Texas Chainsaw Massacre X Reader - Tumblr Posts

cherry on top | Johnny Slaughter x gn!reader

a/n — 1000% cheesy dumb self-indulgent birthday nonsense. wasn't gonna post because I honestly don't like this fic but the lack of Johnny stuff makes me want to just to put out something for the guy

words — 1.9k (the smut is short sorry, wanted to get this out on my actual bday!)

warnings — smut (not very graphic but still 18+), nipple play (Johnny receiving), food play, whipped cream, strawberries, implied cannibalism for both reader and Johnny, not proofread! consider y'alls birthday gift to me that i get to post one bad fic this year <3

summary — Johnny lets you take the reins for your birthday.

~~~

The door to Johnny’s shack shut with a bang, followed by a mumbled curse. From his bed, your eyes fluttered open. Between the mess of flower-patterned sheets and pillows you were buried in, you could see the man of the house take a step back to the door, then his eyes flicked to you to see if he had interrupted your sleep. You shut your eyes, too tired to take in the dreaded sunlight pouring in; you were so well-rested that you could fall asleep all over again—the feeling of sleep was addictive to your tired body. The only energy your body had was to pull the covers of his linens over your head with one hand. The earthy scents of him filled out the absence of his actual presence.

Your mind slipped away for a second, back into the dreamy state of consciousness where responsibilities didn’t exist and life had no issues. The man entering your cabin could solve about ninety-nine of your problems, though, and you slowly started to realize that you had an increasingly worrying problem on your plate. You peeked through the slits of the blanket at him. Even without looking at him in a clear view, he still looked like Adonis in your crooked and half-obscured-by-the-pillow perspective. Covered in his prey’s blood, his hunt was successful. But, hunting? Johnny usually woke you up at five in the morning, when the creatures of the night were heading to bed after a night of existence. You hunted in the realm of the crepesculars, operating on the thin line between night and day, all to maximize the hours you had to hunt and he was already coming back from it? It couldn’t be that time already, could it?

Johnny heard the sheets ruffle, and your breath hastily drew in with a panic. You had overslept. He let his knife clatter in the sink, turning to face you while leaning back against the counter. You could see the blood more clearly, it was smeared all over the front of his body. Staining his jeans—his favorite pair, the ones you said made his ass look the best—and trailing all over his torso before ending with a bloody handprint across his face. “It’s just me.”

“How fucked am I?” You asked, knocking the sheets off your body. Being a part of his family meant you had to contribute to the dinner at the end of every day, to make sure that everything was functional since you were Johnny’s piece—his pride. He provided less than a solid answer as you took a moment to acclimate yourself to the day. Ever since you moved in with Johnny, you had never really had a morning like this; a morning where your day started so late. Nancy liked when Johnny’s partners would accompany him on hunts and his more normal errands like getting car parts from the mechanic a few towns over and getting fruits from the market a few miles down the road, and she was too unpredictable to not heed the warnings of. Most of them came from Johnny, so that’s why you knew to take it seriously. It’s why today needed to be just like the rest, regardless of whether or not it was your birthday.

“Happy birthday, sweetness.” He smirked, knowing that even in the real world, you wouldn’t have any responsibilities today. “I woulda woken up right next to ya, but I was out huntin’ for your birthday dinner… and doin’ a few other things.”

“So, you did the hunting, tidied up around here, and went into town?” You asked, drawing near him. The blood had yet to dry, its sheen shining strong with the cracks of sun peeking through the window. He must have purposefully gone out hunting while shirtless, too. “What exactly is my present? A whole new Johnny?”

He let his head drop down and looked at his feet, rubbing his boot a little harder into the floor. “Something like that.”

It had only been a few minutes but the position you were in changed drastically. Johnny gave you a rundown of everything about your gift, including the various items that were included in it. One of which was a can of whipped cream that he picked up with the fresh fruit and placed it alongside them in the fridge—strawberries were in season, so two small wooden crates filled the space in his fridge next to the canister. The second thing was Johnny himself, which came as a shock. His first gift made sense because it was a sweet retreat from the many meals of savory meat from your hunts being fashioned into the three core meals one must eat every day, but the second was new. Different. Sensitive. He proposed it without looking you in the eye, so you didn’t believe it at first.

“I figured I’d be nice and give ya’ full, unlimited access. Get yer fix for the rest of the year so you stop chewin’ my damn ear off.” He sounded hesitant to offer it up, the fatigue in his tone from hunting as well as having to hear your incessant cries about wanting to experiment with him rang through. But today was your birthday, so he wanted to make it special.

Even if he didn’t want it at first, his tone shifted when your lips finally collided. You had been moving closer to him since you left his bed and now you were finding your way back to it with him in your arms. Your attempts to stay blood-free worked until you went to push him by the shoulder and back onto his bed, some of it smearing over your hand. Johnny’s legs hung over the bed and nearly touched the floor, placing his head around the upper middle of his bed and giving him room to lift his arms above him. This gave you the perfect access to get to work.

“Hell, I think this’ll be more than you can chew,” he teased. He cocked his head to look at where you were headed, your body was noticeably gone just as the fun was starting. But then, Johnny saw you return from across the shack with the whipped cream in hand.

From there, he became your already-painted canvas. The blood on him was the first coat of paint—still setting, still drying. Next in the assemblage was a healthy layer of the sweet foam. The cap came off with ease and you started coating him in it. You drew a heart over his chest first, then followed by swirling the foamy cream over his nipples. Johnny moaned at the cold sensation against his hot body. The way the can inconsistently sprayed droplets outside of your designated whipping area to add to the mess of red all over him. Johnny was already starting to feel desperate to the point that you had to shoo away one of his hands from knocking the cold cream off his sensitive nipples. You had never seen him like this before. Different. Sensitive. This was such a fast way to make him cave, and you had barely done anything at all! He must have insanely delicate around his buds.

You pulled back to admire your work. He noticed your puzzled look as you scanned over it like an artist who nearly had everything put together the way you liked it. “What’s wrong, sweetness?”

“It’s missing something.” You pouted. He had the perfect milky base, a cavalcade of saltiness topped with the sweet cream and bloody cherry drizzle. Though, something was amiss. The final thing to adorn him with that would make the centerpiece in the middle of the bed complete; something that would win the county fair. It wasn’t there. No, it was still sitting in the fridge.

You followed a loose path back to his fridge, swinging the door open and grabbing the strawberries on the shelf. Setting them on the counter, you grabbed two—one for you, and one for Johnny—and made your way back to him. He was still untouched, still perfectly in place without a hair moved for you. If he thought the sweet cold ivory was painful on his marinated skin, the cold sensation of chilled strawberries sent him over the edge. You ran it over him like an ice cube, watching it pick up some of the blood and whipped cream, cutting right through the heart you carefully drew over his chest. The strawberry was run across his body like the last bite of a meal with a sauce that you really want to get the flavor out of. Then, you lifted the thing to your mouth, taking a bite and savoring the bitter and sweet combination of flavor. The notes of metal in the blood were hidden and blended into the oncoming notes of sweet cream, followed by the tart taste of the berry.

Johnny’s face lightened as he watched you go in for seconds, dipping the rest of the strawberry in the sauce spread all over his body. You did the same with the second one, making it with the same amount of gore-soaked toppings and twisted dabble of whipped cream as the last. 

You offered the decadent strawberry to Johnny, but made one condition clear, “Bite down on this for me. Don’t eat it yet.”

His face twisted into one of confusion, but he didn’t question you. He let out a soft, “Aw, hell…” His mouth stayed open, waiting for you to bring the fruit to his lips. He accepted it when it was placed to his lips, wrapping them around the fruit, and, from the inside, he ran his tongue over the parts he could taste and lick at. He wanted to pierce the berry’s flesh, to make its flavor bleed into the rest.

While he was distracted with that, you took the opportunity to get to work. You lowered yourself back down so that your face was level with his pecs and started lapping at the dollop of whipped cream swirled around one of his nipples. You licked the soft peak away until there was only his hard pebbled flesh, so red and sensitive from just a few presses of your tongue. Johnny squirmed, a moan being muffled by the strawberry in his mouth. Things only got worse when you moved over to his other bud, doing the same motions to wipe away the cream and get to the really sensitive part. He struggled not to bite down on the strawberry, or to end this little reverie of lenience he offered for your birthday. He gave you so much power and he hated you for it. He hated that you made him squirm and buck his hips with need, desperate to pull you off his nipple and guide you to his waiting dick. But he fought the urge for you, to give you the control you deserve on a day like today. 

All he knew was that the feeling was too much, the juxtaposition of cold cream twirled around his rosy tips to your hot tongue leaving them a wet and sticky mess was much too much. In what was probably one of the fastest instances ever—he came. His jeans darkened with a soupy mess of white just like the melted remains of cream running over his chest and onto the bed. If this was desert, you couldn’t wait to get to dinner.

Being childhood friends with the Slashers

Slashers; Billy Lenz, Bubba Sawyer, Ghostface (Billy Loomis + Stu Macher), Jason Voorhees, Michael Myers (OG + RZ), Thomas Hewitt

To think that you were so close with them, it’s almost as if it weren’t coincidental.

• Billy Lenz

You only recall Billy as one of the only friends you had who had been so willing to try out all the weird dares back in middle school. You were fond of his strange antics, as it made you giggle at times. You kept his secrets as well, pinky promising him. Billy was really happy that day, his small hand holding yours the whole time. You never really thought you’d ever interact with him again after he had been pulled from public schooling altogether.

—

“___… ___’s here! Billy’s gotta call.. Right? Right! ___’s coming here!” Billy whispered under his breath, barely able to contain himself as he picked up the rotary right as you stepped inside the sorority home. He saw you from the attic window, your appearance remarkably the same, in which he identified in an instant. It made him giddy.

“Hello?” A voice responded. Someone that wasn’t you. Billy began to scream, his screams were calling for you all while he was simultaneously insulting the person on the other end. You were concerned, though you held the phone to your ear when one of the girls handed it to you teary eyed before exiting. 

You didn’t expect to hear someone blabbering expletives and curses on the other end as he signed off with the name, ‘Billy’. What you didn’t expect was to recognise that voice, no matter how loud and unintelligible it was.

“Billy.. Billy..” That was when you realised, shock overtaking you. “Is that really you, Billy?” You murmured. You looked around the room nervously, though you were relieved that nobody was around.

“___!” He cheered, repositioning himself on his stomach as his kicked his legs. He was absolutely delighted to know you still remembered him, a coo escaping him.

• Bubba Sawyer

You had known the Sawyers since you were little, your family having been quite close with them as your father had been working at the same slaughterhouse as they did. With the automation of the slaughterhouse, your parents decided to move in response to it, much to your protests that went ignored. After moving away, contact with them began to lessen and got a lot more harder—though you missing them had gotten a whole lot more bigger, especially for Bubba. He was always so kind to you. 

—

You didn’t expect your visit through the heart of Texas to have you running into the man you missed.

You saw that Bubba had been maskless, washing his face and his bloodied arms in the pond,  maybe he was finished with butchering meat. The pond tugged at your heartstrings, seeing that it was where he and you always went to whenever your parents were busy. 

“Bubba!” You hollered his name, your voice startling him at first. When he saw you, he was quick in running over to you. His pig-like squeals were amplified, wrapping his arms around you tightly. To the average person, those sounds from him would be unnerving—but you found it a familiar sort of assurance.

• Ghostface

  • Billy Loomis

Billy was initially distant with you when you tried to talk to him at school, though he crawled back to you at the end of the day, shyly asking to be your friend in school. He would excitedly talk to you about movies, more specifically action. You reciprocated by rambling about the movies you’ve watched, too. Billy became something of a quiet protector, though, you two were already difficult to tear from one another in the first place, as it resulted in Billy being petty in the ways he sought for your attention. This friendship continued on until you made it to Woodsboro High, Billy making sure to keep his eye on you as he continued on with his plan.

—

Billy patted at the seat beside him, a smug smile across his features as he began to eat at his sandwich. You followed suit, setting down the books you had been holding onto from the previous class. 

“How’s Mrs. Lake? She any good of a teacher?” Billy asked, chuckling at the sight of you huffing in frustration.

“Don’t even talk about it.. Anything you up to tonight?” You changed the subject, Billy catching onto it quickly, having known you for a long while. He nodded, a smile appearing now.

“I’m going to make a call tonight, nothing much, really.” 

After answering, Billy returned to his sandwich after doing so, ending the conversation right after.

  • Stu Macher

Stu had been dubbed as a problematic child long before you were even enrolled into the school. From what was honestly meant to be a day long interest in the new kid, Stu found himself quickly getting attached to you. He honestly craved the fact that you readily accepted him as he was and helped him focus on class in that really gentle way you did. Imagine his reaction when he heard the news that the school had offered you to be his aid in class, with you accepting it in a heartbeat? He was absolutely ecstatic. This arrangement continued until you two were in Woodsboro High, that fact itself had him quietly grateful. 

—

“Uh, hey ___?” You hummed softly, indicating to him that you were listening. His tone alone already had you knowing what it was that he wanted. You quickly passed him your notes for him to copy down. 

Stu smiled wide, patting your back as he always did. You knew that he couldn’t help the fact that he struggled finding ways to focus, so you always made sure to keep things easy for him to understand and recognise. By then, you always got the news from Stu as he boasted about the grades he had improving significantly.

“Andddd.. It’s all thanks to you~” Stu cooed, hugging you gently—which was uncharacteristic, but it showed how grateful he was. 

• Jason Voorhees

You were practically attached to the hip with Jason, having been promoted to being his buddy throughout the time you were in camp. You didn’t mind it all. You met him purely by accident, being far more interested at the drawings he made at the bench that was behind the mess hall. Jason’s mother saw you, and the rest was history. You didn’t understand what was it with the others attending camp, but you made sure to protect him whenever you could from those bullies. You were pulled away from camp due to complications that you never knew. You honestly felt heartbroken when you found out what really happened.

—

Years passed.

No matter how long it had been, you couldn’t help but feel as if you failed Jason. 

You shed many tears for him once you found out. If only you weren’t sick on that day, you could have stopped those cruel kids from throwing him in.

Here you were, resting white chrysanthemums on the bridge, right by the spot where it happened. It was quiet, as you would have expected, really.

You were startled by the sight of a hulking man donning a hockey mask as he stared at you.

What you didn’t expect was him dropping to his knees as if he didn’t want to intimidate you.

• Michael Myers

  • ’78/OG

OG clung onto you similarly to a cat with a toy trapped in its jaws, unwilling to let go. His possessiveness over you was as prominent as it could possibly appear, making sure that he scared away the boys and girls who shyly came up to you in an attempt to play. You were his only playmate, never to play with another unless you wanted to betray him. That fact remained prevalent even after the incident on Halloween, due to your aura seeming unwelcoming to others ever since that day onwards.

—

You watched the news, overwhelmed with emotion as you read the headline over and over.

MICHAEL AUDREY MYERS: ‘EVIL INCARNATE’ PATIENT BREAKS OUT FROM SMITH’S GROVE SANATORIUM AFTER DECADE-LONG DORMANCY

“After all this time, you decide on escaping now.” You murmured, checking the calender. You sighed quietly at the coincidence. You felt a presence behind you a good few feet away, feeling eyes on your back. Having known Michael for as long as you did, a small smile now formed on your face.

“How fitting for you. Welcome home, Michael.” You whispered, turning around to face your friend after so long.

  • RZ

RZ didn’t expect to make friends, seeing how it was his family that had him endure terrible treatment at school. He was surprised that you became someone who he felt protective over, being sure to keep an ear out for anybody who dare speak ill of you. While his size was puny in comparison to the other boys at school, he sure knew how to torment someone. RZ often pulled mean pranks, even going far to put his hobby of photography into the mix of the student’s bags. He even made sure to get the most gruesome shots to creep them out further. They stopped after a while, and he was never really caught per say… until that fateful night of Halloween, of course.

—

You didn’t know if it was purely by luck, but Michael found you as he basked in the aftermath of his murder spree. You were heading home, feeling eyes on you. You shivered, assuming it was due to a heightened paranoia ever since Michael had been taken away to the sanatorium.

You returned home, placing your keys on the side table. It was once you heard the back door creak open did you whip your head in its direction. Before you stood a man in a boiler suit who donned a white rubber mask. You remembered it all too well, knowing how it was one of a kind.

One thing that you knew especially was that mask your Michael wore on that Halloween night.

“Michael..” You muttered, his hand grabbed at his mask. He removed it, unveiling the long hair that he hid under it, further proving your statement. He stepped forward, his hand out for you to take.

• Thomas Hewitt

You were extremely close with the Hewitts, despite your parents warning you that it wasn’t for the best to form attachments; especially with people and places that aren’t permanent. You went ahead and did it anyway, being friends with Thomas Hewitt. He was the youngest of the Hewitt family and you learnt that he was really skillful with his hands in sewing. When you left you given Luda Mae your number for him to take. In exchange, he gave you a handmade handkerchief as his own version of goodbye to you right before you left, which made you cry on the spot. You kept in touch with him regularly as you moved, your relationship with him remaining as close as ever despite the distance.

—

“Guess what, Tommy!” You said, holding the phone closer to your ear as you felt your excitement course through you.

A grunt of curiosity escaped him, allowing you to elaborate on your words. He was in his bedroom, his head tilted to the right to avoid holding the phone as he sewed.

“I’m passing through Texas for something. Do you know what it means, Tom?” You asked giddily, your voice airy and light—indicating your elation. Thomas perked up at that, a few chuffs from him as if he wasn’t sure about it entirely, but a good feeling began to form. 

“I’m going to meet—no, I’ll be meeting you soon!” You answered, unable to keep it quiet any longer.

Thomas paused on his sewing, making sure he heard that right.

“We’re finally going to be able to catch up face to face after—how long has it been? Ah, it’s been so long…” You sighed as you moved on to ramble what you could do.

With that confirmation, Thomas reacted with his foot thumping against the wooden flooring excitedly.

Sure, Hoyt was annoyed, but Thomas couldn’t care in that moment.

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Imagine # 983

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Year posted - 2022

"EDDIE SAWYER!" (Y/n)'s voice rang out throughout the house, making Tex freeze in his tracks. "Shit." He cursed under his breath when she stormed into the living room, her arms crossed and an annoyed scowl on her face. "How many times do I have to tell you?" She hissed at him. "Tell me what Darlin'?" He questioned innocently, flashing her his best puppy dog eyes. "Stop tracking mud and blood into the main house! That shit stays in the mudroom and kitchen!" She remained him, making him subconsciously glance down at his messy boots on the living room rug. "Awe I'm sorry Darlin'." He frowned softly, having forgotten altogether how dirty his boots had gotten. "I'm tired of having to scrub these damn rugs, do you have any idea how hard it is to get blood out of these things?" (Y/n) huffed as her arms fell to her sides, an almost defeated look in her eyes. "I know, I'm sorry baby. I'll clean up my mess." He offered as he took her into his arms, kissing the crown of her head when she leaned into his touch. "You better." She hummed before leaning up to kiss him properly, a smile ghosting her lips as she did so.

Short and sweet! Hope y'all liked it! Reblogs/Likes/Comments are all greatly appreciated!

in thomas hewitt we trust 🙏