#texas chainsaw massacre fic

[floral-and-fine]

Never Enough

Thomas Hewitt x female/single mom reader

warnings: smut, abusive ex, death, murder, some angst and domestic fluff

a/n: My first TCM fic, I’ve had this idea for a long time, it turned out pretty long compared to other fics I’ve written. Thank you @ewokiee for the help ❤️

summary: On his way to work, Thomas notices a single mother who has recently moved in nearby.

Thomas trudged along the side of the road, headed home after a grueling day at work. The summer sun was burning hot as it beat down on his back, even the occasional breeze that blew past was so dry that it didn’t help cool him off in the slightest. His pace slowed as a small house came into view. 

He paused, spotting you through the window. You were at the sink washing dishes. 

You had moved into town around this time last year. Thomas had heard people around town whispering about you, their gossip spreading like a wildfire before he had even met you or seen you.

A part of him found it refreshing, people still avoided him like the plague, of course, but at least they weren’t whispering to each other about him, calling him a freak, monster, or an animal as if he didn’t have ears. 

Instead, they were talking about you, referring to you as ‘that woman’  and not bothering to hide their disdain with the way your name spilled from their mouths over and over again. They talked about how you were a trollop and a slut, how you were loose and immoral, how a woman like you didn’t belong in this town. The men at work talked the loudest, making lewd jokes about you all day long.

At first none of it bothered Thomas, he was just relieved that they weren’t making fun of him like they usually did. But then on a rather uneventful day as he was walking home he saw you. You were breathtaking. 

You weren’t at all like he had pictured, with the way everyone talked about you, he expected someone dirty and sleazy, but instead you seemed sweet, kind, bright.

You were wearing a pair of jean shorts and a tank top, holding your son in your arms as you walked up the steps of your front porch. You clearly loved your child, doting on him all day as you also juggled getting chores done.

Noticing him at the edge of your property, you gave him a small smile and wave before retreating into your small home. 

Thomas, now, felt angry at what people were saying about you, your only sin was that you were an unmarried mother. He didn’t really understand why that of all things would ruffle so many feathers. But he also never understood why his appearance bothered anyone so much that they all cowered and treated him like an animal. 

Since then, this has become part of his routine, his favorite part, getting to see you on his way to and from work. 

Thomas watched you for a moment, everyday he wanted nothing more than to walk into your house and wrap his arms around your waist as you made breakfast or finished drying the dishes. You would giggle as he’d squeeze you tight and nuzzle his face against the crook of your neck. 

This small little daydream made his day go by a bit easier, he’d lose himself to it while he chopped up whatever meat was on his block. It gave him something to focus on so he could ignore all the snide remarks and comments people would say behind his back. At night he’d fall asleep thinking about it, wondering what it would be like to carry your son to his bed, tucking him in, before joining you in your bedroom. His heart would tighten in his chest as he’d bury his face against his pillow as he imagined holding you in bed, so close and intimate. 

…

Thomas rubbed his eyes, the sun was just barely rising as he laid on his back and stared at the ceiling. His body still felt heavy and tired, his eyes were threatening to close again, but he had a few chores to do before work. 

He groaned, finally sitting up, his feet touching the cold wooden floor. Thomas stretched his arms above his head and rolled his shoulders before standing. He dressed slowly before lumbering down stairs. 

First thing he did was put out to feed the pigs, then walked a couple of rounds along the fence making sure everything was secure, and finally pulled some weeds from the garden. 

Mama was up by the time he returned to the house, she was busy in the kitchen whipping up breakfast. Thomas ate quickly, shoveling the scrambled eggs and cornbread into mouth before taking his plate to the sink. 

“Have a good day, Tommy!” Mama called as he headed out the door. 

He walked along the road, not really paying attention to anything until he started getting close to your house.

He lifted his head and looked towards the big window, the curtains were drawn closed. He sighed, figuring you were probably still in bed.

Thomas stood there for just a minute or so before turning back around to continue on his way to work, but he stopped in his tracks only after a few steps as he heard your voice.

“Good morning!”

He froze in place as you rushed outside in your pajamas, your hands quickly tying your robe closed. 

“Thomas, right?” You asked slightly breathless as you reached him. 

He raised his brow but nodded slightly. 

“I met your mama a few days ago,” you explained. “She’s a real nice lady, in fact she’s the nicest person I’ve met since I’ve moved here.”

Thomas once again nodded not sure how else to respond. 

“She talked a lot about you, y’know, she’s real proud of you, I can tell,” you smiled. 

He felt his face starting to heat up at the comment. He could only assume what mama was trying to pull, talking him up like that with you. But if it led to this encounter he couldn’t be too upset about it. 

“Anyways,” you continued. “I’ve noticed you pass by a 

few times and thought I’d finally introduce myself, I’m y/n.” 

You stuck your hand out. Thomas stared at it for a few seconds, his fingers twitching at his sides, before accepting the quick handshake. 

“I better let you get to work,” You grinned at him. “But if you ever feel like stopping by, don’t be a stranger.”

He nodded again, watching as you scurried back inside your house. You left him feeling confused but happy, happiest he had been in a long time. His lips turned upward into a small smile. He couldn’t get over that you had smiled at him, talked to him… shook his hand.

Thomas couldn’t remember the last time he had any attention paid to him like that, besides from mama, of course. The only other attention he ever seemed to receive was fear or disgust. 

While working he replayed the whole scene in his mind, over and over again. You were as sweet as he imagined, sweeter even. How anyone in this town still disliked you was still beyond him.

As the hours ticked by, Thomas found himself getting excited knowing he was about to see you again, even if you didn’t notice him like you did this morning, he’d just be happy to watch you for a few minutes. 

But that excitement didn’t last long.

He slammed the cleaver down, chopping the meat in small hunks with ease, as he looked down at his work he started to feel panicked as reality set in. Now that you knew who he was, now that you knew his family, it seemed like it was inevitable that this would lead somewhere bad. 

Annoying little thoughts began to worm their way into his head. You’d judge how poor he was, figure out how dumb he is, you’d be repulsed by his appearance or his job… it was only a matter of time before he did something to make you hate him. 

He laid the knife down and hunched over his workstation. He felt nauseous, now wishing this morning never happened. Anonymity was better, right? Gave him the ability to admire you without you seeing him. 

You were nice this morning, but that would change, nobody was ever nice to him or his family. 

He frowned, all those good feelings were gone, and left him feeling terrible, miserable. His nails dug into the surface of the table, being able to see you these past few months was the small highlight to his rather dull and dreary life, but now he was scared of seeing you.

Even though you were outcast yourself and currently the person everybody was gossiping about, you were still too good for somebody like him. It was foolish of him to think that somehow you’d be different. 

As he managed to press on, working like he did everyday, Thomas pushed aside all his daydreams that made his day go by faster. It didn’t seem right to fantasize about you anymore. Before he could pretend that things could’ve been different, but now it was as if the reality of the situation tainted his little dreams. 

You were suddenly more real, which meant that you would form your own thoughts and opinions of him, and in his gut he believed that there was no way, no way in hell, you’d feel about him the way he had dreamt or hoped. 

The day seemed to drag on as Thomas mentally dragged himself further down. By the time the day was over, he just wanted to hide, crawl into his bed and just lay there for days or weeks. As he left the slaughterhouse, he stopped, his hands fidgeting at his side as he tried to decide which way to go. 

He didn’t want to take the chance of seeing you, he figured, in the long run, it would be easier if avoided you altogether. You can’t hurt him if you’re never around. 

So instead he headed towards the store, he could help mama and walk her home when they were done. Thomas walked with his eyes downcast, focusing on the ground. He didn’t come around to the store very often, didn’t want to risk being around strangers and being made fun of or gawked at. But somehow that seemed like it would hurt less than seeing you. 

The familiar bells jingled as he entered, finally lifting his head. Thomas looked towards the counter, but instead of being greeted by his mother, the first person he saw at the counter was you. You were sitting on a stool with your little boy on your lap, gently bouncing him as he babbled and cooed. Thomas noticed for the first time just how much he looked just like you. 

You perked up and smiled at Thomas. His heart immediately sank, his plan somehow backfired. He took a step back as Luda appeared from behind the shelves and approached him. 

“Thomas?” Mama asked, clearly surprised by him dropping by. 

Luda, noticed that startled look in his eye, and immediately coaxed him further into the store, grabbing his arm and dragging him in before he could bolt like some frightened puppy dog. 

“I’ve got some boxes that I could use your help with,” she started, yanking him along behind her.

“Hi Thomas,” you said in a small voice as he was pulled towards the back. 

His face burned, but he nodded in reply.

Mama opened the back storage room and told him to start bringing out some of the boxes. Thomas shuffled a little, he was nervous about you being around.  

His mama smiled at his hesitation, “y/n told me she met you properly this mornin’, she’s a real sweet girl ain’t she?”

Tommy sighed, he knew what mama was hoping for, he thought she was over this, that she had given up like he had. He already realized this morning how pathetic his little crush was . No matter how kind you were, or how caring, or how much the town didn’t accept you, nobody would love him. 

She patted his shoulder. “Bring the boxes out and leave ‘em on the counter,” she instructed.

Thomas huffed, looking at the big cardboard boxes on the floor, lifting the first one he followed his mama. As he approached the counter, he kept his eyes looking anywhere but at you. 

“Thank you, Tommy,” mama praised as he placed the box in front of her. 

He immediately marched back to the storage room for the next one. As he crouched down, he paused when he heard you speak out in the store with mama, your voice was bright and cheery. 

“Are there a lot of boxes?” You asked Luda Mae, as you placed your son in his stroller.

“Quite a few,” she answered, opening the box in front of her.

You turned looking back towards the way Thomas went. “And he spent all day working at the slaughterhouse?”

Luda nodded, “yep, my boy’s a hard worker, despite the fact that the work never seems to end.”

You bit your lip, shoulders slumping as you thought about it. He seemed like a good guy, shy like his mama had told you, but clearly he cared very much about his family. 

“Do you mind watching Levi?” You asked. “I’m going to see if Thomas needs any help.”

“Of course, dear,”  Luda said, trying her best to hide her smile. 

You walked quietly into the back and saw Thomas holding a heavy box that blocked his view. 

“Here, let me help you with that,” you murmured, reaching out with both of your hands as you tried to take the box from him.

Thomas stumbled back, his poor heart jumping into throat. The surprise of your soft touch as your fingers grazed over his skin had him jerking the box away from your grasp. 

Immediately you pulled your hands back towards you clasping them together in front of your chest as you muttered a quick apology. 

Both of you stood there in silence. Thomas’s heart was still racing. 

Just as you were about to leave, Thomas lowered the box enough to look at you, with a grunt he gestured to a smaller, lighter, box on the floor for you to get. 

You smiled at him before bending down to pick it up. He waited for you, letting you go ahead of him as he followed behind. 

The work got done faster with the two of you working together. Thomas insisted on you caring just the small boxes, he didn’t really feel comfortable accepting the help but he didn’t want to hurt your feelings either. 

The whole situation had him puzzled, he wasn’t sure why you bothered to help, he did it to help his mama but he couldn’t figure out why you cared at all. He wasn’t used to anyone being considerate in the slightest. 

“Thank you for the help, Sweetheart,” mama told you. 

“Oh, it was nothing,” you replied, kneeling down and covering Levi with a blanket. He had dozed off in his stroller, his little hands still clutching his bottle. 

Thomas could see that his mama was already smitten, the way she gushed over every little snore and movement. He knew how much she loved babies and how much she wanted to be a grandmother. Made him feel guilty being unable to make that happen for her. 

Luda Mae gave you a hug, “Have a good evening, darling.”

“You too, mama,” you said, then looked at Thomas and smiled. “Good night, Tommy!”

He waved watching as you left, just you and the baby in the dark. His foot tapped anxiously as he huffed. Before thinking it through he rushed out behind you. It didn’t sit well with him letting you walk all that way alone this late. 

Mama shook her head, watching from the doorway. 

You gave Thomas a surprised look as he caught up with you, but quickly it was immediately replaced with a big grin, “Gonna escort us home?”

He simply nodded.

“You really are as wonderful as your mama said,” you shared. “A real gentleman.”

Thomas could feel his ears turning red, fortunately for him you weren’t able to tell in the dark. The two of you walked quietly towards your house. You occasionally commented on the weather and how it was a nice night. 

“Thank you, Thomas,” you stood on your tiptoes kissing his leather covered cheek lightly as you reached your house. “Have a nice night.”

He watched as you went inside, frowning to himself, you were only making this harder on him…

…

A couple of weeks had passed and you couldn’t help but notice that you hadn’t seen Thomas at all. You were so accustomed to seeing him either in the morning or afternoon several times a week, that it was strange not to see him at all, especially him being absent whole weeks at a time. 

You still visited with Luda, stopping by the Hewitt house or store during the week to chit chat and have tea. You and her were currently sitting on the porch, Luda was in a rocking chair holding Levi in her lap while you sat on the steps.

There was a slight breeze and big clouds in the sky, but you knew that the weather would start getting hot soon. You sipped on your glass of sweet tea as you tried to work up the nerve to ask about Thomas. 

The rest of the Hewitts were out working you figured, so now would be probably your best chance to ask. You were worried you had done something to bother him or offend him that night.

“Hey mama?”

“Hmm,” she replied, her attention still on Levi as he sucked on his tiny fist. 

“How has Thomas been?” You stared at your drink, your face heating up. 

Luda blinked in surprise, finally looking away from the baby to you. “He’s been fine, why do you ask?”

“Oh, no reason, really,” you shook your head. “Just haven’t seen him around is all.”

“He’s just shy, Sweetpea, I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”

Luda tried to hide her smile, she had a pretty clear idea as to why Thomas was avoiding you. She had suspected that moment he walked into the store and froze up when he saw you. Those suspicions were confirmed later that evening when she watched him scurry out of the store to walk you home. This was just like Tommy, letting his insecurities get the best of him. He was afraid of your kindness, because cruelty was all he was used to. 

“Are you sure?” You asked. 

“I’m sure,” she sighed. “Thomas ain’t used to being treated with any kindness, it probably just scared him a little, but you didn’t do anything wrong.”

You sighed, wishing there was something you could do to change that. What Luda said about Tommy got to you.

It just didn’t seem fair for a decent man like him to be so startled simply by being treated nicely. You knew it probably had to do with his appearance, a big guy wearing a mask you could admit was intimidating, but the way he behaved and acted showed that he was sweet and patient, a little insecure and anxious, but he seemed good natured. 

“Is there something I could do for him?”

Luda chuckled lightly. “Just keep being nice to him, honey,” she reassured you. “Might take some time, but he’ll warm up to you.”

…

“Thomas?” Mama called as she heard him come in after finishing his morning chores. 

He poked his head into the kitchen to see what she wanted. 

“Have you seen y/n lately?” She asked.

Thomas shook his head, his eyebrows knitting together as he saw his mother’s concerned expression. 

“Oh,” she mumbled. “It’s just I haven’t seen for a couple of days, guess I’m just worried about her.”

Thomas huffed but nodded pointing to himself and the direction of your house, his way of telling her he’d check in on you on his way to work. 

“Thank you, dear,” she smiled, serving him a plate of breakfast. 

It had been awhile since Thomas walked this way to work. He had tried his best to avoid you, but deep down he missed those days of getting to see you from afar. Mama talked about you a lot, he tried to ignore her, but knowing that you and the baby were doing alright made him smile. 

When he was alone without work or his family to distract him, his mind would wander back to that quick peck on the cheek, he didn’t want to think about it, but he couldn’t help it. It made him wonder if you could see past his appearance. 

Thomas stopped as he arrived in front of your home, he narrowed his eyes when saw the unfamiliar car parked in the driveway. Your curtains were closed so he couldn’t see who was visiting, but he found it odd, you never had any visitors before and from what he had heard from mama you still didn’t really know anybody else but her. 

He sighed, unable to linger much longer and headed to work. He’d let mama know after work that it seemed that you were fine. 

At the slaughterhouse Thomas speculated who your mysterious visitor was, maybe they were a family member or friend or… lover. Thinking about the latter stung. But he couldn’t be mad or upset over it, a pretty girl like you wouldn’t stay available forever, even with your ‘reputation’, Thomas was sure you had admired besides just him. They were all probably more attractive and successful than he was. 

Gritting his teeth, he continued chopping meat, bringing the butcher knife down harder and harder as kept thinking about it. He hated this, hated feeling this way, he’d never be good enough. 

…

Thomas jolted awake by the sound of someone banging loudly on the front door. Right after he heard bedroom doors open, Charlie started cussing up a storm while mama was telling him to hush and go back to bed as she pulled her robe on and made her way downstairs. 

Thomas groaned as he sat up, he was curious to see who dropped by for a late night visit. Slowly, he opened his bedroom door and crept down the hallway. 

Thomas watched from the stairs as mama answered the door, his eyes widened as he saw you standing there. Levi was asleep in your arms, you had a bag slung over your shoulder, and he could tell by your eyes you had been crying. Tommy’s hands balled into fists when he saw the bruised area on the side of your face. 

“Y/n, honey, are you alright?” Mama questioned, opening the door wider. 

“I’m so sorry to wake you,” you cried, your body practically shaking. “I just didn’t know where else to go.”

“Don’t worry about that,” mama consoled, ushering you into the house. “It’s going to be alright.” 

Luda guided you towards the kitchen, but paused seeing Tommy standing on the steps in just his boxers, “For god sakes Tommy, go put some clothes on,” she scolded. 

Thomas blushed, he was just so concerned about you, that he had forgotten that he came down stairs practically naked. 

You were so distraught that you didn’t really notice. It was difficult to process anything, you lifelessly followed mama, clutching Levi to your chest. Your face was sore, but the rest of your body felt numb.

Mama pulled out a chair from the table and had you sit down as Thomas sprinted upstairs quickly rummaging through his drawers for something to put on, settling on a simple T-shirt, that was covered in old stains

and sweatpants. As he slowly descended down the stairs, he could hear you and mama talking. 

“I’m so sorry, Luda,” you hiccuped. “I just had to get us away from him while I had the chance.”

“Don’t you apologize,” mama said. “There’s no need for that.”

“I-I don’t know how he found us,” you mumbled sniffling. “I didn’t tell anyone where we were going… it was so hard to get away from him last time. I’m so scared…”

“You can stay with us as long as you need to,” mama said, reaching out and patting your hand. 

Thomas, still out of sight, standing by the doorway, but he nodded in agreement. He managed to put the pieces together that that unfamiliar vehicle parked at your house, the bruise on your pretty face, and the fear in your eyes were all caused by this man you were talking about. This man, Tommy figured, was likely Levi’s father. 

Luda hummed as she thought about your situation, “I could send Tommy to-“

“Oh please don’t,” you shook your head. “I don’t want him getting hurt or anything for my sake.”

Tommy snorted to himself, whoever they were Tommy felt pretty confident he could take him. His size and strength were the only things he ever had to be proud of, not that he used them to hurt anyone before. He was smart enough to know that even if he were defending himself that this whole town would turn against him. There would be a mob banging down their door, all united to rid themselves of the monster. 

Your crying woke Levi, who started fussing, mama scooped the baby up from your arms and started rocking him in hers. 

“Oh it’s alright little darlin’,” mama cooed, smiling at the baby. She looked back at you, “Why don’t you go upstairs and take a few minutes to yourself, wash your face and calm down,” she suggested. “I’ll have someone get the guest room ready for ya.”

You nodded, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand as you stood up. As you headed towards the stairs you passed by Thomas who was awkwardly standing by the doorway, you mustered up a smile for him before going upstairs to the bathroom. 

He stood there, hands at his sides as his fingers curled and uncurled, watching you go. He still couldn’t get over how nice you were to him, even at a time like this. 

“Thomas?” Mama called, snapping him out of his thoughts.

He went into the kitchen. 

“Could you go get the guest room ready?” She asked. “There should be some clean sheets in the closet.”

He nodded, immediately following her instructions and going up to the room. He stopped as he reached the landing, he could hear you on the other side of the bathroom door sobbing uncontrollably. The sound broke his heart, he wished that he could go in there and make you feel safe again. He’d hold you close all night, longer if you needed him to.

Thomas approached the door, listening to you. He pictured you sitting alone on the cold tile floor with your knees pulled up to your chest. You were hurting so much, he sighed, resting his head against the door, before going to the guest room. 

…

Over the next few days, you grew accustomed to life in the Hewitt house. 

Mama kept Charlie in line, anytime he made a snide comment or lewd remark, she reprimanded him without holding back, even going as far as threatening to toss his ass out of the house if he kept complaining about having another mouth to feed, saying something along the lines with him out of the house it wouldn’t be a problem anymore. 

But most of the family noticed that Charlie, in his way, was being considerably nicer than usual and seemed to sympathize a little with your situation. He even helped Tommy bring the old crib up from the basement along with some of the other baby things mama had stored away. 

Everyone’s schedule varied in the house, mama spent most of her time either at the house cleaning and cooking or at the store working. Uncle Monty worked on the cars in the yard, or occasionally he’d get called to go tow somebody’s in town. Charlie’s schedule was all over the place, some days he wouldn’t do a damn thing, but others he’d spent helping at the store or doing odd jobs around town. 

It was clear though that Thomas was the person the entire household depended on. He brought home a consistent paycheck, worked overtime every chance he could. He started everyday doing chores before heading to his labor intensive job. 

Thomas was up the earliest, however occasionally he was pleasantly surprised to find that some mornings you were up before him. 

You were either getting a bottle ready for Levi or walking around the house with him in your arms as you tried to get him to go back to sleep. Thomas liked these small moments he got to spend with you, they gave him the chance to be near you without mama around to tease him about it later. They only lasted for a couple of minutes, but you always said something nice to him, usually thanking him for something like setting up the crib for you or about how good he was at providing for his family. 

Having you around made him feel like all these years of busting his ass was worth it. It helped that you and mama got along so well, before he knew it, he was already thinking of you and the baby as family. 

…

One morning, Thomas was patrolling around the property like he did every day, while everyone else was still in bed. He wondered if that man was going to come around here looking for you. A part of Thomas hoped he did, he wanted the chance to smack that man around like he had done to you. Tommy felt bitter and angry when he thought about that man, didn’t he know how lucky he was, what Tommy would’ve given to be with you, to be the father of your child…

Thomas huffed as he kept walking, he didn’t want you leaving and going back to your house, even after that man leaves. 

His brow furrowed as he noticed unfamiliar clothes on the clothesline. It took him a second to figure out that they belonged to you. Thomas continued to stare at the clothesline, his throat ran dry as he realized that amongst your clothes were a few pairs of white cotton panties. They weren’t anything fancy or necessarily sexy, but to Tommy they were. He liked the little pink bow and the tiny bit of lace trim. 

His face heated up as his eyes lingered on them, the fact that they had been on you, covering your most intimate bits crossed his mind. His cock involuntarily twitched as his desire for you grew. 

Thomas had resisted thinking about perverted things like that, but it had proven difficult lately, the smallest things you did had him blushing like a fool, from innocent little touches to seeing you in your nightgown on a regular basis. 

He reached up, his fingers lightly running over the front of the fabric while his other hand moved to the front of his pants palming his budding erection. 

He pictured you wearing them, picturing your hips and ass filling them out. He felt like he was on fire as he looked at the bridge part of your panties. He imagined a little wet spot forming there, your legs pressed tightly together wiggly. Thomas bit his lip, he bet that you had a pretty pussy, soft, warm, wet. 

He quickly glanced from side to side, before snatching the panties from the line. In a hurry he rushed towards the barn. 

His cock was now painfully pressing against the zipper of his pants. His hands fumbled with his belt as he tried to undo his pants. He shoved them and his boxers down his hips just enough to free his cock. 

Thomas laid your panties on the workbench in front of him as he started stroking his member. He closed his eyes, retiring to his fantasy. He pictured slipping his hand under the waistband and cupping your mound as his index finger slid between your pussy lips.

He hissed, precum dripping from the head of cock as he continued to think about fingering you, stretching your tight cunt with his fingers, feeling your juices leak onto the palm of his hand, you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from whimpering and moaning, begging for him to fuck you. 

Tommy came, strings of his cum landing on the front of your panties. He placed both arms on the table leaning on them as he caught his breath. 

He frowned as he stared at your underwear, he wouldn’t be able to put them back like this. Unsure what to do, he pulled his pants back up, wadded up your panties and stuffed them into his pocket for now. 

For the rest of the day, he avoided you, more so than usual. His face blushed as his mind returned to what he had done. He knew it was wrong and disrespectful, and he didn’t want you to think he was gross or a pervert. So he hid for most of the day, hoping you wouldn’t figure out what he had done.

Early the next morning, Tommy did his best to hand wash your underwear, his cum had dried leaving them feeling crusty. Once they were clean, he snuck outside, and went back to the clothesline. Carefully he pinned them back on the line amongst the new load of laundry you did yesterday. He wondered if you had noticed you were missing a pair, if you had, you kept it to yourself. 

Thomas returned to the house, the screen door screeching as it closed behind him. He could smell breakfast cooking and hear you and mama chatting. The kitchen was bright and sunny as meander in, taking a seat at the table. 

“Morning Tommy!” You beamed while getting him some eggs and toast. 

“Did ya sleep well?” Mama asked, turning slightly from the stove to face him. 

He nodded in response, watching you and mama move effortlessly in the kitchen. 

He smiled as you touched his shoulder while leaning over to set the plate in front of him. You slipped into the seat next to him, while Luda put Levi in the high chair that Thomas had also gotten out of the basement for you to use. You placed some of your scrambled eggs on the tray. 

Thomas chuckled watching Levi squealing and kicking his legs out as he grabbed a handful of egg, squeezing it in his tiny little hands. 

He wondered if this was what it was like for most families in the morning, a sweet baby, a beautiful mother, a doting grandmother… and a father…

He studied you for a minute, while both you and mama were distracted taking turns feeding Levi. He loved the way you looked in the morning, fresh faced, still in your nightgown, the sunlight making you glow. He wished every morning could be as good as this. 

Was it bad that he never wanted you to leave?

…

After Tommy got home from work, the family all sat down for dinner. It hadn’t escaped Tommy’s attention that you claimed the seat next to his as yours during each meal. 

Charlie and Monty always complained anyway, anytime they sat next to him, always going on about how he took too much room or how his elbows would knock into them and what not.

Truth be told, when you first started sitting by him, Thomas barely touched his food, he was so damn nervous, worrying about his table manners and the like, but you didn’t seem to mind, and never commented when his arm would brush against yours. 

Your laughter drew Thomas from his thoughts, you were laughing at Levi whose face was a complete mess. Even Tommy chuckled a bit, especially how Levi’s hair was sticking straight up because he got mashed potatoes strung through it. 

“Oh my,” you started. “I see a little boy who needs a bath.” You bopped his nose and he grinned back at you. 

Thomas helped mama clear the table as you washed Levi in the big kitchen sink. You swaddled him in a big towel once you were finished. 

“Hey Tommy,” you said, approaching him as mama started wiping the table down. “Will you hold Levi for a bit while I go get him a diaper from upstairs?”

Thomas’s eyes darted towards Luda’s direction but she had disappeared already. Taking a deep breath, Tommy held his arms out as you handed him the baby still wrapped in the towel. 

Thomas hadn’t held a baby before and he had been worried that if he got close to Levi that he’d scare him or accidentally make him cry.  Tommy stared at the baby, who stared back at him with big eyes. 

All he could think about was how tiny Levi was. He smiled, gently tickling Levi under his chin. Levi squealed in response, kicking his legs out in every direction. Thomas’s smile widened, surprised by how strong his little legs were. 

“Aw, look at that, my two favorite men getting along,” you cooed. 

Thomas blushed, avoiding eye contact with you as you took Levi back. Needing some air, he went outside, and sat on the porch. 

It was getting dark out as the sun set behind the hills. He could hear the crickets chirping in the yard as a gentle breeze ruffled the yellow grass. 

A thought had crossed Tommy’s mind while he had been holding Levi, he had wondered if he’d make a good dad.Not that it was ever likely to happen. 

It was pitiful that those innocent little touches in passing and that quick peck on the cheek were the only intimacy Thomas had experienced as an adult. 

He rubbed his forehead, ever since that day he saw you, he had been thinking about things like that. Wanting to know what it felt like to make love to someone, to touch them and have them return his affections instead of recoiling. He dreamed about having a family, a wife… these were all things that years ago he had accepted would never happen for him. But the way you acted around him had him hoping despite his better judgment. 

“Mind if we join you?” You asked, peeking your head out of the front door. 

Thomas shook his head and shifted his body so his back was leaning on one of the posts of the porch, so he could see you. 

You sat on mama’s rocking chair and placed Levi on the floor. The baby toddled around the porch, falling on his diapered butt couple of times as he explored.

“He’s getting pretty quick,” you commented. 

Thomas nodded watching as Levi waddled up to the screen door and started banging on it with his bottle.

“Thanks for putting up with us,” you said suddenly, resting your elbows on your knees as you watched Levi play. “I really appreciate everything you and your family have done for us.”

Tommy tilted his head, giving you a questionable look. 

You laughed and shrugged, “I just mean it can’t be easy having us around, especially with Levi making so much noise, crying in the middle of the night and first thing in the morning… things like that. ”

Thomas shook his head, he hadn’t really considered any of that a bother. He just liked having you and Levi around. 

A few days ago, Tommy had overheard you telling mama that Levi was the reason you left your ex, that all you could think about while you were pregnant was that if that man could excuse his violence towards you, what was going to keep him from taking it out on a child? 

You were obviously still freaked out about that man finding you. Thomas had noticed that you hadn’t left the house at all since that night and that you weren’t sleeping much either. 

It was times like this where he wished he could communicate with you, to be able to say that life here with him would be better and that he was nothing at all like that man, that he’d never hurt you or Levi, ever. 

“Are you alright, Thomas?” You asked, tilting your head. His brow was furrowed as if he were deep in thought. 

He gave a long sigh, but nodded his head. He was fine. 

You smiled at him softly, patting his arm before picking up Levi who was tugging on your dress. Tommy watched as you headed back inside the house. 

Later that evening, Thomas went down to the basement and searched through some boxes. He knew mama kept most of his things from when he was a baby. She was always going on and on about how some day he’d want them. When you showed at their house that night his old crib, high chair and a few other things were brought out, but he knew there had to be more somewhere around here. 

He smirked when he finally found a box filled with his old clothes and toys. He sorted the items in the box, making a pile of things you could use for Levi. He paused when he picked up a pink stuffed pig. The toy was missing its eyes and had a few holes where the seam was coming loose. But otherwise it was in decent shape, still had its curly tail, plenty of fluff and the fabric was nice and soft. 

Thomas carried it with him to his nearby work table. Digging through the drawers he pulled out thread, a needle, and a couple of buttons. Working with a steady hand, Thomas was able to fix the small holes and replace the eyes. 

He smiled looking at the pig, it had one big brown button eye and a small blue one, but was cute nonetheless. He placed on top of the pile, already looking forward to your reaction. 

“Oh! Look at the little piggy!” You squealed when Tommy presented it to you the following morning after breakfast. You were sitting on the floor in the living room, playing with Levi when Thomas came back downstairs.

“See the piggy, Levi,” you said, holding it out in front of him. “Oink! Oink!”

Levi giggled as you continued to oink moving the little pig around in the air before letting him hold it. Immediately, Levi held it tight and started gnawing on one of the ears. 

“He loves it!” You announced, smiling up at Tommy. “Thank you for all this!” 

Thomas just nodded, watching for a minute as Levi became acquainted with his new friend before leaving for work.

…

Thomas sat there on his knees completely still, a combination of his blood and the man’s he just killed covered his hands. He looked down at what he had done, he didn’t flinch as he stared at the bloody mess beneath him. 

The man’s face was beyond recognition. 

At first, Tommy could only recall bits and pieces of what he had done, almost as if he had lost all self control. Without any hesitation, remorse, or restraint, he had hit that man’s face over and over. Thomas had probably knocked the man unconscious with the first few blows, but that didn’t stop him, he didn’t stop until the back of the man’s skull was shattered and his face was soft and mushy.

Thomas began to pant as the adrenaline left his body and the burden of reality returned. It wasn’t the fact that he had just murdered someone that made him feel distressed, a part of him always knew what he was capable of. His worries stemmed when he thought about facing you after what he had done. 

He had been so blinded by rage seeing that asshole in his home, that same asshole who made you so scared, that made you cry and had hurt you. Then to see that man yelling at his mama while he was dragging you by the hair out of his house.

Tommy simply snapped.

It wasn’t the evening he had pictured coming home to after working late, but that just fueled his anger more, knowing for a fact that that man had waited, waited for an opportunity when Monty, Charlie and Thomas were all out of the house. The fucker was a coward, an abuser, and got what he deserved. 

Thomas grabbed the man by the throat, choking him with just one hand, the man dangling a couple of feet in the air released your hair as his hands tried to pry Thomas’s off. Once you were out of that man’s grasp, Thomas threw the man like a doll outside. The prick tried scrambling onto his feet and running away, but Tommy was surprisingly quick, he stomped down on his fingers, breaking them in several places. 

The man screamed obscenities, while he howled in pain clutching his hand to his chest. As Tommy clogged close, the bastard spat  in Tommy’s face and called him an animal. 

After that Tommy just couldn’t stop himself. 

Thomas continued to sit there in the dark, heaving. He heard gravel crunching as someone approached. 

Charlie whistled as he got a good look at what Tommy had done, “Damn boy,” he laughed. “Can’t say he didn’t deserve it.”

“Good thing he ain’t from around here,” Monty added. “Nobody’s gonna come all this way lookin’ for him.”

“We’ll take care of it from here,” Charlie said, kneeling down beside Tommy. “Can’t have a body laying in the front yard all night, might attract other pests.”

Thomas grunted, having only caught some of what Charlie was saying, everything sounded still far away and muffled. He slowly rose to his feet, his body felt heavy and sore, even with all the work he did on average, never in his life had he felt this kind of tired before. 

He looked up at the big house, he was worried what would happen when he crossed the threshold. He entertained the idea of maybe washing himself with the hose before going inside, maybe that would soften the blow, maybe that would make it less scary for you. But he felt so sore that he wasn’t even sure he could make it to the house. 

Taking a deep breath, Thomas trudged forward, groaning as went up each step on the porch. 

As he pulled the door open and stepped inside, the air in his lungs was practically knocked out of him as you threw yourself on him, your arms wrapping around his middle as tightly as you could. 

He collapsed onto his ass and you fell with him, holding on to him tight. 

“You’re okay,” you whispered, crying into his chest, seemingly unbothered by all the fresh blood on his clothes. “I’m so sorry, Tommy, I’m so sorry…”

Thomas patted your back firmly a couple of times, communicating to you, in his own way, that he was fine. He didn’t really understand what was happening, you weren’t scared of him, instead you were worried about him, this wasn’t what he had expected at all. 

He looked around the house, with you still in his arms, mama was resting on the sofa with the baby laying on top of her chest, she gave Thomas a tired smile before closing her eyes. His gaze wandered through the room, spotting some of the damage caused by that man, there was a broken lamp and chair laying on the floor, and a few other pieces of furniture were turned over and out of place.

He jumped a little as you pulled away, finally noticing all the blood that now covered the both of you. Dread immediately filled him watching as you examined his blood drenched clothes. 

You could feel Thomas’s breathing speed up, you tilted your head and cupped his cheek. Poor man looked so exhausted but you couldn’t let him fall asleep like this and you knew he would too.

You turned slightly checking mama and Levi who both seemed to have fallen asleep on the couch. 

“Tommy,” you whispered, stroking his face. “Let’s go upstairs and get cleaned up alright?”

He furrowed his brow but nodded. 

You held out your hand as you stood and helped him get back onto his feet as best as you could before guiding him upstairs.

He gave you a confused look as you opened the door to the hallway bathroom instead of his bedroom, but he followed you anyway. 

You put the lid down on the toilet seat, before having him sit down. 

He watched too tired to really comprehend what was happening as you turned on the facet. 

While the water heated up, you returned your attention to Tommy. First, you loosened his tie and discarded it on the floor, then undid each button of his shirt before tugging it off his shoulders. You crouched down, untying the laces on his boots before pulling them and his socks off. 

Under normal circumstances, Tommy would be freaking out and blushing like hell, but due to exhaustion he simply allowed you to take off his clothes. The only thought he seemed to be able to process was how much he loved you. It was something he knew for a while now but didn’t even want to admit to himself. 

Your hands, then, moved to his belt, unhooking it before pulling it out of the belt loops. Finally with some help from Tommy you were able to get his pants off. You left his mask alone, you’d never dream of pushing the issue or overstepping any bounds, you’d get to see that part of Tommy when he was ready. 

However, you couldn’t stop yourself from admiring his form for a second. Your eyes roaming over every inch as you appreciated his body starting with his broad shoulders, to his hairy chest, soft tummy, down to his happy trail leading to his thick uncut cock. Your face flushed as you quickly looked away.

He was handsome, maybe not everyone’s cup of tea, but you were definitely attracted to him. 

You knelt back down bedside the tub and checked the temperature of the water, before putting the stopper in. You smiled up at Thomas, your eyes gazing at him adoringly, “The water should be warm enough now.”

Thomas nodded completely dazed still, he wondered if he had fallen asleep at some point, but usually not even his best dreams were this good. 

“Come on,” you urged, as you guided him into the tub. 

Thomas moaned as he stepped in and sank down into the porcelain tub. The hot water felt amazing against his sore body. He simply laid there for a good minute with his eyes closed until he felt your hands against his chest. 

With a bar soap you began washing Tommy’s torso, swirling around his chest and shoulders first. Using a washcloth and the soap you focused on washing his body first. His forearms and hands were covered in blood.

You winced noticing the wounds on his knuckles, Thomas had a lot of scars and scratches on his body, you felt guilty knowing that you had contributed to that. 

He noticed you staring at his hand, with the other he leaned forwards and stroked your cheek. He wanted to let you know that it wasn’t your fault. 

You turned your head, nuzzling against Tommy’s hand and leaving a small kiss on his palm. “Thank you, Tommy,” you murmured. 

He sighed, closing his eyes as you moved the washcloth to carefully clean his face. You wiped his mask, cheeks, forehead, around his eyes, and even behind his ears. 

“Can you lean forward a bit?” You asked. 

Thomas did as you asked, groaning as he moved his tired body. 

You stood up, stepping into the tub behind him, sitting on the edge of the tub. “Alright, you can lean back again.”

You lathered your hands with shampoo then started working your fingers through his hair. 

Thomas moaned as you massaged his scalp. No one had ever done this sort of thing before for him, at least not since he was little. He felt pampered as you took care of him. He tried to keep his eyes open, but he never felt quite this relaxed in his life. 

You tilted his head back and rinsed the shampoo out. Running your fingers through it soothingly, before running your hands over his shoulders, squeezing and massaging his tense muscles. 

He must of dozed off for a bit, his eyes slowly opening as you stood up and fetched a towel for him. 

Thomas stretched, rubbing his eyes, then he stumbled out of the tub but you quickly by his side, offering him support. With the towel in your hand helped him dry off before securing a towel around his waist. 

“Do you feel better?” You asked. 

Thomas gave you a half smile and nodded, other than tired, he felt amazing. 

You walked him to his room and watched as he dropped the towel on the floor and flopped onto his bed completely naked. 

You giggled to yourself and sat on the edge of his bed next to him, patting his cheek gently as you tried to keep him awake just a moment longer.

“Thomas?”

He hummed and peeked an eye open.

“Thank you for everything, Thomas,” you leaned forward and kissed his forehead, your lips lingered on his skin, before you sat up. “Good night.”

…

After that night, there was a noticeable change in your and Tommy’s relationship. He stopped avoiding you so much and instead spent as much time as possible with you as he could. 

At first he was still shy and unsure about the situation, but he tried his best to return the affection you showed him. Like when you’d take his hand in yours while walking outside, he’d work up the nerve to hold it tightly, even rub his thumb across the back of your hand.

Small pecks on the cheek soon became kisses on the lips, after you kissed him goodbye one morning by accident. You were going to apologize but Thomas immediately pulled you in for another, more passionate kiss. When he had pulled away, he left you standing there speechless as he marched to work redder than a tomato. 

One morning, you surprised him in the barn while he was working. You wrapped your fingers around his tie and pulled him close. With your other hand, you tucked some of his hair behind his ear before leaning in and kissing him. You slipped your tongue between his lips eager to taste him. He cupped your ass, giving it a squeeze, then lifted you with ease onto the nearby workbench. The two of you made out like a couple of horny teenagers. 

It wasn’t always easy to find privacy, not with his family constantly needing his help or when Levi would start crying and fussing. But the two of you found time, setting up little meetings in secret. The sneaking around though was worth it as long as he got to spend time alone with you. 

Thomas was so happy that you decided to keep living here. You were so worried about being a burden that you tried going back home. 

Thomas had accompanied you when you went to see what kind of condition your unwanted guest left it in. From the outside you could see that several of the windows had been broken. Inside, the whole place was trashed, the furniture was wrecked and your personal belongings were destroyed.

Thomas had held you as you cried after trying to find what you could salvage. You didn’t want to stay there, you didn’t want to be alone there… So when you and Tommy returned you asked mama if you could stay. 

With what little you were able to bring from your old house, you made the guest feel more like your own. Thomas helped you move the furniture around to your liking, creating a small space for Levi to play. 

In all honesty, you couldn’t imagine living alone again, not after living here with Tommy, mama, Monty and even Charlie. 

…

Thomas cracked his eyes open, listening intently as someone quietly knocked on his door again. 

“Thomas?” 

He sat up immediately, once he recognized that it was your voice calling for him. Worried that something was wrong, he got out of bed and opened the door, dressed only in a white shirt and boxers. 

“Sorry for waking you, but I couldn’t help it,” You smiled up at him. “It just started raining.”

Thomas cocked his brow, as if asking if you were really here in the middle of night to tell him that.

You pouted playfully, tugging on his hand, “Oh come on Tommy, it hardly ever rains this time or year, let’s go enjoy it together.”

He rolled his eyes, but still slipped on his boots before he followed you downstairs. 

You slowly opened the front door trying to be as quiet as possible. Thomas smirked to himself, shaking his head slightly as he watched you acting like a little kid.

The moment you felt the night air, you took in a deep breath. You loved everything about rain, the sound, the way it smelled, how it felt on your skin. You couldn’t resist reaching and feeling the rain with your fingertips.

“Don’t you just love it?” You asked Tommy. 

He shrugged, he liked the rain just fine, it was better than usual dry heat, at least. 

You hopped down the steps, practically skipping as it started to rain even harder. 

Thomas sat on the porch, watching as you played in the rain. You spun slowly on your tiptoes in your white nightgown with your arms out and your fingers wiggling. He couldn’t get over how lovely you were, in fact, you were the most beautiful person he had ever met, so sweet, gentle, and loving. He was glad you woke him up, even if he was a little cranky about it at first, but he truly appreciated getting this chance to see you so happy and be a part of that happiness. He couldn’t seem to get enough of you lately.

Still giggling, you wandered back to the porch completely soaked from head to toe. 

He swallowed thickly as his eyes traveled down your body as you got closer. 

Your wet nightgown clung to your every curve, and practically became translucent from the rain. He openly stared at you, slacked jawed, he could make out the shape and color of your nipples. They were hard and perky from the rain.

You bit your lip, as you became aware of Tommy’s lustful gaze. Straddling his leg as you moved onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck for support. 

He lightly placed one of his hands on your waist, and caressed your cheek with the other, wiping a few stray droplets from your face. 

You tilted your head, brushing your nose against his leather covered one, as your lips gently touched his. The hand that had been on your cheek, moved to the back of your head as Tommy deepened the kiss. You began to grind down on his thigh, moaning into his mouth as the two of you made out. 

Thomas slowly kissed along your jaw, down to your neck while he nipped and sucked on the tender skin. His hands wandered down to your hips as you continued to rub your crotch against him. 

He smiled against your skin as moaned his name riding his thigh faster, your fingers curling tightly into his hair. 

You involuntarily shivered as the wind picked up. Tommy pulled away, giving you a quizzical look. 

“Just a little cold,” you reassured him, loosening your arms from his neck and rubbing his chest.  “Want to go to your room and warm me up?” You suggested in a low voice by Tommy’s ear. 

He eagerly nodded, helping you to your feet as you both tried to go back inside quietly. You held his hand as you climbed up the steps. 

When you made it to his room, you gave him a playful smile as you dropped his hand and opened his door. Thomas closed and locked it following behind you. 

His room was dark as you stumbled inside with moonlight seeping in from the window. 

Now that you were in private, you lifted your nightgown over your head, peeling it off your body and dropping it to the floor with your back facing Tommy.  You rubbed your thighs together with anticipation. You had been carving Tommy’s touch, wanting nothing more than to take things further, finally feel him inside of you. 

Taking a few steps towards you, he rested his forehead on top of yours, inhaling deeply as his hands explored the expanse of your back, savoring the feeling of your cool smooth skin under his warm rough palms. 

You turned around to face him, your fingers carefully sweeping his hair away from his eyes. The corner of his eyes crinkled as he smiled down at you. 

You pushed yourself onto your tiptoes and kissed him with parted lips. Tommy’s tongue eased into your mouth, his hands resting on the small of your back, your breasts pressing against his clothed chest. 

“I want you, Thomas,” you whispered. 

You walked backwards until your legs hit the bed, sitting on the edge, you slipped off your panties. Thomas knelt down on the floor before you, starting at your ankles, his fingers lightly moved upwards to the back of your knees. He parted your legs, while lifting them up to rest on his shoulders. 

You laid back on the bed as Thomas’s tongue delved past your folds, giving you nice long licks, tasting your cunt up to your clit. You squirmed against him, as he buried his face deeper, sucking and slurping on your bud. 

He wanted to get you off first, he wanted to make you feel good. He knew he wouldn’t last long, his hard cock was already weeping in his boxers, and he knew that your pussy would feel heavenly around him. 

Tommy teased your entrance, your pussy was so slick that his index finger easily slipped it inside you. He pumped it in and out rhythmically, you were so warm and tight. You arched your back off the bed as he added another finger, the mild stretch stung but you felt so full. As he fingered fucked you, he continued to play with your clit using his mouth, switching between long sucks and quick swirls of his tongue.

“Ah,” you gasped, quickly muffling your mouth with your own hand. Last thing you wanted was to wake someone and have this moment interrupted. 

Tommy could feel your legs tense as your toes started to curl, with your free hand you tangled your fingers in his dark hair, tugging on the strands and pushing his face further between your legs as you came on his fingers. Your vaginal walls clenched around them as your juices gushed down his hand. You whimpered as he gave your folds one last lick. 

Unable to resist any longer, Thomas scrambled to his feet, yanking his shirt off and shoving his boxers down, and climbed onto the bed with you. You were still catching your breath as he loomed over you and began peppering kisses to your collarbone and chest. 

Supporting his weight on one arm, he was able to grope your chest, fondling one of your tits and circling the nipple with his thumb. His tongue flicked over your other nipple, before he latched onto it, sucking. 

Moving his hand down to his crotch, he tugged and rubbed his length as he lavished your body with attention using his mouth. Sitting up for just a moment, he continued to stroke his cock while he admired the view in front of him, your legs spread open, your chest rising and falling.

Gazing back up at him you wiggled your hips enticingly and wrapped your legs around his thighs. Getting the idea, Tommy positioned his cock, sliding the tip along your slit before pushing the head into your wet hot pussy. 

Thomas made a gravelly groan as his cock went deeper into you. He couldn’t believe how good it felt, feeling your warm walls squeezing around his shaft. He tried to take it slow, wanting this to last.

His grabbed your ass, a cheek in each hand, and lifted you off the bed as he fucked you harder. Thomas began to pant, his eyes half lidded as he watched your breasts jiggle and bounce with each thrust. 

You mewled and writhed against the sheets as Tommy’s hips snapped faster and faster. He was breathing heavily, squeezing his eyes shut as he focused on how good your body felt. 

“You feel so good, Tommy,” you moaned, legs tightening around him. “Fill me up with your cum.”

He bent forward, capturing your lips with his in a sloppy kiss before his nails dug into the soft plump flesh of your ass and his face twisted with pleasure. He growled harshly as he finally came. 

His warm breath fanned your shoulder, his dark hair hanging in front of eyes as beads of sweat formed on his forehead. He hissed as he moved, slowly pulled his member from your cunt and collapsed beside you. 

Tommy whined as you shuffled away from him to pull the sheet over you and him. You laid back down on your side, facing him as his arms snaked around you, you tucked your head under his. 

“I love you, Thomas,” you confessed as you closed your eyes. 

He pressed his lips to the top of your head, letting you know he felt the same way. He listened to the rain as it continued to hit the roof as you fell asleep. Your breathing was calm and slow, and your body soft and warm as he stroked your arm. 

Thomas started to dream of what life would be like now that he had you, like getting to fall asleep beside you every night, having many more evenings filled with pleasure, watching Levi grow up… He snuggled closer to you, maybe by this time next year there would be another baby in the house, a little girl would be nice. 

#reader insert #female reader #Texas chainsaw massacre fic #tcm the beginning #slasher fic #slasher fanfiction #slasher x reader #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x you #thomas hewitt x y/n #thomas hewitt x reader #leatherface x reader #leatherface x y/n #leatherface x you #Texas chainsaw massacre the beginning

[babiebom]

Accidental Prey(i)

A/N: New obsession coming through woo woooooooo. Hopefully I have it in me to finish this.

Tw: talks of sex, taking of virginity, no smut but does talk about sex in small details, talks of murder and cannibalism, drunk one night stand, cursing. Mentions of blood and gore, some sexism/misogynist views, pregnancy, racism, slut shaming

Pairing: Johnny Slaughter/Sawyer x OC

Genre: strangers to lovers, Stockholm Syndrome, angst, romance(?), drama

Wc: 5.2k

Masterlist next

At the feeling of something popping, Johnny already knew that he was in deep shit. The girl below him was drunker than he was by a long way. And though he also had way too much to drink he could already tell by his reaction that he was going to remember this entire situation in the morning.

It wasn't unusual for him to sleep around, it wasn't unusual for him to sleep with potential victims. But something about this girl made him feel different. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the way she smiled and smelled and let him bite her. He wasn't sure. He just knew something about her was off, because it damn sure cannot be him.

Looking down he stares at where their bodies meet, blood was beginning to pool under her ass and onto the sheets below them. God, he was going to have to pay for this, huh? Looking back up at her face, the tears had stopped and so had her whining, now she was just clinging onto him, her lips brushing over his arms that were caging her in. Did she even realize what was happening? Did she realize that she had let a random man she had just met take her virginity? She slurred something against his arm, her eyes unfocused. Maybe he should quit before it goes too far…

"Have you done this before?" Maybe she just hadn't slept around in a while…maybe she just hasn't done it a lot and her body wasn't used to it.

She furrowed her eyebrows before shaking her head, murmuring out an answer. Johnny blinks twice, feeling as if he was now somehow responsible for her wellbeing, as if because he is the first man to defile her he has to take care of her and that's too much for him to process. He tries to reason with himself quickly, almost gaslighting himself into believing that it doesn't count because they haven't really done anything. He hasn't moved, hasn't done anything except push inside her one time. That isn't sex at all. None of this counts.

Before he can pull himself out of her, she whines and wraps her legs around him, frowning as she slowly turns her head to try and make eye contact with him. "What're you doin?"

"Baby, I don't think this is a good idea…" Johnny was never one to put someone else's needs before his own, but this seemed like the perfect opportunity to do so. By stopping here nothing is different, she can still be considered a virgin, and he doesn't have to worry about some random chick he found in a bar.

"Why not? I thought we was makin' love?" She pouts as she slurs her words out. Locking her legs around him tighter, forcing him in deeper. It only served to make her whine out in pain and he has to focus on not being selfish and moving inside of her.

He wants to laugh at the thought of 'making love'; it isn't a thing he does. He doesn't know how to love, his family doesn't know how to properly love. This whole situation is fucked and he wants to rip her to shreds for somehow triggering a response in him that he didn't know was possible. He didn't love her, not at all, but he also didn't want to kill her. He could already see Drayton losing his shit if he ever found out about him going out and having one night stands that he doesn't bring home to eat. The old man claims to not enjoy killing but sure does get mad when loose ends are tied up.

"You sure?" He asks, grabbing her by the chin and roughly making it so that she had to look him in the eyes. She hums in response, giving him a small smile before closing her eyes. She was mumbling again, and he only could catch that she thought he was nice before she started talking about something else. He breathes in deeply before deciding that he could just finish and wait until she's asleep before leaving and never seeing her again. He hopes that she forgets anything that happened, not wanting her to remember him.

If she remembers then she might come looking for him, and if she comes looking for him then the family will know what he's done, what he's been doing. And they'll kill her, or make him kill her. He doesn't know which is worse, but he knows that he doesn't want to kill her, that he doesn't think she should die. He tries to figure out what it is about her again, coming to the conclusion that she just doesn't set off any of his killer instincts, that she doesn't set off that thing in him that needs to kill.

It's as if he's a wolf thinking he's hunting a bunny but instead what he finds is a tiny little mouse that wouldn't be fulfilling to eat. A little mouse that doesn't make the chase fun, that doesn't make him want to attack her at all. He just feels bad for her and how small and helpless she is. Killing her would be no fun, he decides quickly finishing partially inside her before pulling out, too lost in his thoughts to properly be worried. Her face is screwed up and he wonders if she finished, asking her as much.

By the look on her face he can tell that she hadn't, too wrapped up in his thoughts to even recall how having sex with her felt. So, deciding to be nice he helps her out. Touching her in that special place until her broken wails come out silently and her back arches off the cheap motel bed. He silently hopes this makes up for him being a shitty person to have your first time with. "Did that feel good?" He asks and she nods her head, a sleepy grin on her face as she stretches and begins to fall asleep.

He sighs, wiping her off with his shirt. After making sure she was lying on her side he slips out of the motel room, throwing his shirt away before getting into his truck, driving home and away from the girl before any real consequences could be had.

When Fawn woke up in a pool of dried blood she was confused, obviously. The last thing she remembered was being at a bar, tossing back a shot that the bartender had even questioned if she could handle it. Seeing where she had woken up, it was apparent that she could not. Sucking in a breath she moves her hair from in front of her face, the curly mess tangled around her fingers. For a split second she wondered if she looked as bad as she thought she did. That thought was quickly overtaken by the feeling of stabbing pain shooting up her legs and crotch. As if she had been electrocuted for moving.

She wailed out in pain, writhing on the bed, eyes squeezed shut as she tried to remember what happened to her. She didn't even realize she had left the bar. From the pain and the blood, she already had some semblance of what had occured, and though there was already regret pooling at the bottom of her belly she also felt upset that the guy didn't even stick around, he just left after…doing what he did.

Crying she waited until the pain got bearable enough that she could move. How was she going to get back home? Her car was still at the bar. Did she even have her keys? Looking around she spotted her purse sitting on a table next to the door. At least he was nice enough to leave her things.

Moving around slowly, she wondered if she would be able to get a cab or something, at least to take her back to the bar. She cringed as she looked back towards the bed, blood was everywhere and she knew that leaving it there was rude, but talking to the motel workers would probably get her in trouble. Silently she began to bundle the blanket and sheets up, hoping that the mattress below was untouched, just so the repercussions wouldn't be as bad. She cursed the man aloud for leaving her to deal with this alone.

The sun was extremely bright when Fawn finally walks out of the room, and it makes her nauseous to the point where she has to run over to the grass, ignoring the burning pain in her legs in order to throw up somewhere it doesn't need to be cleaned or seen. Turning around, she frowns at how the motel looks, dingy and dusty, people sitting around looking out of it. At least she has nothing to be embarrassed about seeing as no one cares what she's doing.

The nearest payphone was thankfully just down the street, she could see it in the distance if she squinted. The blazing Texas sun burned the skin on her shoulders, her complexion not helping her despite the common belief that it would, she still burned easily and that fact made her situation even worse. Her legs were sore, and now burned awfully from the walk taking much longer than it needed to be, and by the time she got to the payphone she was out of breath and sweaty. Fawn was beginning to regret going out.

Panting, she tries to lean against the payphone, but she only proceeds to get burned as the metal had been cooking all day. Frowning, she wonders how she's going to call anyone for help when holding onto the stupid phone for more than a second would burn her hand so badly she would have to go to the hospital. It took a minute before she decided to lift her shirt, looking around to make sure no one would see her, and use it to hold the phone. Paying the 50 cents she calls a taxi to come pick her up.

The second Fawn was in front of her own house, she felt the urge to leave again. Her parents were sure to be awake and moving around seeing as it's the middle of the day, and her little act of defiance was sure to be punished, even if she is a grown adult. She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, thinking of a plan to minimize the damage. She was unsure of how she was going to lie to and convince her parents that she hadn't gotten up to trouble at all, and while she had no real idea of what happened she could figure out enough of everything to know that they were going to be livid. Before she could come up with anything solid, the front door opened, the screen door slamming against it from how hard the person had forced it open.

Fawn's mother is a large lady. Tall, strong, and mean faced with a head of dark curly hair. Seeing the woman storming towards you is enough for anyone, man or woman, to go running in fear at what was to come as a consequence of her anger. Terrified, Fawn scrambles out of the car, hoping that this small act of compliance would placate her mother enough that she wouldn't get into too much trouble. "Momma-"

"Where were you?"

Flinching, Fawn attempted to make herself seem smaller. She wanted to answer, but answering would only make things worse for her so she keeps her mouth shut as her mother grabs her by the arm and drags her inside. Her father sat in his recliner, staring at her with wide eyes. And though she was terrified at the thought of a punishment, she could see from how her father's shoulders drooped that they had been afraid. With guilt flooding in her stomach she allowed her mother to pull her into a hug, the large woman shuddering and gripping onto Fawn's shoulders so tight she was sure they would be bruised in the morning.

As soon as her mother let go, she turned and walked towards her father, he stood slowly as she approached. Like her mother, her father was large, muscular and mean looking, the only difference between them was the colors of their skin. If her mother terrified people, her father made them believe that what had happened in the bible surely had happened again to produce such a large man. To have such a tiny child was almost comical, it was how they named her because something like 'mouse' would get her made fun of.

Fawn could feel her lower lip tremble as she fell into her fathers arms, letting him hug her just as tight as her mother did. Being the only child of two people who were as full of worry as her parents made everything much more…scary. More final, as if every choice that you make is taking you towards an untimely demise and even a day apart is too long when you could keel over dead at any moment.

Her dad held onto her for a longer time, she could hear his soft sniffles and assumed that he was crying and was holding onto her until he had stopped. Letting him have her moment, Fawn keeps her mouth shut about how her night went, forcing herself to come up with a story just in case they pressed her on it. She hoped to God that none of this would come to bite her in the butt.

The cool metal of the exam table makes the back of her thighs numb, her decision to wear shorts proving to be the dumbest thing she has ever done…or second dumbest thing. Her mother sat in the small chair, next to the exam table, clutching her purse and bouncing her leg. Did she think something bad was going to happen? Did she think Fawn was on the brink of death? Asking would just make her irritable, she was already mad they had to come to the doctors to begin with. Her mother hated the place with a passion, but never told Fawn why, maybe she was just anxious…either way she wasn't in the mood for questions.

The symptoms she had weren't strange in any way…Fawn thought she probably just had a stomach flu or something. Constant nausea, headaches, and a stuffy nose. Her mother thought differently though, ever since the day Fawn had stayed out all night her mother acted differently. As if she were suspicious of something. Thankfully Fawn hadn't missed a period, though it was lighter than usual and only lasted a couple days. She had thought this meant she was home free, that she had gotten away with whatever she did that led up to and included her virginity being taken by a stranger. But still, her mother insisted the doctor's office was the way to go.

The man entered the room, clipboard in hand and glaring at Fawn as if she had committed the ultimate sin. Taken aback she avoided eye contact with him, instead staring down at the floor as if it were the most interesting thing in the room. Why was he so mad? "Are you sexually active?" He asks in a monotone voice.

Fawn freezes, her kicking feet now hanging in the air, still as if something was holding them in place. She shakes her head. "No." She whispers out.

He sucks in a breath, moving around the room towards his stool. "Well, we tested for illnesses, and pregnancy."

"And?" Her mother asked. 'Please be the stomach flu. It has to be the stomach flu' she prays.

"She's pregnant."

Fawn's mother almost collapses out of the small chair she was sitting on, her body sliding down it as she wails into her hands. Fawn looks up at the doctor, her eyes wide in horror and confusion. She wanted to ask how'd this happen, she was so confused. One night couldn't have done this. She felt as if she were being punished by God for acting out. She sniffles and frowns, but gets no sympathy from the man in front of her. He only looks at her as if he’s disgusted. When he speaks again, she can’t hear him, too busy trying to calm her racing mind. By the time she stops disassociating, the doctor's appointment is over and she’s in the car with her yelling mother. “-you’re never leaving the house again! How did this even happen? Did you go out purely to be a little harlot?"

"Momma I-"

The woman was seething, her lips set in a line as she focused on the road. Fawn knew her mother was waiting on her to say something, but at the same time she knew saying anything, especially excuses, would just set her off more. She couldn't help but begin to cry, her life as she knew it was over. She messed up, she knew that, but being pregnant and unmarried was punishment enough, but seeing how angry her mother looked she knew that she was going to be punished more.

Her parents were never really abusive, never whooping or beating her, sometimes they yelled but it was usually her mother and it wasn't often. Then again she never really got into trouble, and if she did it was never anything like this. Her parents raised her in a straight line, hoping that with each passing generation their family could become something important in the world. Something more than their race and appearance and it started with her grandparents. She couldn't imagine what her grandmother would think now, and she was grateful that she lived far away enough that she wouldn't hear if the gossip ever left that hospital or their home.

Fawn shrinks into herself, her cries growing louder as her mother parks the car in the driveway to the house, a sigh leaving her lips, her chest falling quickly. She didn't want to go inside and face her father, she didn't want to see his disappointed face or hear his words as he scolded her. "God damn it. Fawn Grace! What the hell did you go out and do?"

Fawn looked up at her mother with a pitiful look, her hands were balling up her skirt. "I don't remember momma! I swear! I woke up in-in a motel room-!"

"A motel room?" Fawn's mothers voice rose an octave, higher than she had ever heard it before. Her mother slammed her hands onto the steering wheel, looking down and saying something under her breath while Fawn looked at her in fear. Shaking her head the woman kept her eyes closed while she spoke before getting out of the car, not even waiting for Fawn as she started towards the front door. Following behind Fawn says a quick prayer to herself, hoping God would forgive her sins and give her a break when it comes to her father's reaction.

Slowly removing herself from the car, she drags her feet as she approaches the door, already hearing her mother venting to her father. Heart pounding she enters the home, shutting the door softly as to not really call attention to herself as her parents speak to each other. Wincing, she tries to sneak past them, wanting to flee to her room and avoid whatever punishment they were going to give her. But no, God was not being so kind today, and her mother shouted her name forcing her to stop in her steps. “Yes ma’am?”

“Don’t you dare go upstairs, get over here now!”

Frowning, she hurries over to the couch, across from her parents who were standing, angry, in the middle of the living room. Her ears rang loudly as she tried to figure out if they were going to yell or not, both of them were silent. Swallowing down vomit, she picked at the hem of her shirt, avoiding looking at her parents in fear of seeing their disappointed faces. Her mother is the one to speak first, beginning with a sigh. “Fawn…we want an explanation. Now."

"Well...I told you in the car momma. I don't remember anything. I just woke up in a motel room by myself."

"How did you get there?" Her mothers voice shakes in an emotion Fawn couldn't place.

"I don't know!" She shakes her head frantically, eyes wide, "I swear it. I was at a bar, and somehow ended up there!"

"A BAR?" Her father spoke now, well more like shouted, obviously surprised.

She scrunched her nose as her father collapsed in his lounge chair. Her mother began pacing as Fawn tried to come up with whatever words she had to say next. She couldn't recount much, and she couldn't tell if that was going to anger then less or more. "Well, okay. I went there to be a brat! I admit that! But I promise I didn't go out to sleep with anyone! I don't even remember doing that! Last thing I remember is the bartender telling me that I shouldn't have one more drink, and because I was already mad I decided to drink one more, then I woke up in a bloody motel bed with a headache and sore legs and I regretted it as soon as I woke up!"

She had never been good at keeping secrets.

Her mother was hyperventilating and her father looked as if he was on the verge of passing out. She herself was about 2 seconds away from throwing up after word vomiting and exposing everything that she had gone through and thought of. Tears flowed down her face, warming her cold skin. Nothing was said for a while, the air tense and thick. Maybe nothing else would be said. Her words had done a good job of sucking all the air out of the room, her parents were obviously unhappy, angry at her actions. She could barely remember what all was said that made her storm out and go places that she had never been before. She ruined the legacy her grandmother wanted to create in one night, she was the first unremovable stain in their family history in recent years even though they wanted things to be different. She set them back single handedly, and had the audacity to sit and cry as if she had done nothing wrong.

"Momma?"

Her mother was crying, sitting as far away from her on the couch, hands over her face and praying aloud to God as if he could change everything that happened. Her father started bargaining, his words carrying over to her ears. It was like he wanted to accept that this was their family's fate, and that there was nothing he could do.

"It's not the old times anymore, these kids sleep around all the time. They're not like us, not like the 40's where everyone valued marriage and saving oneself. She can still be something, make something of herself even if it isn't a good wife…"

Her heart clenched as she turned to stare at her mother who was now rocking back at forth, but her words weren't as nice, if her father's words could even be counted as such.

"Can't believe…the child I raised! A loose legged hussy. Father God tell me it isn't true, tell me that my baby girl didn't give herself to some…BUM. That man could only be the devil if he took advantage of my sweet girl. She can't be a slut, a common whore! Not my baby…"

She wondered when they were going to stop crying, but at the same time she wondered when she herself would stop. She knew in her mind that this was a permanent thing, even without the baby, her parents were never going to loom at her the same. And she wasn't sure if her current relationships with them would survive this bump in the road.

With red eyes and a damp face, Fawn's mother turns to stare at her not quite with a glare, but with a look that showed that she was still angry, still grieving. "You ain't leaving this house," she takes in a shuddering breath, "ever again. You are going to stay here and hope and pray that whenever we let you out for errands that some man takes pity on you and thinks you're pretty enough that he doesn't care about the fact that you already gave yourself away or the fact that you have a child, and marries you."

Sucking in a breath, Fawn nods in understanding, this punishment being the only one she's going to get wasn't so bad. "I'm sorry momma…"

Her father does nothing but slide down in his chair, hands over his face. He had given up on praying aloud, given up on trying to bargain and hoping the circumstances were different. Shaking her head her mother scoots closer and wraps her in a hug, pulling her close against her chest her sobs starting back up. Not knowing what the future will bring, Fawn hugs her back.

Pregnancy was nothing like she expected it to be, and while she was excited to not get her period for a while, the cramping and bloating and cravings were unexpected. She hadn't known anyone else who was pregnant and didn't know what to expect especially because her parents refused to speak about it. It was as if it was a later problem, and she was being punished by not being prepared for it.

Now, standing in the middle of the grocery store, Fawn rubbed her still flat stomach staring at the boxed brownies as if she could teleport them into her stomach without having to make or buy it. She had a budget, a list of things her parents sent her to buy, and now having less allowance money she didn't know if she should buy what she was craving or save the money for what she needed and wanted later on. Her parents didn't say anything about her getting a job, but she thought that maybe she should…just in case.

Brownies and ice cream, not an unusual craving, but one that was so overwhelming she throws two boxes into her cart before looking towards the pies. Thinking about a pie made only of the crust, she licks her lips and moves towards it only to be stopped by a white, pale hand, also grabbing the box she was going for. "'Scuse me," she retracts her hand quickly just as the woman does.

The woman smiles brightly, grabbing at the box again with one hand while swatting at Fawn gently. "Don't worry about it, sugar! Looks like both of us are cravin' somethin' sweet tonight!" The gap between her teeth gives her more of a youthful look, confusing Fawn as to how old the woman really was. She looked young, but calling someone sugar was something her parents would do. Maybe she was in between?

"Yeah…though I think what I have is enough. Don't want to overdo it." Fawn laughs awkwardly, not quite used to being pregnant and socializing. Though there was not conceivable difference, she still felt as if she had to behave in a certain way, she was pregnant pretending not to be pregnant in front of a stranger that probably doesn't and wouldn't care. A stranger she would most likely never see again.

"So you do! Those brownies are gonna be so delicious, I'm sure!"

Talking about the brownies made the craving swell, and the words fell out of Fawn's mouth without her thinking, the excitement of eating it taking over. "Hope so! I was plannin' on puttin' some ice cream on em' letting it cool the brownies down while the brownies melt the ice cream!" Fawn lets her accent slip a bit, the perfectly crafted non-Texas more Californian sound her parents wanted her to use. She sounded more like herself now, more countrified like the woman in front of her.

"That sounds good!"

Nodding, Fawn lets the conversation die so she can hurry and finish shopping, wanting to quickly get home before her parents get worried and ban her from even shopping, and to make and eat the brownie before the craving is too dull to satisfy. The woman doesn't let her walk away though, grabbing her by the hand and spinning her to face her again, looking down at her body.

"My! Your dress is awfully pretty, where'd you get it?"

Surprised, Fawn looks down at her own dress. It wasn't that pretty, it was more on the plain side, but maybe the woman genuinely liked it. "Made it myself…" she replied. She wanted to go on, gush about how difficult it was to make even though it's nothing special and as plain as can be, but the ice cream aisle was calling her name.

"Did you? Oh, I love to sew! I made this dress I'm wearin'. Grandpa said I looked pretty! My brothers are pretty mean, though, but I guess that's just how brothers are…"

The woman continued to speak, not letting her get a word out to excuse herself from the conversation. Talking about her brothers and some boyfriend or something and how much she missed him. The woman talked so long that Fawn now had to pee, and still she wasn't stopping.

"Sissy? Where in the hell did you-"

Fawn turns her head towards the voice, taken aback at the sight in front of her. The man is attractive, more attractive than any man she had seen anytime recently. These types of looks were rare in the middle of nowhere Texas, and while people were attractive, he was just…different. Maybe it was the way he held himself. Maybe she had finally found a guy that was her type.

The man, on the other hand, looked like he had seen a ghost. His eyes were locked onto Fawn, and she could feel her body heating up from how strongly he was staring at her. Shiftly awkwardly, she looked back towards the woman who had stopped talking, she was now smiling brightly at the man who was still frozen at the end of the aisle. "Johnny!" The woman turns towards Fawn, grasping her arm. "This is one of my brothers!"

"Yeah…I guessed so."

The man approached slowly, eyes still on Fawn, she could feel it. "Sissy, I've been waiting outside for 30 minutes. You're supposed to buy the groceries to come out. They're gonna be pissed off that we took too long." When she looked back at him he was glaring at the blonde next to her.

The way he glared made her heart drop, and she was glad that she wasn't the target of his…annoyance. Blinking, she laughed awkwardly, backing away from the two, immediately taking the chance to run off and finish her shopping. She couldn't wait another 30 minutes before finishing and peeing, so she rushes to get everything done, not forgetting the ice cream.

The second she got home, and got comfortable, her mind wandered to the strange siblings she met. They both seemed strange, in different ways but still strange. Still, she hoped to see at least the man again. Maybe he could be the man that takes pity on her, and doesn't care about the fact that she has a kid on the way.

Or maybe she's delusional, and lusting after the first man she sees.

#tcm #tcm game #texas chainsaw massacre #texas chainsaw massacre game #texas chainsaw game #tcm fanfic #tcm johnny #tcm sissy #johnny tcm #johnny sawyer #johnny slaughter #Tcm Johnny x oc #tcm nubbins #Texas chainsaw massacre fic

[babiebomsmasterlist]

Accidental Prey Masterlist

Summery: Johnny Slaughter doesn’t love anyone, he doesn’t feel bad for anyone. The man only cares about his mama and killing, it’s just this stupid girl isn’t good enough to kill, yet she can barely keep herself alive as is. “Making love” to her was an accident as is her becoming prey.

Tw: racism, pregnancy, blood, gore, cannibalism, cursing, sexism, kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome, mental/physical/verbal abuse, sexual and suggestive content(though no full on smut unless I gain courage), mentions of religion (god etc.), murder, self harm, manipulation. It’s just tragic tbh

Rating: mature (minors dni)

Pairing: Johnny Sawyer x OC

Genre: angst, romance(?), strangers to lovers (sorta),

Wc: N/A

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#masterlist #texas chainsaw game #texas chainsaw massacre #Texas chainsaw massacre fic #Tcm #Tcm fic #tcm game #Tcm game fic #Tcm angst #tcm fanfic #tcm cook #tcm bubba #tcm nubbins #tcm sissy #tcm johnny #johnny tcm #johnny slaughter #johnny slaughter x oc #tcm headcanons #johnny sawyer #johnny sawyer x oc

[disastersareajoy]

Pussy Drunk Thomas Hewitt - Drabble

Thomas Hewitt x FEM!Reader

Tags: established relationship, cunnilingus, forced orgasms, talk of bruises, wet and messy, squirting, dacryphilia, overstimulation

Word count: 1.1k

fucking obsessed with the idea of Thomas getting absolutely, down bad, pussy-drunk as soon as he gets a taste

like his virgin-ass being too afraid of hurting you to fuck you at first and getting on his knees for you. he gets a taste, kind of pulls back and licks his lips and you can see his pupils dilate and his eyes fucking glaze over and he just falls face first into your pussy

sloppy, wet, spit slick, hungry oral from that man. his teeth bump into you in all the right ways sometimes. one moment he's whimpering into you and the next he's grumbling and trying to get his tongue deeper and deeper into you to taste more

and it does not matter to him when you beg for him to slow down and how you can't cum anymore. because you keep dripping on his face and tongue and making wonderful noises and you just taste so fucking good, how could he stop??

his arms wrap around your thighs and he holds onto them hard and firm and keeps you pulled close to his face. you can feel that it's gonna bruise and you're going to cherish those bruises for days

he doesn't even notice how hard he's gripping you because he's trying to get all of his senses filled with you. he tastes, smells and feels nothing but you. the only thing his ears can focus on are your moans and whimpers. his hands massage your thighs periodically and when he opens his eyes it's just to look at your face, thrown back in pleasure. the only thing better is when you're looking down at him with tears in your eyes, still moaning for him

Tommy is completely drunk off your taste. he loves the feeling of your pussy on his tongue and he loves the little whining groan you let out when he sucks on your clit

now, when he keeps going and going and your hand in his hair trying to push him away finally falls to your side, he doesn't even realize what he's doing next. it's all out of instinct when his hands readjust so his arms stay wrapped around your thighs but his thumbs are spreading open your folds. that's when he really loses it

because he can get his tongue even deeper like that. he can bury it inside you and find the spot that makes you drip a little more and that makes you moan all broken and needy. once he finds it he abuses the fuck out of it. keeps licking over it, poking at it with his tongue and savoring every drop of you that spills into his mouth

and then. his holy grail. you grab his hair again and moan louder. you're sobbing and begging him to slow down because it feels different this time. he doesn't listen of course. all he knows is you're about to do that thing again where he can feel your pussy flutter and twitch and your thighs squeeze around him and your moans get all whimpery

he keeps going until your hips lift up into him. he stays attached to your pussy and keeps doing what he's doing, knowing he can't stop. needs to keep going to get you to do that thing

suddenly you gasp and go completely quiet. then you moan so loud it's almost a scream. a sobbing sort of thing that's absolutely gorgeous to him. on top of that your hips start wildly shaking along with your legs and your pleasure starts gushing out of you

Tommy moans into your juices and gets closer if that's even possible at that point. he shakes his head so he rubs over your clit side to side while he keeps his tongue abusing that spot inside you. and fuck does he get drenched. he swallows down as much as he can of you and whimpers into it. anything he can't get, drips down his face and drenches his shirt and lap

once you come down you realize he's still going and you can't handle it anymore. you start crying more and weakly kicking your legs out which finally makes Tommy look up. he sees your devastated face and while he thinks the sweat mixed with tears and drool, as well as the tortured pleasure in your eyes is a heavenly sight, he listens to your weak pleas

he finally pulls away and you sigh in relief. Tommy stays away from your pussy (as much as he hates it) and spends his time licking your thighs clean. just a minute away from your pussy makes him whimper and look up at you pleadingly. your legs are still shaking and you shake your head at him

so Tommy whines and starts biting your thighs instead, getting closer and closer to your pussy until he's mouthing right next to it. you're shaking and sweating and still losing a coupe tears when he licks flat over your clit once. then your back arches and you gasp, trying not to make too loud a noise

you know if you moan he's gonna start again and you think he might actually kill you that time. he softly licks over your clit again, wraps his lips around it and you slap a hand over your mouth. but Tommy sees your lack of noise as a sign to keep going and starts sucking on your clit. when his teeth graze over it your hand whips away from your mouth to his hair and you yell out a moan that ends with a broken whine

immediately you know you're in for it. Tommy moans happily and grabs your thighs hard once more. he dives into you again and gets back to his sloppy, needy and enthusiastic pace without hesitation. all you can do is moan, whimper and whine as Tommy makes you see stars over and over again

he's obsessed with making you squirt on his face and listening to your whimpers as he tastes you. he loves the feeling of your heartbeat in your clit, pounding against his tongue

sometimes you can't get him off of your pussy until he's had at least a couple hours of his way with you. he's obsessed with your pussy and a single taste makes him entirely lose his mind. he'd do anything to fall to his knees in front of you

he would spend forever between your thighs if it was up to him

your pussy is his paradise and his salvation. every gush of your juices is a baptism of wonder. you are his goddess and he worships you at every turn

#thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt #TCM #texas chainsaw massacre #texas chainsaw the beginning #thomas hewitt smut #texas chainsaw smut #DisastersAreAJoyDrabbles #this was supposed to be a short idea #and then i just couldn't stop #Tommy has been haunting me lately and this just wouldn't stop playing over in my mind #if literally anyone wants this idea more fleshed out and an actual fic lmk #will absolutely write it if only one person says yes #ill probably write it anyways #HES HAUNTING ME AND I LOVE IT

[toxicanonymity]

The Spread

PAIR: Thomas Hewitt x f!Reader

WORD COUNT: 3.5k | MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: You hide and don't get slaughtered. Tommy secretly keeps you. He's kinda sweet if you're good.

WARNINGS: I8+ Canon-typical violence (implied) & setting, captivity, dark caretaking, manhandling, sleeper hold, oral f receiving, noncon unsafe piv, finger gagging, dark fluff, tommy has a praise kink, stockholm syndrome vibes. NO human skin mask: leather partial mask shown in photo. He is feral and naive due to his family. No use of Y/N. Divider by gasolinerainbowpuddles.

SIZE KINK - Reader is much smaller than Leatherface, can be carried and maneuvered. He is 6’5”, thicc and STRONG.

You barely escaped the so-called law man, and your friends weren’t so lucky. They got chased right into the lair of a chainsaw-wielding giant.

“C’mon, Tommy,” the Sheriff encouraged the giant, “Just like the slaughterhouse.”

Heavy chains thrashed, and one of your friends groaned.

“Attaboy,” the Sheriff praised.

While they were distracted, you ducked into a nearby woodshed. You didn't dare go far – you had encountered too many hazards on the property to trust your footing, and couldn't risk calling attention. Instead, you sat there in the shed, paralyzed, listening to your friends get butchered. One by one, their squeals turned animalistic until a wet thwack or rev of a motor cut them off.

Finally, there were no more screams.

Huddled in a corner of the woodshed, you tried to keep your wits about you. The shed was about the size of a small dorm room. There were stacks of wood all around–some freshly cut, some rotted–and hay covered the floor.

You were in a tank top and Daisy dukes with cowboy boots that made you feel like an idiot. You had sap on your knees from crawling over the wood. Taking deep breaths did nothing but fill your nose with cedar - it was only a matter of time before you’d meet your fate. You picked splinters out of your hands as you replayed the chase in your mind. You began to feel sure “Tommy” had seen you run into the shed. If that was the case, you didn't know why he let you go. You could only guess he already had his hands full.

“Think we got’em all, son?” The Sheriff asked.

Tommy grunted.

“That’s my boy,” the Sheriff concluded.

-

Dusk was approaching. Not long after the Sheriff left, heavy footsteps crunched louder and louder toward the woodshed. Your heart pounded harder with each step. The rickety door busted open with a plume of dust. Tommy’s silhouette consumed almost all the daylight that remained.

The door frame would’ve been tall enough for most men, but Tommy had to duck on his way in. He carried an ax. Each step he took shook the entire structure. His breathing was loud, his mouth hanging open below the leather that covered his nose. The partial mask covered his chin too, but not his mouth. It was fastened with two straps behind his head nestled in thick, chestnut hair that came down around his shoulders.

He approached you cautiously and paused when he was an arm’s length away. You whimpered, knees held to your chest. He sniffed around like an animal. Then he brushed a stray section of hair out of his eyes, and you saw a glint of uncertainty in his gaze. You tried to compose yourself, wondering if your fear could trigger him.

He knelt down to get a better look at you. He reached for you, and you jumped. He grumbled and held up a massive finger less than an inch from your mouth, telling you to be quiet.

Something possessed you to reach for his hand. He let you move it.

You put his palm on your cheek and watched his chest heave in confusion.

He tilted his head and stayed crouched there for a moment, staring at you with his brown eyes softening above the leather.

“Attaboy,” you whispered, repurposing the Sheriff’s words.

Tommy huffed, then abruptly stood. He left the shed, ax slung over his shoulder. He ducked again on his way out.

He didn't return for a while. You finally dared to open the door just enough to look out, but not for long, startled by an older woman’s voice calling, “Tommy!!! Time for supper.” You shrunk back into your corner, afraid you had been spotted.

You sat there frozen, afraid to run.

-

Sometime later, you heard a squeaky wheel approach the shed. The door opened more quietly than it had the first time. The hulking silhouette was backlit by a buzzing floodlight in the yard. The man seemed to be more careful and quiet this time. He had brought a few blankets. One of them was tattered, pale yellow bordering what used to be white, and it had Care Bears on it. He put the blanket over your body, coming all the way up to your neck, and patted your head. Then he took a bundle of newspaper out from under his arm and handed it to you like an offering. It smelled like barbecue.

As he turned to leave, you whispered, “Tommy.”

He dropped his head and looked back.

“Thank you,” you said.

Looking at the wall, Tommy offered a short nod before leaving. Then he locked the door from the outside.

After he left, you opened the newspaper. It was too dark to see, but the contents felt like a charred bone with bits of flesh hanging to it. You weren't hungry anyway.

You wrapped yourself tight in the blanket, and to your discomfort, your heart fluttered at the man’s softness with you. You replayed the day’s harrowing events in your mind’s eye and saw him differently than you had at first. Maybe he was nothing but an attack dog. You began to doubt he would've hurt your friends at all if not for the older, more wicked man in uniform.

Maybe Tommy was as much of a prisoner as you were. You wondered if he could talk. You felt sure he could listen.

After sunrise, you awoke to some commotion and heard a vehicle drive away. After a period of silence, you tried to open the door to the shed, but it was securely locked.

Soon, Tommy came back and unlocked it. He moved swiftly toward you with purpose in each heavy step, crouching slightly. The mass of his body strained his shirt. You'd never seen forearms like his. He could surely snap you like a twig, but something told you he wouldn't. Still, your heart raced when he lunged toward you. He reached over a wood pile and used both massive hands to force you onto your feet. He wrapped you in the blanket, then put you over his shoulder like a potato sack.

He put you into his wheelbarrow, then nestled some firewood around you. He looked around furtively as he did it. Then he covered you with another blanket and wheeled you across the bumpy ground, onto a smoother surface. He rolled a garage door down behind you and left you covered in the wheelbarrow as he rummaged around the garage.

You peeked out from the blanket and saw him placing shackles on a table. Your heart raced. You glanced behind you. The garage door was still lifted by a small margin. Maybe big enough to fit through.

You watched in terror as he brought out a mallet. Finally, your body unfroze.

You lowered yourself out of the wheelbarrow as carefully and quietly as you could and crawled toward the narrow opening. As you began to wriggle under it, your ass hit the door, making a noise far too loud to go unnoticed.

Within a split second, his massive hands were firm around your ankles, pulling you toward him, dragging you roughly across the concrete.

He manhandled you like a doll. He forced you onto your back and shook you, then wrapped a massive hand around your neck. Your life flashed before your eyes, and you kicked him. He grunted and grabbed you roughly by the shirt, then sat back on his knees. He held you with your back against his enormous thigh. Your Daisy dukes did nothing to protect your ass from the cold concrete. You thrashed, and he put the crook of his elbow around your neck, then everything faded.

When you woke up, you were chained to the table, with cold, metal shackles on your wrists and one ankle. You were bottomless, and the air was cool between your legs. Your feet were bare. All you had left was your tank top, which you wore without a bra.

You didn't dare move. A foul dust in the air made you sneeze, then Tommy came into view. He was wearing a butcher’s apron, and the sleeves of his dingy, button-up shirt were rolled up to expose those big, hairy forearms. He held the mallet. His eyes were industrious.

“Please don't hurt me,” you begged.

He laid a heavy hand on your shin, and you flinched. He gently placed your free ankle in a shackle, then nailed it shut.

“Please,” you begged.

He laid a hand on your thigh and looked you in the eyes.

“What are you going to do to me?” You asked.

He huffed and put the mallet away.

You were relieved until he returned with a meat cleaver. You tensed and squirmed. He laid a hand on your stomach and his searing eyes told you to stay still. He slid the cleaver under your tank top, and you held your breath and looked at the ceiling. Your nipples hardened at the feeling of his knuckles between your breasts.

He violently sliced upward through the fabric, turning your wifebeater into a vest which burst open, freeing your breasts. He inhaled sharply at the sight and discarded the meat cleaver with a metallic clatter on a nearby shelf.

“Please,” you begged again, then he stuck his fingers in your mouth and peered in. His thick digits tasted like charcoal and salt. Three fingers were enough to stuff the orifice completely. When you stopped whining, he abandoned your mouth.

He cupped a breast, then cupped both of them. He hummed a curious “mm,” Then dragged his thumb down your sternum before stepping away to survey your body.

You felt like a cadaver sliced open for examination. As he slowly stalked around the table, it dawned on you that's what he was doing. He was studying you.

He stopped at a long side of the table – your left side. He brought his face–his leather mask–to your skin, just below your ribs. His hair fell onto your body, and the light brush of it tickled. He paused to loosen the strap at the back of his head. Then he dipped his face to your abdomen again. He turned his head and dragged his cheek, and the leather, over your bare stomach, to your breast. You could hear him desperately sniffing and wondered why he didn't take that thing off.

Lips, hair, and smooth leather dragged across your skin as he wiped his face along your chest. Then his face made its way into your armpit, where a dart of his tongue made you flinch and shiver. His tongue darted out again. He sucked the delicate skin slightly into his mouth before releasing it with a soft grunt.

He paused and pulled away. He pivoted to stand behind your head, then brought his hands to your breasts. Helowered his mouth to your neck and licked you. His hair fell on your nose and smelled like smoke and metal.

He seemed to savor the taste of your skin. He licked longer, harder, the strong slippery muscle of his tongue nudging your jugular. You felt a rush of arousal and shame. He tasted the other side of your neck and hummed in satisfaction. The throbbing between your legs made you wince.

He dragged his tongue down over your chest to lap at your breast. He flattened his tongue to lick your nipple, then began to suckle at it. One thing was clear - this was not for your enjoyment. He was entirely absorbed in what he was doing. He didn't even glance at your face. Whether it was for his pleasure or curiosity, you couldn't be sure. He moaned into your nipple and you knew you must have been gushing onto the table.

After a few seconds, he pulled away from your tit and began to sniff the air. He stalked around the table some more and paused at your shackled feet, staring up between your spread legs. He found the source. His hands dwarfed your thighs as he pushed them further apart. Then he dabbed a thick finger, only grazing your folds as he picked up just a taste of you from the table and brought it to his mouth.

“Mm,” he hummed quietly, staring between your legs. He licked his finger again and his eyes searched the air curiously. Then he grabbed your upper thighs and anchored his thumbs on your outer lips, spreading you open. His heavy gut rested on the table between your feet as he leaned forward. As he lowered his mouth to your cunt, you twitched and felt another rush of shame.

His breath was hot on your cunt, then he dipped his tongue, and you tensed.

He lapped at your entrance, and the physical pleasure made you exhale and relax, while your fear remained. He licked and sucked, and your moan echoed before you could try to cut it short. Your chest was hot with embarrassment, but if he heard the sound, he ignored it.

He fed on your juices like a starved animal. He sucked and slurped, and dug his lips and tongue in, searching for more. The squelching and gurgling sounds were obscene between your legs. He closed his eyes and dug his fingers into your hips as he feasted.

The leather mask nudged your clit and made your hips lift into his mouth. He brought a hand to your lower belly to hold you still. Then his tongue plunged into you. You whispered, “good boy,” and your whole body felt weak with shame.

He paused and glanced up, then repeated the action. It was true, some part of you welcomed this, as afraid as you were. In any case, the heat and pressure building in your gut would have to release at some point.

He fucked you with his tongue, nudging your clit with the smooth leather, and you had to remind yourself to breathe. You'd never been eaten so voraciously. He moaned into your cunt and the tension was too much to hold. You whimpered as you began to pulse and twitch. His tongue paused as you clenched around it. Then he continued. Your back arched as he sucked it all out of you, swallowing every drop he could find. As your climax waned, you took slow, deep breaths.

Finally, he slowed down. He looked flustered for a moment, then his hand disappeared from your thigh. He pulled his face away, and the leather mask was soaked and shiny. Then he took his apron off. When he stood to put the apron aside, the protrusion in his pants made your breath hitch and your asshole flutter.

Your cunt spasmed once around nothing, and your insides churned as though making room for a massive guest.

You couldn't peel your eyes away. He adjusted himself, then palmed the bulge. His shirt had come untucked. The bottom button wasn't fastened, and his midsection strained the other buttons as his whole torso heaved. He eyed the mess between your legs as he palmed himself.

He seemed to be considering the possibility of stuffing your cunt with whatever monstrosity hid in his pants. He could take anything he wanted, but he didn't look proud of it. This didn't feel like something he did every day.

You decided not to fight back. You told yourself it was for survival, but you also twitched at the thought of him wrecking you. You looked at his crotch, then down between your legs, still gushing at the sight of him barely contained by his pants. The way his whole body wanted to bust out of his clothes made you weak in the knees. He was so solid and strong. You looked again from his crotch to your own, as though your eyes were instructing where to put it in defiance of your better judgment.

He grumbled as he picked up a hammer and approached you, making your heart nearly stop.

He pried the nails out of the shackles, and you cursed yourself for the way your heart fell. Your disappointment was quickly replaced by relief. A man this size, with these capabilities – he could have done serious damage to your body.

“Thank you,” you whispered. You laid on the table patiently looking at the ceiling as he went down to your feet and unshackled your ankles.

Then he grabbed you by the thighs and yanked you toward the end of the table, making you yelp. Your naked crotch came to rest flush against the bulge in his pants, making you ache with arousal. Your thighs trembled in fear.

You looked down toward him and he forced your chin upward, making you look at the ceiling. You pinched your eyes shut. You were at war with your body’s desire. He might kill you. He might actually split you in two. The dying squeals of your friends echoed in your mind. But his hardness swelled against you, and oh, fuck.

His hips backed up and you twitched at the loss of his warm package against you.

With your eyes still pinched shut, you heard his clothes jostling, then he spread your lips apart while he notched his tip against you. It was too big. He held your thighs again and pulled you toward him with a forward thrust and a grunt.

Being impaled with his cock felt like being split open. The girth burned as it stretched you, and you whimpered as your body tried to accommodate him. He stayed inside, and he sighed. You'd never felt so stuffed. He leaned forward, and the contact with your clit provided some relief as your body spread itself more. But still, your heart raced at the prospect of him moving. You prayed he would be gentle.

When you didn't stop whimpering, he stuck his fat, smokey fingers in your mouth again. He placed his other hand on your chest to hold you still, with the crook of his thumb close to your throat. You gagged on his fingers and he removed them. He wiped your saliva onto your nipple before kneading your breast.

Thankfully, you were wet and getting wetter. He held you down and slammed into you. The fullness pushed your thoughts out of the way along with your guts. You kept your eyes shut as he speared into you again.

His breathing and grunting seemed to echo through the room with every snap of his hips. His unholy girth twitched against your walls. He grabbed onto your hips and brutally pounded you. He used you like a sleeve until his moans were drawn out and his breath became ragged. He pulled you back hard and leaned forward, the weight of him resting on your lower abdomen. Your cunt fluttered in anticipation of his climax, but he paused. Your hips lifted, seeking friction for your front.

He pulsed once, making your chest flutter with pleasure, but then he swiftly slid out. He left you twitching for more as he finished coming outside. His cum painted your folds and inner thigh, and he grumbled and turned around. You lowered your chin to look just in time for him to release onto the wheelbarrow and floor. Then he stood there with his broad back heaving as he looked around.

You closed your eyes again and opened them when you felt fabric on your inner thigh. He was wiping you off with the bottom of his shirt. His face and neck were blotched pink, and he had fixed his pants. He was looking at you, chest still heaving when his ears perked up at the distant sound of tires on gravel.

He quicky put your shorts back on and gathered you off the table, nestling you in the wheelbarrow once more. He swaddled you in the old blanket, now wet with his cum, and opened the garage before quickly wheeling you back to the shed.

He placed you in the corner where you had been, just in time for the truck to park. As he turned to leave the shed, you said “Tommy. Can you bring me some water?”

He hesitated then gave a short nod before locking the shed again behind him.

He came back later with a jar of water and a metal bucket. You were shivering in the corner when he came in. He set the bucket down next to you, then placed his hand on the crown of your head and gently moved his fingers as he looked around. Then he abruptly began to unbutton his shirt. He pulled you up from the corner to put the shirt on you. His chest was hairy and broad, and his entire torso was thick, just massive.

“Good Tommy,” you said as he finished putting the shirt on you.

He paused and left it unbuttoned. His eyes were big. He held you by the sides, looking you up and down in the oversized shirt and Daisy dukes. Then he put you back where you were and locked the shed behind him.

The shirt was filthy, cumstained, and reeked of sweat, but it didn’t smell as bad as it should've. It didn't make you sick like it should've. When he left, you wrapped it tight around yourself, then looked in the bucket. There were apples.

Thank you for reading and engaging! Love you guys 🖤 please consider commenting even if this is old. It helps to know what you liked.

If you want more, good news - I have more thots! Feel free to send yours, too.

#leatherface x reader #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #leatherface smut #thomas hewitt smut #slasher smut #slasher fucker #tommy hewitt #leatherface x you #thomas hewitt x you #slasher x you #slasher x reader #tw noncon #dark fic #toxicanonymity ☠️ #slasher fandom #tw rape #texas chainsaw massacre #leatherface

[doomh3ad]

slashers + kissing them in panic before they kill you pt2 (including thomas hewitt, ghostface [billy loomis], pinhead)

pt1

Thomas Hewitt

Fear is too weak of a word to describe what is gripping your heart and mind. There's a fucking chainsaw ripping through your friends and you can't do anything; your hands are encased in rope, done by the creepy sheriff you'd felt sorry for at first. You hear the buzz of the chainsaw going again, and again, and again, and even when it's shut off you swear it's still going, in your head, forever haunting you, screaming out to taste your blood next.

You can't tell if you're the lucky one, or if your dead friends are, but you seek salvation anyways. As the man wielding the weapon nears you, you don't scream out, you don't struggle. You look into his eyes and try to find any hint of humanity that may be left.

To your surprise, he looks upset. Like he doesn't want to harm you; his mask has slipped, both physically and emotionally. You reach out a hand, hesitant at first, that becomes steadily more confident as he doesn't withdraw from your touch. You fix his mask into place and, encouraged by what you interpret as happy noises, lean forward.

A strange sensation hits you as you kiss him. Like whole new world has just been opened up to you, like you've stepped into a parallel universe where you kiss the people that are trying to kill you. You don't have much time to think about it, though, as he gently takes your hand and leads you inside the house. You're initially recalcitrant, as is to be expected, you don't want to be dragged back and eaten, but something in your mind tells you that you're safe now.

The family appears to understand the situation instantly. The woman, you think she introduced herself as Luda Mae, smiles brightly at you and speaks in a thick southern accent.

"Looks like Tommy likes you. Why don't you stay for dinner, honey?"

Ghostface (Billy Loomis)

It actually wasn't supposed to be you, tonight.

Billy sometimes ponders the thought of calling you, his hands tracing the scrap of paper with your number and his heart racing.

But never to kill you.

Billy's had a crush on you ever since you gave him that sweet smile in a Bio class years ago, and it's only grown as he matured. Stu pokes fun at him relentlessly - for his reputation of being a player, he sure is hesitant to go after the person he actually likes. Billy knows it's because it would feel real with you, and he isn't sure how far he would go off the deep end if you rejected him, if it was definite. No, he can't have that, so he'll approach you in his more confident persona.

You don't reject his call. You should, there's a killer on the loose and you're answering when a stranger calls? In a friend's house, he supposes, the environment may give you a false sense of security. Safety in numbers, right?

No one is safe from the Woodsboro killer, though, except the one he admires.

Your friend has a quick death after a brief meeting with Billy's knife, and then the killer comes for you. All exits were blocked, no windows, no doors, no weapons. Of course, he never intended to kill you, only to scare you a little, but you don't know that.

So as the robed figure looms over you, you take a leap of faith and press a kiss to the tip of their bloodstained boots. You look up, and Billy swears he's never seen anything more attractive in his life. He pulls you up, making sure you'll stay quiet with a knife to your throat, and covers your eyes.

He takes off his mask, and gives you a lingering kiss, cupping your face with pure tenderness. Billy is almost sad that you can't see the love in his eyes, with yours still covered, but it gives him a warm feeling as he wonders if you'll figure out who he is from this kiss alone.

He leaves you with red lips and a burning curiosity as to why you were spared.

Pinhead

You didn't open the box. Not intentionally, you didn't realise what you were doing. You certainly did not sign up for freaky BDSM demons coming to tear your soul apart, especially their leader, adorned in pins that segment his white flesh.

And, yeah, he's hot, but you do not plan to end up like that. You quite like your skin minus chains and pins. But that won't stop them; they'll kill you anyways, and you can't figure out how to send them back, how to get out of this hell dimension.

You don't hit on a genius idea, some stroke of luck or divine intervention is never bestowed upon you. It's complete and utter desperation that ends up granting you salvation.

In despair, accepting your inevitable death, you wish to go out with honour. You drop to your knees, and after lightly grasping his wrist, kiss the lead Cenobite's hand. Not in greeting, but in farewell.

"Well, my dear, you are interesting. I believe I'll keep you. Go on, run along home, before I change my mind."

His parting words leave your heart beating faster with the knowledge that he'll be back, and you think you'll enjoy it.

#slasher x reader #slasher #thomas hewitt #imelda's writing #horror #slasher thirst #slashers #slasher fic #thomas hewitt x you #thomas hewitt x reader #tcm #the texas chain saw massacre #the texas chainsaw massacre #tcm 2003 #tcm remake #billy loomis #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis x you #ghostface #ghostface x reader #ghostface x you #scream #scream franchise #scream 6 #scream 1996 #pinhead #hellraiser #pinhead x reader #pinhead x you #hellraiser franchise

[villainology]

MDNI pure filth talk below (slight dubcon, degradation, johnny being the bully he is) — Johnny (TCM) okay listen, I just wanted to talk about his cock and how good he fucks you w it <3

johnny is the type of guy to have a nice thick bush that he very occasionally trims, its hairs creeping up his belly and stopping just at his abs, perfectly accenting his sweaty muscles when he’s out in the summer heat working on some cars.

he’s definitely packing at least 7” without a doubt, nice and long, super girthy, veiny, and he even got that slight curve. he’s got that type of girth that makes you hiss through your teeth and whimper every time he bullies his way into your tight hole — it doesn’t even matter how much he bothers to warm you up, you’re still gonna feel the way he stretches you out around him inch by inch.

of course, he loves that though. he relishes in the way you push at his shoulders and try to slide away from him, telling him it’s too much and he’s too big for you :( he doesn’t really care though, leaning down and whispering in your ear yeah that’s right, take it, just take it, darlin’. he always buries himself as deep as he can not even caring if it’s too much for it, his goal is to be balls deep in you every time.

he has two moods when it comes to fucking you, either he only cares about his own pleasure and is using you as a glorified fleshlight (you’ll still come anyway, his dick is just too good) OR he’s gonna torture you with pleasure. the type to not let you come for the longest time, bullying you and degrading you the entire time, calling you pathetic and crybaby when the tears roll down your cheeks and you’re laid begging for him!! once he finally lets you have your release then all he’s gonna do is overstimulate you, he just really loves to see you cry. he’ll occasionally praise you but mostly it’ll be him being a big meanie to you, he knows you and your body too well by now, he knows everything to do to make your toes curl and to have you screaming his name.

#✎ᝰ : delilah writes the texas chain saw massacre #this is just a silly little headcanon but I wanted something posted while I’m writing my fic! #johnny slaughter #johnny tcm #johnny slaughter x reader #tcm the game #texas chainsaw massacre #tcm x reader #texas chainsaw massacre the game #slasher x reader #banner by : cafekitsune

[deathsgl4mor]

REQUEST: "Can you deliver sum Thomas headcanons? like, some SFW but then sum NSFW at the end, ty hun 😚— Also, can I be 💄 anon? If you do stuff like that ofc."

A/N: yes, of course! also, i love the emoji anons, so you'll be 💄 anon now. anyways, thanks for the first ask! i didn't think i'd get one with how little my account is and the such few posts, lmao.

CW: +18 under cut, Hoyt, murder//gore//violence, breeding kink, sexual themes, fluff

SUMMARY: Headcanons for Thomas Hewitt: The Texas Chainsaw Massacre; The Beginning, 2003

{short-ish}

GENERAL HEADCANONS

tommy loves whenever you give him baths, washing his hair and all that. i guess that's just him missing physical affection

is damn sure that you don't get between him and the victims or around the victims in general. he couldn't bear the thought of you getting hurt in the slightest and he'd never forgive himself

he makes sure that you and his mother, miss mae as you call her, get along well. which you do. she's happy she found at least someone for her boy

often times he stays in the basement late but is quick to pay more attention to you than anyone else, immediately going to you if you want him by your side in any way. and I mean ANY way.

NSFW HEADCANONS

is a switch. he doesn't mind whenever you're below him, taking all the pleasure he delivers or if you're riding him as he can't help but be so noisy at the sight and feeling of you being so... generous, let's just say

always has a hand on your hip or breast, if you have them. no matter the position, he'll be grabbing at one of the two. male? he'll just hold onto you by the bicep/man titty ♡

loves the mating press position or cowgirl. still, doesn't matter the gender as the both of them are gender neutral... well... most sex positions are but those are just preferred.

if you're a woman, he's gonna be a little more aggressive with you but that's just cause he needs to finish up and get away from you quicker since if he takes his time, he'll get lost in it and will probably end up fucking you till you faint, or your hole is too filled to fit any more; that doesn't stop him good enough though.

every time he notices his seed leaking out of whatever hole of yours he had just stuffed, he'll finger it back in. even if you're infertile, it just does something to him.

if you're needy while he's in the middle of something, do whatever you need. just don't disrupt his work or do anything when there's company.

THANKS FOR THE ASK, 💄‼️‼️

#texas chainsaw massacre #thomas hewitt #x reader #slashers #slash fanfiction #hefty boy #slasher fucker #much love #💄 #anonymous #send asks #first ask #thanks anon! #thomas hewitt fic

[melodrama-ticcc]

— “ 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐥 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 ” ; 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐈

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐚𝐰

𝘈 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴.

𝙃𝙚𝙧 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙠 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙡𝙞𝙥𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙩 𝙞𝙩.

𝘈 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘛𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘩 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺’𝘷𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘥.

𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙫. 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧. 𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙩 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧.

ʷᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ: ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃⁱⁿˢ ᵐᵃᵗᵘʳᵉ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉⁿᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉᵐᵉˢ. ⁱ.ᵉ. ᵃᵇᵘˢᵉ, ᵈᵉᵃᵗʰ, ᵈᵒᵐᵉˢᵗⁱᶜ ᵛⁱᵒˡᵉⁿᶜᵉ, ᵍʳᵃᵖʰⁱᶜ ᵈᵉᵖⁱᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵒᶠ ᵈᵉᶜᵉᵃˢᵉᵈ ᵃⁿⁱᵐᵃˡˢ, ᵐᵉⁿᵗᵃˡ ⁱˡˡⁿᵉˢˢ, ᵐⁱˡᵈ ᵍᵒʳᵉ, ⁿᵘᵈⁱᵗʸ, ʳᵉˡⁱᵍⁱᵒⁿ, ˢᵉˣᵘᵃˡ ᵗʰᵉᵐᵉˢ, ˢᵘᵇˢᵗᵃⁿᶜᵉ ᵃᵇᵘˢᵉ.

—

The dining table is silent apart from the gentle clanking of silver cutlery against glassware. Gazes wide in stupefaction and nonplus, as the table awaits an answer to the strange encounter they’d just bared witness to. Disconcerted, they watch as she finishes the final bite, scarlet gathering at the corners of her stained lips. The flatware clatters against the plate as she brings the linen napkin to her mouth, patting away the golden crumbs and sticky syrup and blood. She returns the linen to her lap, still wet with the crimson that transudes from the wound on her palm. Finally, Rebecca brings her gaze to meet the guests at her table, a content smile rested on those pretty lips as she finishes chewing her dessert.

The swallow is loud and uncouth, though not nearly as concerning as her current state of mind. She clears her throat as she places a delicate hand over her chest, as if to do so in a defensive manner. There is an uncomfortable silence that fuels the growing tension in the room. Exchanged glances and raised brows only allude to the natural discernment that follows such a plebeian act. In order to cut through the cumbersome silence, Rebecca finds herself attempting to speak up once more, her mouth opening only to be cut off by Johnny, who now rises from his seat. He smiles to the group before his stare befalls her, this time with the necessary intent to oblige her and draw away from the sensitivity of the dining table.

“A lil’ blood never hurt nobody, mind cuttin’ me a slice, doll face?” He plays into her game of make believe, the fantasy that this was some perfect little storybook. That she was the faultless trophy wife of some backwoods redneck neighborhood, or the cover-girl of Good Housekeeping. Whatever game she wanted to play, he’d play it, for she’d piqued his interest. “Sides, I like my sweets a lil’ messy.”

What a blissful thing silence is. That is until it is disturbed by primitive savages like Johnny Sawyer, she thinks. Having had enough of his trivial pissing matches, she too decides to indulge him. She serves him a slice of that sanguinary pie, paired with her chesire leer and a disdainful glare. She leans forward, over the table (an obscenity against basic table manners), and slams the porcelain platter at his place across the table.

“Enjoy.” Her tone is anything but pleasant, it’s mocking, scornful. Evidence that her unsettling grin is nothing but a facade masking her antipathy for the young man.

As he takes the plate she adjusts her posture to stand upright, knife gripped in her good hand as her eyes flicker to the remainder of her guests, and most importantly to her father. “Anyone else?” They’ve all sat back down, and her father, a little skeptical, gives her a knowing look. A warning of sorts. An indicator her show of make belief is drawing to a close, that it is time to face the dire reality and the consequences of her little episode. “Well then, sorry ‘bout the mess folks. I’ll just get this cleaned up.”

The silence is anything but blissful, nothing but the sound of the running faucet and dishes clanking. Any attempt to strike up a conversation is short lived, the table awkward as they share questioning glances and worrisome countenances. Even Raymond, who watches his daughter from behind. His hands clasp together in front of his mouth, elbows resting at the wood table. Before she’s finished, she says something in regard to her temper tantrum, blaming it on some sort of mismanaged anger inherited from her absent mother. Shrugging it off, she offers to try at this spontaneous dinner party another time, with promises to better control her temper the next time around. As if she had something to prove, a redemption of sorts. You’ll have to excuse me, you’ll find I can be quite the model hostess. Just like those women in the magazines!

He sees through her lies and false claims, knowing well the darkness that pools in the wells of her ocean eyes. They glimmer with something sinister, malicious, he knows it. Knows it in the way they lack genuineness when she smiles, or the way they stare daggers at him when she becomes antagonized. It’s amusing really, to toy with her like this. It’s all the sort of confirmation he needs to satisfy his theory.

The remainder of the evening picks up slowly on account of Drayton and Nancy’s small talk. Only before Raymond and Rebecca escort their newfound neighbors out for the night. Good wishes and farewells are exchanged as they wave goodbye. As that front door shuts Rebecca knows she’s in for it, her father turning to watch her with a disapproving utterance.

“You aughtta give me one good reason not to lock you inside this here farmhouse for good girl.”

“Daddy, please,” Rebecca looks frightened, shaking her head fervently as she follows her father into the kitchen like a duckling it’s mother. “It’s just an accident, it ain’t gon’ happen ‘gain.” She pleads with him, the habitual feeling of buried emotions surfacing all in an instant. She never took well to being scolded, it made her manic. Disappointment had not been something she could live with nor fathom, not from her father at least.

“Accident my ass, you ain’t even try to hold back on that boy Becca, goin’ on about a starin’ problem, you’ll get this family torn apart and we’ll have to move out all over again, you want that?”

“Now just what the hell were you thinkin’, boy?” Drayton smacks his palm against the upside of Johnny’s head, a hiss befalling the younger man’s lips as he shoots him a sharp glare. “Eggin’ on that girl — you gon’ get us in trouble just like the last time, not watchin’ that attitude of yours, you snot-nosed brat!”

“You best watch your tongue ‘round my boy cook, ‘lest I do away with you like I did with my husband.” Nancy mocks pointedly, raising her voice in a defensive manner. “Johnny it’s alright, accidents happen, we’ll get anythin’ we need cleaned up.”

“You’ll be in tomorrows stew if you ain’t get that boy of yours in check, he’s lucky her daddy ain’t raise no fit!”

“Get it together, I know damn well you ain’t wanna be the reason we pack up shop a second time.”

“Daddy, I swear it I’ll fix it just, I ain’t like that boy! He don’t mean well not one bit.”

“That girl, she ain’t right, in the head. I can see it. I feel it.”

“You keep that big mouth of yours shut ya’ heard me boy? Goin’ on about a young filly like her bein’ crazy or sum’, all cause you got trigger happy and fiddled with her temper.”

“Shut the damn hell up cook, you ain’t know shit.”

“Why you shithead,” Drayton groans, pulling on Johnny’s ear to bring him down to his level. “You listen to me boy, I ain’t wanna hear ‘bout this again! You apologize to that girl and that’s that. Don’t go causin’ anymore trouble, stay away from ‘er after that. Dumbass.”

“Hey! Get ya’ hands off my boy!” Nancy thwacks Drayton against the head, “I told you my Johnny ain’t do nothin’ wrong.”

“She ain’t right, y’all just don’t see it yet.” Yet.

“That boy ain’t do nothin’ to you, you makin’ up stories again girl. Ignore ‘em if he bothers you so bad. But you owe him and those Sawyer’s an apology, I ain’t about to loose some good ole’ fashioned neighbors over this drama of yours. You’s an adult, act like it young lady!” His voice is loud and angry, enough to quell her incessant arguing and disdainful thoughts.

“Yes, daddy. Anythin’ you say.” But he just ain’t all that nice.

Growing up in rural Oklahoma wasn’t all that much different than Texas. You had your farms; cattle, dairy, poultry, sheep and goats, and crops; mostly wheats and hays, corn, cotton, oftentimes sweet potatoes. They were fairly similar geographically, grasslands and flat plaines with the occasional hillside. Their people each had a certain southern charm to them, hospitality and benevolence at the heart of their every interaction. Texas was considerably more sizable than Oklahoma, though. And their people often outfaced one another on account of petty rivalries.

For Rebecca, much of the same had been true. Her father was a cattle farmer in the small sub district of Skiatook, settled right up on the outskirts of Tulsa. She was born on that farm and raised an only child with a hard working father and a transient mother.

Maggie Payne had an influence on her daughter that would far outlive her. Both negative and positive ascendencies, though the bad far outweigh the good. Rebecca remembers how as a young girl it was expected that she be the prim and proper southern woman, like something out of Gone with the Wind or Oklahoma!. Free of scandal or transgressions. A perfectly polite little lady with impeccable manners and a faultless smile. One wrong move would be met with the smack of her backhand across the cheek. A painful sting a young Rebecca would become accustomed to in her adolescence. Despite an ever longing curiosity for playing in the dirt and aiding her father in tending to the farmland and it’s animals, she remained indoors. A prime example of what a young woman should become. Maggie would teach her daughter how to be the picture perfect housewife, ensuring that one day, she’d make one lucky man the happiest alive.

Yet, Maggie would become the prime example of what an abysmal wife would look like. Haunted by the notion that she had been destined for a life of stardom and limelight, she resented her daughter for her beauty and grace, condemning her to a life of servitude as a homemaker, wed to a man to dictate her livelihood just as she had been. As time would pass and Rebecca’s beauty would continue to burgeon, Maggie’s treatment would only grow worse, as would her addiction to heroine.

Rebecca remembers watching her mother spiral into a life of despair and forlornness. Watching as she would bring home some backwoods tramp and fuck him in her own marital bed. She remembers watching the same man beat the shit out of her for stealing his dope. Remembers how her mother would sob something ugly and blame Rebecca, only so that she would get her ass beat in the same fashion. She remembers how her mother would cry when she’d catch those men with another woman, when they’d leave her for that other woman. She remembers watching her mother asphyxiate on her own vomit, multiple times. Remembers how she would help her mother’s lovers turn her over just so that she’d keep breathing. Remembers contemplating what would happen if she hadn’t saved her, how much life would have improved if she’d of just let her die then. A part of her wishes she did.

Years and years it would happen, time and time again, and as Rebecca blossomed into the fair lady she has become her mother’s vanity and envy only grew. As did her pathetic excuse for a life. Until Rebecca herself would become the woman of the house, tied to her father in the same manner her mother was supposed to be.

And then she remembers the day that all just stopped. A day of liberation and tranquility. What’s only two years ago now felt like an eternity of well-being compared to that hell on earth back in Tulsa.

It was hard to pinpoint how the move had affected her. Living in Tulsa had become much too difficult for her father, who struggled with the gossiping townsfolk in that small farming community. The result of a scandal of that nature became a heavy burden to withhold, and when he’d told her they’d be starting anew in Texas she knew exactly the reason behind his brash decision. But there’d always be a piece of her left in Oklahoma that she’d never get back. She didn’t have any friends or relatives to miss, they’d all left the moment her family went to shit. Yet, the thought of abandoning a childhood home to come someplace new was heartbreaking. To leave what was so familiar and comforting, a place that was supposed to be a home. Rebecca always worked hard to make it that way, but it was never really hers. She could never shake her mother’s hold in the place away. It would always be the home Maggie built, never mattered what Rebecca did.

Starting anew meant she had been given the opportunity to make her own home. In a place that was truly a blank slate. No influence from her mother, she could begin from the ground up. It would be a place where her talent and passion would truly shine, and she’d flourish in it. She always knew she was meant for homemaking.

That’s precisely what she had set out to do, too. Over the next couple weeks, Becca worked at making that big piece of farmland a beautiful little home. With the inside furnished and made to look neat and pristine, much like you’d see on advertisements or the newspaper. It was some sort of rustic chic, warm toned tans and browns combined with the clean-cut look of pure white linens. She’d adorned the place with flowers and photos, even went as far as to cut Maggie out of them all. Her favorite was kept over the fireplace in the den, a photograph of herself at six years old. Her hair done up in curls as she poses in a frilly white gown. She loved it. She’d always wanted to be a bride.

The exterior was where the real work had been needed, though. As Raymond prepped to take in herds of cattle in the coming weeks. Rebecca often found herself out there chopping wood or fixing up fences or troughs. She was always good with an axe, ever since she was a child and she’d sneak out to help her daddy. The wooden handles always felt so natural in her grasp, and she knew if push came to shove it would become a deadly weapon in her hands. She’d taken it upon herself to explore the land, too. Those adventures had led to some intriguing encounters. There had been dead animals, lots of them. Mangled and bloody with their innards torn out from their torsos, as if something had ripped them out with a knife. Miscellaneous scraps and bones, she’d even find some of them arranged in odd sorts of contraptions. Something used to catch the wildlife in the area, she was sure. For a few of them had even had dead bunnies or foxes in them. Half rotted and decaying with maggots crawling from their flesh. She’d clean them up and dispose of them properly, tossing the carcasses and bone scraps in the garbage for pickup on Tuesdays.

On several occasions she had run into the Sawyers. She’d catch Nancy working out in the fields or gardening in a luscious sunflower field. She never said hello. Similarly, Drayton could be seen snooping about the place and stealing glimpses of the work she and her father were doing. He’d watch, and usually when he realized he’d been caught looking he’d offer her a thumbs up and a cheeky grin. Only to scurry off back to his own property, presumably. They never really said much. Only came and went as soon as they’d been seen. As if they purposefully avoided others. She’d chalked it up to them being recluses, homebodies unaccustomed to others in their neck of the woods.

Sometimes, she’d exchange looks with a younger looking lady. Drayton did mention there were others. The woman’s blonde hair tied neatly in a bun, she wore some sort of black dress, much too short to frolic around in like she did. She’d prance about the yard giggling, and Rebecca did find her laugh annoying. In order to save face she would always smile and wave when the woman would look towards her. That woman never wove back. Only ceased her incessant laughter and fled like she was afraid. She supposed that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, though.

She’d often catch glimpses of shadows in the windows walking through the Sawyer residence too. There always seemed to be movement in there, like they were always up to something.

Then there was that Johnny.

He never stopped staring. Watching her like a cat would a mouse. He was persistent and tenacious, eerily concerned with her every move. Like he was waiting for her to slip up. Oftentimes he’d stare for a time, and just when she’d had enough, she would turn to yell something from across the field and he’d be gone. Then there had been the time at that swimming hole, too.

Someplace back behind the farmhouse and past the grasslands, a hillside dipped into a pool of warm spring water from the melted snow in winter. When she’d found it, she had been out looking for dead trees to cut down for wood by her lonesome. She set the axe down against an old stump before taking the initiative to undress herself down to her ivory undergarments and dip into the water. It was pleasantly chilling, a refreshment from the intensity of the blazing sun. She’d float there for some time, unbeknownst to his lingering gaze.

Her womanly figure captivates his audience. Caught in some eery trance by her half-naked body. Gentle curves glimmer in the blazing sun above, glowing like a true deity. Her midsection toned and tight, it contorts with her every movement. Teasing him with each careful gesture she makes, flaunting herself as though she’d known she was under his watchful eye.

It was only when she stepped out to redress that she caught glimpse of his familiar figure a short distance from the place. Her head snaps back round, this time sure she’s caught him red handed.

“The fuck you think you doin’, get lost, hood!”

“My my, don’t we act different when the old man ain’t around.”

Her anger seethes out of her, radiating in fiery hot waves from her tanned skin. Her stare is grisly, sliding into her bell bottoms as she buttons up the top.

“I’ll have you against this here blade if you don’t watch it boy, what’s your quarrel with me?”

“Ain’t know we couldn’t share the swimmin’ hole-”

“I ain’t dense shit face, now what the fuck you want, eh?”

“Ain’t you a pleasant one, tch.” He moves closer, approaching the water’s edge on the opposing side, and spits into the hole. “I ain’t know what you bitchin’ ‘bout, best calm yourself, wouldn’t want to burst that temper of yours.”

Rebecca grits her teeth, grinding them like gears. She loathes him, would love to blow his brains out right there — no — that’s too quick. She wants to split him in two with an axe.

“Alls I wanna know is why you think I ain’t notice that ugly outburst of yours.” He laughs, “you know, I’d hardly call it a temper tantrum.”

“Would’ya shut your trap? Fuck off and leave me alone, how ‘bout that?”

“Now it ain’t very gracious of you to not answer my question, after I so kindly obliged your own. S’not very ladylike.”

“Nah. I wanna know why the hell you starin’ at me all the damn time. Ain’t that momma of yours ever teach ya’ not to stare. Tsk.” She slips her blouse back on, “I’ll saw that pea brain of yours right out that head Johnny boy, you best watch it.”

“You dumb bitch.” Johnny only shakes his head, he doesn’t laugh or smile. He’s angry, more aggravated that she’s so attuned to his routine. “You’s a thorn in my side you know that? Can’t ya’ be like all the other girl’s and keep your mouth shut. Ya’ know most would love to have a man like me look at ‘em the way I do you. But you’s just won’t budge. Like to play hard to get.”

She didn’t like that, not one bit. Her hands ball into fists and she all most wants to do it, picking up that axe from the ground and gripping it in her hand. She can feel the uncanny urge to fillet that man in two. To do away with him, teach him a lesson he won’t soon forget. That habitual feeling resurfaces and she can feel herself about to snap. Just like she had at supper weeks before. She imagines what it would be like to have her way with him, slitting that thick neck of his and cutting up those veiny arms. She has to draw herself from her cognitions before she’s too far gone, the thought of it makes her all too giddy. “You wanna meet the devil boy? I’ll go tell that family of yours what type of man you’s really is.”

He only laughs, ugly, it’s an angry laugh. The tone of his demeanor becoming darker, deeper. “Ah, you pretty handy with that there wood splitter ain’t ya’? I seent it myself. Go ‘head, try it. I know you ain’t right in that there head of yours girl. You wanna chop me up? I don’t think that fits in your lil’ life of make believe. But go ‘head, come over here and swing at me, see how far that gets ya’.”

“Just what you think you sayin’ huh? You’s as stupid as you are oblivious. Boys like you ain’t no how to take a damn hint. I catch you starin’ one more time I swear I’ll be on your doorstep with a loaded shotgun.”

“Oh, so you’s that type?”

She doesn’t know what he’s insinuating but it sure ticks her off. She has to stop herself from loosing her composure, her deep breaths hitching in her throat as she begins to shake. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Johnny, whose pleased to see his tactics getting to her. Though still, she’s affronted his typical suave self and brought out his aggravation.

“You ain’t nothin’ but a spoiled man child used to gettin’ whatever he wants. Go back to momma and cry ‘bout how I made you upset, go on, get!”

“There it is, come on baby, come hit me!”

“I ain’t into greasy boys with momma issues, hood, tough shit. Get ya’ act together, ya’ look desperate.”

Rebecca turns to walk away, a scowl etched into those pretty features as she hikes up the hill. She may have been enraged, but she knows better to keep her head. Especially after the lecture her father had given her following her last blown fuse.

Her footsteps are an indication of that intense feeling of hatred and disgust, heavy and furious. She walks off in a heap of rage, only to leave behind an indignant and frenzied Johnny, who turns to stab his foot in the dirt with an irked yell.

She didn’t see him again after that, at least not what she could tell. But Johnny was always there with her in one way or another. She was certain he had continued to watch her, she’d known what his crepuscular gaze felt like, how it made her feel. Like she was completely and utterly vulnerable. That’s what she’d hated about it.

He reminded her of the men her mother often brought home, only more clean and cutthroat. But he was only the devil using the guise of an angel. He was the type of man that used his pretty face to prey on innocent women and break their hearts, the type to destroy a girl’s life or ruin marriages. She execrated him for it. Detested him with every fiber of her being. For his actions and egotistical behavior only proved that.

Rebecca would press on as normal after that encounter, working in the hard sun and traversing the land. She often found herself loosing track of time, Raymond calling her in for the night when he felt she’d taken work too far.

One night she had strolled down to where their edge of land bordered the Sawyer’s, nearly stepping on some metal footing that buzzed with an electric charge. It surprised her surely, but she’d found the concept to be an oddity. Electric exits and an antisocial family, they were a peculiar type of people. Though she’d chalked up there unusual means of defense as a way to keep their livestock in and the wildlife out. It made sense in a way, despite how eccentric it might have been.

She found that entire family to be anomalous, riding the line of what is socially standard and what was entirely bizarre. From their unconventional practices to their perplexing behaviors, it was something that hadn’t made a whole deal of logic. Nothing like what normal southerners would do or behave. The cause for concern was minimal, yet enough for Becca to keep a close eye on her surroundings and arise suspicions of those backasswards neighbors of theirs. Especially Johnny, who’d been the driving factor behind her cautious approach.

For about two weeks her routine remained the same, with little to no deviation in their crude ways and no sign of Johnny aside from the persistent feeling of leaden eyes watching her from afar. That she had been thankful for, but it would seem just as she’d let her guts down there that feeling was again. The eeriness of being stalked. It only strengthened that ugliness she felt for him. In that time the radiator on the pickup had blown too, leaving both she and her father without any proper means of transportation. Something she was looking at fixing in the coming days. But it was yet another thing to add to the aggravating headache that was this fixer-upper.

She had found herself out in the front of the house, splitting wood to fix the damned fences once again. Sweat beading on the flat of her forehead and dripping down the length of her face. She’d wipe her brow with slender fingers, the action pointless as the salt continued to fall into her eyes. Burning and stinging, but she’d keep at her labor despite the inconvenience. Muscles flexing and pumping full of warmth each time she’d swing the axe over her head. It would hit the log below with a crack and clunk. The sound of wood splitting in two and falling the ground, or the blade of that weapon smacking into the stump beneath it. It was a simple but tedious task, spanning into the long hours of the afternoon. After doing so for days though, time passed quickly and the labor barred no difficulty to that of cleaning a house or cooking supper.

She supposed she’d been too absorbed in the work, so much so she hasn’t noticed the sound of quick and heavy footsteps coming up the drive. Dirt kicking and rocks scratching against the boots of a man she’d yet to meet. He stood there from a fair distance, watching her work.

It was a spur of the moment thing, a momentary epiphany of enlightenment. She’d only stopped to wipe that damn sweat from her forehead, and happened to catch the image of a tall, wide figure standing up the road that led to the house. All most as soon as she’d seen it once, she’d snapped her head back to catch it again, and there it was. The man wore a mask of some sort that veiled his true features, a mask that looked much like flesh. Ugly and sinful, stitched together by the careless hand of a terrible seamstress. He donned a yellow apron, pink and red splatters fading on it's front. But perhaps the most striking thing of the image had been what he was wielding, a chainsaw.

#melodrama #johnny slaughter #texas chainsaw massacre #tcsm game #tcsm #johnny sawyer #johnny slaughter x reader #johnny tcm #johnny sawyer x reader #texas chainsaw game #horror #horror blog #vintage horror #classic horror #slash fic #slashers x reader #slasher x reader #slashers #slashers x you #the texas chainsaw massacre #johnny tcm game #johnny slaughter x you #horror lover #slasher blog #dead by daylight #dbd imagines #dbd bubba #dead by daylight x reader #dbd x reader #johnny slaughter x oc

[fry-house]

Drayton's the guy who gets pissed off when the kids bring home a pet because dammit they don't need another mouth to feed, only for the pet to quickly imprint on him because he's the one who actually feeds and cares for it, and he ends up loving it despite himself

Chop Top: I thought you didn't like that cat

Drayton, giving the cat a bowl of meat scraps: I don't

#in the fic im writing the sawyers have a cat named Cow (black and white) #and a cow named Cat (short for Catherine) #drayton sawyer #nubbins sawyer #texas chainsaw massacre #Cow kinda hates the twins because they're loud #she and drayton regard each other as equals #and she's nice to bubba - lets him pick her up and haul her around

[bitterpotionn]

To everyone who still posts Johnny content/fics , just know that I see you and I obsessively read every Johnny fic I see. I LOVE YOU!! Keep our man alive!!

#johnny slaughter #johnny tcm game #texas chainsaw massacre #tcm #tcm game #I’ve been meaning to put out some fics I’m just so burnt out right now #i fear my Johnny obsession has been dwindling since TCM feels kind of lack luster at the moment #we need more frequent events/updates part of me thinks the devs want it to die

[babiebom]

Question

Are any of the Johnny girlies into dbd ghostface? Because I have a really good fic idea that’s an au that involves both and all I need is one yes for me to write it brother I’m so excited makskskaksnkxosmaksos

We’re ignoring all of the billion wips I have okay they’ll be worked on eventually maybe……..

#Tcm #texas chainsaw massacre fic #texas chainsaw massacre game #Texas chainsaw massacre #johnny tcm #tcm johnny #johnny slaughter #johnny sawyer #dead by daylight #dbd #the ghostface #ghostface #dbd ghostface #danny johnson #jed olsen #danny jed olsen johnson #slashers

[gxthicwxrm]

The Beginning Of The End: Chapter 2

Pairing: Johnny Slaughter x fem!reader, platonic!Sissy x reader

Summarry: the aftermath of chapter one

Please enjoy and let me know how yall feel about this series.

------

Laughter echoes in your ears as your heart pounds against your ribs. With your feet stabbing into the ground, you see a barricade ahead in the narrow tunnels. Speeding up your movement, you jump to dive over the obstacle, the feeling of a metal object gliding across your back as a stinging radiates from the spot before you crash into the ground. Before you can gasp for air, you pull yourself up and keep running, looking for an exit, when you see a metal door wide open, only a few steps away.

Freedom.

Panting, you push yourself hard through the door before slamming it close behind in, in the face of your attackers. With your calves burning, you run up the stairs in sets of twos. When you are on the landing, you look around at a creeping kitchen and a hall leading to the front door. Much to your surprise, the front door was open as well. Hesitating, you looked around, thinking it was a trap, and saw no one. The sound of a metal clashing on metal causes you to start running again, flying past the front door and towards the exit in the distance. 

“I’m going to get out of here!” You laugh as you pass a fence when a short woman jumps at you.

“Hi there!” She laughs loudly, slashing her knife towards you as you jump out of her way when you turn and see two men rushing out of the house towards you.

Run.

---

A loud bang wakes you up, startling you as you look around your room and spot Sissy dropping cardboard boxes onto the hardwood flooring. It’s been almost two weeks since you’ve woken up with no memories, and you’ve spent most of them knocked out on painkillers and herbs Sissy has been giving you. Surprisingly, sleep has allowed the burns on your limbs to heal under the salves, and wrapping Sissy would religiously change. Luckily, in the last few days, you have been able to move out of your bed without pain, which has allowed you to start navigating your home.

“Do ya like?” Sissy says, holding up a light blue short sleeve dress with a white lace trimming. The fabric had tiny white daisies spotted throughout the piece. It was stunning. With a smile on your face, you nod as you turn to get out of bed, but Sissy drops the dress and rushes to your side, helping you even though you don't need the support anymore. When you took a step, your feet no longer radiated with pain, and you were starting to feel normal. 

“I love it!” You gush, picking up the discarded dress and holding it to your frame. Warmly, Sissy smiles at you, a light shining in her eye as she squeals.

“I knew you would!! Well…Put it on.” She gestures towards the nightgown she has lent to you. Pausing, you look at her, holding the thin dress fabric in your hands as you glance towards the open bedroom door. 

“But, what if-” You start.

“What? We are family. No one is going to see you. Put it on.” She says convincingly. With a nod, you agree, putting the dress on the bed before pulling the silky white fabric over your head. The cold breeze from the opened window perks your exposed nipples, goosebumps washing over your naked body. Scrambling, you grab the dress and pull it over your body.

The neckline was low but not enough to cause concern. The fabric rested inches above your knees and flared slightly at the waist.  The material was soft against your skin.

“Turn around.” Johnny’s voice causes vibrations through your body when it cuts through the silence. As if you were on autopilot, you obey and face him. There’s a mirror on the wall Johnny is leaning against, a toothpick in his mouth. Catching your reflection, you are shocked when you see how nice you look. 

“Thank you, Sissy. It’s beautiful. Where did you get all of these?” You say, not turning away from Johnny as he smirks.

“You’re welcome, doll! I’ve just collected them over my travels. There’s plenty more in the box. Some other stuff, too!” Sissy giggles, jumping around like a child. 

“It looks…gorgeous on you, darling. Now, I have to head to the shop with Nubs. I’ll be back later, okay? Sissy, let her help you with dinner. I’ll see you in a few hours.” He says with a kiss on your cheek before disappearing into the hallway. The display of affection shocked Sissy as well as yourself, as Johnny has been in the background, always lingering but not talking to you and hardly interacting with you if he could help it.

Turning to face the blonde - a wisp of yellow hair, spots of red, the shine of metal in the moonlight-- the imagery takes you by surprise as you stubble backward, reaching your hands out to steady yourself as your eyes find the other woman. Sissy comes to your side and guides you to the bed when you stop her.

“I’m okay. Just turned too fast. I want to see what else is in the box.” You smile, convincing her the searing images that slammed their way into your brain and the pain that accompanied them were nothing more than a misstep. She smiles back before dropping to her knees and pulling the box to her, then yanking out clumps of fabric before finding what she was looking for.

“Ta-Da!” She sings, holding out three nail polish bottles: bright red, light purple, and dark blue. “I want to paint your nails. Do you want me to? I know you do. Do you?” Sissy bounces on her heels impatiently. 

“Only if I can paint yours, too.” You giggle, feeling a warmth fill your chest as you feel safe with Sissy. The two of you spent the evening painting each other's nails and playing dress-up with all your new dresses. Time has flown by because Sissy glances at the clock and mutters a ‘shit’ before placing the dresses and novelties back into your box.

“Come on, hon. Time to get dinner ready. Lucky for us, it will just be the three of us tonight.”Her words bring your thoughts back to Johnny. He’s been gone most of the day, occasionally peeking his head in the doorway before disappearing again. You didn’t mind; he was giving you space, which was what you needed to process your memory loss and these horrifying nightmares. 

Dinner was easy to prepare, a simple shepherd's pie. Johnny stood by the door, watching you as you moved around Sissy, chopping and sauteing vegetables while Sissy seasoned the grounded beef. Homemade mashed potatoes rested on the stove. Using a washcloth, you wipe sweat from your brow before putting it in the pocket of your apron. Glancing to your side, you catch Johnny’s eye, giving him a sweet smile before mixing the meat in the sizzling man. Much to your surprise, he smiles back. Sissy washes her hands before walking past Johnny.

“I’m going to set the table. Y/N, you’ll know when to put it together.” Sissy called as she went into the next room. Johnny steps in and leans on the counter beside you. Silently, he watches you cook, inching closer to you as you flatten the vegetables and meat into a casserole dish, putting the mash on top and popping it in the oven. Turning to face his towering form, you look up at his features, studying the curves of his nose and the many scars you figure came from working on cars. Subconsciously, your fingers trace the scar across his cheek, him stilling under your touch before leaning into your hand when you cup his face.  

Once you realize what you are doing, you pull away, but Johnny stops you. Wrapping his strong arms around your body, he pulls you against his frame. One hand brushes your arm to your neck before grounding itself in your hair, tilting your head gently to face him.

"You do look gorgeous in that dress." He says, brushing a lash from your cheek. " I missed you today. Couldn't wait to get back home to you." He grips your hip softly before holding you tighter.

"I missed you too. I hope you had a good day. Sissy showed me a bunch of cool stuff earlier. I'd love to show you after we eat. If you'd like that." You say timidly, suddenly worried he wouldn't want to spend time with you. He waits a moment before nodding.

"Yesh, I was thinking about taking you home to our place. You know, now that Sissy doesn't need to watch your every move." He jokes, but the words have an edge to them. "We could go after we eat. Would you like that?"

"Yes! Yes, I would. Oh, I've been waiting to see what our home looks like. Maybe some memories will come back when I see our things." You say, giggling as you peck his lips. "I can't wait until you can have some of this pie. I think it's the best I've ever made, at least all I remember making." You joke with him, winking as you push against his body with a smile. 

"I could just eat you up; you are so delicious." He whispers, his eyes holding yours as he lowers his lips to yours. "So fucking delicious." 

His lips are soft and wet against your own, lighting a warmth in your body as your hands find his hair and his hands roaming over you. Heat flows over the two of you like a cloud, and your only thought Is getting his shirt off of his chest when someone clears their throat, causing you two to break away and adjust yourself before turning to face Sissy.

"Get a room, you two. Move, let's plate up." Sissy announces, pushing past the two of you and grabbing a plate. Whether you remember them or not, this is your family, and you accepted them like they did for you.

---

After the three of you ate at the dining table, you helped sissy clean up while Johnny grabbed the items Sissy had given you and placed them in his truck. 

"Thank you for being so welcoming and understanding. This is all so…crazy, you know?" You say, hugging her into your side once you've dried the dishes, placing them in the cabinets. 

"Oh, doll. Of course. You are the sister I never had. I'm just happy you are finding your place in the family. It's nice to have a pal around." She says, holding your cheek before squeezing you. 

You hear Johnny walk into the kitchen, but Sissy doesn't pull away, almost crushing you, but you accept her hugs as a thought hits you. 

A recipe for pecan pie. Instantly, your mouth begins to water despite your full stomach. 

"Oh, for the next dinner. Could I make a pecan pie? I loved it when I was little and used to make it with my granny." You clap your hands happily as you look between the two siblings. They are both still, staring at each other intensely as if they are speaking in a way you can't hear.

"Yes, baby girl. You can make whatever you like." Johnny says before grabbing your wrist and slowly taking you to his truck with Sissy following. 

"Let's get going," Johnny says, moving towards his door before he stops, turning around, and opens your door, waiting for you. Hugging Sissy goodbye, you tell her you'll see her tomorrow for a picnic, receiving a squeeze and a squeal at the announcement.  

Walking towards Johnny, memories of the kitchen warm your core as you stroll over to his spot against your door. 

"Thank you, gentleman." You hop into your seat, adjusting your dress while Johnny shuts the door and seats himself before roaring the engine to life. 

The drive was short; you were minutes before driving past the white picket fencing. There's a massive house that Johnny passes, following a trail toward a single-wide trailer in the house's backyard. 

"Who's house is that?" You say, opening your door and hopping out as Johnny kills the engine, coming to your side. 

"Just some old lady. I…pay her rent." He dismisses, pulling you toward the door of the trailer.  Opening the door, Johnny walks in first before grabbing a few shirts from the coffee table and throwing them to a chair across the room. The place wasn't messy, just disorganized. A few deer antlers hung on the wall, making you cringe away. He leads you to the shared bedroom before grabbing your face and pressing his lips to yours. 

Without thinking, your hands grip his hair as you fall back onto the queen-sized bed. Johnny's hands roam all over your body, pulling your legs around his waist as he grinds his growing erection against your core, sending electricity through you- waves of pain hit you as the air is knocked from your lungs, dirt breaks your nails as you move along the ground, sinister laughter rings in your skull- with a gasp, you pull away. 

"What the fuck? Are you okay? What just happened?" Johnny's brow furrows as you feel over your body, feeling no pain like you did moments before.

"I-I don't know. I, uhm, I think it just might be happening too fast. I don't think my mind can keep up." You try to laugh the awkwardness away but just cringe at yourself. An angered look crosses his face before he quickly replaces it, looking up at you.

"We can take it slow for tonight. But maybe this will be the best way to gain your memory back. Okay?" Johnny says, and you agree with a smiling nod. 

"Okay. But tonight, we sleep.  I am spent." You say, peeling off the dress before throwing on the shirt J hands you. Silently, he removes his cut shirt and jeans, leaving his boxers on before pulling the covers over himself. Quickly, you join him. 

He lays beside you, stiff as if unsure what to do, unnoticed by you. You wrap your arms around his frame and wrap a leg over his waist, laying your head on his chest. His rigid muscles soften under your touch, and he wraps his arms around your shoulder, pulling you closer while he sinks into the bed, and you sink into him. 

#johnny slaughter fanfic #johnny slaughter imagines #johnny slaughter x reader #johnny slaughter #johnny tcm #johnny sawyer #johnny sawyer imagines #johnny sawyer fanfic #texas chainsaw massacre fanfic #texas chainsaw massacre game #texas chainsaw massacre #tscm #slasher fic #slasher fandom #slasher imagines #slasher x reader

[bloopinggenius]

Idk if this has be done before or not but to all the writers who do hcs and fics, can someone PLEASE do a fic or hc on Thomas Hewitt. Like this is a request. So basically the reader and Thomas have been dating for a a short amount of time (maybe a couple weeks) and she finds out about their cannibalism. She is filthy, roll in the mud kinda rich so she offers to buy and endless amount of normal meat like enough to last months possibly a year. Maybe she would even buy a whole butchery shop.

Can we please get the family's reaction to it like is it positive, negative you know the works. Please. Also tag me and can the reader also be black. There can be variations of readers.

#thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt x y/n #thomas hewitt x you #luda mae hewitt #texas chainsaw massacre #hcs #fic stuff #fic ideas

[nightttoon]

Thomas Hewitt x reader

It's part two. Well... Part one

Warning! gore, blood mentioned, killing mentioned, still no romance. Enjoy!

His house

You don't know how long you've been sleeping. Just like you don't know where you are. Disorientation quickly turned into panic when you realized the sound from which you woke up. Scream. A cry of pain, somewhere nearby. The scream is loud, as if someone is being skinned... And the voice is like Billy's. The hair stood up in horror when the memories of the gas station came flooding back to you.

Trying to sit down, you found that you were tied to the table leg by your hands. And the legs are tied at the ankles. The screams in the background are overlaid by the sounds of a chainsaw. No... No. No! The scream became so loud that you were ready to swear that your eardrums would burst. How painful. It hurts everywhere, but most of all it hurts your wrists, which you desperately pull, trying to break away from the table. The damn table is just shaking.

Then everything stopped. You didn't even realize that you were screaming yourself until that moment. Silence. Like in a cemetery. It was interrupted by light, quick footsteps. To your horror, you realized that the footsteps were approaching you. You didn't want to meet anyone from this damn place.

It would be better if you worked in a damn bar on the edge of town for the rest of your days than what is happening now! Why did you agree to this "journey" at all!?

Tears rolled from your eyes from the memories of your quiet life. Life before you agreed to the trip. Your then-serious problems seem so simple now. You would give anything to relive those worries again, just not what is happening now.

Your hysteria was interrupted by a woman's calm voice and the touch of a wet cool cloth to your forehead.

"Silly, you woken up. You are pale as death, and forehead is cold. And so dirty..."

the woman said, wiping the dirt and blood from your face. She's obviously not young anymore, but she can't be called too old either.

"Thomas treated you carefully. Your friends aren't so lucky," the woman said after finishing washing your face.

What the hell is she talking about?! You no longer have the strength to cry when a woman begins to gently stroke your hair.

"You know.... I've always wanted a daughter," She mumbles, moving her hand to your face to stroke your cheek.

Daughter?! Is she crazy?!

You wanted to keep crying, run as far as possible, wrap yourself in a blanket and believe that it was just a dream. But the pain in your wrists and the reality of her touch confirmed the opposite.

"Behave yourself, and maybe you'll live longer," the woman said, finally pulling away and walking away from you. All you had to do was fight with the ropes on your wrists. But it didn't lead to anything.

Judging by the light from the window, it's been several hours. It's gotten a lot darker, and you're still on the floor, tired of crying. How you hate it.

Heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway, making you tense up. God, you're willing to lie on a dirty floor, just not these bastards.

A large dark figure appeared in the passage. It's him... The one they call Thomas.

You were shaking when he started to approach. No... no. It's your turn. Are you really going to die like this?! You don't stand a chance against him. You are hurt and scared by your own weakness.

You wanted to live. You wanted to see a family, maybe get a dog or a child in the future... But right now, you were willing to die quickly, just not to be the next one whose screams would echo throughout the house. And you had a feeling that it was this guy's fault. It's his fault that one of your friends was in pain, and the blood on his apron and hands only confirms this.

Judging by the light from the window, it's been several hours. It's gotten a lot darker, and you're still on the floor, tired of crying. God... How you hate it....

Heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway, making you tense up. God, you're willing to lie on a dirty floor, just not these crazies.

A large dark figure appeared in doors. It's him... The one they call Thomas.

You were shaking when he started to approach. No... no. It's your turn. Are you really going to die like this?! You don't stand a chance against him. You are hurt and scared by your own weakness.

You wanted to live. You wanted to see a family, maybe get a dog or a child in the future... But right now, you were willing to die quickly, just not to be the next one whose screams would echo throughout the house. And you had a feeling that it was this guy's fault. It's his fault that one of your friends was in pain, and the blood on his apron and hands only confirms this.

You froze when Thomas came closer. Your brain and body are so exhausted that you can't kick anymore when the giant unties your hands from the table and throws you over his shoulder. Where is he taking you? Thomas went into the hallway and then up the stairs to the second floor.

He doesn't know why Luda wanted to leave you alive. Yes, you're pretty, you resist a little and cry quietly, without annoying Monty. But why would they need someone else? He himself could help with all the housework, even with the "female" part. And Charlie got angry again. Although he did not argue, Mom's word is the law.

Lying on his shoulder, you hopelessly watch as the front door goes out of sight, being replaced by the floor of the second floor.

Thomas brought you into a room that has a bed, a closet, a small table and a chair. The giant carefully seated your shaking figure on a chair, tying you with ropes.

When he was sure that you were tightly tied to chair, Thomas looked up at you. Your eyes, red with tears, filled with fear and pain, looked at him. Nothing new. You sniff, trying to breathe evenly so as not to burst into tears again. Your skin looks so soft... Thomas raised his hand to stroke your cheek.

You twitched at his touch. Fingers rough from daubs and physical work stroke your cheek, lightly pressing to feel the texture better.

He would give anything to have his face like that. Or so someone's eyes looked at him without fear, with tenderness, like his mother.

He looks at you like a wet kitten that was picked up on the street. Like if he was ready to defend himself at any second, shocked, but so glad that you didn't run away. Not that you can.... Or maybe?

Requests are open! I don't know what to write... :(

#thomas hewitt x reader #thomas x reader #thomas #thomas hewitt #texas chainsaw massacre beginning #texas chainsaw massacre #x reader #x reader fic

[doomh3ad]

Brahms has a praise kink and Tomas likes when you wear his shirt and nothing under it

SO SO TRUE ! anon ur so right

slight nsfw mention

brahms wants to be the best boy for you, he lives for when you reward him for behaving (wink wink) and he'll pout if you aren't paying him attention he's like "hey pls look i'm doing something super good rn 🥺" and he's literally just washing one (1) singular cup

thomas just coming up from the basement where he's been chilling and killing after a long day and seeing you in your room just with his shirt on... he's no longer tired, racing to close the door so he can show you precisely how gorgeous you look in his clothes <3

#horror #slasher x reader #slasher #slasher fic #imelda's writing #brahms heelshire x reader #brahms heelshire #brahms the boy #the boy #the boy 2016 #imelda bullies brahms #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #texas chainsaw massacre #the texas chainsaw massacre #the texas chain saw massacre #leatherface #leatherface x reader #slasher thirst #slashers