#slasher headcanons

If people like this I'll do a part two with the rest of the slashers I write for. This has 11 because I just couldn't split up Billy and Stu...

RZ Michael Myers:

Can fall asleep anywhere, but won't. He doesn't sleep often, but when he does it's in your bed. He'd much prefer to lay there and watch you, but he's human too. He likes to crawl into bed late at night after coming home, not caring about getting your sheets dirty with his blood smeared clothes. He just lays there on his back, arms pressed to his sides, mask still on; deadly silent. He breathes so shallow you may think he's dead. You worry he'll suffocate sleeping with the mask on, but he doesn't care. He never moves or shifts when he wakes up, there isn't even a change in his demeanor. He'll just lay there until you get up, not wanting to disturb you. You're welcome to cuddle up to his side, lay on top of him, use him as a human pillow if you desire. He won't move to make you comfortable, but he won't push you away either. In summary, he's essentially a rock.

'78 Michael Myers:

He sleeps facing the wall. Unhinged. He doesn't care about anything coming to get him. He knows he's why other people can't sleep like that. He really does it to show you he trusts you, he's like a cat. Sometimes he sleeps with the mask on, sometimes without it. He doesn't care, he'll sleep in the clothes he's wearing. Like his Rob Zombie counterpart, he doesn't care about getting your bed dirty. He snores very lightly, not enough to be annoying though. If you say you want to cuddle he'll throw his arm back for you to wrap around, that's about it. He'll take it back when it gets uncomfortable too. Your best option for cuddles is a weird semi-spooning position, aka just pressing yourself against his back. He actually enjoys sleeping, but wakes up at ridiculous times. If he wakes up in the middle of the night he decides it's morning for him and he's had enough sleep. He won't wake you up purposefully, so him getting out of bed won't be an issue unless you're a really light sleeper. In that case it's your problem, not his. Overall, decent. Seems cold and uncaring but really just a sleepy, grumpy cat.

Brahms Heelshire:

He's the worst. The absolute worst. He'll whine until you go to bed with him and then he won't let you go. He needs to be clinging to you all night. He doesn't take the mask off so you sleep with his cold mask pressing against you wherever he decides his face belongs. He doesn't care if you have to pee, if you wanna get up, if you're not ready to go to bed, if you're thirsty, hungry, hot, cold; excuses. All of it. He's not letting you go. He'll sleep in his own bed if you make him, but he'll whine about it. If he can't sleep then he expects you to stay awake with him. And if he wakes up in the middle of the night, so do you. He's a very light sleeper so don't even try to escape. If he doesn't get enough sleep he's cranky too. He wakes you up at the ass crack of dawn to make him breakfast. So yeah, 0/10 would not recommend.

Billy Lenz:

You basically have to sedate him to get him to bed, but he doesn't make a big deal of it. When he does fall asleep, don't wake him. Treat him like a sleeping baby. Most of the time he just likes to sit in your bed and watch you sleep. He's iffy about physical touch, but sometimes he'll stroke your hair or put his hand on your thigh. He sleeps in small intervals, curled up in a ball. He doesn't like sleeping either, so he'll push it away until he passes out. He sleeps on the floor, too. For some reason he won't sleep on the bed. He'll sit on it and watch you, but won't sleep on it no matter how many times you tell him it's fine. He'll wake up if you put a blanket over him, which sucks considering he's skin and bones and is always freezing. He also wakes up sometimes and just rocks back and forth, staring into space. He won't tell you why, but you assume he has some kind of nightmares. He's never loud, just mumbling incoherent nonsense to himself. I'd say knock him out with melatonin gummies, just tell him it's a snack. You should eat one first to prove they're safe... and make sure to keep him away from the bottle, he'll eat them all after chewing through the childproof cap.

Martin Mathias:

Martin's abnormally sleepy, he enjoys naps and sleeps at least 10 hours per night when he's not out hunting for blood. You can't even watch a movie with him, he'll doze off in the first 10 minutes. In the rare occasion he isn't tired, he likes to hold you close with the lights off and talk softly. He likes late night conversation and gentle touches more than anything. He just wants to feel loved. He definitely sleeps shirtless, so you get to enjoy that. He likes to sleep on his side, holding you to his front with his face buried in the crook of your neck. He wakes up and gently kisses your neck in the mornings before slipping away. He's tried his hand at making breakfast to bring to you in bed, and he's not half bad at it. But a lot of the time he just holds you in the mornings and watches you breathe.

Carrie White:

At first she'll be hesitant about sleeping in the same bed, knowing what it could lead to. But if you show her over time that it's okay, she's be glad to. She appreciates the way you hold her after nightmares, soothing her and wiping her tears. Please be gentle with her, she doesn't even think she deserves you. She's a light sleeper and will stick to her side of the bed unless you tell her you want to hold her. She'll happily cuddle up and read a book or watch a movie with you before bed. Just please make her feel loved.

Billy Loomis and Stu:

Just Billy:

Billy is a chronic insomniac. No, he won't make you stay up with him. Yes, he would appreciate it a lot. He likes to stay up and watch scary movies a lot, he'd be over the moon if you'd be willing to do that with him... not that he'd tell you. He'd act like it's annoying and he wants to be alone, but you both know that isn't true. Another thing, if you cuddle he has to be the big spoon. It makes him feel big and strong, lie he's protecting you. Let him feel good about himself, it doesn't happen often. If he wakes up before you he wont even try to be quiet. He'll just get up. He's kinda quiet anyway, but it sucks if you're a light sleeper. If you snore he'll wake up to tell you to be quiet. He's also very warm, so if you run cold he'll cling to you at night. Otherwise, he's fine with cuddling or not cuddling. He acts too good for everything but he's secretly glad someone like you sleeps next to him every night and trusts him enough to not be scared.

Just Stu:

Yet another lanky boy who likes to cage you in. Also snores right in your ear, not sorry at all. He also likes watching movies late at night, but if you lay down to watch something after 11 he's knocked out. He could stay up late if he wanted to, but he only ever does when he's out somewhere or trying to keep Billy company. He's such an ass too, he pretends to be sleeping in the morning when you wake up so you'll kiss his forehead then he'll squeeze your ass and start laughing hysterically. He thinks it's hilarious to suddenly grab or kiss you when you think he's asleep. If you tell him to seriously stop, he will, but it'll secretly bum him out a little. Also if you tell him you don't wanna cuddle he'll straight up get up and go sleep on the couch just to be petty. So, yeah, just let him cuddle with you.

Both:

If you have to deal with this, you WILL overheat. You'll have Billy on one side and Stu on the other, both trying to cling to you more than the other. This is all night, every night. If you say you want personal space or your own bed they'll grant it, but they'll also both blame it on the other for being too clingy or making you uncomfortable. This is basically all of dating both of them, a constant fight over you. It even shows in sleeping habits! Just make sure to give them equal attention to avoid fighting.

Bubba Sawyer:

Bubba's the biggest cuddle bug you'll ever meet. He'll let you do virtually anything if it means you're close to/touching him. He loves to wrap you up in his big, strong arms and hold you close all night. There's a few downsides to this though. He sleeps like a boulder, meaning that if you move away from him he'll basically steam-roll you trying to find you again. He ends up crushing you in his sleep more often than you'd think. Another thing, his hold on you is very firm, you have to wiggle out of it to get up which isn't very good if you have to pee or your alarm's going off. He's also another victim of the horrendously loud snores. He's also incredibly warm, you don't even need blankets. It's terrible in the summer, but in winter it's great to have a personal heater. It may be annoying sometimes, but you have to step back and realize he holds you so tight because he loves you and he's terrified of your leaving. Please be kind to him.

Bo Sinclair:

Bo is probably competing with Brahms for the worst, just definitely for different reasons. He kicks in his sleep, snores so loud you can hear it through two closed doors, feels like a radiator, takes up the whole bed, is impossible to move, and hogs the covers. All I can say is good luck. He also talks. Like fully talks, full sentences and coherent phrases while completely unconscious. You'll wake up in the middle of the night to him kicking you through the blanket while muttering utterly terrifying things. He'll let you sleep separately from him, but he'll whine about it and claim you don't love him. You can pick your battles with Bo, you won't win either way.

Vincent Sinclair:

Pennywise:

• Getting a kiss from Pennywise is not something that happens at the beginning of your relationship (if that’s what you call it)

• It’s not that it doesn’t understand kissing. He understands quite well actually. But kissing a human has never been something the Deadlights have even considered before. But it happens eventually and when it does it’s messy, sloppy, and surprisingly dominating.

• Pennywise’s version of kissing teeters between the average, sweet kissing you were familiar with and whatever the entity’s definition of kissing is.

• He holds your face in his hand and pecks at your lips and cheeks. When the faux clown is feeling particularly worked up, he’ll hold you tight and kiss you deeply, a deep growling in his chest as he does so. And after a while, his version of kissing turns into more licking than kissing.

• You try to explain to it that licking the side of your face is not kissing and you’re promptly shushed. He knows, he just doesn’t care.

• Pennywise doesn’t taste bad when you kiss him. Which is surprising when you realize dental hygiene is nonexistent to him but less surprising when you realize that Pennywise isn’t a clown but a cosmic entity that can change appearance, smell, even taste on a whim. It definitely makes kissing him a whole lot more appealing.

Art the Clown:

• Are you sure you want to kiss him? Like are you really sure? You are? Okay…

• Art’s kisses depend on his mood. They can range from being lighthearted and silly to incredibly harsh and dominating.

• If he's in a particularly good mood, his kisses are surprisingly soft. He'll leave a trail of kisses on your neck and jaw before kissing your lips gently. Sometimes he'll nip at your bottom lip if he's feeling playful or frisky.

• When things do heat up, Art gets a lot rougher. He'll hold your head in place while hungrily kissing you. If he's not in the best mood, he might wrap his hand around your throat to keep you in place.

• Art can get nasty with kisses. Like truly gross. There will be spit, there will be tongue. And depending on how many people he has killed that day there might be a little (or a lot) of blood as well.

Valak:

• Kissing Valak is a rare thing but when he does kiss you it always feels like he’s claiming you in some way, like he’s reminding you of what he is and what it means to be with him.

• He often pulls you in by the chin and leads you to him, mostly when he’s in his nun form. He often kisses you slowly. He rarely gives out short, sweet kisses because to him they’re meaningless and not worth his time.

• His teeth can be a problem when it comes to kissing him. In his true form and his faux nun form, he has rows of sharp teeth which sometimes get in the way.

• He’s not opposed to using those teeth either. When he’s feeling particularly playful he’s been known to bite your lip. He only does this when he’s the Nun, the teeth he has in his true form might just rip your lip off.

• Speaking of teeth, do angels and demons brush their teeth? I doubt Valak does and I highly doubt he feels the need to do so. That being said, Valak’s mouth doesn’t taste awful but his breath does smell like the rest of him….fire and brimstone, as if he rolled around in Hell before tiptoeing into the material plane. It's an…acquired taste.

Brahms Heelshire:

• It took a bit for Brahms to kiss you properly.

• There are insecurity issues surrounding his face and for a while he'd just "kiss" you through his mask, pecking the porcelain lips against your skin instead of his own.

• It's not until you lift his mask and kiss him first that all his hesitation stops.

• Brahms is the walking definition of needy. Nearly every kiss from him feels desperate, like all he ever wants in life is for you to touch him. Like he's scared it will somehow be the last kiss.

• He's quite the messy kisser. When Brahms gets worked up (which he often does), he tends to lack coordination. He's not bad at kissing but his eagerness and constant need for more get in the way of him learning how to get good at it.

• Brahms clings to you when he kisses you. He'll tug at your clothes and grope any part of you he can get a hold of.

• He attempts to turn sweet, short kisses into something more and has a bad habit of pouting when you tell him you can't sit around and make out with him all day.

Pinhead:

• When you first started a relationship with Pinhead you assumed kissing him on the lip was simply not an option for you. Although you did sit and ponder about what it would be like you ultimately wrote it off as a possibility.

• When you wanted to show the cenobite affection you would take to kissing their hand or giving them a hug.

• You were completely taken aback when the Cenobite offered to give you what you craved.

• Pinhead surprised you by pulling the pins out from around the front of his face. One by one he pulled the long rods of metal out from around his lips, nose, cheeks, and chin. It was horrifying but in an odd way, you were extremely flattered that he was willing to do that for you.

• Kissing Pinhead is a rare occurrence but when it happens they kiss you so passionately that it leaves you dizzy and wanting more.

• He kisses you slowly, holding you close as he does so. His hands barely wander unless he knows there's something else you want. If that's the case he will tease you as he kisses you.

• His lips are freezing and his breath smells slightly metallic, like a faint hint of blood is lingering in his mouth. It's not unpleasant but it takes some getting used to.

The Djinn/Nathaniel Demerest:

• The Djinn rarely kisses you but when he does it's as a reminder that you're his. He barely does it to show affection.

• This is not to say he's incapable of showing affection, he absolutely is capable. But he's not very affectionate at his core.

• When he chooses to kiss you, it's often short but there's a firmness to it. He grips your chin and pulls you to his lips and when he lets go of your chin, the kiss stops. That's how it often is unless you're craving something more.

• When you are craving more affection from him he unfortunately likes to turn it into a game. He will constantly try to trick you into audibly wishing for him to kiss you. He's not doing it to be mean per se, it's just his nature.

• When he relents, he kisses you for as long as you want. He's surprisingly passionate and unless you're careful things may heat up too quickly with him.

• He can get surprisingly feisty under the right circumstances. If you play your cards right one kiss from him can turn into an entire makeout session.

• Don't put lip biting past him, he'll absolutely do it.

The fight starts the way it always does... with silence.

Albert is sitting on the edge of the mattress on the floor, head bowed like he's holding back a hurricane. His jacket is still on and his boots still laced, fists clenched on his meaty thighs. You can practically hear his teeth grinding beneath the mask. The full, horned one he hasn't worn around you in weeks.

He only wears it when he needs distance.

Or control.

Or an alibi.

"…So that's it?" you say, leaning against the brick wall, arms crossed. "You drag me down here and then say nothing?"

His head lifts slowly.

A wolf scenting blood.

His voice, when it comes, is low and dark.

"You think I didn't hear you... In town. Smiling. Laughing. Hanging all over some little boy like you don't have a goddamn thing already keeping you warm."

Your breath catches.

Anger sparks immediately.

"Oh my God, Albert! He works there! Frickin' register. I was buying spark plugs—"

"Cute" he cuts in, rising to his feet with controlled fury. "You buy spark plugs with your hand on his arm? You laugh like that for everyone?"

"Excuse me for being fucking nice" you snap. "I didn't realize I had to report my facial expressions to you."

He stalks toward you, his steps heavy on the cement, heat coming off him like a furnace.

"You didn't look nice, you looked easy" he growls.

Your nails dig into your palms.

"You know what? Maybe I am easy. Maybe I'll go back there tomorrow and let him—"

You don't finish.

You don't get the chance.

Your back hits the wall, hard, and his hand is around your throat before you can even gasp.

Not choking, at least not yet, but holding.

Claiming.

Containing.

His voice is a gravelled whisper behind the mask. "Say that again."

Your pulse pounds against his palm.

You want to be angry. You want to bite back. But God help you, your thighs press together.

"Get your hand off me" you say, though your voice betrays you, breathless already.

He leans in, body pinning yours to the wall. You feel every solid inch of him.

"You want it off?" His thumb strokes lazily along your throat. "Push me off."

You don't move.

He knows you won't.

Because you like this.

He exhales slowly through the mask.

"That's what I thought."

"I'm not something you own" you bite out, trembling with frustration and heat.

He chuckles. "Keep telling yourself that."

His free hand drags down your side, slow and heavy, stopping at your hip. His grip tightens possessively.

"Nobody touches what's mine."

You lift your chin, defiant.

"Good thing I'm not—"

He grabs your jaw, fingers digging in. "Finish that sentence and see what happens next."

Your breath shakes. You hate how much this gets to you.

"You're sick" you whisper.

He steps closer, chest pressing yours, voice like molten steel.

"Then why are you wet?"

Your stomach drops. He always does this –rips your defenses apart like paper.

You glare up at him through your lashes. "Take off the mask if you're going to talk to me like that."

Something sharp flashes behind his eyes.

No, he doesn't want that.

The mask lets him say things he shouldn't. Do things he shouldn't.

The mask is freedom.

"Not tonight. Tonight, you wanted the devil."

His hand leaves your throat only to flip you around, pressing your front to the wall. A gasp punches out of you as he bends you just enough to make your pulse sprint with anticipation.

"And now" he murmurs at your ear, "you've got him."

Albert's breathing is heavy behind the mask.

You feel caged, his body blocking any chance of escape... but you don't want to run.

His hands slide down your waist, ringed fingers dragging over denim and skin.

"You think I don't know what this is?" he murmurs at your ear, voice low, steady, lethal. "You like pushing me. You like seeing how far I'll go before I have to punish you."

You grind your teeth, refusing to give him satisfaction. "You don't scare me."

He laughs under his breath, a dark sound that curls at the base of your spine.

"Oho, oh sweetheart…"

His hand comes up to wrap loosely around your throat again, this time from behind, angling your head to the side.

He watches you, taking in every flicker of your face, every reaction. He's not being mindless. He's dangerously focused.

"You go around town smiling at boys who can't do a damn thing for you" he growls. "What, you think they'd know what to do with you if they had you like this?!"

Your blood races. "Let me guess. You think you're the only one who can?"

His chest presses harder against your back, hips grinding frustration and desire into you.

"I don't think. I know."

He pushes your shirt up, slowly, making you feel every inch of skin now exposed.

His fingers trace your ribs, lingering under your bra, forcing a shiver out of you –one you pray he didn't feel.

"Sensitive" he comments against your neck. You swear he sounds pleased.

You push away from the brick wall to no avail, fighting a moan. "Get your hands off me if all you're going to do is talk."

He freezes.

Oh. That did it.

He fists the back of your shirt and spins you back to facing him. You meet the mask, shadowed eyes staring down at you, unreadable and merciless.

"You want me to stop talking? Fine."

He grabs your wrists and pins them above your head, one big hand holding them there effortlessly. The other hand drags down your throat, across your chest, down your stomach… until his fingers are gripping your jeans.

You feel your heartbeat drop straight between your legs.

Albert leans in, the mask inches from your lips. His voice is quiet and honest.

"Tell me you don't want this, you little prick" he challenges.

You glare. "Fuck you."

His head tilts. "You will."

He pops the button. Lowers the zipper. Slow. Mean. Your breath catches despite yourself.

"You like to pretend you're mouthy, but your body—" his fingers slip inside your waistband, knuckles brushing heat "—doesn't lie. You see, it simply can't."

You hate him.

You need him.

You're going to burn alive.

"Now say you want me" he demands.

"Dream on."

He smirks behind the mask, you can't see it, you just feel it.

His hand slides even lower, palm pressing between your thighs, cupping, rubbing. Even over your panties it's too much. You gasp and push into his touch helplessly.

Got you.

He tightens his grip on your wrists.

"Say it."

You shake your head, flushed and furious. "Make me."

The sound he makes is feral.

His voice drops impossibly low.

"You asked for it, love."

He practically drags you to the mattress. You fall back, jeans undone, shirt pushed up, body buzzing with anticipation and spite.

Albert stands over you, broad shoulders heaving, mask staring down all judgment.

"Take them off" you say, lifting your hips.

He shakes his head once. "No."

Your brows draw together. "Then what—?"

He points a finger at you then at himself. "You take them off. For me."

Your mouth runs dry.

It's not a request.

It's an order.

And you obey.

Your jeans slide down your legs, and Albert watches like dragging clothing off your body is something sacrilegious.

You can already see it. The war inside him. The desire to ruin you fighting the sick need to worship you.

Then his gaze darkens.

He kneels onto the mattress, crawling over you until he's a huge shadow above, one hand on the bed, the other sliding up your thigh, claiming his territory.

"This is mine" he raps.

"You think everything is yours."

He leans in, mask brushing your cheek.

"Not everything" he murmurs. "Just you."

You're lightheaded from lust by the time he drags you up from the mattress and into his lap.

His legs spread wide as he yanks you onto his thigh, big hands gripping your hips and buttockss, grinding you down against him.

The mask is inches from your face, breathing harsh and uneven. You feel how hard he is already, thick and heavy beneath his corduroy pants.

He squeezes the side of your neck again, not enough to hurt, but enough to keep you where he wants you.

"Look at you" he mocks. "Already needy."

"Not for you" you pout.

He laughs once. Low. Dark. Cooing.

"You're a little liar."

You rock against his thigh harder just to spite him. He grabs your hips, holds you still. Makes you whine in frustration.

"Greedy girl" he mutters. "Always want what you don't deserve."

"Funny" you shoot back, breath shallow, having too much fun provoking him further. "I was about to say the same to you."

His thumb pushes into your cheek, turning your face so you meet the hollow eyes of the mask again.

"You think I don't deserve you?"

An angry, loaded pause.

"No one deserves you like I do."

Your chin lifts, still defiant. "Prove it."

A challenge... The stupid kind.

He stands abruptly and you yelp as he shoves you down to your knees on the cold basement floor.

His hand fists your hair. You look up, and oh, you've never seen him this gone. This unhinged. This desperate.

He undoes his belt. The clink of metal echoes like a threat in the silence of the soundproof room.

When he drags the zipper down and pulls himself free, he's rock hard –veined, flushed almost purple, and thick... Intimidating enough to make you swallow.

He tilts your head back by your hair.

"Open your pretty mouth."

You keep your mouth closed on purpose.

He huffs. "Always so fucking difficult. And for what? Huh?"

You run your tongue over your bottom lip, eyes never leaving his. "Make me."

A growl rumbles from behind the mask.

His hand tightens in your hair as he shoves his thumb between your lips. You suck it slow and filthy, eyes dragging up his body as you wrap your tongue around him, deliberately obscene.

You watch him break.

He pulls his thumb free and replaces it with his cock.

You open willingly now, and he groans and grunts like he wasn't expecting the sudden obedience.

His hand stays tangled at the back of your skull as he slides in deeper. Your tongue flattens. Your eyes water.

His eyes drink in every second.

"Look at you" he mutters, voice strained. "So fucking beautiful like this…"

He pulls back, then thrusts shallow, testing. His grip turns iron and his breathing changes quickly. You feel him slip.

He starts fucking your mouth, slow but brutal.

You choke once but you don't stop him. Hands on his thighs for balance, you let him use you, let him finally take what he's been starving for in his envy. His groans deepen. His pace roughens and picks up a bit.

You moan around him and his hips stutter.

"Yes. Yes—keep doing that—"

He holds your head perfectly still –careful not to injure you– and goes deeper, hitting the back of your throat, your eyes and nose running freely now.

He tilts his head like he wants to see you finally break and pull back, spattering. But you don't. You keep looking up at him. You keep taking it.

No fear. Just heat.

And the occasional gag.

"You feel so fucking good—Jesus—"

It shouldn't hit you like praise. Oh well.

You reach up, your fingers brushing the lower half of his devil face.

He flinches and tries to pass it off like it's just from you sucking him off.

Meanwhile, you don't ask for permission. You slide the mask's lower half down, cautiously peeling it away from his face.

His lips part.

His jaw is clenched tight.

His mouth is wet from panting.

And fuck, he looks wrecked already.

Then you kiss the swollen tip of him.

His whole body jerks.

"Oh, ah~"

You stroke him once, twice, three times, slick with your spit and his pre-cum.

Albert curls over you like he's mortally wounded.

You rise to your feet, lips glistening.

He looks at you like he wants to devour you and fall to his knees all at once.

You whisper... "Your turn, pretty boy."

He grabs you and kisses you.

Teeth. Tongue. Heat. No restraint. No air.

He hardly kiss like a man. He kisses like a beast in heat.

You moan into him and he pushes you back onto the worn mattress, climbing over you and breathing you in like he needs you to stay alive.

When he pulls back, the remaining upper half of the mask is halfway gone too, and his eyes...

Oh his eyes... They're not cold anymore.

They're alive and burning and terrified.

"Why do you do this to me?" he breathes.

You utter the steadiest lie you've ever told.

"Because you like it."

You're aware of your cruelness. Albert can't take this much exposure all at once, he needs grounding, but tonight you're offering none. You wanted the devil, he said it himself.

That's why, after he exhales hard through his nostrils, everything darkens in him again.

The softness dies violently.

He grabs your thighs and drags you to the edge of the mattress, ripping your panties down in one brutal motion.

"Spread."

Your lungs stop working.

You spread.

Your legs are trembling from pure want as he finally positions himself between them.

He's impossibly broad, shoulders thick and chest taut, built from years of hard work. However, there's also a curve to his spine, which makes him move like a predator coiled and ready to pounce.

You take in every line of him, every thick vein running down his forearm, every flex of muscle as he leans over you.

The age difference hits you in a new way. It's the weight of him, the authority, the dangerous gravity he carries with him.

You crave it.

Rough hands land on your inner thighs, pulling them apart, thumbs brushing over your sensitive flesh.

You feel your clit burning, pussy already slick from the teasing earlier. He smirks, letting out another gravelly growl.

"You belong to me. No one else." he hisses.

And then he pushes into you, slowly stretching you, filling you completely.

Your gasps are swallowed by the basement walls, your fingernails clawing into his shoulders.

Albert keeps a tight grip on your hips, preventing them from snapping close.

"You feel so fucking good" he groans, thrusting harder.

The remaining part of the mask gives him a sense of anonymity, letting him be brutal without guilt.

He bites along your shoulders and collarbones, marking you, essentially leaving traces of himself on your skin. You moan, half in pain, half in pleasure –pure ecstasy.

His own sounds are becoming louder.

He's pulling at your hair again, this time to tilt your head back, exposing your throat to him like a feast.

He pauses for a moment, chest heaving, then bows his head, brushing his lips along your jaw before grabbing your head and forcing a deep, passionate kiss. Hungry and messy, like he's trying to consume you.

You wrap your arms around his neck,kissing him back, while also moving your hips to match his pace.

"You're such a fucking brat. Always fighting me."

He thrusts harder, his balls slapping against you, slick and hot, and you try to bite back a feral smirk.

He chuckles darkly. "Yeah… that's right. You like that too, don't you?"

You can barely breathe, barely think.

Every movement, every slap of skin against skin, every harsh grunt leaves you trembling. He's relentless, pressing you into the mattress as he picks up pace, pulling your wrists above your head and pinning them with one arm while the other keeps your legs spread.

"You like it rough" he growls, nibbling at your earlobe, "don't you, little pet?"

"Yes" you moan, arching up, needing more more more. "Please, Albert—harder—fuck me!"

His response is immediate.

He loses himself even more –if that's possible, pounding into you with brutal precision, growls mixing with shouts and ragged breaths.

Your clit is being stimulated by every rough stroke, every press of him against your lower belly. You cry out, hands clawing at his back, nails scraping the skin raw. He bites the curve of your shoulder again, leaving another mark.

He pulls back slightly, gripping your thighs and lifting your hips, driving even deeper from this new angle.

"So fucking wet for me. Mine, mine, mine…"

Your knees shake and lock around his torso, your body tightens around him as waves of pleasure and frustration collide.

"You're unbelievable" his are hands pressing hard enough to leave bruises along your ribs.

"You're too much" you gasp and whine. "God, you're too much, Albert!"

"I don't care. You're mine. You always were."

Then the moment snaps...

He's pounding into you like a man possessed. You cry out as your body starts shaking violently, spasms everywhere.

Albert leans down, wet lips on yours, kissing you roughly even as he fills you to the brim, heavy balls pressing against you with every thrust, breeding you.

The tension coiled for hours, days, even weeks, breaks in a cathartic scream as you both climax together. Your body clenches around his twitching length. He groans as he spills inside you, raw and hot.

The basement is filled with your cries, his growls, and the wet, desperate sound of him taking what he longs to be his.

Eventually, he collapses over you, sweaty, mask still on, panting.

His hands slide to your waist, keeping you close. You're still catching your breath, still trembling with aftershocks.

"Mine" he mutters again, almost a whisper this time. "You're all mine…"

Your knees feel like jelly, your thighs burn, your clit throbs, your chest heaves, your throat raw. But somehow despite the brutality, and the aggression, and the possessiveness… there's a pulse of reverent awe beneath it all.

The basement is silent except for your shared ragged breathing.

"God, I can't believe this. You're fucking mine, sweetheart."

You shiver against him, exhausted.

"You've gone nuts, Al."

"Yeah?" he breathes. "But I'm yours. Yours..."

For the first time, the upper half of the mask feels like a cage keeping him from collapsing completely.

Why, you ask?

You see, while Albert's breath is still hot against your neck and his body heavy over yours, something has shifted. He isn't talking now, or moving. He isn't even growling anymore.

The silence in the basement is suddenly loud.

His fingers dig into your hips like he can't let go... can't afford to.

This isn't the weight of lust anymore.

So your hands move gently, brushing back the strands of silver-blonde hair that fell free during the deed.

He flinches, just slightly, like he isn't sure if he's allowed to be touched like this. Tenderly. No nails clawing at his back now.

You tilt his chin up.

The upper half of the mask stares back, cold and devilish, with its carved horns and sharp lines.

The man beneath it is shaking.

"Albert?" you whisper.

He doesn't answer.

Your thumbs stroke over his jaw, then his lips. Something inside him is cracking.

You reach behind his head, finding the leather straps. He tenses, like he might stop you, but he actually doesn't.

He lets you unfasten it. The mask falls away.

And... He's just a man. A flushed, still sweating man, trembling in his effort to hide the fact.

His lips are swollen from kissing you, and his eyes –God, those baby blues– are glassy. Obsession, fear, and rage still swimming inside them. But also… devotion.

You cup his face in your hands. His breath shudders.

"Hey handsome..."

He breaks.

Folds, like someone cut the last string holding him up.

He lowers his head slowly and presses his face against your breasts, breathing hard and shaky. His hands loosen. They aren't holding you down anymore. They're holding on. Very different.

His voice is pure gravel.

"I shouldn't—I shouldn't be near you. I shouldn't touch you. I ruin things. I ruin everything I touch."

You cradle his face against you, fingers sliding into his hair. He whimpers when you do.

"It's okay. You don't ruin me... Not in a way I don't want."

"But you don't know what I am. You shouldn't want me. You shouldn't—shit—" His breath hitches when you drag your nails lightly against the back of his neck. "I can't stop. I can't stay away from you."

He nuzzles against your chest, not sexual now. Just touch-starved. You stroke his hair again, gentle.

He shivers.

"You didn't hurt me" you tell him softly.

His grip on your tightens, like he doesn't believe you.

"I could have. I wanted—"

He stops for a moment, jaw clenching.

"I wanted to break you. I was so fucking angry. I lost control. I—"

"You didn't hurt me" you repeat, firmer this time.

He looks up at you.

"I'm here, Albert. Because I wanted this. With you."

He looks lost. Like no one has ever said that to him in all his life.

"You still want me now?" he asks quietly, terrified of the answer.

You don't hesitate. "I do."

He presses his forehead to yours, breathing you in.

"I don't deserve you."

You kiss the corner of his mouth. "Too bad. You have me anyway."

He exhales a broken laugh.

The hunger will come back, along with the possessiveness, and the mask. But right now, he knows you're not going anywhere.

Tonight, in the quiet after the chaos, Albert Shaw holds you like you're his angel.

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Black Phone Masterlist

Dividers by @strangergraphics 🍒

Michael Myers

Similar to Jason; You’re not hearing a single noise from him. His vocal cords could be missing for all you know. But you will hear lots of his eerie breathing. Whether it’s measured and calm or strained and staggering, those are the only noises you might hear before he’s suddenly in front of you.

And he actually lives for scaring you. Will press himself into your back when you least expect it and relish in your gasping. Loves to watch you from dark corners and see how long you take to figure out. Your guard is gonna be up for the rest of your life honestly.

Does he use sign language? No! He was taught it during his time in the asylum, so if you sign to him he’ll understand just fine. But he refuses to use it himself. His silence is a choice, it’s a way to isolate himself further into his role as The Shape. He honestly doesn’t care if you understand him or not, he doesn’t have anything he wants to say to you that he can’t say through actions.

When you’re yapping, you’ll get the occasional head tilt and if you’re really really lucky, a thumbs up or down. That’s all you’re ever gonna get from him. He might as well have fallen asleep honestly, you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference under his mask.

Bubba Sawyer (Leatherface)

So while he doesn’t “talk”, he is most definitely not silent. This guy babbles like nobody’s business, he grunts and squeals, he goes around making all sorts of noises to himself when he’s in a real good mood. If he’s actually ever quiet for an extended period of time, that means he’s in desperate need of a hug honestly. A lot of his rambling does almost sound like words, but he can never quite fully get them out coherently. His tone is usually enough to let you know what he’s thinking though.

And while he can be decent at sneaking when he’s locked in, hunting someone down, that basically never applies to you or the rest of the family. Drayton constantly yells at him to stop parading around the house, his large frame is bumping into anything and everything. Plus he has a touch of echolalia, so any fun noises he happens to hear are being imitated ten times over. You can hear him coming from a mile away.

Does he use sign language? …he tries. Much like verbal communication, he tends to be really clumsy and struggles a lot with it. First of all, it’s gonna take a while for him to memorize even basic signs, although he does have a wonderful time learning from you. Secondly, once he does get them in his head, it doesn’t always translate well to his hands. His big fingers tend to get caught up in each other, his movements sometimes get too jittery and sloppy to properly show what he wants to say. It’s just not in his skill set.

That being said, he’s still so incredibly expressive. You’re able to tell his happy stimming from his nervous stimming, he makes a lot of “uh huh”s and “nuh-uh”s, not to mention the way his eyes sparkle through the mask. And every time you talk to him, the entire world fades away so he can focus on you, just because he finds you utterly fascinating.

(Sorry no Thomas Hewitt, haven’t seen the movie)

Vincent Sinclair

I imagine he’s on the slightly-more ‘realistic’ range of being silent. As in, completely quiet most of the time, but he still lets out little hums and sighs to let you know what he’s thinking. The very occasional airy laugh, sometimes a groan.

He’s either tip-toeing or stomping, no in between. When he’s in a good mood, usually while focused on his art, he has a way of dancing around the room gracefully, like he’s barely touching the floor. And when he’s not, you can definitely hear it, his feet hitting the ground hard as he paces. He doesn’t like sneaking up on you though, he gives you a lot of gentle touches to let you know he’s around.

Does he use sign language? Yes! I think it’s something his parents would’ve had him learn once it was apparent he was non-verbal. Unfortunately, Bo purposefully avoided learning any and Lester only knows a little, so he used it less and less after their passing and he isolated himself into his work. Once you come along, however, and he figures out you know sign he falls right back into it. He’s a bit brief and minimal with what he chooses to say, but very poetic and careful with his words.

He also likes to leave you a lot of handwritten notes, usually accompanied by little doodles and sketches. Mostly of you, telling you how pretty you looked while you slept or how wonderfully that shirt you wore complimented your complexion. Every now and then, you’ll find smiley faces and hearts randomly drawn onto your hands and arms. He never fails to let you know he’s thinking of you.

Billy Lenz

Honestly he almost didn’t make this list, because he’s anything but silent. Majored in blabbering with a minor in being a siren. His lips basically never stop moving, he likes to loom over you and narrate everything in his own filthy language. When he does get quiet, it’s eerie, it means something is wrong and you should probably be very worried. But otherwise you’re getting front row seats to every single thought that’s being passed through his head, no matter how dirty or senseless or repetitive.

Despite this, he is very quiet as he moves around and he lives for scaring the shit outta you. He’ll bite his own tongue until it’s bleeding just so you don’t hear him as he lurches up behind you, giddy at your cluelessness. He delights in hearing you scream for him in lots of ways. Despite some sporadic hand gestures, I think he’s learned to be very careful and tentative with his movements. Can’t be caught making a racket in the attic, after all.

Does he use sign language? Doesn’t need to. He’s hyperverbal, if anything. However it would probably be useful for him to have a way to talk to you when he’s lost in a panic and only repeating the same four words over and over, eyes glazed over and holding onto you for dear life. But don’t bother bringing that up, he’ll become very offended. If he was put into an asylum or psyche ward at any point, he definitely got one of the other patients to teach him all the of cuss words and naughty things to say in sign. He uses those quite liberally, actually.

And echolalia to the max. You yelped while stubbing your toe once, and three days later he’s still repeating that same noise at every opportunity. Whenever you ask him a question, it’s likely his answer is gonna directly copy something you’ve said before. This guy loves being a parrot. Any sound he finds remotely interesting is going into his index of ‘noises to make whenever I damn please’. This is especially apparent while watching movies with him, he copies all the sound effects, but especially gunshots and shattered glass. And screams, he loves any and all screaming, actually. This is cute and all until you’re trying to go to sleep and he just…doesn’t turn it off.

Brahms Heelshire

So he definitely can talk…but most of the time he doesn’t care too. Unless speaking will directly benefit him, he prefers to be quiet and observant. It’s a habit he got from living in the walls and his existence being ignored most of his life. So a lot of staring at you, all the physical affection you could ask for, only a few necessary words exchanged. He does enjoy listening to you speak, though, adores the sound of your voice.

Just like Lenz, all his movements are cautious and mindful, unless he’s absolutely pissed about something. And while you don’t get the feeling he’s purposely trying to scare you, he does find it pretty cute to see you jump in his presence. He’ll mutter a small “sorry” while wrapping his arms around you, as though he doesn’t have a massive grin under his mask. He also has a thousand secret passages and pathways around his massive house and many, many ways of spying on you. Basically, you’ll go hours without seeing him and being absolutely oblivious to his whereabouts while he’s been following and watching you through the walls like ‘wow, we’re bonding :)’

Does he use sign language? Nope. Even if he was a bit of a quiet kid, it wasn’t enough to justify his parents having it taught to him. And they certainly weren’t going to bother after the fire. He’s reclusive, but his struggles with communication are more of a social issue than a verbal one. He probably knows other languages though, something dumb and fancy like Latin. Or maybe French.

He likes to sneak into your room late at night and wake you up. he brings food, movies, and a few drinks if you’re down for it. Teases you if you can’t handle hard liquor. He doesn’t force you to get shitfaced though.

He can be.. too much sexually. He wants you nearly all the time, every day all day. Billy has a hard time controlling himself but not in a way that puts you in danger. He gets hard easily. One kiss is enough to make him horny.

Late night dates are his thing. He will text you to be ready at a certain time, then he picks you up and drives to wherever you want. He rarely chooses the place to eat or hang out, he prefers to leave that up to you. Not the biggest fan of shopping but on his good days he won’t mind spending a couple hours at your favorite store. Don’t worry about prices either. Get whatever you want. Sometimes he steals random things he knows you’ll like and surprises you later with it.

Deep emotional talks are nearly impossible. While he does love you, he doesn’t really have the ability to sit down and really talk about things, especially when it’s about something he did that upset you. He’s quick to argue and not take any accountability. Many, many fights and arguments throughout the relationship. It’s not easy being with him.

Billy apologizes with actions. It feels like razors going down his throat saying “i’m sorry/i was wrong”

Sex with him is rough, kinky, messy, and very loud. He has no shame with dirty talk or making noises himself. He often stops to ask what’s wrong if you’re not loud with him. He doesn’t like the shy act.

He can be gentle/slow if you ask. Only if asked, though. His default is rough and quick. But again, you’re never in danger with him. If you say stop, he stops. If you panic, he calms you down the best he can. He doesn’t want to force himself on you like that.

It’s extremely rare to have him show emotion like depression or sadness in front of you. He only cries in front of you if you’re wanting to break up. It’s not a manipulation tactic, to your surprise. He truly loves you, and hates the idea of you being with anyone else. He gets his shit together if you set boundaries and let it be known you’re tired of his behavior. It’s not instant but it does happen.

Billy is definitely the type to go through your phone. He needs to know your passwords for every little thing. He’s constantly paranoid about you cheating. He will flip out if you try to keep any privacy like new passwords or not letting him see your phone when he asks.

Won’t let you have any guy friends. He even gets irritated when Stu is around you. He has major trust issues that he needs to work on.

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas has never had something to himself, so when you come along, he’ll do anything to keep you. His jealousy is reactive, immediate, and all consuming — it clouds his vision and dictates his actions. If any future victims get too close, too friendly, he can’t help but go off script and kill them right then and there, which always gets him in trouble later. Sometimes, Hoyt’s eyes will linger on you too long and Thomas pulls you away gently, hiding you from the man. You’re his, all his, and he needs to hear you say it to calm him. 

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent tends to channel his jealousy into his sculptures. Anyone that makes him jealous has an upcoming death date regardless of his feelings, but he is much more brutal with the ones that dared to speak to you past a polite greeting. Sometimes, the damage is so severe he can’t even display the wax figure he’s made out of them. 

Bo Sinclair

Everyone becomes a victim to Bo’s jealousy, just some tend to have it worse than others. His grip will tighten on you, calling you ‘sweetheart’ like the words are poison on his tongue, then when finally alone, he’ll accuse you of wanting to leave him — of having wandering eyes. He will demand Vincent give them unappealing features when he sculpts them, even going as far to take his pocketknife and scrape the finished product to defile them even further. The victim gets the worst of it, though. Damage is so bad even Vincent has to scrap some because he can’t sculpt what little is left of them. 

Hannibal Lecter

Hannibal’s jealousy is deeply sinister. He won’t show it outright, but he studies the offender — their habits, their scent, the tone of their voice and even takes on some of their traits himself, since you seemed to like them so much. He’ll serve dinner that week, the meat unusually tender and when you dare to ask what it is, he’ll only smile. Later, when you thank him for dinner, his hand will linger at the base of your neck, thumb brushing your carotid pulse. “You must forgive me,” he murmurs, “I do dislike sharing.” His jealousy isn’t about love; it’s about control portrayed as love. An uncontrollable desire to consume every part of you until there’s nothing left that isn’t his.

Jason Voorhees

His jealousy stems from the sheer desperation he feels towards you. He reacts like a wounded animal when someone tries to take you from him, blade tearing through skin and bone till there is nothing left of them. You’ll have to comfort him after, promising you’d never leave him because here’s the thing about a wounded animal; they’ll turn on you too. 

The Grabber