🌸✨Alright guys I’ve decided I'm just gonna move over to my new account @youmakemeshyshy 🌸✨
🌸✨I’ll still being slasher content so don't worry about that!~🌸✨
🌸✨But I do have other things I wanna start writing so this will be a good chance! I won't delete this account so everything should still be here I just won't be active on this account anymore!🌸✨
🌸✨If I don't move over to the new tonight it will sometime tomorrow!~^^🌸✨
Hello I love your work sm!!! My request is, what about some nsfw with Thomas that involves blood - like maybe he’s riled up after a kill, covered in blood, and just wants to pound the shit out of his s/o?(and she’s into it obviously). Lmao. If that’s too weird no worries at all, you’re still the best!! <3
┊ 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓 ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — one-shot.
┊ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒) ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — thomas hewitt ( leatherface ) x afab!reader.
┊ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — SMUT/18+! bloodplay / blood kink, vaginal sex/rough sex, cunnilingus, thomas is pretty feral in this, possessive!thomas, getting railed from behind, breeding kink, creampie, bruising/marking.
┊ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — 3,305.
┊ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — thank you so much for your request & I’m so glad that you enjoy my work! I had a ton of fun writing this (and it was hot so ,,) thomas smut is always a fun time lmao !! As always, I hope y’all enjoy & thank you for supporting my work! ❣️
Carefully tucked away upstairs, you listened as the chaotic commotion eventually drowned out, the screams silenced and the whirring of the chainsaw fading off into nothingness. It was Charles’s fault for luring in some poor hitchhiker off of the road — as soon as anybody set foot on the Hewitt property, it spelled their inevitable doom.
You preferred to stay as far away from the carnage as possible, and so did Luda Mae, if she could help it. Whenever victims found their way into the homestead, Thomas made you stay upstairs — he didn’t want to subject you to anything too violent or too gruesome. The screams and sounds were horrible enough.
As any movement stilled outside, you watched from your window, searching the fields for Thomas. You could see him lumbering down the dirt path, chainsaw in one hand, hulking form cast in moonlight from the clear night skies. His head tilted up toward your window, slightly agape to allow for a breeze.
The lights were dim, especially at night, your only companion being the flickering candle that danced across your room, procuring livid shadows and a tiny shred of warmth. Thomas could still see you, poised beside the gap, safe within your tiny room. He hated that you had to hear, that you had to listen to all of the torture that ensued within the house.
You were safe, though — you were safe up there, the safest place you could be. Thomas felt somewhat better about not having to worry about you physically, but he did worry over your mental state, how you felt emotionally. This must’ve been weighing on you in some shape or form, you were just too kind to say anything about it.
Trudging past the flimsy front doors, Thomas immediately dropped the bloodied chainsaw then and there, lumbering up the winding staircase to the upstairs. He didn’t care very much for listening to his uncle rant and foam at the mouth over the killing — his mind was solely focused on seeing you. Sometimes, you were the only thing that could calm him down.
Adrenaline still clung to him like a thick haze, blood pumping within his veins. His chest tightened as he wandered toward your door — his door, too. There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation as the creaking wood swung open, and he was greeted by the sight of you, beautiful and demure, clad in one of your nightgowns.
Thomas was a wreck compared to you, entrenched in gore, seeped and caked in crimson, some fresh, most of it having dried along his forearms and into his clothing. He didn’t want to bother with cleaning — not right now. There was only one thing on his mind whenever he was met with you, and he pushed inward, standing beyond the doorframe.
“Thomas,” Your voice emerged as a tremulous murmur, noticing all of the blood — you didn’t think that any of it was his. “Do you want me to help clean you up?” You asked, but it was a pointless inquiry, as Thomas immediately shook his head in silent protest. You left it there, watching as he stepped closer.
You were keenly aware of why the tension had climbed to abnormal heights, but you didn’t say anything, standing near the disheveled mattress with a doe-eyed stare. His breathing was abnormally heavy, visage covered by that leathery muzzle, but not for much longer. As he pressed closer, you didn’t move away, leaning into his embrace instead.
Thomas was desperate, yearning for you after the carnage, and he knew exactly what he wanted. Those big hands settled at your waist and the small of your back, caressing and kneading into you despite the blood, face nuzzling into yours. Your lips brushed against his, and no matter how light the contact happened to be, it drove him crazy.
One massive hand wrenched at the mask, tearing it off in order to kiss you fully, cornering you against the foot of the bed. Thomas’s colossal shape enveloped you fully as he stooped down for a messy, bruising kiss, a grunt escaping him as your hands clamored to hold on.
The blood was a little jarring for you, but you weren’t about to protest, inhaling sharply as his hands cupped your hips, practically crushing you against his chest. It was all tongue and teeth and lust — a feverish desire that had left a fire in its wake, a fire that settled inside of him, inside of you, demanding to be extinguished.
There was an encroaching silence that filled the void between the two of you, comfortable yet palpable with tension, charged with electricity. Those massive hands of his felt their way across your form, beginning to shove your dress up, making way for him to wedge himself between your legs. Traces of crimson were left behind, against your gown, against your skin.
Allowing one palm to slide underneath the frilly fabric of your gown, you felt his roughened hand squeeze into your haunch, skimming toward your ass. Thomas left bloody handprints along your body, but it became increasingly difficult for you to care, reciprocating each kiss with one of your own, charged with passion. Neediness became the only thing that the both of you knew.
Resonant grunts tore past his chest, possessive rumbles shaking his body, vibrating against you as he groped and squeezed and kneaded at every inch of your body. The front of his trousers were growing unbearably snug, erection beginning to strain against your groin, making you feel just how aroused he was already.
Possessiveness and obsession were left in the wake of every touch, every kiss that Thomas delivered. He was rougher this time, yet it all lacked callousness — he simply manhandled you in a loving manner. He was excited, spurred on by your encouragement, through heated kisses or the way you gripped at his biceps, spreading your legs to accommodate for his bulk.
You needed him terribly, letting such sentiments fester within your chest, creeping across your body like a plague. The mood was nothing short of vulgar and atmospheric, marked by the chirping of crickets outside and the flickering candlelight that kept the room dim. The orange luminosity that basked Thomas made him look so very red, stained in gore, but you didn’t care.
The lack of dialogue made things far more intense — not a single utterance between either of you, only the haze of lust and desire. Thomas shamelessly ground his erection into your thigh, humping at your leg, making you feel just how riled up he’d become. A soft moan tore past your parted lips, gaze half-lidded, heart hammering within your chest.
As Thomas pulled his mouth away from yours, the searing fire within his eyes remained unmistakable. The heaviness of his stare could’ve pulled you under if you let it, making you shudder within his grasp. You prepared yourself for what was to come next, but instead, Thomas lowered himself onto his knees, bloody physique comfortably nestled between your legs.
Quivering with anticipation, you gasped, watching his hands push your gown up, letting the soft fabric collect above your hips. You weren’t wearing anything underneath, much to Thomas’s excitement. He was beyond eager to taste you before fucking the shit out of you — he could do that much, at the very least.
Bloody hands clamped down atop your thighs, keeping you stable and spread apart as his mouth delved toward your slit. Calloused, roughened lips pressed themselves along your leg, trailing right up to your core. He grunted when your fingers deftly perused throughout his tresses, finding their purchase next to his scalp, very nearly eliciting a groan from him.
Akin to a heat-seeking missile, Thomas lacked any shred of hesitation, feeling the adrenaline rush through his veins like a tidal wave, the heat crashing into him. The post-rampage bloodlust had all been twisted and molded into something else, something purely amorous. He drove his tongue up into your cunt, sluggishly lashing over your clit a time or two before his pace increased significantly.
The pungent twang of copper filled your nose, the stench of blood and mud clinging to Thomas, but you remain unbothered. Seeing him on his knees in front of you was enthralling — at your mercy, thick digits squeezing into your flesh, leaving behind fingerprints and handprints. You shuddered, using him as balance as he settled you onto his face.
Needy, wanton grunts escaped Thomas, who immediately set out to devour you, tongue swiping over your cunt, dipping between your folds. There was a heady sense of eagerness to him, a burning desire to leave you quaking in his wake, noises ripping past his throat as he lapped at your slit.
“Thomas,” You whined, gingerly tugging on his hair, your other hand pressed into his massive shoulder. He was remarkably large, and even when kneeling, Thomas still looked hulking to you. He was letting you lean on him, use him for support, whatever you needed to do as he ate you out. “More.” You breathed.
Several greedy licks lashed against your core, lapping up every drop of your slick as he continued to drag his tongue all over your cunt. It was sloppy and messy, done without a care for the consequences, without minding the crudeness of it all. Seeing your flesh mottled by his bloody prints was far more arousing than he expected it to be.
Regardless of whether or not the family was around, you did very little to smother your sounds, practically riding Thomas’s face, inner thighs stained with traces and trails of crimson. The blood didn’t bother you, not nearly as much as you thought it would, littered in his marks. It could all be cleaned off afterwards anyway.
With a pleasant rumble, Thomas picked up his pace, driving his mouth into your cunt, practically shoving you down until he was buried between your thighs. He loved the taste of you — he loved feeling you squirm above him, twist and writhe on his tongue, and he was satisfied knowing that he was pleasing you.
Your legs quivered, stomach set ablaze as heat pooled between your legs. Thomas was relentless, using every bit of vigor he retained, ravenous and borderline feral as he passionately lapped at your cunt. His breathing became increasingly heavy, like the sound of thunder rumbling within the distance. His hands kneaded into your thighs, grip firm enough to leave behind the first inklings of bruises.
There was something about seeing him like this — so raw and so primal, slathered in blood that made your chest tighten, thighs clamp together. You knew just how strong and capable Thomas was, how indomitable he could be. Even with you hunched in above him, pitifully rutting your hips forward into his mouth, he still dominated you, whether he was fully aware of it or not.
With a strangled whimper, you felt your cunt clench pathetically around absolutely nothing, as soon as he delivered another lick against your core. Thomas’s lips soon moved to wrap around your clit, stimulating the sensitive clutch of nerves, making your belly turn to mush, legs shaking so hard that you nearly felt numb. Sluggishness turned to passion very quickly.
The commotion from downstairs couldn’t tear Thomas’s attention away from you, not now — especially not now. In the earlier stages of your relationship, he might’ve ceased, but not this time. He was fully committed to making you cum before he stood up to fuck you, savoring the taste of your cunt, tasting you and the coppery twang from the blood of his kill.
Another resonant grunt tore past his throat, making you shudder in delight, moans leaving you in heady droves as you rocked yourself forward. “Thomas,” You whimpered, biting down hard upon your lower lip, rewarded with more vigorous suckling at your clit. You wanted to collapse, head swimming, dazed and drunk upon your own desire. “So good.” Your moan carried over the sound of his animalistic grunts.
All it took was another little flick of his tongue, another motion of him coaxing you down onto his face to make you come undone. You shivered, mewling and moaning into your shoulder, toes curling in delight as Thomas brought you to an orgasm. You shamelessly came onto his tongue, but he was quick to clean you up, each and every time.
The speed in which he stood up from between your legs was absolutely astounding, and Thomas wasted no time in bending you over the foot of the bed, wrenching his cock free from his trousers. To anybody else, the scene was gruesome — a bloodied, gore-soaked Thomas prepared to fuck you into oblivion, leaving behind traces of his victim all over you.
Admittedly, you found it so unbelievably attractive and arousing that he simply couldn’t wait. It sparked that need inside of you, the desire to beg, tell him how badly you wanted him to make you scream. You didn’t need to say anything, really — Thomas knew.
With his chest pressed against your back, his hands reaffirmed their ironclad hold against your hips, face huddled near your shoulder as hot breath fanned across your flesh. Thomas wasn’t exactly gentle about pushing his cock inside of you, grunting as he shoved his hips forward, listening to you moan.
Setting a brutal pace, Thomas seemed to gloss over the slower, initial thrusts, setting out to fuck you almost immediately. You clamored to hold onto the rickety foot of the bed, gasping when his cock stretched you in the most perfect way, filling your stomach with a sloshing, uncontrollable heat. Your skin felt feverish, warm and incendiary as he rutted into you.
The frame of the bed groaned in protest, but Thomas elected to ignore it, grunting and growling, pushing you right into the flat wooden surface. “Thomas,” You groan, your body being rocked to the force and strength of his thrusts, making your head lag forward, mouth agape. “Don’t stop.” You whimper, wanting him to obliterate you, make your legs give out.
Simplistic encouragement stoked the flames as Thomas began to fuck you with all of the force of a battering ram, cock hammering away at your insides. Your poor, abused cunt takes the barrage, and it leaves you quaking, thighs trembling as you desperately hold onto the bedframe. He grunts above the shell of your ear, hands squeezing at your hips.
Lulled into submission by the lewd clash of flesh against flesh, you feel one of his hands glide upward, curling into your ribcage, securing a vice-like hold upon you. Each thrust sends you barreling forward from the force of it all, his cock pounding away at your cunt until he’s unable to go any further. His thoughts were abhorrently sinful, hyperfocused on breeding you.
Lewd noises filled the smaller space of your bedroom, accompanied by Thomas’s heavy, husky breathing and the repeated creaking and groaning of the wooden frame beneath you. He was relentless, fucking into you with a reckless haste, filling you up each and every time. You would’ve been flying forward if it weren’t for the powerful grip he had upon you, keeping you rooted in place as he fucked you senseless.
The brutal assault on your cunt left you blinded, nearly drooling as you moaned and mewled his name, occasionally pushing your hips back into him, begging and whimpering for more. There were bloodstains that littered your body, making you just as filthy as he was, but you didn’t care — you couldn’t care, not when he was pounding into you like this.
Thomas’s cock twitched and throbbed inside of you, cunt clenching around his length, as if it were dragging him in. He was actively ensuring that he wouldn’t hurt you, but he would leave you with the sting of soreness and bruises of his lovemaking, if one could call it that. Tears of pleasure pricked at your eyes, making you wail and cry out in ecstasy.
Your body bent and succumbed to him, your inner thighs sticky with both your own arousal and his precum. The more noise you made, the more fervent and feral Thomas became, driving him into some frenzy as he railed you within an inch of your life, rutting into you like a man possessed.
You were convinced that you wouldn’t be able to walk properly after this, and whenever it seemed like you were about to give out, Thomas slowed slightly. He was concerned that it was a little too much for you, but you were quick to say otherwise.
“Fuck me, Thomas,” You whimpered, your noises desperate and pitiful. “Please, please c—“ Words seemed to still, coagulating within the back of your throat as you choked upon a wanton moan. “Want you to cum in me.” You exhaled, chest rising and falling at a rapid rate.
Something snapped inside of him, and you could hear the audible hitch within his throat, the snarl and the consuming lust that soon followed. Without pause, he began to rut into you so hard that you swore you saw stars, a cry of delight ripping past your throat. Your entire body was being wracked and bent, a burning sensation creeping all along your nerves.
His head lagged forward as he hunched in as close as he could, leaving little to no space between your bodies, hips flying off the handle as he practically destroyed your cunt. Thomas was massive, and sometimes he forgot just how strong and indomitable he could be, flesh pounding into flesh. It felt incredible — euphoria soon overtook everything else.
It felt like an eternity of him wrecking you, bringing you to ruin as his thrusts became far more intense. Thomas didn’t pause, he didn’t hesitate in pounding you so hard that you thought you’d collapse. You were only still upright anyway thanks to his support, the tip of his cock nearly hitting your cervix.
A thin layer of perspiration had built up along your skin, and you simply let yourself go with whatever pace Thomas had set, unable to stop the string of moans and whimpers. He was slowing somewhat, only to let you catch your breath and have a break from his unyielding roughness, but he was getting a little exhausted himself.
With another rough thrust, Thomas buried his cock into you, panting and grunting as he came inside of you. He wanted to breed you so bad — even the thought of it was enough to bring him to his knees. He did just that, rope after rope of hot cum flooding your insides, and he didn’t pull out, not even for a second. Thomas made sure that he stayed inside long enough for the both of you to settle, rubbing his palm against your lower back.
Exhaustion hit you hard soon afterwards, your body rattling like a leaf, soreness spreading across your lower half. Thomas made sure to keep you grounded, holding onto you even after he pulled out. The mess rivaled that of his bloodstained appearance, cum splattered all over your inner thighs, still oozing from your cunt.
You had to recuperate, regaining your composure little by little. You felt so delirious, drunk upon desire, drunk on the blissful aftermath of your orgasm and his. Thomas picked you up, and you didn’t have to say anything about taking a bath — he was already lumbering toward the washroom.
The adrenaline of killing had all but dissipated, soon replaced by bliss and by adoration instead. There would always be a pleasure greater than violence, greater than chasing after some stranger in a cornfield, and that was you. No matter the bodies, no matter how much bloodlust he possessed, you would always be the greatest pleasure of all.
You sat on the couch with Brahms's head in your lap, scratching his scalp as he laid there happily. He didn't have his mask on, he trusted you enough to not have it on, he only took it off a few times, and when he did you always praised him for it, glad that he trusts you enough to have it off around you. Brahms's arms were wrapped around your waist, you told him that you could cuddle with him for only a few minutes since you were taking a break from doing chores, which was a good opportunity for him to get affection from you. Brahms could fall asleep by the gentle scratches.
He loves it when you scratched his head, your nails gently digging into his scalp, he’ll go crazy for shy those of affection you give him in general. Brahms then felt your hand leave his curry messy hair. Brahms looked up at you with a whine, already missing that contact of your hand in his hair. “I have to continue with my chores Brahms, I’ll be back.” You said, tapping him on the shoulder. You can’t help but laugh at him, his clingy side starting to show. “How cute.” You thought.
His arms tightened around your waist, whines were muffled since his face was buried in your thigh. You didn't want to get up yourself, but if you stayed like this then you’d have to do the rest of your chores at a later time. It’d be better if you did it now, but someone disagrees. “Come on pretty boy, let me go.” His body stiffened at the nickname, maybe it was a bad idea to call him that? Brahms slowly picked his head up, still processing the nickname you just called him.
You find him pretty? That's a shocker... for him. “Me? Pretty?” He asked in his real voice, pointing at himself. It was rare for him to use his real voice, his voice sounded nice. You wished he talked in his real voice more often. You giggled at the confused look on his face, you cupped his face in your hands. “Of course, you're pretty Brahms, you're my pretty boy. My only pretty boy.” You kissed his forehead. At this point, he's smiling at you, a genuine smile, he haven't did a real smile in years, now he has thanks to you.
You smiled back at the precious man child. The nickname man him feel... special. You're the only person who has complimented him after all these years.He hated his face... ever since the fire happened, he began to hate it, wearing a mask to cover up his ugliness, hiding in the walls so no one could see him. Until you came in, you showed him that he's the complete opposite of the word “ugly.” Each day you gave him compliments even when he had the mask on, it then continued when he took the mask off.
Brahms put his hands over yours, still having his real smile on his handsome face. “Thank you Y/N... You're pretty too.”
