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#thomas hewitt leatherface
galactic-spectre · 2 years
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Some behind the scenes of Texas Chainsaw Massacre The Beginning and the 2003
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valluvslana · 7 months
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:3
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itsbeesknees · 7 months
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Things that are better than sex:
1. when a masked character does the head tilt thingy
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impeakcharacterdesign · 5 months
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Just the Tip
— Thomas Hewitt x Fem!Reader —
MDNI!!!
Summary: It’s the 1960s and Luda Mae frowns upon premarital sex like any good Christian woman. You and Tommy are young, hot, and in love but the only problem is that Tommy was raised to wait until marriage and never lets you two go any further than kissing and some groping.
But the devil lives in the hot Texan sun and even God takes a break from the summer heat.
Notes: this is super short, just pure smut, self indulgent I’m obsessed with big boy Tommy 😭😭😭 i swear I’m working on part 2 of my sister Sinclair fic but Tommy has me in a choke hold and I needed an outlet.
No TW that I can think of other than bad smut and maybe ??? Coercion??? Cause Tommy wants to be a good boy and stop before y’all go too far but you flash him and then he’s absolutely 100% in. A bit of religious stuff, period typical sexism but vaguely. Let me know if I should add anything else and I’ll get right on it. Reader isn’t ever referred to using “she/her” pronouns but is described as having breasts and does have female genitalia so I tagged it fem reader to be safe
Enjoy!!!
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The early morning sun burned, chasing away what little cool air remained of the night before. While the barn shaded you from the unforgiving sun and hid you from disapproving eyes — or lecherous in the case of the older men of the family — it also trapped in the heat your two bodies gave off.
Thomas pressed his open mouth to your own, tongue swiping over your teeth eager to taste you. Your hands gripped his dark hair, ruining any half-effort attempt he had made earlier in the day to smooth down his unruly hair. He held you in his arms, body pressed tightly against him in an attempt to get as close as possible, his large frame hiding you even further from prying eyes than the shadowed corners of the old barn. The kiss was deep and hungry and served as a brief respite from Luda Maes ever watching eyes. While she had been fine with you living with the family before you and Tommy were married, she forbade you from sharing a room or being intimate, a rule she absolutely refused to budge on and one that Uncle Charlie took a strange glee in ribbing you about. But much like the Texan heat, the heated looks you gave each other were unavoidable and only grew hotter as the summer days went on. Luda Mae wanted to wait until the following spring to make your union official but at the rate the town was drying up, there wouldn't even be a priest to officiate the ceremony, much less any guest to attend. You highly doubted anyone outside of the family would want to witness your union anyway but still, Luda Mae didn't want the few who would to get wise and start counting months.
These stolen moments in the barn were as good as you could get — and by god were they good.
Tommy’s large hands groped at your breasts, pawing roughy at your nipples through the worn fabric of your old dress. It wasn’t long before you found yourself in the familiar position of being sprawled out on the barn floor, coarse hay a discomfort you had long learned to endure for the sake of pleasure.
You desperately thrust your sex up onto his growing bulge, whining when he groaned and pinned your hips with his own, preventing you from getting your desired stimulation. “Please Tommy,” you beg, lips separating, “We don’t have to do too much, I just wanna touch you.” You press open-mouthed kisses to his neck, pulling softly at the flesh with your teeth and tongue dragging across the bites to taste the salt on his skin. Your hands eagerly worked to untuck his faded green shirt and wrap around him, roaming the vast expanse of his back. His whole body shuddered in your arms, an attempt to hold back from eating you whole.
You know Thomas will put an end to your romp soon, the tense lines of his shoulders and the way he shuts his eyes a sign that he's reaching his limit, that if you two don't stop now you won't be able to stop — but that’s exactly what you want.
You're tired of holding back, of this constant edging you have to endure when you’re in his presence and it gets harder every day. Just yesterday afternoon, Uncle Charlie sprayed Tommy with the hose, telling him that he was filthy and needed to get out of those clothes before he went inside. Watching as he undressed by the back door so that you could put his clothes on the line to dry had nearly given you a heatstroke — and if Charlie’s leering grin was any clue, you swear he did it on purpose in an attempt to rile you up. You ran off before you sinned right there in the yard, the memory of Thomas's shirt clinging to his arms, his chest glistening with water had kept you company well into the night.
So before Tommy puts a stop to your roll in the hay you make your move. You lift your dress up past your breast and expose yourself to him, you can see his breath stutter in his chest, this was quickly becoming the farthest you two had ever gone.
“Just watch me, Tommy, watch me,” you say breathlessly.
And he does, he sits on his haunches like a predator, his engorged cock straining against his pants and imagining just a taste has your tongue darting out to wet your lips, his gaze fixated on the movement.
Sliding your panties off your legs, your fingers dip briefly into your wet hole, gathering slick to rub onto your clit. At the very first touch, you let out a shuddering breath and you watch as his shoulders heave.
You begin rubbing your clit at an intense pace already turned on from the earlier heavy petting, not once breaking eye contact with Thomas as you do. With each moan you muffle you see his eyes grow darker with desire breathing with his mouth open as though he could taste your scent in the air. When he finally lets his cock spring free you let out your loudest moan yet. It’s better than you ever thought. His cock is thick and heavy, drooping slightly under its own weight but still undeniably firm. It curves slightly and you imagine that if it was inside you it would scrape against your walls in a way you've never been able to do with just your fingers.
Thomas grips his cock firmly and gives it a few tugs, eyes alternating between hungrily drinking in the sight of your blissed-out expression and your dripping pussy. You buck your hips, desperate to press your clit against your fingers and Thomas jerks his length even faster, rubbing his tip and spreading his precum on his hand.
God, you wished it was you that was touching him.
Thomas settles onto his knees and after a brief hesitation begins to shuffle closer to you. The sight of him crawling to you on his knees with his dripping length in hand made your pussy clench around nothing and you let out a whimper. You remove your fingers from your clit, feeling the heat radiating from his cock as he settles on top of you, legs spreading around his waist, your hips slightly raised and resting on his thighs.
The tip hesitantly pressed against your clit and your moan fills the small space before you can suppress it. This was better than you were hoping and it felt as though you were pressing against the boundaries the lord had set for you. Tommy’s eyes find yours looking for reassurance, asking without words, “Do you think this is okay?”
You find enough comprehension in your lust-addled brain to come up with a coherent answer, “It should be fine, I think,” you stammer out, “I mean, it’s not like — not like you’re putting it in so, it should be fine.”
You’re not overly familiar with the word of God outside of Sunday services and Luda Mae’s lectures, both of which you were forced to attend and spent tuning out in favor of watching the sweat build on Tommy’s brow while he worked through the window.
You think that if God could feel the weight of Thomas like you did, feel the heat like you could, you think he’d forgive the sin of your act.
It seems like that was all the reassurance that Thomas needed because no sooner than the words fumbled their way out of your mouth that he begins to drag the length of his cock against your slit.
God, if this is what hell was supposed to be like, burning and full of decadence, then perhaps you didn’t mind being a sinner.
The way he ruts against you is euphoric. Heavy breaths escape you both and you can’t help the words that spill from your lips.
“God, Tommy, I wish you would put it inside me,” you whine out “‘wanna feel your fat cock in my pussy, wanna get filled,” you might as well be begging at this point, and Tommy's increases his pace to the point that you think he wants the same thing, that he’s desperate to thrust into you rather than against you and —
And then the tip of his cock catches on your entrance and you both stop breathing.
“Maybe — Maybe it doesn’t count.” You stammer out, “It didn’t go in and it’s just the tip, and I don’t think that the tip counts” With the slightest twitch of his hips the tip of his cock has slipped inside.
"It's - it's just the tip it's fine” Your words sound empty even to you but the reassurance is all Tommy needs to push forward and let the head of his cock slide into your welcoming heat
His soul nearly leaves his body when he feels your raw pussy on the head of his cock. He jerks his length furiously and your fingers begin to move against your clit again, eager to meet your high with Thomas.
But it’s not enough. He was right there, right there just one push of his hips he’d be right where you needed him
“Please Tommy” Canting your hips slightly so the tip begins to dig deeper into you, you begin to plead once more, “wanna feel you fill me up, wanna remember the shape of your cock please”
Thomas feels years of control break at your words and with one swing of his hips, he bottoms out instantly. You feel like you've been punched in the gut as the air rushes out of you and you let out a sound like a wounded animal. Tommy stays still deep inside you, shaking and heaving, absolutely drunk on the feeling of your soaked walls clenching vigorously around his length.
You feel full in a way you've never thought possible. His length throbs, its girth stretching you in a way that burns.
When he finally starts thrusting, you’re not ready. He’s like a man possessed, solely focused on the feel of you around him, your skin pressed against his, his blood pounding in his ears.
“Wait— Tommy, ah, slow — slow down, oh god!” You can’t hold back your moans and he can’t stop, both fully engrossed in the feel of each other with no control over your own lust. Thomas crashes his lips onto yours in a halfhearted attempt to keep down your moans, it’s sloppy, clashing teeth and drooling tongues, spit escaping your lips, unlike any you’ve shared before.
This is completely different from what you’ve imagined your first time together would be like. It’s not your wedding night, you're laying on the dirty barn floor and there’s absolutely nothing gentle about the way Tommy is ravaging you. Your pussy is sopping wet and with every thrust, it lets out an embarrassing squelch, your juices and Tommy’s pre-cum leak down your ass and make a sticky mess in his dark pubes.
He doesn’t stop even as your walls spasm around him, cumming on his cock and digging your nails into his strong back. He works you through your orgasm even as your mouth clumsily forms the words to beg for him to slow down or to give you a moment. It’s too much, the sensations completely overloading your brain and all you can do is hold on tightly to him, lost in the ecstasy of your release.
Thomas lets out a deep, guttural groan as he cums, hips stuttering as he bullies his fat cock into the deepest part of your sex, filling you to the brim and your vision goes white.
Boneless, neither one of you makes a move to separate from the other, so thoroughly satisfied and content to lie where you are holding each other, Thomas’s softening cocking slipping out of you and spilling his release onto the ground.
His weight on you is comforting, you gently press kisses to his face and bask in the way his heavy breaths caress your sweaty skin.
“I love you.” You whisper into the shell of his ear and he squeezes you against him, repeating the words in his garbled voice the best he could. Your love is just for the two of you, no one else had a place in your world, no one else had the right to peak in on your affection or gawk at your differences.
This moment in time was just for the two of you.
“Thomas! Where the hell are ya, boy!”
Well, until Uncle Charlie’s voice brought you back down to reality.
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kitsudolly · 9 months
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Me at 3am reading slasher fanfiction
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nauticlills · 3 months
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Thomas?…..
Without black background
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clearmarinaa · 6 months
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if i see anyone else drawing bubba or thomas skinny i WILL lose it. there's no such thing as "character misinterpretation" on this case, theres NO FUCKING WAY you see these men as skinny.
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how do you fuck up so bad
if you want to draw hot skinny man then go draw brahms whatever-his-name-is-spelled or something
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thesillyestwilly · 6 months
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Me when I see my little princesses 🥰😍 (They are full grown men and most of them are mentally ill and would probably kill me if I got near. The others aren't even human 💀)
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konigsmissedbeltloop · 8 months
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slasher: stabs me my ass:
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creepswrites · 11 months
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Dear, writter
May i've a request for Thomas hewitt, Bubba Sawyer,bo Sinclair, Lester Sinclair, and Vince Sinclair, With a hot wife fem reader, I want to see their life being a father to a hot fem reader. Because that is my dream. 💫Fluff💫
Please.... Your writing is so gorgeous 💋💋 master 🌹🌹🌹
Thank you so much
From your followers:
@kawaistrawberry21
awww i'm glad you like my writing!! hopefully you enjoy this :D
SLASHERS with a F! S/O who is their hot wife
THOMAS HEWITT
Everyone in town was shocked when you and Thomas got married
Thomas included but he never said anything about it
His family thought you were way out of his league, Hoyt was never afraid to comment on this to your face
But you love Thomas, he was a good man
So when he'd finally, finally, proposed to you, of course you'd said yes
When he found out you were having his child? He was over the moon
Luda May was almost as overjoyed, already making arrangements for the baby's room, making clothes, etc
She couldn't wait to be a grandmother and Thomas couldn't wait to be a father
When the baby's due date was getting closer, you could tell Thomas was nervous about if the baby would come out looking like him
But you reassured him that, no matter what your baby looked like, you would love it the same way you loved him
He was good with the baby, so gentle and patient, always happy to help when it cried
If Hoyt ever tried to give either of you a hard time, Thomas actually violently defended you, sometimes tossing Hoyt across the room with one arm
He'd never let anything hurt you or your baby
BUBBA SAWYER
Like Thomas, everyone was surprised when you and Bubba got married
Though his family were far more excited about it! After all, their brother was quite the catch
You got along well with his family even before you moved in, with Chop Top and Nubbins always commenting to Bubba how lucky he was to have such a hot wife
It always made your husband get all flustered, babbling soft nonsense. He was cute
When you got pregnant, Bubba and the Sawyer family were over the moon
Family was extremely important to them and they were happy for you and Bubba
When Nubbins made a very ugly little hat for the baby, you accepted it but told him gently it'd be too big for their head but that you'd grow into it. He was excited about that prospect
Chop Top and Drayton helped Bubba set up the nursery so you could just relax
And when the baby was born, Bubba was so scared of holding something so fragile and precious
But you helped him, guiding his arms to hold the baby, and he was in shock and awe
He'd never thought he'd get married, much less to someone as gorgeous as you, and have a child together
Bubba was a nervous father, usually letting your kid get away with anything so you had to be the rule-setter when it came to the kid
His brothers were menaces when it came to babysitting their niece or nephew
But both you and Bubba were happy. He'd protect you both, no matter what
BO SINCLAIR
Honestly? This was a major win in Bo's mind
If you think he doesn't show off for you, you're wrong. That man takes every opportunity to
He also definitely flexed to his brothers about scoring the hottest wife ever
Of course, his brothers were very nice and respectful with you, though Bo wouldn't let them be too friendly
He's got a jealousy streak
Whenever visitors arrive to Ambrose, he's always got his arm around you or bragging about you when you're not around
He's whipped, you've got him wrapped around your finger
But when you tell him your pregnant, you're shocked at how scared he becomes
Of course, he doesn't show it visibly, but you know your husband and you can tell when he's nervous about something
Eventually, when he starts trying to pull away from you, you corner him and make him talk
Some yelling and fighting ensues but he caves, confessing he's scared he wouldn't be a good father. I mean, he didn't exactly have the best role model and he didn't want you or your babies to suffer for it
But you reminded him you were in this together and he'd relax a little
You had twins, because of course you did, but this only seemed to make Bo all the more anxious
He didn't exactly... know what to do with a baby? He'd never really been around infants so he's looking to you for help on this one
When they're a bit older though, he'll let them hang out in the auto shop with him when he works
One day you come home to find him asleep on the couch with the twins curled up on his chest and you just melt
He's a good dad and a good husband
VINCENT SINCLAIR
Vincent was shocked you'd said yes when he proposed
He didn't consider himself attractive in the slightest but you said yes?!
I mean, you were stunning, he'd stared at you constantly even when you were dating and it certainly didn't stop when you were married
Bo and Lester were definitely jealous, teasing him to see him get flustered over how lucky he was
Unlike Bo, when he found out you were pregnant, he was excited
Nervous, absolutely, but everyone is nervous when they're having their first kid
He's so wary for you though, nearly had you on bedrest the entire pregnancy because he feared the worst
One time he caught you standing on a chair to reach something and he nearly had a conniption
But the twins came - because of course they were twins - and were healthy and beautiful
Vincent is so gentle with them, like they're the most precious things in the world to them
He makes little wax sculptures for their room to decorate it
Definitely encourages and supports creative hobbies for the kids! He gets them finger paints and crayons and the like
You've woken up in the night because of the babies crying but Vincent is already up, ready to help
Vincent's mastered carrying them both with an arm each and its very cute
Sometimes you catch him holding one of the twins and humming softly to them as they sleep in his arms, just swaying together in the kitchen
You feel so lucky but he feels even luckier to have you and your kids
LESTER SINCLAIR
Lester is by far the most... stable? So you'd been instantly drawn to that about him
He'd always get so flustered, bringing you flowers and blushing like a madman while you were dating
It took him the longest to propose to you though, he always felt like you were waaaay out of his league
Visitors came and would gawk at you and he'd feel a twinge of jealousy at the reminder that yeah, you could have anyone
But he did propose to you and you said yes because you wanted him, not anyone else
Neither of you had any shame in PDA, often holding hands or kissing in front of visitors
You lived with Lester and Jonesy in a little house on the outskirts of the town, surrounded by trees and very peaceful compared to the horrors of Ambrose
It had actually been Lester who suggested having a kid or two running around. After all, he had two older brothers so he was used to that business in a house with lots of people living in it
Over time, the two of you would have two kids, but they weren't twins
Lester was a good dad too! He was attentive and loving but he didn't let them get away with too much
He'd teach them how to shoot when they were a bit older because it was a fond memory he had with his own dad
Of course, Lester didn't have the best dad to draw comparison to
But at least he knew what not to do. Surely that counted for something?
You'd come home from working a short shift to find Lester and the kids playing in the backyard, running about with Jonesy as they played soccer
Both you and Lester would do anything for your kids and you knew he'd do anything for you
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matchavtea · 1 year
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idk what to caption anymore 
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littlenightma · 4 months
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Run, Rabbit, Run | Thomas Hewitt x Female!Reader (NSFW)
Author’s Note: *slams post button* Here you go, sluts *evil cackle*
Warning tags: Primal kink, chase kink, breeding kink, lots o’ smut.
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The Texas sun kissed your sweat-soaked skin with a harsh pressure of a thousand blow torches. His heavy breathing and roaring of his chainsaw pushed you forward, to keep going no matter what stood before you, but the persistent throbbing between your legs teased the resilience of your rapidly depleting willpower.
Miles separated you from the farm house and separated you from the rest of civilization. Oceans upon oceans of rocky dirt, dying grass, and the occasional road kill were all that could be seen.
The radiating sun, which had been sitting proudly in the sky to the East, now sat lamely in the West beginning to hide beyond the horizon. The ivory moon would force away its suffocating heat, providing the barest of illumination, increasing your chances at escaping.
A small part of you wished the sun would stay out and light up the world just a little while longer.
“You’re so polite for someone your age. You remind me so much of my boy Thomas.”
“If he’s anything like you, ma’am, he has to be the sweetest boy around.”
He was a six foot tall mountain of muscle and power, running with the determination of a blood hound tracking the scent of a wounded animal. When you thought you had successfully outsmarted him by suddenly changing directions within the tall, golden thickets at the last second, he’d still be barreling after you, unphased, no further than he was before.
There were moments, fleeting as they were, but impressionable nonetheless, where he had been so close to getting a hold of you. So close, the slight breeze from his hand attempting to grab your hair raised your skin, sucking the breath from your chest as you narrowly dodge him.
And that made things even more thrilling.
His grunts of frustration were muffled by his mask and the tight curve of his bottom lip. The lip jutted out awkwardly and looked as if it had been stung by a bee the way it was swollen.
Deformed.
And this deformed man was coming after you.
To him you were an outsider. A pest that needed eradicating. Even though his Mama willingly invited you into their home, he made you feel as if you were trespassing anyway. He wanted to kill you then and you were sure as shit he wanted to now, probably more than ever seeing how you keep escaping him.
She’d had asked him to keep you alive so assuming that he’d follow through with her request, your life would be spared, but for what sick reason? Would death be more lenient than what they had planned for you?
Of all days for your tire to blow out…
“Here he comes now,” said the woman, smiling expectantly as the basement door opened and out from the darkened staircase came Thomas.
The boy, no man, stood protectively behind the older woman. He placed his hands on her shoulders, watching you with narrowed eyes that were partially covered by a curtain of black, curly hair. To you, they looked like snakes ready to strike, and so did he.
His nose and lower half of his face was covered by a worn, leather mask that wrapped around the base of his head with thick straps. It looked uncomfortable to wear as it was was to look at.
He was not pleased to see a stranger sitting in his living room and you wanted to sink deeper into the faded couch and disappear. Maybe if you pushed against the cushions hard enough.
A muffled scream came from the basement. Luda Mae glanced up at her son then back to you. Your back straightened.
“What was that?”
She smiled, yet it didn’t quite reach her eyes, “Nothing, dear.”
Again, the basement door opened, and out came a man in a Sheriff’s uniform. Fresh blood splattered across his chest and arms, trickling down as he sauntered his way into the room.
“Who in the hell is this pretty thing?”
Time slowed down and so did your breathing. All three had you pinned with various stares ranging from curiosity, understanding, and searing contempt. You weren’t going to risk it. You jumped from the couch and hauled ass out the door, leaving a trail of dust behind.
“Son of a bitch,” said Hoyt. “Boy, go get her before she causes us any trouble.”
Luda Mae grabbed Thomas’ hand. “Keep this one alive, baby. She’ll be good one to have around.”
Thomas wanted to argue his Mama’s odd request, but the sweet smile she gave him and the gentle way she held his hand made him reconsider. He didn’t want her, that’s for damn sure, but whatever his Mama wanted, she’d get.
In the midst of your recollection you realized it was ominously quiet behind you. Peering back, he was no longer running after you. I’m fact, he wasn’t there at all.
You spun around, eyes frantically searching the desolate landscape. He didn’t just vanish into thin air, not a man of his size, yet he had. The weeds danced and suddenly parted, revealing him on all fours as he pushed himself off the ground, propelling into you with a gut-wrenching force, knocking you onto your back.
His full body weight had you pinned, flattening the dry brush beneath you. His barrel-chest heaved and his hand wrapped around your neck, squeezing. As frightened as you were, a strange sense of relief washed over and the instinct to raise your hips overtook you.
He tried moving away, but your legs locked him in. You awkwardly shimmied your shorts down and he watched you. His anger dissipated, replaced by hunger the more of your thighs he saw.
You captured his curious gaze, “Look how wet you made me.”
Your hand reached down and massaged your aching pussy through your sodden underwear. You were a mess, physically and mentally, and if you didn’t get fucked soon you were going to go rabid.
“Thomas, please. Don’t make me beg for it. You know what I want.”
Hearing his name revved him up like an engine. He could practically smell you through his mask. Your pussy glistened beneath the moonlight and he was more than willing to comply. With one hand still around your throat, he used the other to hastily unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants.
He roughly pushed your soaked panties aside and thrusted roughly inside you with a loud grunt. It was swift and had you not been as wet as you were you knew it would have hurt more than it did. You gasped and cried out, pounding your fist to the ground. He fucked you like an animal. It was exactly what you’d been yearning for and if felt so fucking good to finally get it.
His hips bucked with a mighty strength, sending you backwards every time. It made it hard for him to keep himself inside you without having to adjust his position. He scooped you up like a rag doll and pinned you against a tree, folding you between it and his body. The change in position was too much as the angle allowed him to reach new depths inside you, hitting spots you never knew you had, sending you over the edge.
Your climax arrived so suddenly that it left you silently shaking and clinging to Thomas. Your pussy clamped down like the jaws of a lion and he growled, spilling his seed inside you from the tightness.
He laid you both down on the ground with your back to him. You took the time to catch your breath and settle down, but Thomas had other plans. He raised your top leg in the air, spreading you wide and began pumping again.
“Slow, Thomas. I’m really sore.”
Not thinking he’d actually do as you asked, you were surprised at the gradual way he eased his thick cock back into your pussy, keeping a close eye on your face. Although you were too spent to cum again, you nestled back against his chest and idly enjoyed his thrusts.
“Just like that, Thomas. Oh…”
His head was right there and the temptation to kiss him was too good to pass up. Soft lips met his through the mask and he jerked back, stopping his movements altogether.
“God, don’t you stop, Thomas. Your cock is too good. Come back here.”
You wrapped an arm around his head and he let you bring him back down. This time he kissed back, licking and sucking your lips like they were made of chocolate. You were in absolute bliss, not thinking clearly, lost in a haze of euphoria.
With his mouth full of you and you full of him, he groaned a guttural sound that didn’t sound quite human. Your pussy took his second load with open arms, milking every last bit of him he had left to offer. You broke the sloppy kiss to watch his cock pulse and his balls twitch, finding it super erotic.
His cock left you open and wide. You clenched your walls and streams of his fresh cum gushed out. You swiped some and brought it to your lips with Thomas watching in clear fascination. You then offered your finger to him.
He titled his head and inspected the leftover fluid. After some time of pondering his tongue tentatively flicked out, considering the taste, then placed your entire finger in his mouth. He sucked until there was nothing left to suck except the saltiness of your skin.
Using the tree as a support, you carefully maneuvered up. Everything was sore, from your head down to your hips and the simple task of bending down seemed impossible. In an oddly sweet gesture, Thomas gathered your shorts and helped you put them back on.
“You know,” you began, eyes twinkling mischievously, “It’s a long way back to the house. Who knows what could happen on the way there.”
Thomas made a sound caught between a chuckle and a scuff. He watched you strut away, eyes glued to your bouncing ass.
His Mama was right. You were worth keeping around.
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toxicanonymity · 1 month
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The Spread
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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katteethh · 7 months
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pookie <3
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phntmeii · 7 months
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♡ Dating Thomas Hewitt Headcanons
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❝ I often ask myself, 'What makes a man a killer?' ❝
[ SFW + No Gendered Terms]
General Warnings: Mentions of Murder, Slight Stockholm Syndrome, Hoyt being Hoyt
A/N: Congrats to Tommy for winning the last poll for headcanons :) I love this man sm. I scour the entire internet just for fanart of his body he's so soft and aaaaa !!!
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🔪 Tommy is unfamiliar with romance entirely. The most he'd gotten to know of it were stories from Luda Mae during childhood but he never got to experience it himself.
🔪 And the mention of what a "man does to a woman" by Hoyt wasn't appealing to him in any way. Tommy just focused on providing for the family and ignoring what Hoyt said.
🔪Then, a new set of victims made the mistake of running into Hoyt and Tommy was to do his job. Yet, for some reason, he couldn't help but stare at you when he brought you down to the basement and rather than running, you clung to him instead to hide from Hoyt.
���� For once, he wanted to protect you while Hoyt yelled at him to just kill you. But, everything was different this time. Someone willingly approached him rather than screaming.
🔪 Tommy was firm in his decision, towering over Hoyt as his own silent threat to keep you around. And so he did. While he couldn't speak to you, he tried his best to care for you despite you now being a prisoner in a home of cannibals.
🔪 He'd carefully place a plate in front of you and then just sit and stare at you, waiting for a reaction or for you to eat. Telling him you don't trust the meat in the case that it's human has him confused because they taste fine to him? But since your stuff was taken from you, Luda will just buy other foods for you to eat with your money.
🔪 In truth, Tommy is just as scared of you as you are of him. He doesn't want to upset you in any way because for once, it seems like he has a friend. An attractive one too. He waits for you to be more comfortable around him.
🔪 Tommy is a light sleeper so he'd have you sleep in his room with him. If you were to try and sneak out, he'd be right there to stop you. But, it's not like you have much of a way to sneak out anyway since he is completely clung to you in his sleep without realizing it. It's as though you were his pillow or plushie to cuddle during the nighttime.
🔪 When Luda noticed the way Tommy treated you, she would whisper little things he could do to impress you or make you happy. She always wanted him to find someone, especially since Tommy had his struggles.
🔪 He gets nervous when trying to do some of what Luda suggested because it felt like he was a little boy again. A little lovesick boy. But he’s a mama’s boy and knows Luda is helping him. He'd approach you and hand a flower to you, just as she suggested, hoping that it works to make you happy.
🔪 Some days, you’ll wake up to find a little note in your dresser. It’s in poor handwriting but you can tell it’s from Tommy. He picked it up from what Luda used to do—Leave notes in his lunch each day.
🔪 The first note you got had some drawings on it. You could make out smiley faces and hearts. The only legible words on the note was “I LOVE YOU”.
🔪 Tommy is very careful around you since he's aware of his size. He tries to be like a gentle giant, although, he can default to being too gentle, treating you as though you were made of glass.
🔪 He's scared to hurt you. After all, that's the only thing Hoyt has him do. Gods forbid if he did hurt you in some way, he'd slink away into the basement to avoid being around you. He would need some coaxing to understand that you're okay.
🔪 Overall though, Tommy is an absolute sweetheart. He's very attentive and willing to do whatever to make you happy. And he's also very easy to please! He's been taught to be happy with the minimum so anything besides that immediately makes him overjoyed.
🔪 Tommy's favorite thing to do is hold hands with you. He's self-conscious over the fact that his hands are scarred and rough but he can't help but be an internal mess at the electric touch between you two.
🔪 Sometimes when he's upset with Hoyt's constant yelling and berating, he'll toss you over his shoulders like nothing and bring you outside with him so he can cool down with you.
🔪 He finds solace in you. You'll find how Tommy will just sometimes stare at you because he's admiring your appearance. He has a particular fascination with your eyes. He finds it hard to look at them directly but when you aren't looking at him, it's all he can focus on.
🔪 One thing about Tommy: As much as he can be sweet, he still is a brutish murderer. Any victims who even catch a glimpse of you are his first targets.
🔪 It can be almost unnerving how easily Tommy can switch like that. To be so gentle with you to becoming a murderous beast towards anyone else.
🔪 One quick way you’ve seen Tommy get upset is when he heard Hoyt talk explicitly about your body. Hoyt did it specifically to make you uncomfortable as that is what gets him off most.
🔪 But his grin was quickly wiped off by how Tommy turned around and stared down Hoyt. He didn’t have much restraint but decided to simply pick you up and leave to his room with you. His silent threats spoke for him.
🔪 He also has a tendency to be paranoid about you staying. He makes sure you understand that this is your home now. He is your family. You wouldn't leave him alone again, right?
🔪 Tommy isn’t that hesitant to never take off his mask but he is around you because of his insecurities. He knows what generally attractive people look like considering the victims he’s caught before and knows he doesn’t look like that.
🔪 He grows more accustomed to having his mask off when you aren’t afraid to kiss and caress his face. You couldn’t be lying about that when your touch was so sweet and gentle with him.
🔪 Tommy’s main Love Languages to give are: Acts of Service and Quality Time. He loves to receive in return Quality Time and Words of Affirmation.
🔪 Tommy likes to go out of his way to do things for you because he likes to feel useful to you. Anything he can do to help you out and he’s rushing to help.
🔪 Any errand around the house he immediately takes up so he can hear you praise him for it.
🔪 If he sees you working, he’s made it a habit to get you tea or lemonade. In the mornings, he’s used to waking up early so he’ll let you sleep in and surprise you with breakfast. Before bed, he has a whole ritual for you before going to bed.
🔪 Pulling back the covers, making sure the pillows are cold and plumped up. And once you walk in, he’s planting kisses across your face, picking you up and tucking you in while he gets in beside you and holding you close.
🔪 One of his favorites to do is when you ask him to pick something up for you if it’s too heavy. When you compliment him for being strong, he’s barely letting you pick anything up anymore because he wants to hear you praise him more.
🔪 Tommy also just generally loves to spend alone time with you. Constantly being around his family in the home can leave him feeling slightly stir crazy.
🔪 He loves to just sit under a tree, under the shade and away from the harsh sun, beside you and just enjoy your presence.
🔪 Tommy was a little hesitant at the suggestion of a spa day with face masks and other things, considering he’d have to take off his mask but seeing you in the same face mask as him in the mirror and he was silently asking each week to do it again and again.
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⤷ divider credits: @cafekitsune
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Heh
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