snacks. So, in preparation for this date, you two decided it’d be cute to go out and shop for a little bit as couple. Your first destination was the grocery store, where you picked up some popcorn and your favorite candies, watching as Billy tossed one too many chocolate bars into the basket you carried in the crook of your elbow.

And now, you held hands as you browsed through the horror section of the video store, eyes fondly scanning all of the cheesy and brightly colored covers of all the movies on display.

“Hmm…what about The Exorcist?” You asked, grabbing the tape and showing it to Billy, just to be met with his usual unimpressed shrug.

“Just saw it the other night.” He tells you, grabbing a different movie and flipping it over to read the back cover. You set the tape back down and decided to look around the store to see if Randy was working, and to your delight, you saw the spiky haired cinephile just a few feet away, pushing around a cart of rom coms.

“Randy!” You called out, completely abandoning Billy where he stood. Randy stood still for a moment and looked around, seeming alarmed at having his name called until his eyes landed on you. He’d had a crush on you almost the entire year, but he knew better than to mess with Billy.

“Oh hey!” He said fondly, leaning against the cart. “What’s going on?” He asked, immediately cursing himself afterwards for sounding so awkward.

You smiled, motioning towards Billy. “Not much. Just picking out a movie to watch.”

Randy could feel the anger behind Billy’s gaze, his dark brown eyes burning into the side of his face. “O-oh uhm…what are you guys looking for?” Randy asked, even though he already knew.

Billy walked up behind you and snaked a tight arm around your lower waist, yanking you against his body. “Horror.” He said, eyes not moving away from poor Randy’s terrified face.

Randy cleared his throat and gave you a quick glance, but you seemed to be completely oblivious to Billy’s display of ownership. “We uhm…we just got a new slasher in... I’ve never seen it, but it looks pretty good….”

“What? A slasher movie that Randy Meeks has never seen?” You asked with a teasing tone, eyes still focused on Randy. This had Billy absolutely fuming. “We’ll take that one. And I can finally spoil a movie for you for once, not the other way around.” You joked. Randy let out an awkward laugh and knelt down to the bottom shelf of the cart he was pushing, grabbed a tape and handed it to you. It was covered in neon colors, bright red, and a dramatic font splayed across the front.

“Hm. Looks interesting.” You said, setting it down in the basket you held. “Thanks Randy! Hey, I’ll see you at school on Monday!” You said happily, walking back over to the horror section without a second thought about the interaction, not knowing that both men were feeling the tension.

Billy kept a tight arm around your waist and when you got back to the horror section, he whispered so close to you that you could feel his lips against the shell of your ear. “What the hell was that?”

You jumped at the intrusion, turning around to face him, face scrunched in confusion. “What the hell was what?”

“Flirting with Meeks.” He said sternly, eyes dark and lips pressed into a disapproving sneer.

“Flirting with Meeks?” You almost laughed at how surprised you were.

“You talk to him like you just sucked his dick.”

Okay, now that caught you off guard. At first you thought this was sort of funny and a little cute. Billy being a little jealous, but the way he said that to you made you feel…disrespected. You backed up a step and scoffed.

“Billy, what the hell? Randy and I are friends. I’m not allowed to say hi to him?”

Billy rolled his eyes and grabbed another movie off the shelf, tossing it into the basket. He ignored you, a classic Billy comeback.

You grabbed onto Billy’s bicep and shook his arm a little bit, a little, sly smile sneaking onto your face. “You’re so cute when you’re jealous, Billy.”

“I’m not jealous of Meeks.” He grumbled, his back still towards you despite your mighty effort to get him to face you.

“Oh? You’re not? Maybe I should watch movies with Randy then. I’m sure he’d like to come over and sit with us…eat some snacks…maybe we could-“

Before you could finish your thought, Billy grabbed the top of your forearm, finally turning to face you. His grip didn’t hurt, but it was definitely firm. The look in his eyes made shivers go down your spine, and he leaned closer to your face, allowing his breath to fan across your forehead as he spoke to you.

“You just wait until we’re alone.” His tone was low and his voice was gravelly. You felt warmth pool between your legs, and you shyly averted your gaze from Billy’s oppressive stare, but Billy wasn’t having it. His fingers gripped your chin and you felt a slight ache radiate up your cheeks as he yanked your face back towards his.

“Eyes on me.”

As you caught his eyes, you could see and feel the lust behind them, and he leaned closer to you, his hand moving down from your chin, slowly trailing to your neck down the side of your chest and finally resting on your hip. “You’ll be lucky if you make it home.” He growled, pushing you back slightly by the hip. He walked away towards the counter where Randy stood, ringing up another customer.

He left you in the horror aisle, mouth open and face beet red, feeling like you could practically combust at any moment from how he’d just spoken to you. Maybe you’d have to make Billy jealous more often….

#slasher x reader #slashers #horror movies #horror fanfiction #slasher x y/n #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis #billy loomis x y/n

[kiss-theggoat]

Combat Boots

Ghostface x F!Reader (Danny/Jed Olson GF)

Word Count: 2.4 K

Summary: You ride Ghostface’s boot. That’s it.

TW: ⚠️Heavy Kinks⚠️ Degradation, Knives and Blood, Dom Ghostface, DubCon, Squirting, Bootlicking

The thunder was raging outside, wind and rain pattering against your window as you curled up under your comforter, trying hard to fall asleep. You’d moved out of your parents house, finally on your own ...just to find out the town you've moved to is being terrorized by a masked murderer. And that you’re scared of thunderstorms.

You took a deep breath and rolled over, closing your eyes tightly, almost trying to trick your body into believing that it’s asleep. Your body jumped up at the loud noise you heard, rocketing out of your bed when you realized that it was not thunder…but glass shattering. As quietly as possible, you got out of your bed and walked to the door of your bedroom, opening it slowly and peeking out. The screen of the landline phone that sat on a table in the hallway was black, telling you that the power was out. You cursed at yourself, knowing that your phone was on the charger downstairs. You’d been so tired before the thunder you forgot to bring it up…

You slowly tiptoed down the stairs, not touching a light switch, not wanting to alert whoever had broken your window. Your heart was beating out of your chest and the adrenaline made your legs feel numb, but as you turned the corner, you saw what made your heart drop. The back door, shattered with a rock inside laying on your carpet. Muddy boot prints trailed across the floor, leading into the living room and out of your view.

Your hands started to shake so much that you couldn’t hold the handrail of the stairs, covering your mouth to avoid screaming or crying, or both. You took a deep and shaky breath, slowly beginning to move down the last two stairs. You spotted your phone on the counter, beckoning to you like a lighthouse in a stormy sea.

It felt like you were floating, shaky and adrenaline filled legs carrying you across the kitchen slowly, like you were weighed down by bricks. Your head was on a swivel, checking your surroundings constantly. You felt a presence near you, but all you were focused on was getting your phone.

A loud crack of thunder boomed, making you jump, but you didn’t have time to react as two strong arms wrapped around your waist, lifting you off the ground like you weighed nothing. A shriek tore from your throat and you thrashed in the grasp of the mysterious intruder, but the thunder invaded your home through the door, covering your screams and struggles.

The stranger squeezed you hard, forcing the air from your lungs and making it hard for you to make any noise. He carried you away from your phone and to your living room, throwing you down onto the couch. You hit the couch hard, landing on top of your arm, pain exploding from your right wrist and the side of your head as you bounced off the armrest, falling to the hardwood floor. You groaned in pain and crawled forward, feeling his hard grip around your ankles. His fingers dug into your tendons as he yanked you closer and flipped you onto your back, throwing you around like a doll.

He loomed over you, a hooded figure moving in the wind from your back door. The mask he wore shined in the moonlight, black eye holes and screaming mouth making him instantly identifiable. Ghostface. The killer that you've been reading about for days in the news, seeing his mask in photos and evidence bags.

The clips around his waist cinched it, showing off his muscular figure. You could see his thighs through his black jeans that lead down to his large black combat boots. His entire figure was bulky, muscular. You could feel it in the way that he tossed you around, his presence oozing pure power and intimidation.

You stared up in horror at him before kicking back against the floor, sliding in your pajamas backwards until he grabbed your feet again. He pinned them hard to the ground, your heels slamming against the hardwood. A lightning bolt of pain went up your legs and you let out a scream again as he straddled your hips, keeping your hands under his thighs. He leaned down and his mask was inches from yours, all his weight on your chest.

You struggled to breathe, struggling before you heard a husky voice. “You’re such a pretty girl, aren’t you?” He spoke.

Your eyes widened at the gravelly deep voice that spoke, breathiness revealing that he was slightly out of breath from wrangling you.

“Mmm…” he hummed, a gloved hand reaching up to wipe a few tears from your cheeks. “You look exactly like I thought you would when you cry…”

Like he thought you would?

He must’ve sensed your confusion, quickly following up. “I’ve been watching you…welcome to Roseville.” He let out a husky chuckle, and your heart dropped. He’d been watching you since you moved here?

You began to struggle again until he reached back towards the ankle of his combat boot, pulling out a large Bowie knife that shined in the moonlight. The blade glinted as he moved it closer to your throat, pushing it against your skin. “You scream, you die. You disobey, you die. Do what you're told and you might live, princess…” he whispered and stood up slowly, getting off of you, but even though you were free now, you feared the man in front of you. The knife was pointed at you, and you knew he was stronger and faster.

You laid on the floor, staring up at him with fear, waiting for him to do anything.

“Get up. On your knees.” He commanded, rolling his shoulders back.

You quickly and shaking got to your knees, yelling when you realized how bad your wrist still hurt. Kneeling in front of the man you looked up with teary eyes, taking a deep breath through your nose.

He reached a gloved hand down and ran it over your cheek, masked head tilting to the side. “Aweee…” he clicked his tongue. “Why the long face?” He asked, ending the question with a chuckle. He stepped closer, using a boot to kick your thighs apart. “I want you to take your shorts off. Panties too.”

Looking down to the ground, you realized what was about to happen, but you couldn’t deny him. You slowly slid down your shorts, sitting down on your butt for a second to undress. You tossed your clothes to the side and quickly knelt again, thighs clenched and head down.

You felt the tip of his knife beneath your chin, pushing hard. “Look at me.” He growled, and you felt the tip of the break skin. You winced and stared into the black holes of the mask, blood slowly trickling down the center of your neck. You realized as you stared up at him and you clenched your thighs that the way he was talking made your body react. You felt the wetness between your legs already, arousal pooling in the bottom of your stomach. You felt disgusted that you were attracted to what was happening, but something about his orders made you want to behave.

Once again, his boot moved to your thigh. He pressed the tread against your inner thigh, pushing harder and spreading them open. “Keep them spread. Next time you close ‘em I’ll cut you.” He hissed, pushing the tread of his boot harder against your soft skin. You nodded quickly and felt your breathing speed up, but this time, not out of fear.

“Such a pretty pussy…looks exactly like I thought it would…” his voice was breathy and despite not being able to see his eyes, you knew they were fixed on you. The rough tread of his boot moved further and further up your thigh, smearing the mud from outside on your smooth skin. The imprint from his boots made your cheeks light up, turning deep red. Your entire body heated up as he moved closer.

Ghostface pressed the tread of his boot against your pussy, making you flinch backwards with a whine. He started to laugh at you, and you felt the humiliation but also the heat rising through your chest. He moved the hunting knife to your neck, pushing it lightly into the skin.

“Grind on my boot like the dirty slut you are.” He snarled, pushing against you with his boot harder as he moved the knife to the side, allowing you to feel a slight sting as he barely broke the skin. Blood beaded to the surface and dropped down, tickling your neck and collarbone.

The shame settled in your chest but the tread against your clit quickly overpowered it as you slowly began to move your hips forward against his boot. You could feel the cold wetness on the bottom of his boot, but you found that you didn’t care as the feeling of your clit rubbing the tread sent lightning up to your chest.

“Look at you…humping my boot like a bitch in heat. Never knew you’d be such a whore…” he chuckled, moving his knife back, other hand palming over the very obvious erection he’d attained.

A whimper left your lips at the way he spoke to you, something about it striking a nerve deep within you. You reached forward and wrapped your hands around his ankle gently, holding his foot steady as you bucked your hips against his shoe. You felt dirty, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, pressing your dripping pussy harder against his boot, savoring how the ridges of the tread knocked against your clit perfectly.

Your lips clenched together, trying hard to hide how much you were enjoying this, but Ghostface wasn’t having it. The knife pressed against your cheek, one quick slice and you let out a wince. A good sized cut that spanned from the top of your cheekbone to the beginning of the ridge of your nose began to ooze blood down your face.

“Keep your mouth open.” He sneered. “I want to listen to you…I want to know how much you like getting off to a stranger. How much you like getting off to a murderer.”

You quickly did as he said, a moan you’d been holding in escaping your parted lips. You could hear him laughing in the background, but it did nothing to distract you from how good you felt. The adrenaline mixed with the way he spoke to you had your orgasm sneaking up on you quicker than you thought, your thighs trembling and your moans increasing in frequency and pitch.

“You gonna cum? You're gonna cum on the ground like a slut?” He mocked you, but at this point he had a hand down his jeans, stroking himself off to the sight of you bucking your hips.

Your grip on his ankle tightened as you felt the rubber band in your stomach snap. You gushed around his boot, loud, breathy moans filling the room as you leaned forward, face scrunching and eyes closing tightly. A sizable puddle laid under you and him, his boot now dripping with something other than rain.

You came so hard that your ears were ringing, chest heaving as you tried hard to catch your breath. At this point, he’d stopped touching himself but his pants were still unbuttoned, his mask angled down at you, shoulders moving up and down steadily. He pushed forward hard against your sensitive and swollen clit, making your thighs slap close around his boot.

“On all fours.” He demanded, kicking you backwards, sending pain and pleasure up through your pelvis. You yelped and put your hands down on the floor around your puddle, staring at it shamefully. He put the boot you just came against in the center of the puddle, the other against the back of your head.

“Good sluts clean up their mess.”

You resisted his foot on the back of your head, but you were quickly reminded of what that would get you as a drop of blood fell into the puddle, spreading outwards into the rest of the liquid. You let him push you down with his boot and stuck your tongue out lightly, licking the top of his boot hesitantly. A bitter mixture of iron, earthiness, and the twangy taste of yourself hit your tongue as you trailed it up the side of his boot.

“That’s a good little slut…” he purred.

Your heart dropped when a flash of light went through the room, but you knew it wasn’t lightning when you heard the shutter click.

You looked up with big eyes, seeing a small disposable camera in your face. “Don’t worry princess. These are just for personal use.”

You stared up in horror at the lens of the camera, but you were quickly put back on track but his free foot stomping on one of your fingers.

“Get back to work.”

You leaned back down into your hands, licking yourself off of the sides of his boots, face scrunched up. You didn’t exactly hate the taste, and as the shutter sounded again, you wondered how you looked in the photo.

A loud knock on your front door made both of you freeze. In a split second, Ghostface had his knife to your neck. “You scream, I slit your throat.” He hissed in my ear, holding me close to his chest.

You nodded as much as you could with his knife against your neck, hearing the man speak outside the door. He yelled your name, and then asked, “I’m your neighbor from across the street, is your power out?” He yelled through the door.

Ghostface kept his knife against your neck as he slowly backed away. “I’ll be back, Princess.” He told you, voice quiet as he slowly faded into the shadows, exiting through the shattered back door.

You knew that this warning should’ve struck fear with you, but instead, you were looking forward to it.

A/N: This was purely self indulgent, thank you for reading this filth 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

#slasher x reader #slashers #horror fanfiction #slasher x y/n #ghostface #ghostface fanfiction #ghostface x reader #ghostface x you

[kiss-theggoat]

Okay it’s a sad request but you know the slashers reacting to s/o being hurt? Can you do a slashers reaction to s/o thought to be killed by one of their victims. Only if you are comfortable with it of course!

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! Some of these might be a little out of character, so I apologize, but I hope you like it! 🖤

Slashers if Their S/O Was Badly Injured

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

TW: VIOLENCE AND DEATH

Thomas Hewitt:

When Hoyt and Thomas brought home a group of teenagers going through Texas, one of the men got free and ran into the kitchen where you and Luda Mae were preparing dinner. He stole a knife from Luda, shoving her to the ground where she hit her head and it left you, held at knifepoint. You tried to lunge at him, but the knife entered your stomach, twisting and gnashing at your skin and muscle.

Hoyt finally came in, shooting the man who held the knife. You collapsed with him, blood pouring from your wound onto the tile and soaking into your clothes.

Thomas shoved Hoyt aside, hands trembling and eyes already welling with tears. His chest felt like a black hole as he watched you grow more pale by the second. With shaking hands he rolled you over, placing your head in his lap. He reached down to put pressure on the wound, unable to stifle his cries as he watched blood gush from between his fingers.

You started to cough and sputter, blood leaking from the side of your lips as he leaned down, unclipping his mask. His pressed gentle kisses to your eyelids as they grew heavier, holding you in his lap as he watched you fade away.

Billy Loomis:

You’d been at Stu’s party, but you weren’t supposed to be part of the plan. Billy walked around the house, making sure that everyone was dealt with before going to find Sydney. He stopped in his tracks when one body looked familiar.

He dropped to his knees, knife clattering away from him as he touched your shoulders gently. He whispered your name, watching as you bled onto the floor. You could barely breathe, slowly taking in wheezy breaths.

“Billy?” You whispered in horror, realizing that he’d been the one involved with your death. Billy’s jaw tensed as he leaned closer to you.

“I’m sorry. You weren’t supposed to be here.” He whispered, placing his hand gently on your cheek for a moment before he stood, retrieving his knife.

Stu Macher:

Stu had let you in on his and Billy’s plan, and when Billy agreed to let you help, he was ecstatic.

But on the night of, everything went wrong. It was the time to give each other injuries, and you stood there, holding the knife nervously, hesitant to stab Billy. You moved forward and plunged the knife into him, but at the last second you closed your eyes, accidentally stabbing him too deep. Billy fumed, growling at you to give him the knife.

When it was your turn, you’d wanted Stu to do it, but Billy insisted. He shoved the knife into your stomach, not even trying to hide the fact he has bad intentions.

Stu yelled, shoving Billy away from you and hanging onto you as you fell to the ground. He apologized profusely for getting you involved, crying as he moved your hair gently out of your face, holding you as you closer your eyes even though Billy yelled at him to get up.

Asa Emory:

You’d probably be in the house of traps when someone got free from the red box. They snuck into the room that you occupied, at first thinking you were a victim. You played along until you tried to maneuver them towards another trap, and instead, they shoved you into it.

You fell onto the ground right on top of a two by two foot mat full of nails. They stabbed through your chest, and you screamed in pain, trying to push yourself up off the nails but the pain was too intense.

Asa heard you and immediately knew where you were, maneuvering through his house to get to you. The victim was long gone by now, leaving you and Asa in silence. He was full of rage, eyes twinkling with anger and sadness. There was nothing he could do now, except for take it out on the rest of the victims inside the house.

Michael Meyers:

You hadn’t seen Michael for a while, and it was making you nervous. He usually came by your house daily, but it’d been almost a week. You went by the Meyers house at night, slinking inside to try to find Michael.

A searing pain radiated through your back, and as you slowly turned around you saw Michael’s eyes through his mask, wide and could tell how heavy he was breathing. You looked back and saw his signature knife protruding from your back, warm blood soaking into your jeans. You fell forward, coughing as you felt your chest starting to tighten.

Michael looked down at you before kneeling, a large hand touching the top of your back softly. He didn’t know what to do. He leaned down and looked at you in the eyes, watching them go still. His grip tightened on your shirt. He didn’t know how to process the fact that he’d hurt the only person he’d actually cared about.

Sinclair Brothers:

A stray survivor escaped Bo’s basement, spotting you. They were so on guard they didn’t even bother to talk to you, instead, they grabbed a wrench from Bo’s work bench and hit you across the face, making you fall to the ground immediately.

You had no idea what happened next, but all three Sinclair brothers surrounded you, kneeling. Bo grabbed your face gently, inspecting your wound when Lester said something to him, sounding panicked. Your ears were ringing and your vision was blurry. Bo couldn’t panic. He had to be calm, but Lester started to shake at seeing you bleeding.

Your cheek and upper eye socket was cut open, a sizeable gash leaking blood down your face and neck. Your entire face felt like it was on fire and your vision was shaking, it felt like you couldn’t think straight.

Vincent leaned down closer to your face, inspecting the wound gently, knowing that it was pretty severe. With shaky hands he held your cheeks, wiping some blood away from your eye gently.

“Don’t worry, Darlin…we’ll get you all patched up.” Bo whispered.

#slasher x reader #slashers #horror movies #horror fanfiction #slasher x y/n #house of wax fanfiction #bo sinclair fanfiction #lester sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #ghostface #billy loomis #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #stu macher #thomas hewitt x reader #asa emory #michael meyers

[kiss-theggoat]

Hii I see you have requests open :3

Can I please get short fan fiction of Art the clown x female reader with glasses ?

Maybe a bit

Smutty

A/N: Thank you for the request!! I hope you like it! (For the sake of this fic, Art’s suit is a two piece, ik it’s not canon but I couldn’t find a way to write the scenario with his jumpsuit 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤)

Specs

Art the Clown x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: A mysterious man returns your glasses at a party, and you find a very nice way to thank him.

TW: Art is bloody, Handjobs, Cum eating, you are drunk during this encounter so dub-con

Music thumped through the club and filled you completely, moving up through your feet and into your chest where you felt the bass boom. Your eyes were closed as you lost yourself in the rhythm, a large crowd of people surrounding you doing the exact same.

The center of the dance floor was crowded and hot, people bumping into you and sweating on you, but you hardly cared at this point. You felt yourself getting lost in the music, melting away all of your stress and your body never felt more at one with the music, but of course, the liquor you’d consumed helped with that quite a bit.

You knew exactly what happened, and as you touched your face, your fears were confirmed. You whipped around and tried to see the floor of the dance area, but all you could see was every square inch covered by someone’s shoe. There was no way you’d find your glasses, and if you did, they were surely broken. You groaned and turned around, taking your shot of vodka without drinking your water. After losing your expensive glasses, you needed to get back out on the dance floor.

As you made your way back over to the center of the dance floor, maneuvering through a horde of sweaty, dancing bodies, strangers rubbing up against you without another thought, your entire body felt like it was tingling. You’d come to this party alone, but hoped to change that before the night was over. In your drunk and blurry haze, you scanned the crowd, hoping to find someone who was alone and feeling the same way you were.

Your head started to spin as you felt the shot that you took, cheeks flushed and sweat coating your back. The music filled your ears and you swore you could feel it behind your eyes, your brain was immersed in the bass and rhythm, you moved your hips without caring who was around you.

After what felt like an eternity of you getting lost in the music and losing yourself to the rhythm, you felt a very firm finger tap your shoulder, yanking you from your trance. You wiped the hair that'd stuck to your lip gloss away from your face, turning to see who touched your shoulder.

A clown clad in black in white raised his stained glove to wave his grimy looking fingers at you. I’m your drunk and blurry haze, all you saw was a man wearing a costume. And he was alone. You reached forward and wrapped your arms around his neck, starting to encourage him to dance with you, but he stayed stiff as a board. From what you could tell, he was still smiling. His hand raised between both of your bodies, holding onto the expensive glasses you’d lost.

You let out a gasp. “Oh my god! You found my glasses!” Vision was restored to you as you slid the finger-print stained glasses over your face again, allowing you to really take in the man who’d returned them. His teeth were stained red and black, black grease painted like stretched into an inhuman smile.

“Good costume!” You told him, stumbling a bit as you started to move to the rhythm. You were drunk and you both knew it. The clown crept forward, blatantly checking out your body as you moved, the grin never leaving his angular face. You turned your back to him, moving your hips to the best of the music, closing your eyes and letting the bass move up from the floor through your body to your head where it made the spinning from the alcohol worse, but you didn’t care.

You also didn’t care when you felt those same stained hands that returned your glasses slide around the small of your back and to the front of your hips, holding them firmly. You turned your head to see the clown, dancing behind you with a smirk on his face.

The warmth that you felt in your cheeks from the alcohol spread through your entire chest and down to your stomach. This was the first time tonight you’d been touched, danced with like this. In response, you pushed back against him with fervor, arching your back so that your back was flush against his chest. He seemed to enjoy this, pushing his hips forward against you and his hands slid up your stomach to your chest, holding your tits through your clothes.

A smile broke out on your face, your smaller hands sliding over his. You knew getting groped at a Halloween party isn't exactly the best way to meet someone, but in this moment, you couldn’t care less. As you danced, feeling him move behind you, you figured that you owed the man a favor. I mean, he returned your glasses right? Those things are expensive! It’s only fair that he gets a finder's reward.

Your hands left his, moving behind you to find his narrow torso. The silk of his clown suit felt nice against your fingertips as you trailed them downwards, finding the waistband of the silk pants he wore. You slid your hand beneath them, quickly discovering that the clown wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

You laid your head back against his shoulder, staring up at him from below. He gave you a look that you couldn’t decipher, mouth falling slack and eyes narrowing just a little bit, but his hands continued to massage your chest, and you took that as your green light. You moved your hand lower and finally wrapped your fingers around his cock, watching his face contort at your touch.

With a firm grip you began to slowly stroke him, taking a look at your surroundings. No one had noticed you two yet, too enamored with their own affairs to realize you were giving a clown a handjob in the middle of the room.

You continued to dance as you moved your hand back and forth, collecting the precum that leaked from his tip to drag it down to the base, lubricating your hand. You could tell from how he scrunched his eyes that he liked that, so you did it again, running your thumb over the tip of his dick.

He flinched for a second and held onto your body tighter. He’d stopped dancing now, stiff as a board except for the occasional thrust forward into your hand. He leaned his head back, jaw slack and black lips making an ‘o’ as you watched his eyes roll back. Your chest swelled with pride, knowing you were making the painted stranger feel so good.

The music continued and as did you, still moving your hips to look as natural as possible, masking the fact that you were speeding up now, hand pumping the shaft of his cock faster and faster each time he reacted to you. He leaned his head forward again and stared down into your eyes, his own looking sleepy and half lidded. His mouth was still open, but you leaned forward and gave him a playful nip on the bottom lip, watching his face scrunch in reaction.

The way his breathing sped up clued you in on the fact he was close, his hips thrusting into your hand with every stroke. You tighten your grip at the base before running your thumb over the tip, repeating this with every pump and before you knew it, the clown dug his fingernails into the soft skin of your chest, hips jutting forward and head throwing back, eyes closed tightly. You looked around, no one had their eyes on you.

Warm cum shot over your hands and on the inside of his pants, and you slowly stroked him through his orgasm, waiting until he looked back at you to take your hand from his pants. You gazed into his eyes as you licked his cum from your palm, tongue sticking out before you swallowed.

For once, he looked shocked, feeling a surge of arousal go through him again at the sight. Maybe he’d keep you.

#slasher x reader #slashers #horror movies #horror fanfiction #slasher x y/n #art the clown x reader #art the clown fanfiction #art the clown #art the clown x you

[kiss-theggoat]

a thought : bo in a zombie apocalypse. if you’ve seen the walking dead, he’d be like a cross between negan and daryl but with their worst (best) traits. could you do headcannons for this maybe please ?

A/N: Thank you so much for this request!!! I haven’t seen TWD so I wasn’t too sure about the character traits, but I hope you like this! I got a little carried away with it so I hope it’s okay 🖤🖤

Bo During the Zombie Apocalypse HC’s

SFW + NSFW ( And there is an angsty little mini fic at the end )

SFW

You and Bo would probably meet during a time where he had to save you. You’d find yourself inside of a decaying building, which you’d entered to find supplies, but ended up being surrounded by a hoard of zombies. You had weapons, but not enough to take on a hoard of this size, until you heard a foreign gunshot. At first, this was terrifying. In the apocalypse, you’ve learned, people were often scarier to come across than zombies. But the man that pushed through the hoard and offered you his hand got you out and to safety.

You ended up walking with him for a while, telling him about your life story and where you’d been since the breakout. He, on the other hand, gives you nothing. He stays silent pretty much the entire time, occasionally nodding or giving you an “mhm” to let you know he heard what you said.

When you arrive at his little base he’s made with his brothers, he immediately leaves you to go to his tent, leaving you to sit by the small campfire with his brother Lester.

Bo knew that getting attached was the worst thing to do, and the moment he saw you, he knew he needed to put some distance between you two. He stayed in his tent for almost two days, only leaving to get food every once in a while.

You finally got fed up with him avoiding you. You’d gotten close with his brothers, Lester and Vincent, learning everything about them, but you still didn’t know a thing about Bo. You finally walked into his tent and sat down, blocking the exit until he spoke to you.

This led to a very explosive and difficult relationship between you two, but one that was so worth it. You’d spend time laying next to eachother by the fire, telling stories about your families before the breakout.

You learned that Bo largely prefers melee weapons. Being able to swing and hit zombies over the head with all the force he could muster is like his stress relief, and without it, he gets irritable.

NSFW

Speaking of melee weapons, something about watching Bo swinging a bat or wielding a machete, putting all his strength behind the weapon as he moved, arm and back muscles flexing as black blood splattered onto his face and clothes…it got you going. After you both went out on a mission to collect rations, it usually ended up with you tackling him before you even got back to base camp.

Bo is a big fan of the danger of things. It gets him going to fuck you over the counter of an old pharmacy surrounded by zombies, covering your mouth and whispering, “you don’t wanna draw ‘em to us, do ya darlin’?”

His favorite thing to do to you is probably edge you in that situation. He’d fuck you until you were so close, legs shaking and eyes rolling back and suddenly he’d stop, pulling his pants back up. He’d say that you got too distracted, and Lester probably needed his “rations” sooner. He’d make you walk all the way back to camp, horny and upset, face burning with anger as he teased and laughed at you.

Knowing that he controlled you got him going. Everything about you made him feel different, but he knew that since he saved your life, you felt as though you needed to repay him in some sense, even if you didn’t realize it, and he used this to his advantage.

Angsty Mini-Fic

TW: Blood, Zombie Bite, Gun, Implied character death

Bo’s chest heaved as he sucked in the muggy air, finally shutting the door, closing the hoard of zombies inside of the tiny grocery store you two had stopped in. This was supposed to be an easy task, go find some food and come back. Bo didn’t expect to see huge groups of zombies moving as one.

He quickly turned around and shoved his shotgun barrel through the handles of the door, keeping it shut for as long as possible.

“Are you okay?” He asked, turning to face you. As he turned, his heart stopped.

There you sat, on all fours in the overgrown grass, small trails of blood oozing down from your shoulder, an angry red bite swelling the once smooth, beautiful skin there. Bo felt his heart beat in his eardrums as he stumbled over to you, falling to the ground beside you. “Oh shit…shit shit shit!” Bo yelled, grabbing your arm.

“Bo…” you winced as you looked over. The bite was too high to sever the limb. Bo knew there was no way to stop the virus, and so did you.

“No you’re gonna be fine, darlin’. We just gotta get you back. Stand up.” Bo’s voice was shaky, his resolve breaking for the first time ever.

“Bo.” You said again, more stern this time. You looked up through bleary, knowing eyes. “I….it’s too high up.”

“No it’s not, dammit don’t say that!” Bo yelled in your face, making you flinch. Tears welled in his eyes as he examined the wound. Purple and red veins spidered out from each tooth imprint, puss leaking from the angry gashes. He knew it was too late. He just couldn’t accept it. You were his everything. His only salvation. When he was with you, it was like nothing was wrong. Like he’d just decided to go camping for a weekend instead of being forced into hiding by a terrifying virus.

You raised a shaky hand and put it over Bo’s, your cheeks already slick with the tears streaming from your eyes. “Bo…” you whispered, “I don’t want to become…I want you to remember me like I am. I don’t want to be one of them.” You knew asking this of Bo was unfair, but as you faced death, you couldn’t fathom turning into the thing you’d been fighting for almost a year now. The thing that’d taken your entire family. The thing that ruined your life.

Bo stared at you for a second, knowing what you wanted from him. His stomach felt like it was full of lava, like he’d throw up if he opened his mouth. He watched in terror as the purple veins slowly spread towards towards your neck and down your forearm. He knew that he needed to give you what you wanted. Your dying wish.

With two strong, trembling hands he grabbed your head, pulling you close. His shaking lips pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, allowing you to feel the tears falling down his face. As Bo pulled away from you, he slowly stood, wiping his cheeks dry, which was no use because the tears just kept coming. His grabbed his pistol from the holster on his hip, pointing it at your head.

You pressed your forehead against the barrel, closing your eyes tightly. Bo couldn’t look at your face. You looked so scared to die. He closed his eyes too, knowing he wouldn’t ever get the image of you out of his head if he watched.

“I love you, Bo.”

“I love you too, Darlin’.”

The gunshot was deafening, Bo’s finger trembling as it held the trigger flush with the gun. He turned around and collapsed, dropping his pistol away from him. His body felt numb. As he stared forward, he looked into the store, the hoard now clawing harder at the glass doors due to the loud noise, and he knew that he didn’t care if the barrel of his shotgun were to slip from the handles.

#slasher x reader #slashers #horror movies #horror fanfiction #slasher x y/n #house of wax fanfiction #bo sinclair fanfiction #bo sinclair x reader

[kiss-theggoat]

OMG, I just saw some of your posts and freaked out! I get stupidly excited every time I see you respond and write something to a request! Also, I hope you are doing better after everything that’s happened (I know you posted that on the 18th but I'm slow as heck 🫠) I hope everything went well with your surgery and you are all healed up💕 also good luck at college!! It starts so soon and I'm terrified 🤣

Okay- imma go read the wrist one one now

Bye!

-🪴🖤

🥹🥹🥹 this is so sweet I’m actually tearing up a little. Thank you so much for your support, it’s actually crazy for me to think that people look forward to reading things that I write. It’s a really new and cool feeling 🖤🩷🖤🩷🖤🩷

[kiss-theggoat]

Hola!

I have a weird thought. The slashers with a reader who’s blind.

Thanks so much for this request!! 🖤

Slashers with a Blind Reader

Slashers include Michael Meyers, Jason Voorhees, Freddy Krueger, Bo Sinclair

Michael Meyers

A relationship with Michael would probably be really difficult if you were blind, only due to the fact that he doesn’t talk. There’s no real way to effectively communicate with him, unless he decides to start talking for you, which isn’t very likely.

But, he’d sort of be like a stray cat I think. You’d be laying in your bed trying to sleep and all of the sudden you’d hear a little noise downstairs or hear your window slide open, and you’d know it was Michael. You’d hear the way he was walking and know he had a bad night. Or you could hear the way he slid his coveralls off and tell if they were bloody or not.

Michael would probably adapt to you being blind by walking louder or making himself more known when he’s with you. Usually, he’s focused on being silent and fading away into the shadows, but he’s okay with you knowing where he is at all times.

He’d probably place his hand on your lower back as he walked past you in the kitchen, put a hand in your shoulder as he entered the bathroom while you brushed your teeth. He enjoyed spending time with you and enjoyed being in your home, so he’d find ways to communicate his needs and understand yours.

Jason Voorhees

You’d run into the same issue with Jason as you would with Michael. Even though communication would be difficult, Jason would put a lot more effort into trying to communicate with you.

Jason would hold your hand to lead you around the forest, guiding your hands over things he thought looked pretty or things that you might like to feel. He loves taking you to the field that has flowers growing and watch you smile as you felt the flowers he picked for you.

Sometimes he’d startle you by sneaking up on you and touching your shoulders, making you jump and whip around, but you’d be instantly comforted by his presence. You knew the difference between him and other people, and you could tell instantly it was your Jason.

Date nights usually consisted of cooking a meal together and then Jason would start a fire for you two, gathering cozy quilts his mother had made to set up two spots on the floor in front of the fireplace. You two would eat and cuddle in front of the fire, and you’d feel the warmth soak into your skin, both from the fire and from Jason.

Freddy Krueger

Being in a relationship with Freddy would be like heaven on earth as a blind person. He’d be able to provide you with sight while you slept and give you the power to live two separate lives.

During the day, all you can think about is falling asleep and spending time with Freddy, looking at everything he’s created for you inside of his dream world. Everything was perfect as you slept, and he allowed you to have the perfect life.

Freddy didn’t actually realize you were blind at first, until you reacted so surprised to being able to see in his world. You spent time staring at everything, smiling and identifying things that you recognized with touch.

He’d create everything to your liking, never feeling more useful and loved in his entire life. He loved the look on your face when he’d make something outrageous for you to look at, colorful and fun. The only negative part about your relationship was when you needed to wake up.

Bo Sinclair

Bo wouldn’t be loving or understanding about the fact you’re blind. He’d probably make light hearted jokes about it or tease you by tossing things beside you sometimes, making you jump or think he was near you when he wasn’t.

He’d give you the task of being Vincent’s assistant, which you liked, because even though Vincent didn’t talk, he was gentle and would always show you kindness and gratitude for helping him with his work.

Even though Bo gave you a hard time, when push came to shove, he was protecting you like his life depended on it, which he felt like it did. If you were cooking snd burnt/cut yourself, he’d run to your aid, playing nurse and doctoring you up before scolding you about doing dangerous things in your own.

He loved to kiss you when you didn’t know he was around. He’d sneak up on you and slap a big sloppy kiss into your lips or your cheek, his heart growing a few sizes at the way you giggled and wiped your cheek.

#slasher x reader #slashers #horror movies #horror fanfiction #slasher x y/n #house of wax fanfiction #bo sinclair fanfiction #bo sinclair x reader #freddy krueger x you #freddy kreuger #nightmare on elm street #michael meyers #jason vorhees x you #jason vorhees x reader

[kiss-theggoat]

Hi! I was hoping to put in a request for Thomas Hewitt. I was thinking the reader is already living with the Hewitts. Life is a tad better with you there, Hoyt not as mean with Thomas and Luda loving having help around the house. The reader and Thomas have been.. trying for a baby? Okay yeah Thomas wants one, like now if possible. Suddenly the worse happens and the new group of victims are a tad smarter than the others. Okay I’m lying they are dumber than rocks but the main victim is smart! She finds the reader, thinking they are a victim she practically drags the reader out of the house and to “freedom”. Sadly for the family this victim succeeds but from the trauma isn’t able to tell the police where the Hewitt family lives. After months of being away from the Hewitt family and being questioned by police, the reader is able to hit the road and search for her family again! After about a week of searching by car, she is able to find the gas station she found herself working when she helped the family and Luda! But the Reader seems to have brought a surprise with her.. a pregnant surprise.

Sorry if this request is long, I can’t help giving detail into requests because I find them exciting. I have no idea if you do pregnancy requests so if not thank you for at least looking at my request! :)

Omg im so sorry, I wrote for this request and then like a dummy didn’t respond to it here :/ anyways, thank you sm for this cute request, and it’s up now!!!

[kiss-theggoat]

Homesick

Thomas Sawyer x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: After being dragged away from your home at the Sawyer house, you finally make your way back home with some especially exciting news.

TW: Mentions of violence, some blood

The way you ended up here, nauseous, sweaty, and exhausted on the side of a familiar highway was an extremely long story. Your long walk gave you time to reminisce.

The group came into town just like the rest. Hoyt on their tail and Thomas acting as an evil henchman, the only thing on his mind was you, waiting for him with a kind smile and warm hug. He begrudgingly loaded two girls into the car and slammed the door shut, splattering some blood from a previous victim. One of the girls was unconscious and bloodied, the other screaming and kicking at the door. Thomas was tired, and he just wanted to get home to you.

Lately he’d been letting his mind wander. Allowing himself to daydream and realizing that there’s nothing wrong with the little universe he’s created in his mind. He closes his eyes and transports himself to that world. You and him own a small house, cozy and filled with little trinkets he makes or collects for you, on a small plot of farmland where a wildflower garden that you planted thrives. He walks into the homely kitchen and sees you in front of a window, curtains billowing around your glowing skin, sunlight illuminating every part of your face Thomas loved most.

You were hard at work on a meal for the two of you. His heart swelled with the thought of indulging in something that you put your love into. He walks towards you and places his hands around your waist, feeling the soft baby bump there. Pride blooms within him and he-

“Dammit, boy, pay attention!” A thump to the side of the head yanks him away from you like a fish being pulled from the depths of the ocean. He hadn’t even noticed that the window had started to crack from the girl's struggle.

Meanwhile, you sat at home, cleaning yours and Thomas’ room while listening to the crackly radio that he’d found for you in town. You loved music so having it was a must, even if it was only a couple crappy radio stations. The only thing that distracted you from your task was the sound of a car pulling up to the house, crunchy gravel revealing its location. Tommy was home. You beamed, even though you knew to stay downstairs for a little while, until he sorted everything out. So, that’s exactly what you did. You say anxiously in waiting, staring at the door like a hawk and waiting for your love to hulk down those stairs like he always did.

But instead, the door slammed against the side wall, making you gasp and jump from your seat. You saw a man and a woman, both bloodied and panting, the man leaning against the woman and he definitely looked more damaged than she did. She hobbled downstairs, whimpering and crying. “We have to get out of here!”

You stuttered, but no words would leave you. She thought you were a survivor. A prisoner kept by the Sawyer’s. She reached forward and grabbed your hand, yanking you surprisingly hard for someone who seemed to have lost half of her blood. Next thing you knew, you were in a sputtering truck, tears streaming down your face and worry suffocating you. If they got away, where was everyone else? Was Thomas okay? What about Luda Mae?

As you walked under the relentless Texas sun, you realized, you still didn’t know if they were okay or not. You hoped with everything inside you that Thomas was safe. At least from your damage control, you knew the cops would never be a problem for him.

When you arrived in north Texas, you were questioned over and over and over again. Everyone was, but the only advantage you had over them was that you knew everything about the Sawyer household. The rest of the kids didn’t even seem to remember what Highway they were on when they got pulled over. The only detail they could give police was that the town they were in was near Austin. Which, in Texas, meant nothing.

You, on the other hand, slowly and carefully revealed a new piece of evidence each time, effectively leading the investigation towards the opposite side of the city. After the intense questioning, you were finally free.

The options you had were horrible. The cops were offering transportation. But, accepting their transportation meant leading them to Thomas. You had no money, no car, and had no idea where you were. But, through a few illicit activities, you gained access to a really, really shitty car that barely got you halfway home.

Which led you to where you are now. Sweating through all of your clothes, sunburnt, and one second away from blowing chunks all over the highway. That really shitty car had blown out on you, probably something with the radiator being baked in the hottest Texas summer in years. You felt like sobbing. You didn’t know if Thomas was okay, and if he wasn’t, what would you do with the rest of your life? Thomas had become your life. Especially now.

You flashed back to the first stop in your new shitty car was an equally shitty gas station, where you gathered some food and water through flirting with the geriatric cashier, and also stole a pregnancy test from the shelf as you left the station. You had suspicions of being pregnant after the third day of waking up with intense nausea, feeling like you were going to start sobbing if you opened your eyes too wide. Thomas had mentioned having a baby a few times, but you’d never actually put a lot of effort into trying.

As you sat on the dingy toilet, you watched the second pink line slowly materialize. You were a huge mixture of emotion, happiness that you had created life. A shared life with the man that you loved more than anything else in the world. But, you wished for nothing more than to run to Thomas and tell him, which you couldn’t do. You didn’t even know if he was even alive.

The walk along the side of the highway had started to look familiar, the highway getting smaller and the area getting more and more rural. You felt like collapsing, but needed to get home. The heat of the sun beat down on your poor cheeks and you could tell that you were sunburnt. Sweat dripped into your eyes, obscuring your view of the upcoming road sign. The fabric of your shirt grated against your sunburnt face as you wiped your eyes, but you saw the light.

Gas

N xt Ex

The rundown, faded red sign was like a sign from the heavens. You knew that the Sawyer’s station was at the next exit.

The little bell above the door jingled, kissing your ear drums as you entered your sanctuary.

“We’re outta gas.” Luda grumbled, flipping her magazine without even looking up at you.

You smiled, missing her so much you felt like tackling her over the counter. “Luda…” you said, tears welling in your eyes. You walked towards the counter as her head shot up.

“Oh my god, we thought we’d never see you again, dear!” She stands and walks around the counter, holding her arms out to you in a motherly embrace.

You cried into her chest, unable to hold it in any longer. You were so upset and exhausted, needing one thing right now. “Where’s Thomas?”

“Oh he’ll be so happy to see you…” she smiled, lovingly stroking your hair. “He’s been so upset this last week. He’s at the house with Hoyt, let me give him a call.”

You watched her dial the phone, waiting in excitement for your Thomas.

Thomas was in the basement as usual, sewing himself a new mask. His body felt numb, like it had this entire week. Without you, he realized he was empty. Nothing mattered. Life was worthless without you in it.

“Tommy!” The door slammed open, Hoyt standing at the top of the stairs. “Luda needs us at the station.”

Thomas stood, head down as he climbed the stairs. The entire drive to the station was silent and melancholy, Thomas staring out the window. Gravel crunched under the wheels as they approached the station, and even though Thomas was still in the car, he watched as the front door to the station opened. His heart nearly leapt from his chest, and he shoved the car door open before Hoyt even stopped the car.

You watched Thomas rush out of the car, moving the fastest you’ve ever seen in your entire relationship. The smile on your face made your cheeks ache, and when Thomas reached you, his strong arms wrapped around your waist and lifted you off the ground.

“Tommy! I’m so glad you’re okay! I was so scared, I’m so sorry that it took me so long to get to you!” Again, you couldn’t help but cry. The tears streamed from your face at the feeling of being embraced by Thomas. He was your home. He made you feel safe.

He shook his head and set you back down on the ground, holding the sides of your face to wipe your tears away, but his eyebrows furrowed in concern when he noticed how sunburnt you were.

“I’m okay, Tommy. I promise.” You whispered, leaning forward and resting your forehead against his. “And I have something to tell you.”

Thomas stared into your eyes and nodded slowly, letting you know he’s ready for you to speak.

“I’m pregnant.” You said, smile widening again.

You thought that Thomas’ heart might burst. His eyes went wide as saucers and he perked up, staring at you in shock for a moment. Once the shock passed, he pulled you into the tightest hug you’d ever received. Thomas moved a step back, staring down at your stomach with eyes full of admiration, his large hands gently touching the sides of your stomach.

You knew that Thomas would be the best partner you could ever ask for, and the best father your baby could ever ask for.

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