#pov slashers

[michaelinprogress]

Thinking about how this must have felt...

Being able to freely move his body again, to feel some semblance of life after over a century of lying in that grave rotting. Up to this point, he's been so stiff, lumbering around arduously. But this is where he becomes more man than corpse.

And the first thing he does with his newfound life?

He dances with Lisa.

He knows there is a piano inside. He could go in and play it for her, he could finally play music after nearly 200 years without it. But he dances with Lisa.

With his new life, all he wants to do is be with Lisa. To touch her, love her, make her happy. He has all this energy and he gives it all to her. Everything is for her.

[downtowncannibal]

agnes i er uh it's me billy

don't you er uh tell them what we did Agnes

[lumencoelisanctarosa]

— But he’s a fucking psycho with a split personality, paranoid schizophrenia, foot fetishism, (???), and other fucked-up diseases that can only exist in the world.

My honest reaction:

❕This post is made as a joke and irony and isn’t intended to romanticize serial killers and etc.

I hope that you understand that this is just a tribute to the talented and attractive actors who managed to play their cruel characters. Horror and slasher movie fans — yes! but not more.

[2braincellslz]

Billy Loomis: tell him where he can stick her grapes.

Billy lenz: UP HER PU-

Billy loomis: BILLY!

[toxicbrothel]

I hope I’m not late for the brothel sleepover 🥹

POV

"Musta been out whorin'," Joel hypothetically grumbles like it doesn't turn him on. You called him for a ride in the middle of the night after slashing your own tire. Now you're back in his camper and coming to terms with the fact that it's the coziest you've felt this holiday season. You have a beer on the TV dinner stand and he's on the floor between your knees, a position you weren't sure you'd ever seen him in. He shoves his hand up your cutoff denim skirt and finds you're drenched. He digs his thick fingers into the diamonds of your fishnets and looks up at you darkly, then rips them open. He spreads your legs wider, folds the skirt all the way up, and rips the hole in your leggings even bigger. He squints as he thumbs your wet little hole, then slides his thumb up to your clit. Your chest flutters as his head descends between your legs, and your fingers slot into the soft, brown curls in your lap. You shiver and twitch as his tongue dips into your wet little hole. But it's only a taste. He palms himself and sits up to ask, "didn't let'em cum inside?"

[slicznymartwy]

I’m not sure if your comfortable with it, but if it’s alright, can I request Billy Lenz and the reader (established relationship) having some sort of conversation on his past and the reader comforting him?

this one is rlly sad im sorry :(( this is mostly hc since i've only ever watched the original 1974 film, so idk if this lines up with the canon from the other movies. from what i know about it, i think it's similar. no mention of agnes in this warning: sa of a minor mention, please do not read if that bothers you. also, reader insert was abused/beaten by their mom. very sad take care of yourselves please

☾⋆⁺₊ billy lenz x gn!reader

Night fills your bedroom and coats itself on the floors and walls, except for where the yellow streetlamp spills in past your curtains. Sparing a glance to the alarm clock on your bedside table, you see the time is so late it could already be considered early. 

Still, you can’t think about sleep; not when Billy is laying beside you and the house is blissfully empty, two things so rare that it almost seems serendipitous. You’re not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so you keep staring at the ceiling and let the warmth of his body radiate into yours.

“Billy,” you whisper into the quiet room. “Are you asleep?”

You can hear him grunt and squirm beside you, and you feel bad for waking him. It wasn’t often he got a full night’s rest on a bed, and you knew for a fact that there was no mattress in the attic. There were only so many chances to have Billy and the house all to yourself, though, and you don’t want to squander it.

“Billy,” you say again, nudging him with your foot.

He grunts again, but it sounds more cognisant than before. He reaches over himself to pat your arm, almost like he’s quieting down a noisy cat, and you can feel his hand trail down to your own. His palm covers the back of your hand, and he threads his fingers in between yours, curling them down together. 

It’s a gesture so sweet that you’re tempted to let him fall back asleep. There’s no helping your addiction to him, though, and you tighten your fingers on top of his.

“I’m not tired,” you say with a pout. “I wanna talk.”

This time, Billy groans, low and long. You think it might be out of annoyance, but you can feel him stretching out beside you, straightening his long legs underneath the covers. He huffs when he’s done, eyes blinking open.

You love his pretty eyes, an orangey amber that you were always getting lost in, no matter how unsettling they could be. It always felt like he was staring into you, like he could see the marrow in your bones.

You loved his intensity. It made you feel alive when the rest of the world was tired and grey.

“Hi,” you say, reaching over with you unoccupied hand to touch his jaw. “I didn’t ask before. How was your day?”

He’s quiet for a long time, and you wonder if he can fall asleep with his eyes open, but then he says, “Bad.” 

The word hangs in the air. Billy’s face gives up nothing, a blank page with no words of his own to say. You frown and pull your hand back from his face to rest on your own chest. The other stays in his hold, neither of you willing to let go.

“I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about it?” you ask, although it doesn’t surprise you when Billy shakes his head against your pillow.

“Okay.” You squeeze against his fingers again, pulling gently on his arm so that it rested more heavily on top of you. The bedroom air is quiet, but your mind continues to race. It’ll be good for him to get it off his chest, you tell yourself.

“Is it something old or something new?”

He thinks about your words for a while, but then you hear him mutter, “Old.”

“Bad memories?” you ask, looking back at him. He blinks at you, then nods.

“I get bad memories, too.” You lean against him slightly, and glance up at the ceiling. “From when you were a kid?”

This time, Billy shrugs. You know you shouldn’t push him, but your heart aches to see him hurt and to not have the rememdy.

You turn around and let go of him for only a moment. You search for his hand again, this time with the opposite one to press your hands together, palm to palm. Your fingers entwine so easily, so naturally, that it makes your heart ache.

Maybe he just needs to know he’s not alone in whatever bullshit he’s had to endure in his life. Maybe it will help to know that you have bad memories too.

“My mom used to hit me,” you admit quietly. You stare at the way your hands mesh together, with your nails polished and Billy’s own chewed up. “She used to take my stepdad’s belt and hit me with it. Used to just be the leather part, but then she would swing the buckle at me too. She broke a tooth, but it was just a baby one. My adult teeth grew in alright.”

You keep your voice casual as you speak, because facts are facts, and there’s no reason to get upset about something you can’t change anymore. Besides, you reminesce about your childhood so infrequently that it feels like it all happened to another person. 

You remember the beatings like you’re watching it happen to someone else – something else, because you don’t feel bad for them when they can’t sit at school because of the welts on their ass. You don’t bat an eye when their mom has to take them to the doctor to reset their broken nose.

“Bitch,” Billy spits out from beside you, and you have to laugh at the venom dripping in his voice.

“I don’t talk to her anymore,” you tell him, smiling sadly. You glance at him, but it’s hard to look at the mean look on his face. It probably isn’t for you, but your mind is traitorous and too sensitive.

Even worse, Billy could be mad on your behalf. No, you can’t think about that either, not when you’ve spent so long pretending that it didn’t really happen.

“Anyways. All that to say, I know what it’s like, having bad memories. You don’t have to tell me, just… I’m here for you,” you say, running your thumb along his hand where they’re still locked together.

“Want to,” he mutters, voice croaking unnaturally as he speaks in his own voice.

Quietly, you release his hand and instead wrap yourself around him, laying partially on top. He lets out a heavy sigh as you settle, with your arm coming up to rest by his head and your same-side leg resting over his hips. He watches the ceiling, and you watch his face from where you lay your ear to his chest

“Bad billy. Disgusting,” he mutters, and you pet his cheek with the back of your hand.

“I don’t think so.” You keep your voice careful and quiet, but he sighs and its agitated. Pent up memories start to overfill, and you can see it on his face.

“Mommy,” he starts, but his voice breaks and he coughs to clear his throat. “Mom. Fucking hate her. I hate her. Stupid fucking slut. She’s disgusting. Not me. Not Billy.”

You take your hand away from his face, watching how his expression continues to contort, mixing between anger and disgust and fear. It wrenches your heart in your chest.

“You’ve been so good, Billy. You’re not disgusting.”

“I hate her. I hate her,” he chants again. “Oh, Billy! Shut up!”

When he says his own name, it sounds like a feminine moan. You almost don’t understand, but the implication dawns on you only a moment later. It’s not difficult to piece it all together: his rage, the names he calls himself, the moan. You feel sick.

“Hey, we can stop,” you try gently, but Billy either doesn’t hear you or doesn’t want to stop.

“No one needs to know, Billy. Be a good boy.” You can’t look at his face anymore, the ugly way it scrunches up hurts you down to you core. Guilt claws at you from inside, and you wish you knew the right thing to say but you don’t. The truth, you decide, is enough for now.

“I hate her, too,” you tell him, and it sounds a little wet. You don’t let yourself cry, but your heart breaks for a younger Billy, afraid and confused. 

“That’s my mom,” he says. You don’t know what he’s trying to convey when he says that – if he wants you to pity her, or if he’s sharing his betrayal with you. He whines, a painfully soft noise that gets trapped in his throat.

Gently, carefully, you card your fingers through his hair where you can reach, and you kiss his shoulder.

“She’s gone. She can’t hurt you anymore,” you tell him, although you don’t know if it’s true. You do know that, as long as you’re by his side, there’s no way you’ll let that woman touch him again.

“I wish I could kill her,” he says through clenched teeth. His voice is thick, like he might be crying. You can’t bare to look. Billy’s grief melts into you like it’s thermodynamics, heat into cold, and you can only hope that you can take some of his and ease his mind.

“How would you do it?” you whisper, pressing your hand over his hammering chest.

“Cut… cut her head off. Smash it like a pumpkin. Oh, Billy! Good boy, Billy. Shut up!” His voice breaks when he shouts. He coughs, then gasps for air, his breath shaking as he fights against the tightenness in his throat. “I’ll turn her teeth into pumpkin seeds,” he snarls.

Without warning, you move yourself to lay completely on top of him, pressing against his body with your body weight. He groans, and you’re sure you must be squishing him, but he doesn’t complain. In fact, his arms come up around you, hooked under your arms and pressing you against him with his hands at your shoulders.

“I’ve got you,” you tell him, pressing your face against his neck. “You’re okay now. It’s just us in here. Just me and you.”

“I hate her,” he whimpers again. “I hate her. I hate her.”

You don’t say anything, because you don’t think there are any words that could possible take away his hurt without also being a complete lie. Underneath your body, you can feel Billy start to relax, grounded back to reality from the rotten memories playing in his head.

“I’m sorry today was a bad day. We can have a good one tomorrow,” you say. It’s an impossible thing to promise, but you mean it like one. You’ll make sure Billy has a good day, whether fate wants it or not.

“Okay,” he murmurs. “I’ll kill your mom too.”

“Thank you,” you say. You kiss his temple, and he leans into your lips.

© slicznymartwy 2023, please do not repost or copy.

a/n: reblogs and replies are really appreciated

[queer-wizard]

I am experiencing severe levels of brain rot <3

[ho1000c]

“A little way back where the end meets the road, turn your back and I might reload...” 

HOUSE OF 1000 CORPSES (2003) dir. Rob Zombie

[syncast-err0r]

during the whole post s2 montage or whatever, it's revealed that gabriel and beelzebub actually live in a cottage in North Downs, being their resident cryptids and functioning in worse ways than crowley and aziraphale could ever manage, and that's just them not trying

their entire house has rooms that are either completely empty or fully thrashed. these two idiots didn't even bother with trying to seem human. the house just spawned out of nowhere and they don't even bother with humans' memories they literally do not give a fuck. there's no bathroom, no bedroom. however there is a dungeon. neither of them ever sleep so they're just walking around at night for funsies. they're awful. their neighbors at least are grateful because flies refuse to enter anywhere else aside from the bureaucracy house (house is a strong word) just bc beelzebub is nearby. fuck it. they have several floors which can only be accessed from the inside, meaning it looks like it only has one floor from the outside. they have a garden and for some reason it's full of the worst smelling plants to attract flies but also they don't smell at all because gabriel was like nah n beelzebub was like fair enough

do u guys see my vision. do u

[skeletonea]

These men invented sexy

[4doll]

Jealousy

(Warnings: 18+, threesome, spanking, small face slapping, clit slapping, v in p sex, unprotected sex, hair pulling, multiple orgasms, deep throating, nipple play, voyeurism, masochism, possessive behavior(?), jealousy, fem reader, reader has female anatomy, mentions of murder and blood, no plot, 2nd person, short, wrote this in one sitting, lmk if there’s anything else.)

The sound of slapping filled the quiet, small, and messy bedroom. Jason’s machete on the floor, clothes, and blood. You cried out in pain, a small grunt came from Jason. Sure he loved to be rough from time to time but he was a little worried.

Tears started to fall, and the sound of skin slapping soon followed. Micheal used his hand to turn your head, your eyes staring into the void of Micheal’s eyes. He slapped your face seeing the tears.

He let go of your face letting it fall back into the sheets of the messy and dirty bed. He went back to fucking you, his eyes wandering to Jason who was in the corner of the room watching the whole thing go down as he played with himself.

Jason was getting impatient and jealous. He wanted to be inside you, feel you clench around his cock, he wanted to be the one to make you feel so good to the point of crying. He stood up and walked over.

He grabbed your hair, pulling you up to be met with his cock. Your eyes widened at the size. You let out a moan when Michael hit a certain spot, he was going at an intense speed. Making you not even able to think. Jason shoved his cock into your mouth.

Taking you by surprise. He started to fuck your throat, fast. It took your throat a minute or two to get used to his size, Jason’s head fell back in pleasure. He loved the way your throat felt around his cock. Micheal let out a grunt of jealousy as he watched Jason deep-throat you.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, feeling so overwhelmed with pleasure. Micheal felt you clench tight around him he let out a groan. He looked down at his cock, waiting to see your cum covering his cock.

Your muffled moan vibrated Jason’s cock, his cock twitched as he groaned lowly. He was so close, Jason looked down at you. Your messy hair covering your face. He quickly moved your hair out of the way to see ruined mascara and you crying.

He let out a loud groan as he came, his cock twitching before you felt hot liquid squirting down your throat. You gagged at the sudden liquid down your throat. He continued to fuck your throat until he came drown from his high.

You soon came after that, he let go of your hair. Your face falling back into the sheets. Jason looked down at you once again, pushing some hair out of your fucked out face. He wanted to see your face as you came.

You let out a loud moan as you came, face scrunched up in pleasure, knees bucking, you felt so weak. Your hands gripped the sheets, knuckles turning white. Micheal continued to fuck you as you came, you felt overstimulated. Micheal slightly smiled seeing your cum covering his cock.

He pulled out his cock, your whine from the loss of his cock getting cut off with a yelp. He turned you over on your back, he quickly put his cock back in. Thrusting at a fast speed, almost breaking the bed in the process.

Jason’s cock twitched seeing you're fucked out face hanging over the edge of the bed. He worked his cock, already rock hard. His thumb ran over his tip, letting out a very small moan. He carefully kneeled in front of you putting his cock back in your mouth.

You were still on your high when you felt Jason’s cock in your mouth. Your eyes widened, as you felt his cock slowly thrusting in your throat. His pace soon sped up. He put his hands on your tits for support. He watched them jiggle from the thrusting from Micheal.

He started to play with your nipples as he fucked your throat. More tears started to fall, choked moans came from you. Your hands on his stomach for support. You felt Micheal's cock twitch. You whined as Micheal picked up his pace even faster. He felt you clench around him again.

He kept hitting your sweet spot causing you to be a muffled moaning mess around Jason’s cock. Your eyes rolled back as you came again. Micheal looked down at his cock seeing more of your cum covering his cock. He groaned at the sight.

He came as he slapped your clit. Your hips jolted as a tear fell, he held your hips down from moving as he came inside. His calloused and rough hands holding you down, from how hard he was holding you down you knew he was gonna leave bruises.

He slapped your clit again and again and again and again until you came for the 3rd time. Micheal’s cock came out with a wet pop. He watched as a mixture of your cum and his cum flowed out. He panted, as he watched Jason fucking your throat. Jealousy rose in his stomach.

You became so used to Jason’s throat fucking you forgot about it when you came twice. You felt his cock twitch in your throat. His movements came to a stop when he came. Groaning in pleasure as he let go of your tits.

His head fell back as you felt his cum flow down your throat. He slowly fucked your throat as he came down from his high. He slowly pulled out his cock panting. Both Micheal and Jason watched your overstimulated body. You swallowed Jason’s cum as you finally got to breathe.

They were both obsessed with you and your body, they would do anything for you. The night ended with them cleaning you up and putting you to sleep. They both went to murder the same guy who hit on you today which caused them to fuck you for hours over jealousy.

taglist: @sl4shers @starboashee

[redreyenotarget]

When you gotta be *that* nurse/doctor that gotta check up *this* specific patient.

Well, I wanted to make something for Michael again. Like a small comic or fanfic. I started by an idea I had in my head for a while(him and a sanatorium nurse/doctor getting close and exploring his human side). I haven’t written for 7-8 years( I was writing poems and small prose) so I’m not sure how is it gonna be, plus that english is my second language.

[solivagantingrebel]

Local man! (me) forgets that they love writing from Ghost's pov and starts another fic from Soap's pov. They (me) will learn nothing from this.

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Bloody Valentines

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam, Young Justice 98, Titans, GL Corps, Legion of Super Heroes, Flashfam, New Gods

Summary: 90s vampire slasher AU

Chapters: 5/?

Characters: Dick Grayson, Joseph Wilson, Jason Todd, Charley Parker, Zatanna, Eddie Bloomberg, Daniel Cassidy, Chester Williams DC, Guy Gardner, Kyle Rayner, Lilith Clay, Raven Roth, Kole Weathers, Bette Kane, Donna Troy, Roy Harper, Jenni Ognats, Bart Allen, Virgil Hawkins, Richie Foley, Ayla Ranzz, Zoe Saugin, Rol Purtha, Darla Aquista, Lori Zechlin, Hal Jordan, Helen Jordan II, Orion DC, Lightray DC

Relationships: DickJoey, Daniel Cassidy/Zatanna, DonnaRoy, Jenni Ognats/Virgil Hawkins, Raven/Lilith Clay

Additional Tags: POV First Person, Unreliable Narrator(s), Vampires, No Capes AU, 90s Slasher AU, Homoeroticism, Horror, Slasher

Chapter Five: The Omen (Lilith's POV)

Donna suggested the trip, and Roy insisted on driving us. I invited Bette and Kole, and Donna requested Raven join us. It was the only time we all had off to vacation. We planned on spelunking and walking the beach and doing all sorts of things, but the closer the trip got, the more we all started feeling uneasy. Raven read a book, Bette nibbled on trail mix, Donna messed around with the map, Roy ignored her directions, and Kole slept soundly on my shoulder. Occasionally, I'd lean over and glance at Raven's book or check if Kole was alright, but the car was mostly silent.

Roy stopped in the middle of the road, and everyone looked up. "Injured animal in the road... Hold on," Roy whispered. He rolled the window down partway. "Hey! Do you need-?"

"No, thanks! Can you get around?" a man yelled, and Roy answered back before driving around them. Raven grabbed my wrist.

"Did you feel that?" Raven questioned. I shushed her. Where she came from, those feelings weren't as foreign to normal people. But yeah, I felt it. A full-body cold started in my frontal lobe and penetrated my scalp, trickling down my neck, shoulders, and chest like ice water. Fear. Primal. Final. It was different than regular fear. It was dreadful, helpless, hopeless. That was a fear, unlike anything I'd ever felt before.

"Mhm," I mumbled.

Raven and I felt things. Other people's feelings, the feelings of animals, and sometimes places. Empaths. Raven was more in tune with it than I was, but it came at a cost for both of us. She was heavily affected by the emotions of others, and it showed on her face all the time. I could mask it, but she never had to. Donna touched Roy's arm for Roy's comfort. Not hers. I could feel his distress.

He sighed. "Call me superstitious, but I've only seen a dead coyote a few times before, and nothing good ever comes from it... And that coyote isn't gonna make it. Looks like something ate it up," Roy stated. Donna whispered in his ear, and he shook his head.

The car fell silent until we reached Happy Harbor. I woke Kole, and we walked in the dark to our cabin. Raven had a dizzy spell as soon as we walked in, and I reached out to help her, but I felt it too. Bette grabbed me, Kole grabbed Raven, and they sat us down. "Yikes, you guys good?" Bette questioned. Raven and I nodded. The energy there was outrageous. Raven's hand brushed mine, and I saw a flash of Bette covered in blood and screaming. I recoiled. Raven stood up and took a deep breath.

"Let's go make s'mores while it's still early," Raven suggested. Everyone eased up, and we grabbed our jackets and the bag of roasting sticks and walked to the beach. Roy and Donna lagged behind, so we couldn't see them holding hands. We all knew about them, but they were worried about being labeled as an item and messing up their friendship. I didn't have to be an empath to see it wouldn't last.

When we got to the beach, a girl and her three male friends had already started a bonfire, so we shared our s'mores. They were calm and collected, so it helped everyone else relax. Then, a brunette and a redhead with a bowl cut came to the beach with hot dogs, and the brown-haired guy made a pass at me. Bette lied and told him it was a gay beach, but I don't think she had to lie to this one to leave me alone. He looked like the type of guy that was more than willing to take no for an answer and move on. I could feel the grief coming off his body, so I could've let him down without hurting his feelings.

We were at the beach until it got too cold to be outside. Once we returned to the cabin, we divvied up rooms and beds. Three rooms. Three beds. Bette and Kole wanted to stay up and paint each other's nails, so they bunked together. I asked Raven to stay with me, so Roy and Donna wouldn't have to find a way to lie to be together. The worst kept secret in America. Roy took his jacket off, and I glanced at his tattoo. Roy met eyes with me, and I leaned forward. I wanted to get a closer look and get a laugh from him. "Can I help you?" Roy laughed.

"Just getting a look at the details," I replied.

Roy nodded, and everyone got ready to take their showers. First, Roy, then Donna, Raven, Bette, Kole, and finally me. I didn't mind. I climbed into bed with Raven, and she turned to me. "What did you see?" Raven asked.

"You first," I whispered.

"I think Kole is going to kill someone," Raven whispered. I knit my brows.

"I think Bette's gonna kill somebody," I replied, "Maybe we should talk about something else..."

Raven looked at me, and we held eye contact for what felt like forever. "Do you think it'd be the same?" Raven questioned. I took a breath. I knew what she meant. I thought about it before.

She drew my hand to her chest, and I let her touch mine. I could feel the smooth outline of her breast beneath the thin, satin fabric of her lingerie. I passed curiosity and ventured into arousal as my hand slid down her stomach and came into contact with her thigh. Her skin was as icy and silky as it looked. "We should stop," I whispered as I tried to gain control of my senses.

"Do you want to stop?" Raven questioned. I shook my head, and she leaned forward so close that our lips brushed against each other. Our eyes were wide open at first, but her lips were so soft. When she ran her foot against my leg, I shut my eyes and melted into the ecstasy of the moment. And then I felt it. Her arousal interlaced with something else. Something innocent and sweet.

"Are you-? You're a virgin?" I questioned. She nodded. "You want me to take your virginity?"

Raven answered with a tentative kiss, and she pushed me down further into the center of the bed by my shoulders. I pulled her nightgown up underneath the sheets and let my fingers brush against the front of her panties. My middle finger ran up and down against the cotton fabric as she lifted her leg, throwing it over my thigh. We kissed a third time, with confidence, as I hooked my thumb in her waistband. I could hear her breathing in between kisses. Then thunder crackled, and lightning flashed, scaring us apart. We turned, facing opposite sides of the room.

I don't know if Raven slept afterward or if she lay awake. But I know one thing for sure. I still wanted to fuck her. That feeling was mine. Undeniably mine.

[bookofmac]

Deadloch is to Crime Noir as Scream is to Slashers