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pedrospatch · 10 months ago

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captive

Raider! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: You find yourself missing your captor while he’s out on an early morning hunt with the rest of the group.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. RAIDER ERA. DARK!JOEL. DUBCON. IMPLIED PREVIOUS NONCON. UNSPECIFIED AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 50). READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION. mentions of Joel’s group murdering reader’s group, it’s implied her family members were also killed, Joel pretty much kidnaps reader and keeps her as his own, stockholm syndrome, reader deals with a lot of very distressing and conflicting feelings, Joel isn’t too creepy or extremely dark, but he is still not a good person, mentions of Tommy. VERY BRIEF SMUT in the form of cockwarming, daddy kink but i didn’t go overboard this time, pet names (honey, baby, babygirl, sweetheart) if i missed anything, you can POLITELY let me know because if i missed anything, it was purely accidental. minimal editing.

PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS.

if this isn’t your thing, that’s fine, just scroll on by.

word count: 1.4k

a/n: i might actually throw up idk. i’ve had this itch to try dark joel and seeing as i have major writer’s block with all my other wips i decided to just scratch the itch. this is a little out of my comfort zone but i actually ended up feeling pleased with what i wrote. this is my personal take on dark/raider joel, i’m sure it is very out of character but it’s fanfiction so…yeah. here it is.

It’s the rain that rouses you from your sleep.

It beats down heavily on the remote cabin’s tin roof.

Loud. Much too loud.

You roll over, settling yourself on your side.

The mattress is old, worn, rotting beneath the sheets.

You can’t complain, though. At least you have a bed.

Everybody else is forced to sleep on the hard floor.

He always gets the room with the bed.

As his special girl, that means you always get the room with the bed too.

It’s not quite as flattering as one would believe.

He only ever wants the bedroom for one reason—to keep you behind a locked door so you can’t run.

You sigh softly and stare out the window. He’d secured that too, made certain that it couldn’t be opened from the inside.

Closing your eyes, you try and go back to sleep.

Sleep doesn’t come.

His absence is starting to bother you.

You’ve been with him for an entire season now.

You’re getting used to him.

The sound of his voice.

The warmth of his body.

The taste of his lips.

You can’t even sleep without him next to you.

“Fuck,” you whisper, clutching the stale sheets, balling them in your fists out of frustration.

How was it possible? How could you be missing him?

He had taken everything from you.

Your family.

Your home.

Your innocence.

He was holding you captive. He was a monster.

But a monster doesn’t keep you safe.

Doesn’t clothe you.

Doesn’t feed you.

Doesn’t protect you.

He did all of those things and more.

Is that why you feel so empty without him beside you?

Is that why you’re no longer so certain you would run if you were given the chance to escape him?

You fucking hated him for what he’d done.

Yet here you are, aching for him to come back to you.

It’s another hour before you hear the lock clicking.

Joel pushes through the door, quietly closing it behind him.

“Y’awake?” he asks, slipping his pack off his shoulders.

“Mhm,” you answer with your back to him. “I am.”

You hear the sound of his pack hitting the floor.

His worn leather boots being kicked off.

His rifle being set down, propped against the wall.

“How was the hunt?”

You can feel him freeze as he’s taking off his jacket.

Getting you to willingly speak to him had always been a lot like pulling teeth. Difficult, almost impossible.

When he doesn’t respond, you roll over to face him.

There’s a swoop in your tummy.

Joel is drenched from head to toe. His blue denim shirt clings to his broad frame and his dark, graying curls are slicked back away from his face.

He’s got such a handsome face.

Monsters aren’t supposed to have handsome faces.

He raises an eyebrow. “You’re really askin’ me how the hunt went?” Suspicion laces his tone. “Why? Y’worried you won’t eat tonight?”

Of course you weren’t.

Joel Miller doesn’t let you go hungry.

When food is scarce, he makes sure you eat first. If he notices you rubbing your tummy because your portion wasn’t enough, he’ll give you his own portion.

He takes care of you.

“No.” You pause and sit up. The sheets you two share fall away from your body, leaving your soft, supple breasts on full display for him. “Just wanted to know how your morning went. That’s all.”

It’s not your tits that make his cock twitch against the zipper of his jeans—it’s the sincerity that flashes across your features, the sound of it in the tone of your voice.

You’re being sweet to him.

He clears his throat lightly.

“Went real good. Brought down a deer. Female, ‘bout a hundred pounds or so. Enough to keep all of us well fed for the next couple of weeks,” he says with a nod. “Was pissin’ rain the entire time but it was worth it. Tommy’s in the shed out back right now dressin’ it so we can get a stew started.” He pauses. “You’re gonna get a proper meal tonight, babygirl. Belly’s gonna be nice and full.”

He’s not just talking about food and you know it.

You make an effort to meet his gaze, but you can’t. You can’t bring yourself to do it, not when you remembered how he’d taken you away from your family—how he had carried you over his shoulder, kicking and screaming as his people raided your camp and slaughtered every last member of your group because that’s what Joel Miller had ordered them to do.

Looking him in the eye might be the one thing you will never, ever be able to do.

“It’s cold,” you murmur after a minute. “You should get out of those wet clothes before you get sick.”

With a subtle nod, Joel turns around and starts peeling off his clothes until he’s completely naked. He uses an old rag to dry himself off as best as he can, although it doesn’t do much for him.

You can’t help yourself and stare—your gaze drags over the strong muscles of his back and shoulders, how they flex and ripple beneath his skin with every single one of his movements. Arousal pools between your thighs and all you can do is fucking hate yourself for wanting it, for wanting him.

“S’pretty early still,” he states, his back still to you as he runs the rag through his hair. “Y’should try to get some more sleep.”

The confession tumbles out of your mouth before you can even think about stopping it.

“I couldn’t sleep while you were gone.”

Surprised, he turns around.

Almost immediately, your eyes fall to his cock.

Even when he isn’t fully hard, he’s still so fucking big.

“Is that so?” Joel asks, sounding rather pleased.

“Yes,” you say, softly. “I—I missed you.”

His lips turn upwards into a subtle, faint grin.

“Yeah?” he coos. “My sweet little girl missed me while I was gone? Hm?” Slowly, he approaches the bed. It dips slightly and the frame creaks as he plants a knee on the mattress and leans over towards you. Gently, Joel takes your chin between his index finger and thumb. “Y’need Daddy by your side so you can sleep, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you whisper, warm tears glazing over your eyes.

It’s bad enough your body welcomed him so easily.

Now your heart was starting to do the same.

And then there was your mind.

What if that stopped fighting him too?

Part of you is afraid it already has.

Joel climbs into bed, joining you under the sheets.

“M’here, my pretty girl. C’mere, honey.” He coaxes you to lay on your side and pulls you back against his chest. His skin is still damp, frigid from having been out in the elements, but somehow he’s still warm. “That better?”

“Need you closer,” you mumble, wiggling against him.

Joel groans, his thick cock hard and throbbing against the small of your back. He nips at your bare shoulder as his hand drags down the length of your body and slips between your thighs. “Christ, babygirl. Pussy’s soakin’ wet for me. Looks like she missed me while I was gone too, didn’t she, sweetheart?”

He runs his finger along your slick, silky folds.

“Daddy,” you whimper, bucking into his hand.

“Don’t worry, honey. Daddy knows what you need.”

Joel pulls his hand from between your legs.

You almost cry—you’re so fucking desperate for him.

And you shouldn’t be.

He reaches in between your bodies, his hand wrapping around the base of his cock. Without warning, he slips it into your tight, aching cunt, sheathing himself in your warm, wet heat in one smooth stroke.

You choke out a sob.

It’s always overwhelming, that initial stretch.

That fullness, the feeling of him being in your belly.

“S’alright, sweetheart. S’alright. I know you can take it,” he soothes you. “You’re such a good girl for me. Always take my cock so fuckin’ well. So good for me, baby. You feel better now that Daddy’s cock is buried inside your pretty little pussy?”

He drapes an arm around you, pulling your back flush against his chest.

“Yes,” you breathe, placing your hand on top of his.

Joel feathers a kiss onto your neck.

“Go to sleep, babygirl. M’here. Ain’t goin’ nowhere,” he promises you.

That shouldn’t be a comfort to you. But it is.

You close your eyes, your fingers subconsciously lacing together with his as you start to drift.

Cunt full of his cock, you fall asleep in your captor’s arms.

divider credit to @saradika🤍

#tw dubcon #tw dubious consent #tw noncon #raider joel #raider! joel #dark!fic #dark! joel miller #dark joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller drabble #joel miller fanfiction #tw daddy kink #dark!joel x reader #fic: captive

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plasticfangtastic · 5 months ago

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Dairy Girl

A Homelander X F! Reader fanfic

A/N: I am still working on my other projects but I just wanted to write something fun and light to get me back into writing. I hope y'all enjoy this short little piece, btw i aint got no kids so i have very little idea how milk banks work, this will be a 2 or 3 part story.

Synopsis: In order to provide a constant supply of fresh breastmilk for Vought’s number one hero, Vought has had to get quite nifty in order to prevent this secret desire out the press and the public– you have unfortunately discovered the truth.

Tags: Stockholm Syndrome, abusive dynamic, Homelander being Homelander, dub-con, dark, mild smut, breastfeeding kink, kidnapping, child-death mention tw, cheating tw, set in s4 but canon nothing, slow burn.

Word Count: 3K

Part 1– Heifer

Such a small box, smaller than a shoe box, just big enough to fit its contents with enough space for his ghost to move. You stared at the small box as its buried in the family plot… you never thought of visiting this place to ever bury the last shred of happiness you had left, his body was born weak, so small you wonder if you’d given birth to a child or a chick, 2 months ago you had come home to find your now ex in bed with his ex, he had turned this betrayal on its head and blamed you for it, something about your lack of desire lately, about how your pregnancy had given him amounts of pressures he'd never agreed with, talking endlessly about his needs and how much you’d ignored him.

Whoever this man was, you didn’t recognize him.

Time blurred into nothing but disconnected colors and shapes, all you know was that the stress and anguish lead to this.

A box under soil.

Days passed and in your empty apartment, surrounded by all the stuff you bought you stood in front of the sink, throwing a bottle of fresh milk down the drain feeling tremendous guilt, the doctor said you would dry out soon enough but your breast had swollen so much your bras no longer fit– even the spare ones you bought just in case they’ve grown a size too big from what you expected, you booked an appointment with your doctor hoping they could give you whatever cocktail of drugs to dry you out and save you from the pressure and pain in your chest, it had been nothing but a passing message from a worried neighbor who had stop by to give you some mail that had been sent to them by accident when she mentioned her daughter-in-law had donated her excess milk after her little one refused to latch, she gave you the name of the charity and after much thinking you gave in, you lost your baby but there was some woman out there who could end up experiencing your same grief if their baby starved to death, yours simply born too small and weak to hold your finger for very long.

It felt good, you met the women running the charity and even some of the faces of the women you helped, as you delivered your frozen packs to the women’s clinic where the charity operated, it helped you heal, it gave your pain purpose, but as the months faded behind you a part of you worried about how much you keep producing, less than before but still too much, yet you keep going knowing it would end soon enough.

Perhaps somebody in the clinic or the charity had dropped your information to these people but you'd received some mail regarding some research trials Vought International was running and how they needed some donors to drop fresh samples, in their pamphlet they offered to pay a decent amount--your divorce had been costly plus having to move to a new place and breaking your previous lease had left your bank account quite dry, this was cheap money, you had given your milk for free, you looked at the few pouches you had collected for next week's drop you saw a wonderful opportunity to make some quick cash.

You went to the Vought Clinic and saw a few other women filling up forms, reading old magazines or dilly-dallying on their phones until some nurse called their numbers, you filled the medical form, waited less than half an hour before your number was called, brought into a small bleach scented room, the nurse read your form and told you she would take a blood sample, a doctor came in, reciting whatever script he’d been given about what this project was, giving you big words you had no interest in, this was about providing better milk formulas closer to natural milk than anything currently in the market apparently, thanking you for your donation, he looked at your form smiling as he saw your inked words.

“You're still producing 4 months after…” The doctor handed you a disinfecting wipe and a freshly steamed breast pump in a silver tray– we just need two samples, please press the alarm to let us know you’d finished, then follow Nurse Potts to the front counter to sort out your payment.”

It had been an awkward experience, but there you were 300 dollars richer, you probably should’ve read those papers a bit closer before signing but money was money and you were told to come back if you could.

You did it a couple times for 2 months, much like a man donating sperm for pocket money or plasma to pay the rent.

That was the first mistake, you headed home and woke up the morning after wishing you had stayed out for an extra hour or two, perhaps caved in to your friends pressures and tried going back to dating (after all your ex was whoring himself all across the lower east side without moral qualms) or hookups so you would had gone to a different address, maybe you should had taken a taxi instead of taking the train and walking home.

Regardless you woke in some strange empty room, the only thing beside your person was a pair of pale pink hospital gowns, grippy socks, clean underwear and a pair of thick large towels, you screamed and banged on the door for an ungodly amount of time but nobody ever came, you stayed alone in that room for what could have been 12 hours or more… maybe less… who knew it was all too much, suddenly a sharp sound cut into the silence a note had been slid under the door, you rushed to the note.

It was instructions, they wanted you wearing their clean clothes, you could not leave the room unless you did so, and as much as you hated the idea, you wanted to get out so badly, you knew if you wanted to escape your only chance came in knowing your surroundings, you begrudgingly and tearfully changed, waiting until anything changed– the doors hissed opened, a woman in a sharp cream coloured suit stood there with clipboard and an armed guard, at the sight of the heavy looking gun– you froze.

Then you took the first step towards hell.

You knew the following things: You lived in some basement area– there were no windows, only elevators. You weren’t alone, there were other women here and they made sure to keep your interactions at minimum no doubt to keep all of you submissive and not getting any ideas, sometimes familiar faces will fade and you could only speculate nightmares. Lastly… your purpose, the reason you were trapped here in the first place was… to lactate.

A plucky little thing that stayed optimistic despite your shared horror called herself a ‘Heifer’ she wasn’t wrong… you lived in a small cell where everything had sat on top of each other feed to keep fat and producing milk much like a cow, whoever developed this diet knew of all the ingredients known to help production, and you knew there were putting something else in the food for your breast begun to feel uncomfortable, for a little while you thought you could fight it by starving yourself, then two men with guns came into the room and told you to eat or else.

The time you spend outside this microflat hong-kong style cell was in the milking room and the shower room, you were ordered to stay clean and quiet, at least in the milking room you had some television and could spend time with the other women, but they keep you isolated, you could do very little, sometimes music would play and a book would be dropped with your food but your happiness wasn’t priority, you had to fill a quota.

After a couple weeks of this you simply accepted defeat, too many guns… not enough spaces to run, and nothing to come home to… a man that wanted to sue you for more feeling as if the judge had been unfair, a pestering family who acted as if they had been the only ones who experience loss, an empty cot you still hadn’t gotten rid off and piles and piles of bills, in this quiet cool room you had spend endless hours thinking, you didn’t love your job, you had been distant from most of your friends and you could only imagine that they assumed you had run away or killed yourself after what happened nobody could blame you.

Existing for the sake of existing until you could figure out what to do next.

“Good Evening… I’m glad you’re eating so well” The lady you met the first day said as the door hissed open, she watched you like a hawk as you process this sudden interruption, clutching at your paper thin blanket, you looked at the floral fabric in her arms and the clipboard under her arm– I need you to sign this before you’re allowed upstairs”

“Am I being let out?” You said anxiously, no way it could be that easy you thought.

The lady let her smile waiver, looking at the unseen guard then at her wrist watch as she handed you the clipboard.

“Your performance might determine how soon you'll be release…”

“You assume I won’t go to the police…”

“That wouldn’t be wise Miss L/N but we assure you that you’ll be sufficiently compensated for the inconvenience.”

You wanted to yell, but a voice in the back of your head thought of this but nothing but pageantry, you were dead either way, but perhaps this could be your opportunity to escape, whatever they wanted to do now meant being outside of these buried walls, you signed the sheet without thinking, briefly considered stabbing the bitch in the eye but is likely they would turn you into swiss cheese before you even took a step too close, she took the paperwork from your hands and in change handed you a long sleeved dressed straight out of the mormon section in target, she closed the door and you dressed up.

The halls looked so odd when you didn’t wear your prison clothes, the other few doors housed sleeping and bored girls, your plucky friend hidden behind one of them, the new girl hidden behind one of them and the girl you seen before in the milking room once hid behind one of them.

They took you to an elevator– it was old box, if you had to guess by the button’s design maybe built in the late or mid 70s, you never left their side until the elevator closed before them, the box moved slowly, a dingy silver box with low honey coloured lights, so dim… and you were alone, as the light chime as it went up you felt your entire being sink into your stomach, your heart beating so fast you were sure you were gonna have a heart attack before the doors opened once again, swallowing dry spit, your eyes opened so wide it hurt.

Quiet… it was so quiet when the doors opened, you expected something else, something menacing… something frightening– not an old house, an old house in the middle of some evergreen forest, everything screams old, untouched, museum like, like it's meant to present this idea that somebody lives here but not really, despite it being an elevator hidden behind a bookcase, you take a few cautious steps, your naked feet bury in the plush carpet, there’s bird singing outside and the sun is so bright and warm it hurts your eyes, the cool tones gone and this feels like a bad dream, pinching yourself but you’re awake, tragically awake, a weird wiry smile creeps on your lips, an almost laugh escapes your lips before you can feel tears burning your eyes.

“Hello…?” You ask and you don’t know why.

As you venture into the living room, hands firm against the tacky dark pink wallpaper, you found old floral couches that matched the drapes and despite how old school it was it had a charm to it.

Then you saw him.

Perusing the VHS collection filled the entire bookcase on the wall, just rows and rows of VHS boxes, some plastic and some cardboard, the TV boxy and just as antiquated but who cared— he was there.

You ran before you even realized you done it, crashing into him with desperation, tears staining your cheeks and you could barely breath as you tried so hard to speak.

“Homelander please help me!! I’ve been kidnapped!! Please!!” You cried, pulling on his suit– please!!”

Those endlessly blue eyes more poison dart hide than veronica flower bush the more they stared at you calmly, his lips into a thin smile and his hand thad taken your wrist inflicting just enough force to keep you firmly in his grip… to show you how he wasn’t an ordinary man, he looked at you as your tears changed meaning as if you were the most unfortunate creature he’d ever seen, his lips parted just enough to show those sharp canines that had looked so charming in sidewalk posters, now you could sense their presence squeezing at your jugular.

“You are so much prettier in person, Y/N.” His voice is disturbingly soft and calm, intimately quiet as he takes a whiff of your neck, moving you to make it easier, his free hand creeped towards your hip– I was so glad when I saw your picture and you weren’t hideous.”

Trembling against him, a nonexistent cold draft blew against you, your whole body shivering and covered in goosebumps.

His eyes fixated in your breast, mouth agape as his tongue dared to lick his lip, watching you like a starved man at a las vegas buffet, his hand slithering upwards, you know where this is leading, you can’t stop crying but you can’t scream either, you're just there as his hand avoids your breasts and creeps towards your back and presses your bodies together.

“I’m so glad you signed that sheet, I was getting sad endlessly waiting for one of you to agree to the deal” He says quietly, you stare at him and you realize you should’ve actually read that stupid sheet– why so scared? I ain’t gonna bite.” He bites the air as a joke and you could tell that that single bite could have torn your finger off cleanly.

His eyes shift to your clinging fingers that stayed so stiff against his padded suit, you stopped squeezing at him now they rested limp against him.

“Let’s watch a movie…”

It’s an awkward dance concluding in sitting down on a couch, its surprisingly soft and you’re sinking on the cushion while your mind dissolved in the sky, the coffee table had a humbled spread of snacks, pizza and milkshakes, not once did you notice, you stared at him clutching at your dress as he picked something out of the shelve, watching as his hand worked the VHS player, the clicks and whirling all you could focus on. He sat beside you as the speakers began to play the included trailers, he took the drink urging you to do the same with a menacing look, filling you with incomplete thoughts as you obeyed.

Malt vanilla marinated in your tongue, you had a terrible thought.

‘Milk’

You were there to provide milk… to whom? Why just milk? You thought they would sell your body or your organs, experiment on you but… they wanted your milk, but who was buying it? Who was drinking it? Where did it go? You stared at the pretty blond whose arm kept your shoulders still, you saw the news– you’d known he had a child and who knows with whom but his kid was old enough to not need it… was it for him? You thought… thinking of it as ridiculous until you remember how 20 minutes ago he was staring at your tits as if he was malnourished, you looked at his lips pursing as he took a long sip of his milkshake and wonder if that was milk… from a cow… not a heifer like you.

Homelander smiled at you.

“I don’t like ��The mothman prophecy’ , never been a Richard Gere fan” he said casually.

“He was really good in ‘Pretty Woman’ . This one is okay…” You looked at the screen your voice so stiff– what’s going on…? Mr. Homelander… I…"

“Shhh… watch the movie” He leaned against you resting his head on your shoulder– you tasted the best… every batch perfection– such delicate custardy taste… So this is what we are gonna do… I’ll keep you in this floor so you’re not so bored ."

You swear he’s purring as he rubs himself against you marking you as much as he was making himself comfortable.

“There’s cameras everywhere… The glass is bulletproof, doors won’t open without a fob and code, and there’s no phones or internet, but if you do manage to get out of here just be aware I’ll know.” He said such terrible things as if it was nothing– if you tried to off yourself there will be 3 armed guards and nurses here in less than a minute but if you behave I promise you– you’ll be allowed out, but only if you gain my trust.” He looks up at you as you focus on those thin lips of his– there’s no kitchen but your meals will be delivered… if you want anything just tell the camera over there.”

He pointed at the corner tucked in between two VHS tapes was a small camera.

“I like you Y/N you're cute… you’ll behave for me, right?”

You nodded, too afraid to disagree.

“Now… let’s finish the movie… I actually like this part”

You stared at the pizza box, you could at least tell that the pizza was from an american restaurant, which made you feel safe ‘Select Pizza and Grill” said in the box and you knew you were somewhere in Pennsylvania, far from your apartment in Clinton Hill.

You looked at your boobs feeling his piercing gaze on them, you started drawing lines connecting weird things together, back when you were donating your milk, girls joked about people buying for medicinal and fetish purposes, this spelled itself out for you.

Maybe you could get out of here… but you had to do something weird… but as you heard the birds outside and the warm light peeked into the room, you realized maybe you could leave… no you’ll leave, you’ll go back home and you would find a way to ruin this man and those bastards beneath you, you’ll get them out too, so you took one courageous breath and forced a smile on your dried lips.

“You really liked it?”

“Huh?”

“My milk…” You mumbled– you know I never tasted it myself but am glad to get a review.”

“It’s really tasty” he bites his lip.

Your hand plays with one of the buttons on the dress.

“It hurts a bit… I usually get asked to pump around this time… dunno if you know this but it's a bit painful when they get this swollen.”

The look in his eyes told you everything you needed to know and as you leaned away from him pulling on buttons with slightly trembling fingers, you watched him follow your movements like a snake chasing prey.

“Would you help me out, mister superhero?” Is not flirty but is slightly playful and you’re surprised that you can lie that well, he’s so shameless as he shakes his head enthusiastically, mouth opening for you– please don’t bite.”

He gasps as you let him see all that he’d wanted from the get go, why he put you in that box, why you ended up in this place for.

His body was lighter than you thought as he sunk against you-- eyes closed, body limp against yours, he made the softest sounds it put you at ease somehow, for a moment you saw a very small being latched on your chest, you’d only experienced it once before, and it was seared into your mind as a painful yet tender memory, so you close your eyes dreaming of a fantasy far removed from this peculiar reality, half lid eyes found a man so blissed out your lips curved, this was unbelievable, the world most famous supe keeping you hostage just so you could indulged him.

But you knew now… that this was your way out.

#homelander #homelander x reader #personal #the boys fanfic #my fic tag #plz forgive my use of firecracker gif #this is not proofread i died like a dog if i must #homelander x fem!reader #the boys amazon

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f1nalboys · 10 months ago

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Gotcha Something - Bo Sinclair

Bo Sinclair x Fem!GN!Reader

something short and sweet! happy valentines day guys! enjoy this thing ive been cooking up for a bit and failed at the execution <3

WORD COUNT: 1513

WARNINGS: nice gift gone sexual fr, bo is a perv but hes OUR perv, photos of reader in sexual situations, brief descriptions of wounds and past abuse from bo, stockholm syndrome is our readers defualt setting now, reader has the same scars as bo, bo calls reader his 'girl' but no genitals are mentioned. some nsfw photos and a hint of recorded sex but nothing actually graphic. slight somno mention in one photo. mostly proofread but hey im just a guy

“Happy Valentine's Day, darlin.” Bo places the package onto your lap, sinking down onto the couch beside you. You glance at him with a cocked eyebrow and he grins, something sinister hidden underneath the charming exterior. “What? You ain’t expect me to getcha something?” He asks, placing a large hand over his heart, tsking at you. “You’re my girl, remember?”

He purrs into your ear, the springs of the couch creaking with his shifting weight. He taps the package with his fingers and sits back, waiting. You pick the gift up carefully, letting out a hum at the weight of it. “You wrapped it in newspaper?” You ask, a hint of teasing in your voice, and he snorts, shrugging. “Did a pretty good job, honestly.”

He watches you with an amused expression as you carefully untape the package, pulling the leatherbound photo album out with an awe-filled gasp. “I do good?” He asks you smugly as you fawn over the barely-decorated cover, fingers brushing over the black sharpie. ‘You and I through pictures’ was written in his familiar scrawl, all capital. “Fixed up that old camera I had, been taking photos. Figured I should put it to use.”

“I love it already.” You say and you mean it, you do. You can’t quite remember the time before him, before Ambrose and the suffocating walls of the garage and his house. Leaning over and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, you look back down at the photobook with a small smile. Flipping it open to the first page you gasp, the smile falling as you stare down at the first photo.

It was a polaroid of you. Taken from behind in the garage, you look at yourself looking at the wall of fan belts, one hand down by your thigh, the other reaching upwards to grab one of them. Whoever had taken this photo, Bo you assume, had been hiding from you, the camera taken at a lower angle, the corner of the counter in the bottom left of the frame. Your eyes drag down to the scrawled message just below the photo.

“July 17 ‘20. First Time Meeting.”

“You looked so fuckin’ sexy that day.” Bo whispers, his arm sliding across your shoulder to bring you a little closer to him. You keep looking at the photo. “Knew I had to have you. You remember that?”

You nod your head slightly. “Mostly. It’s hard to remember anything before the garage.” You admit, looking at him. His smile falters, his jaw setting, and you’re quick to continue talking, a flash of panic in your chest. “But I remember meeting you! Your smile, your charm, you know?” You say, forcing a smile, eyes searching his. “I thought you were so cute, I just needed your help to make a move, right?”

“That’s right.” He says, and your shoulders dip as you breathe out in relief. You look back at the photo album, letting your finger trail down your frame in the photo. “Glad you broke when you did,” he purrs into your ear, his hand on your upper arm squeezing tightly for a moment. “That way I got to keep ‘ya. Would’ve been such a waste otherwise.” You hum, agreeing with him. Of course you agreed. Before Bo, you had too many opinions, too many thoughts in your head. He helped you realize your place wasn’t out there in the world, dealing with the headaches of everyday bullshit, it wasn’t here by Bo’s side, helping him get through the day and letting him put up with you. “Keep goin’.”

He sounds excited, leaning forwards to grab his pack of cigs and lighter from the coffee table, lighting one and taking a puff as he watches you flip to the next page. This photo is dated a day later, but the photo makes you wince. You were strapped to the chair in the garage, your face cut to hell, duct tape over your mouth, your eyes filled with tears and fear. You can barely make out the red and raw skin on your wrists and ankles due to the grain and you let out a shaky breath when Bo’s fingers lovingly run along your wrists, the warped skin warm to his touch.

You glance up at him and see his eyes transfixed onto your wrists, a pleased smile on his lips. “You used to cry for so long,” He whispers, pressing his thumb against the scar, the cigarette dangling from his lip. “In the beginning. Used to piss me off, kinda like a dog whinin’.” He chuckles, finally letting go of your wrist. “Kinda turned me on, though. Hearin’ you beggin’ me to let you go, to undo your wrists…”

“Yeah, I know it turned you on,” you say with a slight laugh, tapping the next photo, dated a month and a half later. “See? You even wrote ‘Our First Time’ on it.” This photo does bring a smile to your face. Your face is covered by your hands, dried blood on your wrists, your legs spread wide for him. Your shirt hung off your shoulders and if you think hard enough you can hear the sound of his knife cutting through the fabric. Bo’s jean clad legs could be seen in the bottom of the frame where he was positioned in between your legs. They were unbuttoned and showed off his freckled stomach and the thick line of hair that disappeared under his boxers.

He had been surprisingly gentle that night, lighting the melted down candles and playing jazz on the stereo upstairs. Bo had laid you down on the dirty mattress, his eyes taking in every single inch of your body, his grip only tightening when you attempted to cover yourself. It had been the turning point for you in some strange way, seeing that side of him. It made you realize that he had been telling the truth; you did love him.

“Still just as tight,” he says, his attempt at a compliment as he takes control of flipping through the album. Each photo causes you to blush harder, squirm in your seat. A photo of his cock inside you, bruise marks on your thighs. Another showed you on your stomach, wrists held back by his belt, hand prints on your ass. You strapped to the chair with a smile on your face and a fresh cut on your cheek. You looking up at the camera through your eyelashes and a pleading look. A photo of you sleeping and his cock pressed between your lips.

And those were just the photos where you were mostly aware of the camera.

The end of the photo album had three photos to a page, a quickly scrawled date and word next to each one. The photo of you in the kitchen wearing Bo’s button up shirt at the stove was captioned ‘10/13/21. Cooking.’ The one of you asleep in Bo’s bed was captioned ‘11/08/21. Sleeping.’ You fixing up Bo’s mechanics uniform, 12/23/21. Sewing. You reading a book on the couch, 1/02/22. Relaxing. You with Vincent and Lester at the kitchen playing a boardgame surrounded with pizza and beer, 5/28/22. Game Night. You hunched over a cake with your tongue poking out and a piping bag in hand taken from the hallway, 9/18/22. My Birthday.

“You really took all these?” You ask, glancing at him. He seems a little bashful now, his cigarette smoked down to a stub for once. He shrugs, putting the cigarette out onto the ashtray and settling back against the couch. “I love it, Bo.” You say, your voice cracking slightly. “This was sweet.”

“Yeah, well… figured you deserved it.” He says with a roll of his eyes, eyeing you carefully. Sure, some of the photos were perverted, and it chronicled exactly what he put you through in the very beginning, but it showed that he had planned to keep you from the very beginning. You give him a quick kiss, deepening it by placing your hand on his chest. “Really loved it, huh?” Bo teases, kissing you back. He gives you a sideways smirk when you move to straddle him, his hands instantly resting on your hips.

You fiddle with the top button of his shirt, biting back your own pleased grin. “For your gift, I was thinking…” Bo cocks an eyebrow at you as you trail off before you lean in, whispering in his ear. “Maybe you can get that camcorder from Vinny and use it tonight? Whatever you want?”

“Whatever I want?” He asks, amused, his grip on your hips tightening slightly. His eyes are dark. “Guess I need to do sappy shit for ‘ya more often then if it gets ‘ya like this for me.” He grabs your hand, bringing your wrist to his lips quickly before he’s gently pushing you off of him. “Get on to the bedroom. Don’t think about takin’ those clothes off; I want the camera to see it all, darlin’.”

#f1nalboys writing #f1nalboys masterlist #f1nalboys works #bo sinclair #house of wax #slashers #slasher x reader #bo sinclair x reader #valentines day fic #bo sinclair x y/n #slasher x y/n #house of wax 2005

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cuntdestroyer3000 · 11 months ago

Text

Godless

moodboard not meant to be a physical description of reader, just her vibes/clothes

western au! dark!outlaw!Joel Miller x f!prostitute!reader playlist part two here

My contribution to dead dove December hehehe. I love dead doves so I'm very happy to participate! @romana-after-dark

Summary: You work at a brothel that operates above a saloon in your town. Joel is the leader of a group of outlaws that come periodically to collect payment and wreak havoc. One visit, you catch Joel’s eye and he decides he has to have you.

word count: ~5.6k

DARK, dead dove: minors dni!! rough smut, prostitution, reader gets called a whore, sexual slavery, being bought/sold, angst, being owned and considered property, descriptions of men being violent with each other, Joel is possessive and very dominant, reader is very submissive, stockholm syndrome. dubcon, reader obeys but she doesn't have a choice. It's only gonna get darker from here mamas. Unprotected sex, STDs don’t exist in this universe, yeehaw. No use of y/n

A/N: Prepare for light old timey language. Yeehaw shit, in my heart I am a wild west man. Also I have no fucking idea what kind of money they used in the wild west so I just wrote gold coins lmao. Reader doesn't necessarily have a specific accent but she talks like an old timey western person, reader is just a girl in the world, god bless her. set in old west California LAWLESS LAND CALI WAS CRAZY BACK THEN BRUH

You tried to even your breathing as you hurriedly did your makeup, slapping your powder onto your face frantically. The other girls scurried around you, the collective energy was tense and you all shared a feeling of anxiety that was rising as the minutes ticked on.

The bar always went into a frenzy whenever Joel Miller and his men rode through town. You hadn’t been working here for that long but you’d already been here long enough for their visits. His men were animals, every girl dreaded it when they came to the brothel.

Joel and his men are shameless, getting drunk in the saloon and picking fights, riding through town and plundering all the folks living there, demanding "payments" in the form of money, food, jewelry, anything they could find that was worth taking. Payments that the people of your town made so that he would let them keep living there. He made it clear that we could wipe out the whole town if he wanted to, leaving you a people without anything. And that's if he left you all alive.

You hadn’t been living in the town that long. After your father died, you set off west with a man who you thought had loved you. Things had fallen out with him when you finally reached California, and he had left you all alone in this scary new world.

Luckily the people of the town had taken you in, but your shelter and safety came at a price. When you arrived, you had nowhere to live, no money, nothing.

The town brothel seemed like the only solution. You had a place to live, a job, a community. You made peace with having to let men defile you. Most of them were nice enough and your pimp took good care of all of you.

This world was cruel, you did what you needed to do to get by.

You adjusted your breasts where they sat in your low cut dress, pushed up by your corset. You fixed your hair and adjusted the garter on your stockings.

“Well at least we look nice.” A voice snapped you out of your deep thoughts.

You turned and tried to muster a smile for your friend, Anna-Leigh, who was pinning up her blonde curls.

She clocked your fear and reached out her hand to take yours. You couldn’t look at her because if you did you’d cry, and you couldn’t afford to smudge the black pigment you’d put on your eyelashes.

“I know you don’t want to, honey.” She said softly, “But we’ve gone through this before.” Her southern accent never failed to soothe you.

You nodded,

“Yeah.” You sniffled.

“They’re gonna do what they always do, we just gotta deal with it and then they leave.” She said firmly.

“And if they really give us trouble, Mr. Polk will put a stop to it right quick.”

You nodded a little more confidently, remembering that your pimp, Mr. Polk kept a gun on his hip every hour of the day.

No longer able to delay the inevitable, you took a deep breath, and followed your friend and the other girls out of the vanity area and down to the saloon.

Walking down the stairs, you analyze the chaotic scene. You’ve managed to understand how to navigate it so as to not cause any trouble. Keep your head down, be a good girl, let them do what they want and then they leave. Your pimp paid you all extra whenever Joel's men came through. Sometimes he’d give you all new dresses, it does make you feel better but it does little to ease the aching between your legs that persists whenever he and his men visit.

You all disperse and walk among the crowd. Usually most girls will immediately go and talk a man up but now you all just stand around awkwardly, letting men approach you and take you upstairs, or just take you right down here.

You’re taken upstairs a few times by a few different men. And later on, you’re sitting in a very drunk man’s lap down in the saloon with your breasts out, smoking a cigarette. He's playing a poker game and slowly losing everything.

Your eyes scan your surroundings: men brawling, naked women bent over, their legs splayed open. The usual.

Through the clamor around you, you can feel his eyes on you.

Joel Miller.

You'd seen him before, and his cold gaze had made your skin crawl.

You knew he was dangerous and you’d heard the stories about him. You’d never talked to him, only seen him when he came by. After making his rounds through the town, he’d just sit at the bar and drink as his men ran wild. To your knowledge, he didn’t even have sex with any of the girls.

You tried to avoid his gaze but you could feel his eyes on you through the thick haze of smoke. It wasn't fair that he was so handsome, weathered from the desert sun. His soft brown hair was laced with gray, just like his short scruffy beard. He looked like could've been a man that was kind, if it wasn't for the dead stare in his eyes. Meeting his eyes you could see how cold blooded he was, how merciless.

After a while, Joel instructed his men to gather everything up. The barkeep and your pimp seemed like they couldn’t wait to get rid of them, their regulars bloodied and slumped over, the bar a mess.

You were pulling the top of your dress back over your breasts when you spotted Joel speaking to your pimp, who was looking distressed. Your stomach churned. That couldn’t be good.

You were on your way up the stairs when you heard your name being called, panic flooded your system.

You turned, frozen. Your heart was pounding as the other girls ran by you.

Anna-Leigh tugged your arm, "C'mon!"

You turned and the only thing you could do was shake your head.

"What's wrong?" She asked, confused.

Your pimp, growing impatient, walked up the stairs and grabbed your elbow, dragging you down.

"I know y'don't want to." He grumbled, "But I'm not bein' given much of'a choice."

Your feet dragged on the wood as you struggled to catch your footing. Did Joel suddenly decide he wanted to fuck you? Mr. Polk yanked you over to him.

Joel's broad form towered over you as you approached. You felt small under his gaze, you'd never been this close to him before. You took in his scent of desert dirt and sweat. His broad shoulders, hulking biceps and soft stomach stretched his stained white button down. The fringe on his cowhide jacket swayed as he took his hat off his head and ran a hand through his graying curls.

You stood looking up at him, eyes wide. He looked down at you without a hint of warmth and grabbed your arm roughly, spinning you around.

You gasped at his touch and anticipated to be bent over and have your skirt hiked up. Instead he just looked at you and turned you back to face him. He made an approving grunt and nodded his head.

"Yeah." His voice was deep and gruff, "This one."

He reached into his bag on the bar and pulled out a sack that he let fall open, gold coins falling out all over the counter.

You started to feel sick.

"Give you this for her." He said casually.

A spike of fear bolted through you.

"W-what?"

Your pimp sighed and turned to you,

"Go get y'things honey."

"What?" That felt like all you could say, "N-no."

You turned to see Anna-Leigh and the other girls staring at you. Your friend looked just as terrified as you felt. Tears freed themselves from your eyes.

"God damnit girl I said go get your fucking things." Mr. Polk yelled and gave you a shake. You looked at Joel who simply nodded his head up, as if telling you to go upstairs.

You sniffled and ran up the stairs, your sobs breaking through as you graced the landing and echoing as you flung yourself into your room.

You hiccuped as you threw your few belongings into a suitcase, everything blurred as you cried.

You were only able to get a few items packed before you broke down and sobbed uncontrollably.

You suddenly felt the arms of your friend wrapping around you as other girls gathered around you, all stroking and hugging you.

You blinked back tears and tried to speak but you couldn’t. They just held you as you all cried. There wasn’t really anything they could say to make things better anyway.

You gasped and shuddered, trying to catch your breath. Anna-Leigh took your face in her hands,

“It’s okay, baby, breathe.” She said, tears falling down her face as well. You shook your head and kept crying.

Your pimp appeared in the doorway, looking mournful as he held his hat in his hands.

“How dare you!” Anna-Leigh screamed at him from where she held you.

“I’m sorry.” He said, looking down, “It’s either her or they take all a’you. Destroy the bar, hell maybe even the whole town.”

You cried harder, realizing that there was truly no way out of this. If you didn’t go with Joel, you’d be damning your sisters. You let out a final anguished cry before you got up shakily and continued to pack your things. You went down to the bar which was quiet, the men all watching with bated breath.

Mr. Polk escorted you down and you walked over to Joel again, whose smirk made you nauseous. You looked down at the floor as one of his men took your bag from you.

“Alright sweetheart.” Your pimp murmured, “You be good for Mr. Miller now.”

You nodded as tears ran down your face silently.

“Move out.” Joel addressed his men.

It hit you again that you were really leaving and you started sobbing again.

“No please!” You begged your pimp, “Don’t let him take me please!”

Joel reached out and grabbed your arm,

“I ain’t got time for this girl!” He sneered and ripped you away.

“No…” you cried as he dragged you along.

Anna-Leigh ran up and hugged you one last time. Joel let her, but made an irritated noise and squeezed you painfully when she took too long.

She pulled away and grabbed your face in her hands.

“You can do this.” She said, her voice breaking, “You’re gonna be strong.”

You hiccuped and shook your head,

“Be strong ok?” She nodded at you as Joel finally wrenched you away.

“That’s enough!” He barked, “I’ve already been mighty patient with you folks. Stop fuckin’ testing me!”

Everyone stared at him, silent and full of fear.

You could only cry harder as he dragged you outside. He picked you up and set you on his horse, untying its reigns from the post.

“Hey!” You heard a voice call out and turned on the horse to see one of your drunken regulars, stumbling towards you,

“Thas’ my favorite whore!” He slurred, “My favorite fuckin’ whore, y’can’t-“ he hiccuped and stumbled. The people of the town shuffled out of their houses to watch the action.

Joel smiled at the man coldly,

“That’s your favorite whore, huh?” He asked, standing over him. He rolled him over with the toe of his boot.

“M-my whore.” The man warbled.

Joel didn’t really know why but white hot rage shot through him. He inhaled sharply and stomped on the man’s face, hard. He heard you gasp from the back of his horse which only ignited him further.

“She’s my fuckin’ whore now!” He yelled and spat in his face.

Fueled by rage and power, he turned to his right hand with an idea.

“Get me the rope, John.”

The man writhed on the ground, moaning and clutching his face. Joel approached the back of his horse with the rope, making you shuffle back in fear.

“Relax darlin’ this ain’t for you.” He breathed and tied the end of it to the saddle. Then, he turned to the man and bent down, tying the rope around his hands above his head.

You watched in shock and heard people around you, whispering.

“Alright!” Joel said after he was done. He got up onto the horse in front of you.

“Hold on baby.” He said softly and you reluctantly wrapped your arms around his middle.

Adrenaline coursed through him at the thought of the freedom of the mountains, of riding out of this stupid town with a pretty girl on his horse and a worthless drunk at his mercy. He turned to see John, who was giving him a knowing smile, the one he always gave him before they rode.

“Let’s ride.” Joel said, his voice gravelly like the desert sand. Before you could blink, they urged their horses onward and took off at high speed. You couldn’t help but let out a little scream as you startled and grabbed at him.

Your noise of shock was substituted by the agonized screams of the man being pulled by Joel’s horse. Begging and crying just like you had earlier.

You turned and watched the town get smaller, Anna-Leigh stood at the front of the crowd and gave you a pitiful wave. You looked down and saw the bloody body of the man.

You squeezed your eyes shut and turned back around, whimpering as you buried your face in Joel’s broad back.

Your tears stained his jacket as you rode away from the place that you had made your home. Towards a terrifying, shackled future.

As you journeyed on, you sat behind Joel on his horse, your hands clinging to his weathered leather jacket. His silence only made you more uneasy.

You feared for what the future held, gone was the stability of the brothel, the protection of your pimp. You were in a lawless land with a man who answered to no one. You’d heard the stories about Joel Miller, about the things he’d done.

You didn’t know how he’d treat a woman, if he’d be rough or gentle. Or if he’d throw you to his men. That was what you were the most afraid of.

You traveled for hours, eventually setting up camp as the sun began to set. As the air grew colder, Joel passed you a thick blanket to wrap around yourself. You sat in front of the fire with him as his men kept themselves occupied.

You brooded as you stared into the fire. You were still kind of in shock. This man had taken you away from everything, your life was gone. You didn't know if you were ever going to see your friends again.

You didn't realize, when you'd started spreading your legs for men, that this could happen. That you could be bought and sold like cattle.

You were scared for life with this godless outlaw. You didn't even know where you'd be living. Would you just sleep out in the desert like this? Would you spend the rest of your days being pounded by vicious men into the hard, dry earth?

"Want ‘sum meat?" Joel's gruff voice broke you from your thoughts. You turned to him apprehensively. He held out a piece of dried meat, offering it to you.

"Go on."

You slowly took it from him and took a bite like a scared wild animal. It was pretty good.

"Thank you." You said softly.

Joel looked satisfied with your response, you were both quiet for a while longer until you finally couldn't help yourself.

“Is this uh…” You spoke and he looked over to you, the fire casting sharp shadows across his handsome features.

“Is this how you normally live?” You finally asked, hoping you weren’t being disrespectful.

Joel shook his head after a moment.

“We’re travelin’ now.” He said, “but we got a place, nice and comfortable for a lady.”

You smiled a little bit at that last part.

“Thank you sir.” You wished you didn’t sound so scared, “I was just curious.”

“S’alright.” He grumbled out and began focusing on whittling a piece of wood.

The journey was hard but you tried your best to keep up. Joel never raised his voice at you, he didn’t really talk to you all that much in general. He hadn’t even touched you yet either. It seemed he was focused on getting everyone home.

His strength and capability drew you to him, but he still scared you.

After days of traveling, you finally reached where he and his men lived; a small grouping of cabins a mile or so away from a small village. It was just as well, since the sun was beginning to set over the horizon.

You still weren't sure what to think. Joel has been gentlemanly towards you so far. He still scared you though. His smoldering silence made you more uneasy than any unsavory man you'd ever encountered. He kept all his cards concealed, barely spoke, only when he needed to. His calm felt like that which preceded a storm, he commanded respect.

You didn't know what to expect from him.

You entered one of the larger cabins with Joel. It was nice, modest, and smelled of carpentry and tobacco. He set down his lantern on one of the wooden tables and dropped your things down with a slight groan.

His men unloaded everything, then they all nodded at each other and all left, closing the door and leaving you with Joel.

He moved purposefully, picking up wood from a corner and moving to the fireplace.

"Need to get a fire goin'." You heard his deep voice in the near darkness. The shadows thrown on his broad back made him seem even larger than he already was.

You didn't move, unsure of what to do, not wanting to make him mad.

After a fire was crackling he moved towards you silently, the wood creaking under his heavy footsteps. You resisted the urge to shrink away from him.

He was so close to you now, right in front of you.

"You were a real good girl on that trip." He said, his gravelly voice soft, the sound immediately went to your cunt and you were shocked at how aroused you suddenly became.

You weren't sure what to say, you kept your eyes down, your hands behind your back.

He held your jaw and tilted your face up to look at him.

"You need to keep bein' good." He said, his tone a warning, "You don't cause any fuckin' trouble, you do what I say."

You felt breathless, the feeling of his hand on your face setting you on fire.

"Yes sir." You said quickly.

He smiled softly, "Good girl." He said gently and, to your shock, leaned forward and kissed your forehead. You gasped a little.

"Remember," His voice was still soft and velvety, "I own you now." He gripped the back of your neck tightly, "That means you're mine and I decide what to do with you."

You swallowed the dry lump in your throat. You wanted to cry. You never liked being a prostitute, but at least at the brothel you were free, not a man's property. At least, you thought you'd been.

But Joel had paid for you fair and square. You were his now.

You whimpered a little at the thought and he grabbed your hair, yanking your head back,

"Answer me when I talk to you girl." He spat.

"Yes sir, I'm sorry!" you choked out.

Seeming satisfied, he let go and patted your cheek, then moved away. It felt like you could finally breathe.

"I'm gonna get us some supper ," He said, "You stay here, make yourself at home."

With that he was gone. You stood in the single room cabin, your heart rate finally slowing down.

You looked around, the place was big enough, it felt cozy. There were some old chairs by the fire with a small handcrafted table in front of them.

The other side of the room had a big soft looking bed, then there was an area to the right with pots, pans and other things for cooking. Besides a small room off to the side with a basin of water and a cracked mirror, that was it.

It wasn't much, but it was nice. It felt normal. There were blankets everywhere. Cotton, knitted, animal hide, what have you.

It all made you feel a little better, but not by that much.

Joel came back in and gathered fixings for dinner. He had you both sit in front of the fire outside along with his other men. You all sat on logs gathered round. His men were boisterous and shameless as usual, but they only did so much as leer at you.

The food was pretty good, and you appreciated the hot meal.

When you shivered a little bit, Joel slipped off his fringe jacket and put it around your shoulders. You looked up at him and couldn't help but smile a little. How sweet, how...considerate.

He looked down at you, and smiled back. The wrinkles around his brown eyes became more pronounced, making his normally dead piercing gaze softer, kinder. A warmth bloomed in your chest.

After dinner was done, you both returned to his cabin. He cleaned up as you got comfortable, changing into a long, off the shoulder white cotton dress that held your breasts nicely.

You settled into his bed. It smelled like wood, tobacco, whiskey, him. The blankets and pillows were soft and you tucked your legs up, opening your diary. Beginning a new entry, you didn't even know where to start. Your entries were definitely going to get more interesting.

You wrote for a while before you heard a man enter the cabin. Looking up, you saw Joel and began to stand up but he put up a hand, stopping you.

You watched him walk over to the fire, his knees creaking a little as he bent down and threw a fresh log in.

He sighed and slumped back in one of the chairs, kicking off his boots, unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his shirt.

You observed him for a while, his beautiful hooked nose illuminated by the firelight, his hair looked soft, his tough expression relaxed a bit.

You finally lost interest and returned to your diary, desperately trying to explain to it how you came to be in this situation.

Joel took swigs from his flask and worked on his whittling as you wrote. He liked the peacefulness, he liked that there was a pretty girl in his bed. You had come with him so easily, been so obedient. Sure, you'd been upset initially, but he hadn’t expected you not to be.

You'd been good, so far. You followed his orders and you were thankful for all the things that he gave you.

Compliant little thing.

He suddenly got an idea.

You had already covered two pages in writing when he called your name.

You sat up quickly and set your diary on his bed, slid off and walked across the wooden floor until you were in front of him.

“Yes sir?” You asked, your heart pounding slightly.

“Take off your dress.” He said quietly.

The command caught you off guard and you froze for a moment.

“I-what?”

“Take off. Your dress.” He repeated flatly, “Wanna take a look at what’s mine.”

His words both made your stomach hurt and your pussy ache. It felt like your feet and hands were going numb.

You took him in, his hard stare, the yearning and darkness in his eyes. You realized you had been fooled earlier tonight by his chivalry.

You swallowed and nodded, you were used to this business. You took a deep breath and untied the top of your dress, letting the bodice fall loosely around your chest. You gathered the fabric and pulled it over your head. You weren't wearing any undergarments so as your white dress billowed to the ground, you were left completely naked for him.

You heard him make a noise of approval and he nodded, smiling.

"Knew you were a good girl."

He eyed you up and down. His gaze made goosebumps erupt on your skin, causing your nipples to harden as he examined you. He stayed in his chair, his legs spread. You could see his bulge straining against his jeans.

You could feel your heartbeat pounding in your cunt...maybe Joel Miller would be gentle with you?

He finally stood up. Looming over you, he ran his large, rough hands over your arms, then your stomach and finally, up to cup and squeeze your breasts.

You couldn't help but let out a soft moan, Joel chuckled softly,

"I know baby," He rasped, "You've been waitin’ so long, been so patient."

You nodded quickly, your eyes wide as you looked up at him. Your complete submissiveness to him was due to his power, but you couldn't help but feel a little excited for this strong, terrifying man to take you.

"Go get on the bed for me."

"Yes sir." You said softly and he let out an almost inaudible groan. You walked over to the bed and laid on your back, immediately spreading your legs.

Joel laughed a little and shook his head as though in disbelief,

"Damn, I picked the right fuckin’ girl didn't I?"

He sat on the bed beside you as you lay, your pussy still on display for him, your arms on either side of your head.

Completely his, ready to be taken by him. It kind of shocked you that you had surrendered and accepted this role so quickly. But then again, you didn't have much of a choice, this was the easy way.

"Damn." He sighed as he let his eyes fall over you. He took his time touching you, slowly playing with you. You let your eyes flutter shut as you let him explore you, taking in his newest possession.

He touched you everywhere, except where you needed him most. You squirmed and whimpered, moving your hips to get his fingers anywhere near your wet cunt.

Joel quickly landed a harsh spank on your pussy and you cried out.

"Cut that shit out." He growled, "You're gonn' take what I give you and be a grateful little whore."

You nodded quickly.

"Say it."

"I'm-I'm gonna be a grateful little whore."

"Thas' right."

His thick fingers dragged through your dripping cunt and you let out a moan. He drew closer to you, inhaling the dizzying scent of your arousal and spreading your slickness up to your clit.

"Joel..." You whined and rolled your hips against his fingers.

"Good girl," He said huskily, "Jus like that."

He moved his fingers faster and you moaned and arched your back. No man had ever taken his time with you in this way.

You felt the pleasure wash over you and you let your moans echo around the cabin freely. You'd learned it wasn't a bad thing to be loud, your old pimp had always told you it was good advertising.

After taking in your reaction to that, Joel shifted his focus and curiously buried two thick fingers into your cunt. You moaned and gasped at the way he stretched you, it felt fucking amazing.

"Joel!" You cried out and rocked your hips in time with his hand. Following his movements and somehow doing exactly what he wanted.

He liked how responsive you were, how obedient.

He pulled his fingers out of you without warning and you whined at the sudden emptiness.

Joel got on his knees on the bed, towering over you. He pulled his shirt off and undid his jeans, pulling them down just enough to free his cock.

You audibly gasped when you took in the sight of it and he laughed a little.

"What? Not expectin’ me to be this big?"

"I-no-sir I didn't-I mean-" You stuttered.

"S'alright sweetheart." He murmured, "You wanna touch me?"

You stared at his thick manhood. You had no idea how fucking big it was, you reached your hand out and wrapped it around him, your fingers just meeting each other around his girth.

Oh fuck.

You whined and pumped his length, spitting on it and letting it spread over him.

His cock was beautiful, powerful and imposing, resting rock hard and heavy between his strong thighs. His balls hung heavy, his dark hair running wild up to his round stomach.

You sighed, contentedly.

Joel smirked, his large hand resting on the side of your head, cradling you as your hand worked him.

You looked up at him submissively, your eyelashes fluttering. Joel moaned at the way you pleaded for him without even saying anything. You were like a siren. He'd known you were the one the minute he saw you down in that saloon.

He suddenly pushed you back, roughly. Making you yelp out in surprise as your head hit the soft pillows. He looked at you hungrily and grabbed your hips, flipping you over so you landed on your stomach, bouncing up off the bed a little.

He yanked your hips up so you were on your knees, grunting and breathing heavily. You moaned and arched your back, spreading yourself for him.

You felt the head of his cock swipe through your folds and your heart raced with anticipation. He took a sharp inhale before slamming into your cunt with a snarl.

"FUCK!" You cried out, not expecting the sudden burn or stretch. Even with how wet you were, his massive cock split you open.

You gasped and whined as Joel kept himself buried in your pussy, groaning as he rocked his hips, getting harder and more forceful.

You let yourself become undone by him and he started sliding out and slamming into you more, getting faster and more enthusiastic.

He grunted and breathed heavily through gritted teeth as he pounded into you. He threw his head back, using his grip on your hips to move you and fuck your pussy. The way you moaned and screamed for him only spurred him further, abusing your cunt.

He was in control. He bought you, he owned you, you were his whore. Forever.

"Oh fuck!" He groaned, gasping as those thoughts brought him even closer, along with the squeeze of your cunt.

You couldn't even speak, your face was pressed into the pillow as you cried and drooled. You'd lost track of how many times you'd come, just letting yourself be used by him at this point. You couldn't deny that it felt amazing.

Joel leaned over and put a paw-like hand over the back of your head, crushing your face into the bed as he leaned over. Putting his weight on you, he used that to fuck you even harder.

Your cries were muffled and you almost couldn't breathe. Joel's thrusts became sloppier and you heard his breathing turn into desperate moaning. He finally came, thick ropes of cum shooting directly into you making you gasp and moan. The men at the brothel were never allowed to cum in you. If a girl got pregnant, she either got it taken care of or she was out.

But you were Joel's now. And Joel was the one who decided what happened to you.

He fucked his cum into you more, causing it to spurt out. Then he pulled back, you took a deep breath and relaxed onto the bed, his cock still keeping you plugged up.

"That's right baby." He murmured, "Good girl."

You let out a beautiful whine, your cunt tightening around his cock as he stroked your hair away from your face.

He sighed as he knelt over your limp form, his cock still keeping his seed in you.

You didn't move, When he finally eased out of you gently, you winced and cried out at the loss.

"I know, I know." He said softly, petting your hair.

He grabbed a cloth and wiped at your cunt, getting most of the mess cleaned up. When he decided that was good, he eased your hips down and turned you over.

You wriggled into a comfortable position, tucking your hair behind your ear and smiling up at him shyly.

He smiled at you again, the same one he'd given you at dinner. His normally cold eyes looked warm and safe.

You slipped your hands up around his neck, your eyes falling down to his lips under his scruffy beard.

He ran the rough pad of his thumb over your cheekbone,

"Such a good little whore." He said softly, then he leaned down and kissed you.

His lips weren't pressed against yours for that long but it still sparked electricity through you.

He pulled away and breathed out a laugh, "Alright, let's try an' get some sleep now."

"Yes sir." You said softly.

He put out the fire and the lantern and stripped off his pants before getting under the covers with you. His strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you into him, his softening cock pressing against your ass.

He buried his nose in your hair, each hand covering your tits, keeping them warm.

You nuzzled into his hold, you couldn't remember the last time you'd been held like this. You turned around and buried your face in his hairy chest.

You had…liked that. You really liked it. You knew how wrong this all was. You knew that to him you were just a whore, his property, but…maybe you could make peace with that? Maybe Joel Miller would be a good owner.

You hated that you were even thinking that.

His large hand rested on your back, holding you close to him as your exhausted mind finally succumbed to sleep.

THANK YOU FOR READING I LOVE YOU

This is my first Joel fic AND my first dead dove fic which I didn’t think I’d be able to write but I had sm fun writing this!! Thank you to @toxicanonymity and @romana-after-dark and all the girlies with their scary Joels who inspired me🖤

YEEHAW LETS RIDE🐎🐎🐎

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paleepeaches · 7 months ago

Text

John Wick Yandere Headcanons

Never done this before so be kind to me! But anyway I just had these thoughts and needed to word vomit them up!

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome, ddlg,

A/N: Wouldn't a fic be cute?

Okay so I know I'm not the first to say this and won't be the last but John is a fucking Yandere.

He's a full-blown stalker who probably sees you at a bar or even something so normal as a grocery store.

This man is LONELY af. Since Helen passed he can not find someone else for the life of him.

That's until you come along with your pretty doe eyes and sweet nature.

You can be younger than him and he'll be fine with it. John doesn't mind babysitting a cute bimbo like you

You'll catch his eye with your soft voice and sweet smile. Most people his age have a smoker's voice or are married.

He becomes OBSESSED with you quickly. I mean very swift like within 2 days of seeing you not even talking.

He'll just stalk tf out of you probably at your work. He'll see you bagging groceries or serving drinks and just observe you with customers.

He'll take note of what days you work and don't. He'll mark it on his calendar, and circle it in red like the old man he is.

Once he figures out your schedule and what time you get off, what route you take, if you drive or walk he'll follow you.

He's a skilled hitman so he knows how to disappear and follow someone without them noticing.

He'll stalk you all the way to your apartment and once he's sure you're asleep he'll break in.

He's scoped out your place enough to deduct that you have no pets. Even if you did he'd know how to handle a dog.

John is precise and determined which is why he'd be so keen on placing hidden cameras all over your house.

He'd position them in the living room, kitchen, shower, and even your bedroom.

He'd want to see your most intimate and private moments but not totally invade it.

Of course, you wouldn't find out. Your head is too stuffed in your phone scrolling through social media or online shopping. You got an addiction but it's okay once you're his he'll spoil you! John has a lot of pocket money from all his jobs!

How will he get you?

John doesn't half-ass anything. He's learned to see through tough missions. Even ones he didn't enjoy. Capturing you though...? He would enjoy it.

He'd enjoy setting a date, waiting outside your apartment with his car off.

He'd prepared all the necessary equipment such as ropes, duct tape, and a gun if he needed to threaten you but he'd find that would only scare you more and he didn't want his little girl frightened of him.

He'd go about it more skillfully, more stealthy.

John entered your home after he was sure you entered the deepest REM cycle. He snuck in the window you often left open. Poor forgetful you, always leaving windows unlocked.

One time he found your door unlocked which was a dreadful surprise for him. He locked it right after he watched you sleep for a whole two hours.

See? You needed him to look after you. He'd try to justify his insane actions with that.

With a completely guilt-free head, he'd enter your home, make his way into your bedroom, and see you asleep all cuddled up in your pink plush covers.

You'd look so cute and docile breathing softly.

He'd smile, admiring you before pulling out a clean needled from his jacket pocket. John pricked the needle into a vial of clear liquid, sucking up the fluid before administrating it to you.

Your eyes didn't even flutter open as he injected it.

"Such a good girl." John would speak softly to you, smoothing down your hair and kissing your forehead.

He'd pack your favorite stuffed animal, clothes, and even your cute collections of calico critters or sonny angels, whatever cute trinkets you collected.

He'd want you to feel comfortable at his home. Y'all's home.

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #john wick chapter 4 #john wick x oc #john wick smut #john wick fluff #keanu reeves #keanuverse

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obsessive-valentine · 6 months ago

Note

How would Dark-Yandere!Farmer react to finding reader taking Polaroid photo shoots of his retired senior dogs in silly clothing like sunglasses, hair clips, etc. Btw love your writing keep up the good work!🫶🏼

Dark-Yandere!Farmer x GN!Reader

TW - Readers def developing Stockholm Syndrome or something of the sort, nothing else though this fix is sweeter as an apology for the intense one last time about reader being punished. This was meant to be a qick paragraph or two as an answer but I got to deep into lore and this sweet scenario as it’s a side of him we don’t see much. Thanks for the idea glad you’re liking this blog❤️

I’ll proof read later

You’d expressed an interest in his old cameras after he let you rummage through a few boxes he’d stored away. In a box he’s got a old digital camera a Polaroid one and then a really fragile one that’s much older than the rest, you didn’t dare pick it up in fear it would fall adapt just by touch. Then at the bottom of the box, a few images, some developed film some printed. You recognised him in some home images or family portraits, he looked like a happy kid with a cheesy grin sometimes even pictured on this very farm but most of them look to be taken in a small town house.

It’s weird to imagine at one point he was just a normal kid, living a normal life, photos of him blowing out candles on his birthday or with some older family members reminded you that no ones born ‘bad’. Makes you wonder why he’s the way he is now, what happened?

A part of you wanted to take one of those sweet images of him as a child and hide it away, to uncover and re-remind yourself he’s not a living monster but a human and a kind one at times. To ground yourself when he gets angry and all you can see him as is a living demon. To set the aspiration that if he was once so -he can be again.

You recognised a woman from the images as his mother because he kept a image of her in the bedside draw, she looked loving and kind. But he’d never talk about her, answering your careful questions about her with “she was a good mother” or “she was an admirable woman” he seemed emotionally withdrawn about it so you didn’t push it. You figured since she’s dead he’s just remembering her face.

The rest of the pictures seemed to be from the building of this farm, dated on the back in scruffy hands writing, maybe by his father or grandfather. You could look through this pile of history for hours, not just to learn more about your captor but about the history of this place and the his family that he’s so reluctant to talk about.

The ladder to the attic creaks behind you and his distinct heavy boots land with a thud and groan on the ladder steps “what’s got you so occupied up here?” You felt like you’d been caught looking in something you shouldn’t have despite having permission “j-just these cameras, I had a polaroid camera once” you turned to him showing him the old camera, he now off the ladder and standing over you.

“Hmm, old thing -maybe older than us” he gently took it from you hands to inspect it “probably still works if you want it, not any use just sitting up here” he hands it back “thank you” you reply with a smile he waves you off and crouches down beside the box with you. He shuffles through it completely ignoring the images from his past and he rummages in search of something “No film stacks though, I’ll pick some up from town next time”

“Really?” You look over at him in excitement, he shrugs “sure” he stands up ready to head back down stairs “had I known you’d be so happy I’d have gotten you one sooner” he chuckles at your excitement over something so small.

To you it’s much more than a old camera to take up some free time when you get bored. It’s yours, you can control it, keep it for your own. You don’t have much things that’s yours anymore but the collections growing.

...

You’d basically forgotten about getting film for your camera as a week or two had passed. But he hadn’t, he returned to the truck once again being one of may shops he had to stop at. But this time he didn’t have heavy bags of stock or material and tools for the farm but just 3 small boxes that he could carry in just one hand.

He sat down in his seat and extended his hand to give you the boxed, you furrowed your brows in confusion until you read one of the box’s. A big smile plastered you face when you got to the word ‘film’ “that should be enough to last you a long while” “thank you” you grinned giving him a quick hug out of appreciation.

Once you both pulled into the driveway of the farm you had already thought up many picture opportunities, and you couldn’t wait to get to it. The car parked and he gave you the go ahead “You can finally get to your photography, take some pretty pictures” you practically ran to the house to retrieve the camera.

...

You’d been in the house for a hour or two at this point and he’d began to get a bit concerned, usually you’d come outside now and then or spend the afternoon in the barn playing with the animals. But no sign of you. He put the final nail into the fence he was fixing and decided to come check on you.

He got to the front door and could hear you laughing before even opening it “good boy Berty, you’re so handsome” his curiosity peaked at those words, he quietly made his way to the room you and presumably Berty the elderly farm dog was in and observed from the door frame.

There you sat, infront of Berty whose dressed up in various items and fabrics mimicking clothes. The camera clicks and your silent as you watch it develop, Berty still sits patiently. “We got the picture, look at how dapper you look” you praise him and he gets exited leaving all the items fall off his as he runs up to you to get pet.

“When I said pretty pictures I was envisioning landscapes or with artistic vision” he jokes still standing in the door way unable to not smile at such a bizarre but cute sight. You stand shocked for a moment, he’s not one to creep up on you, it when you see his amused smile you loosen back up. “This is artistic vision, and Bertys my muse, look at how handsome” you joke and show him the photo “it’s something alright” he almost laughs out.

“Hey, this is worthy of a museum, the composition the choice of colours the muse, it all tells a story” you continue to joke, he just shakes his head unable to wipe away his smile “as long as your happy, I guess” “I am, thank you again” moments like this you forget everything you went though and are able to exist in ignorance.

Those moments are becoming more frequent now especially since he’s began to become more relaxed, he wasn’t as authoritarian anymore, your sure if you pushed it he wouldn’t have a 2nd thought of going back to the way things were. There’s always that lingering threat but it’s not as pronounced anymore. You’re starting to see the love he has for you, sometimes unconventional and deranged possessiveness but moments like this, seeing him smile and joke you can delude yourself into believing he’s a normal partner.

He brings you in closer by the hips “you’re so cute” his grin is akin to the little boy in those pictures, you’ve seemed to restore a part of his childish cheer. He pecks your lips “I bet the barn animals are missing you, maybe you should take this photography session to them, I’m sure they’ll appreciate the attention”

And that’s what you did, dressed up the chickens though they didn’t stay still -the cows were great models -but a few animals tried to eat the accessories and clothing which made things harder. The farmer got less work done than normal that afternoon as he found it quite amusing and cute watching you through the cracked barn door trying to wrestle a bow onto a goat.

#yandere oc #yandere #x reader #yandere farmer #Val-Asks

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creepling · 1 year ago

Note

Johnny fucking Stockholm’d!Reader in the back of one of the old cars behind the family house? 👀 In one of your mini fics you mentioned him taking her out to the sunflower fields, maybe that’s when it happens?

busted cars and sunsets - j. slaughter / 1k

an: hey i kinda went astray from relating it to the sunflower field drabble but it still has all that other good stuff you asked for!! i also ended up writing more than i thought so i hope you like it<33

tags: smut. MDNI. gn!reader. stockholm syndrome (kinda??). descriptions of trauma. canon-mentions of violence and cannibalism. innocent, sheepish reader. johnny is surprisingly gentle and nice?? but it might be a bluff. making out. grinding. fucking in a car. doggystyle. mentions of kidnapping.

Johnny was looking everywhere for you. Nancy was calling for supper, and you weren’t in the shed like you said you would be. He tried not to think about it too much, the thought of you running away or trying to escape. Maybe you got distracted or went inside for a drink. The sun was setting, and Johnny’s worrying crept up, forming a lump in his throat.

You were sheepish. At least you have been with the Slaughter family. Every minor squeak or crack sent you scattering. Maybe it was the trauma of trying to escape the house, the first time you ate human flesh, or the fact that the family kidnapped you. It’s been so long since the incident that you have begun to accept your fate and grow fond of your captures. Are people still looking for you? Or have they given up like they did with Maria? The thoughts clouded your mind, and you hugged your legs in the back of the rusted car in the Slaughter’s yard.

Johnny realised real quick where you were hiding. He noticed that you liked hiding, growing attached to your company. Johnny wished you grew attached to him, but adjusting to a new life takes a while. That is how he perceived it: you were lucky, the family liked you, and they spared your life. Now you’re one of them, and he can make you happy. Johnny made his way towards the cars, the ones too far gone to fix, and peered inside the busted-out window to see your trembling frame.

“Hey, sweetheart. Why you all bundled up in here?” Johnny said, surprisingly, in a soothing voice. You peeked your head up, giving a meek smile. You like it when he speaks softly. It is the only thing that makes you feel safe. His effort on tenderness is bearable, given the circumstances.

“Nubbin’s trap set off while I was picking flowers. I got scared,” You say. Johnny knew you were telling the truth from the look in your eyes. He motioned his hand to your ankle, checking for injury. “Don’t worry,” You reassure, cringing, “It didn’t get me.”

Johnny let out a stressful sigh. “That darn idiot. I’m gonna beat him over the head,” Johnny spat under his breath. He looked over at you, seeing you back into the corner as he displayed anger. He relaxed his cold stare and slowly opened the rusty door, sliding into the seat next to you and resting his hand on your knee.

“You got nothing to be scared about. No one’s gonna hurt you no more. Nubbins is just being reckless with his traps. Y’know, he puts them around to catch the rabbits.” Johnny reassures, levelling with reason in hopes you calm you down.

You sat silently until another call for supper came from inside the house. You looked at Johnny, twiddling a piece of string from your shirt. “I’m not really hungry,” You mutter, “Sorry…”

Johnny nodded in understanding, rubbing your calf with a gentle stroke. “That’s all right, darlin’. You can eat whenever you feel like it,” He knew Nancy wouldn’t like that much, but he certainly would protect you if she nagged you for it.

“Can we stay in here for a while? Watch the sunset?” You enquire, the thought of it making you smile. Appreciating the small things became a method to keep your sanity. It also made excuses for being around the house, a place you find troubling.

“Alright, but we go inside once the sun’s down, okay?” Johnny reasoned, and you nodded happily.

You crawl over to Johnny and rest your head on his chest, spotting the sun meeting the horizon at your eye level. Johnny only had his eyes on you, his fingers playing with the ends of your hair, his tongue sliding along his bottom lip in thought.

“It’s beautiful,” You mutter, charmed by the colours in the evening sky.

“You’re beautiful,” Johnny claimed, his body sensing bashfulness prevail over you.

You look into his eyes, a slight smirk on Johnny’s face as he admires your innocence. Subconsciously, Johnny’s lips lean closer to yours. You stood still like time was frozen, fluttering your eyes shut when he kissed you.

He was rough but passionate as if to prove something to you. His hands explore you, cupping the back of your neck, grasping your thighs, tracing circles on the small of your back. You would be lying if you didn’t find it pleasant, giggling as he nibbled on your bottom lip, whispering sweet nothings. Your hips grind against him, feeling Johnny’s hot breath on your cheek as he gasped.

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that, darlin’,” He chuckled, “You’ll get me worked up,”

“I can’t help it,” You laughed, your words conflicting with your innocent tone.

“Keep going,” Johnny purred, resting his hands on your waist and guiding your hips. You comply, watching the lustful stare in his eyes as he admires the movement of your body. You hike your shirt up, teasing him as you expose your stomach, slowly raising it until your chest greets his stare. Johnny gazes longingly up at you before entangling you into his hands and kissing you roughly.

“I need you so bad,”

The sun was greeting the horizon, the sky a deep tangerine, matching the tarnished colouring of the car. Your hand presses against the window, and a deep moan breaks loose from your confounded expression.

“Keep going, please, please-” You plead, gripping the busted leather seats to adjust to Johnny’s length inside you.

Johnny hunches over your body, teeth scraping down your spine, holding you in place with his rough hands. Estranged strands of hair sticking to his forehead. Sweat highlights the arc of his muscles.

“You’re so good for me,” He pants. He had to make this quick; otherwise, the family would set out looking for him. He feels you tightening around him, making him bend further down and grip your shoulders, burying his face into your neck.

Johnny’s groans grew husky, sending shivers down your spine. Arching your back, you grind into him. The profoundness of his cock inside you makes you fumble over your moans.

“Yes, baby. That’s it,” Johnny encouraged, rutting into you. “Keep fucking going.”

The rate of Johnny shagging into you eventually lends him his climax, and yours perfectly lines up with his. Both of your clothes are hanging by threads on your bodies. You collapse in each other's arms. His arms engulf you as you straddle his lap, your eyes drunk with lust, admiring your kidnapper, your disastrous love affair.

“You’ll never leave me, will you?” Johnny asked, staring into your soul, soaking in everything about you.

“I would never,” You breathe out.

“Promise?” Johnny pleaded, brushing a strand of hair from your glistening face, basking in your doe-like glow.

“I promise,” You whisper, kissing the scars on his knuckles. Your mind goes astray, maybe from the lustrous high or because you made a promise you might not keep.

#johnny slaughter x reader #johnny slaughter #johnny sawyer x reader #johnny sawyer #tcm game #texas chainsaw massacre #creepling.brainrot

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sakuraryomen01 · 2 years ago

Text

His Unhinged Mind.. /Yandere! Gojo Satoru x Reader/ [Trigger Warning]

#warnings: crazy! gojo . yandere themes . dub/non-consented sex . Stockholm syndrome . kidnapping . emotional and narcissistic manipulation . tied up . ex-gojo x female reader . gojo being toxic . mentions of stalking . soft-to-rough fucking . "a good dicking-down" as punishment . gas lighting . mentions use of medication and drugs/alcohol as a way to cope with anxiety . cliffhanger ending! [OLD DRAFT]

#reader: female reader

#plot: gojo, your ex-fiance, comes to 'collect' you from your appointment with the family therapist and takes you to his home..

#words: 3.186k

#a/n: I was really on the fence about posting this, but I was wanting to write something dark lol. make sure to read the next authors note at the end!! ^^

. . .

Thank you for reading this bit! Enjoy!

You sat in that office, waiting for hours for your therapist to show up. Family was asking for you to go to these appointments after what happened with your fiance: just to make sure you were in a good place.

Everything that happened with him was like water down the drain for you. You didn't care anymore, he was gone. He couldn't find you after you had moved countries, getting an apartment and working a medium-waged job until you were positive that you were safe.

But that feeling of being watched never left you: feeling like there was someone watching you every moment of the day.

A set of eyes watching your every move twenty-four seven, all the time— constantly. You never could shake that feeling, and today your anxiety about it was only worse. The therapist, Naoya Zenin, wasn't answering your calls or texts as you sat and waited in his office.

It was nerve-wrecking, so you got up and left.

Opening the door only to bump into a large chest. You apologized, trying to quickly slide by but the person standing in front of you wouldn't move. Looking up at them, you started to speak when a rag was placed over your mouth and the smell of chloroform filled your nose.

You yelped, trying to not breath in the chemicals until the stranger pulled you into a hug and held the cloth to your face. The strength was familiar, though you couldn't pin where it was from as you slowly fell limb and fainted.

Nothing but black filled your sight as your mind went blank.

It wasn't until a while later that you woke up and you soon realized that you were strewn across a bed— wrists bound at the posts and ankles done with the same at the bottom. Your sight was fuzzy, but you could make out the small room you were trapped in.

You didn't recognize the small space: cold, grey walls with only one window that seemed to let light pour into the room.

There was a table on the opposite side of the room, with a chair to join it and a bookcase that was filled with books (obviously). You didn't know who brought you here, but you were scared.

Terrified, even..

That's when the door that was armed to the teeth with locks clicked and you saw it swing open. The cold steel door creaked open as a very familiar silhouette appeared and made your eyes wide with fear.

It was him. The man you left before your wedding..

Gojo fucking Satoru. Your ex-fiance.

"Oh, good morning, baby," His sweet voice cooed as he strutted into the room with a smile on his face.

Gojo didn't bother closing the door as he pulled himself up an extra chair and sat in it. Making the back face you as he sat in it backwards, spreading his legs and letting them rock from side to side as he resting his head on folded forearms. Your frozen body couldn't react: How in the hell did he find you?

You cleaned everything. Wiped all the data from your last phone, made sure to block him on social media before destroying it and purchasing a new one.

You even made sure that your passport and bank account had no connection with him. There was no possible way for him to know that you moved to the States. So, why and how was he here?

"Such a cute face, sweetie!" Gojo's smile was as bright as you met him during your first date. "I'm so happy I get to see it everyday from now on."

"How.." You started, trying to sit up only to be stopped by your binds. Looking from the ropes to Gojo, you sighed and stared at him in confusion.

"Satoru, how?"

The angel-faced male didn't respond, but instead stayed silent until you asked again. Only then did his smile leave and he looked over his sunglasses at you.

"Isn't it obvious?" He asked, his baby blue eyes shined in the light pouring through the window. "I followed you all the way here."

..You sick, sick man..

"What the fuck?" Your voice was laced anger as you tugged on your restraints again. "You did what?"

"Well, actually, I followed your mother.." Gojo said, ignoring your annoyance. "Such a sweetheart, forgetting to delete her Facebook account was the first thing she did wrong. The second thing was accidentally letting me in the house to 'collect' my things when I was really just copying your new address and phone number."

"You crazy bastard.." You muttered, feeling your heart beat thump in your ears as blood pumped through your body.

Gojo's smile returned at your words, balling up his fist as he rested his cheek against it. "I'm not the crazy one. You are, sweetie."

Scoffing, you sat up and rested against your shoulders. Glaring at your former husband and best friend— seeing that sheer amusement that was on his face when he was in a smug and happy mood. You wanted to slap him so bad, curse at him and spit in his face.

Even if your heart screamed differently..

"I'm not the one that left at the altar on my wedding day," Gojo said, scooting the chair he sat closer to your bed. "I'm not the one that used medication like sleeping pills to forget the day."

You know that feeling of helplessness? That sad and twisted feeling? It was starting to set in, feeling the walls of that small room close in and crush your lungs. Unable to breath as you started to panic.

Satoru, on the other hand, was smiling and explaining how he found you.

"After I managed to get your new location, I simply bought a ticket that next day and got here. Finding your new apartment and job— getting myself one too, of course— and just staking out the joint was easy too."

You pulled at the ropes weakly, pulling with all your might as you began to tear up. It was like the last year was playing through your mind all over again..

"After that, I found your therapist's office," Gojo piped, bringing you back to Earth. "I remember booking Naoya as a family therapist— sucks I had to knock him out in the janitors closet of that fancy office he has now."

You tensed, hearing those words. So that's what happened.. Gojo got to him before I showed up..

Gojo giggled, watching you turn to look up at him and smiled.

"Don't worry, he's just sleeping."

He stood up from the chair he once sat in and took two steps before resting his bottom on the mattress next to you. His angel blue eyes sparkled with glee as he looked down at your horrified face. Reaching up, you could feel the warmth his hand graced your cheek once he began to palm them gently.

Pressing his thumb against your chin and lips as if to prod them to move. To smile again. Anything.

"Sweetie, I don't know why you look so upset," Gojo cooed, letting his hand slide down your side and rub affectionate circles with his thumb against your hip.

"You're finally home again! It's been how long now since you decided to 'leave me', as you put it?"

"..A year and a half."

Gojo gave a surprised laugh, getting more comfortable in his seat and smiling widely. He's too proud of himself.

"See? I think you've had plenty of time to think about ditching me," Gojo said, crossing his legs and resting his elbow against his knee to prop his cheek against it.

"That hurt me for a while, watching you pack and get your things to leave. But I realized quickly that you were joking! You'd never leave me, after everything we've been through, right?"

You could feel your tears beginning to form at the corners of your eyes. Shifting in your spot as Gojo climbed up and pressed his hands on either side of your head, smiling down at you with that handsome grin you've loved for years.

"Your anxiety attacks... those sad episodes... we've been through it all. And knowing you're going away would've been so terrible to me if I knew differently."

You could smell that minty shampoo he used all the time, knowing he'd never change it. Even the glow of his skin was like it always was, despite the obvious eye bags underneath his eyes.

"You can't leave me," Gojo said, his voice lowering as he began to lower himself. His face getting closer and closer to yours as he continued to speak.

"I'm too important to you, Y/n. Even if your brain doesn't want to believe it, your heart still does. I know it does, seeing as you let me take you back home."

Feeling something grip your wrist, you looked up and saw Gojo's large hand firmly gripping your forearm. His fingers just barely grazing the ropes that confined you to the bed, feeling a sudden sense of unease wash over you.

"Do you know how long I've waited to bring you back?"

The feeling grew, looking up at your former lover and seeing that sudden darkness washed over his face. Eyes were wide and boring right into yours, a grin that hasn't broken still written across his face as he gave your wrist a squeeze.

"Months," He finally answered himself, blinking quickly as tears began to form. "I've been waiting so long after I found you, wanting to just steal you away and hold you forever again, but I couldn't. You were too obvious to take away from the outside world."

A chill was sent down your spine, trying to ignore that crawling feeling inside your gut. Desperate to leave and go back home, to where you were safe from him.

Gojo had always been controlling.. manipulative.. scary.

He was so sweet and kind, but always could have a switch flipped if he was triggered. There were times that his possessive nature got so bad that he was restrained at home from following you around to work and your additional work classes. That was actually a week or two before the wedding, when you should've noticed the signs..

"I missed you so much, Y/n.." Gojo's voice lowered just as his head did, his eyes glued to your lips.

That fluttering in your heart made you sick. Hating the fact you still found Gojo attractive even now. It was so hard to resist him, even after the shit that's happened between you both and the dark route Gojo has taken. Feeling that curl in your tummy as Gojo's pink lips pressed against your neck and cheek, warming your skin up as if it wasn't before, and making your body react almost immediately.

"I miss your smell, your looks, your clothes and smile.." Gojo's sickeningly sweet tone made your heart skip beats. His tongue runs over your collarbone as his teeth graze it, working his fingers down your arm and towards your front.

"There was so much that I wanted to do to you, but you were off being an adventurous little kitten. But, I finally managed to take you away and you're staying this time! I'm not taking any chances of you leaving or escaping me! Then again... you wouldn't want to escape.."

Gojo's large palm kneaded your chest, rubbing his thumb over your clothed nipple and kissing down your neck. Managing to open up your clothes and sighed, a smile on his pale face.

"Waa.. I miss these cute tits of yours, baby..~" Gojo bent his head down, kissing one of your erect nipples as you let out a pained whine.

You shouldn't be feeling so good.. You didn't want this..

"Mmn.. God, you still taste amazing up here," Gojo cooed, licking around your rosy nipples and suckling gently. The feeling of his soft tongue against you made you mewl quietly; you shouldn't be feeling this good.

Not from him. Not because of him.

"Haa.. Can't wait to fuck you," He mewled, his cheeks becoming rosy as he sat up on his knees. "It's the least I can do, seeing as you're all defenseless on the bed. Maybe this is why you ran away? To be bound and tied up for me? Oh~ you're so kinky, Y/n.."

In moments, Gojo was taking off your shirt, pants, and your undergarments. Leaving you exposed underneath him and cold. This was so wrong, so embarrassing, so crazy..

So why were you hot and bothered..?

"Oo~ Someone's been getting off to this, huh?" Gojo cooed, his hand dipping to your heat and running a fingertip up your slick opening.

It made you shiver and mewl, biting your lip immediately as if a wave of love and affection was given to you from two years ago. You shouldn't feel so good over a few touches, no matter how sensitive your slick clit was. How it throbbed and twitched under Gojo's fingers while he cooed.

"Aww, it looks like your pussy misses me, hun~!" He smiled, biting his bottom lip and creating a dent.

His fingers traced around your small opening, pushing his fingers inside so suddenly it burned. Your breath hitched in a quiet coo, your cunt squeezing and twitching around Gojo's fingers as they moved faster and faster. His own pants and sighs are audible as you got closer and closer to an unwanted orgasm.

"C'mon, let that orgasm out, baby," Gojo's tone is so weak it sounded like a plea, curling his fingers and rubbing your sensitive walls. Scissoring his fingers and rubbing your clit with his thumb. "So cute. Cum on my fingers, Y/n. Please."

"A-Agh.. nngh!" You cried, your back arching when you didn't want it, cunt squelching in unison with your wanton moans and whimpers, creaming on your ex's long fingers.

With a sigh, your eyes closed tight, your body relaxed as Gojo's fingers were pulled from your soft warmth. His cock already throbbing in his pants, his pink lips shiny as he drooled at the sight of your undone figure.

Why did you need to leave? He had given you a whole life and yet you left on your wedding day!

"God, seeing you like this just reminds me of our first time together," Satoru had started undoing his belt, the clicking of the buckle alerting you and making you look up towards him. "It was so hot and sexy, I swear I never thought that an ass could bounce that much on someone's cock."

"S-Sato.." Your cheeks burned as your ex continued to rant about your first with him, your eyes locked on Gojo's hardening front with a small whimper. "Please, don't do it.. I.."

"Shh, sweetheart," Gojo cooed, lifting your chin up and kissing you sweetly like his used to when he comforted you. The feeling of his plush and warm lips against your own made your pussy squeeze around the air. your eyes lidded as Gojo continued to lick and trace your hips with his fingers.

"I'll make you feel better, ok? So stop the tears and enjoy my dick like you used to."

Gojo's hips bucked against yours, his dripping cock head spilling some of his seed onto your navel. The usual sticky substance is warm and relaxing against your skin. Nerves under the small puddle of it relaxing as your hips were raised up to graze Gojo's cock against your opening. The twitching and pearled up tip rubbing against the flaps of your pussy, nudging as Gojo started to push.

It slipped without a second thought, pushing into your warm walls and practically gushing inside the stretching hole. The man that owned the needy shaft left out a weak whine, holding onto your hips with a gentle squeeze.

"God baby," He mumbled, his eyes fogging as the pleasure he was getting consumed him fully. Looking down at your shaky figure for a response as he snapped his hips and shoved it into you vigorously. "Feels so good, like always!"

You cry at this, clit grinding against Gojo's pubic bone as your toes begin to curl from the force of his thrusts. It was so good having him inside you, feeling the curve of his cock knock your g-spot perfectly and making you melt under his touch despite how much you wanted to kick him and push him away.

It was like a twisted torture you were enduring.

You wanted to run and hide, but stay and get pleasured by Gojo constantly. To feel those soft hugs and kiss his pretty white lashes each morning before he woke up and whine about how you missed his lips. Bickering back and forth about which store to go to or what things to buy when you got there.

All the soft and fluffy stuff that your soul and heart craved from Gojo's touch. Feeling him pressing you into the bed sweetly like he hadn't kidnapped you. Like he was making love to you, groping at your chest with his large hands and pinching your nipples.

Nuzzling into the crook of your shoulder as he picked up his pace, grunting and moaning into your ear while he pleasured himself with your hole.

Sick and twisted, that's the kind of love you felt inside.

"S-Sato, gonna-!!" You cried, arching your back into the restraints and pulling your legs up to fold against you, tugging at the ropes binding them to the bed. "Gonna come! Nghh!"

With a whine your pussy constricted around your kidnapper's cock, shuddering as your orgasm hit you again, almost like a punch in the gut but full of euphoric feelings. Gojo let out an excited mewl, his eyes entranced with your orgasming pussy. Rolling his hips roughly against your swollen pearl, watching it shiver under his touch as he continued to abuse your stretched hole.

"Yeah, baby!" He purred, tracing his thumb over your navel and down to rest above your clit. "C'mon, keep comin' for me. Go on!"

You couldn't hear him over your whines and the rapid beating of your heart, Gojo's words falling on deaf ears as he continued to thrust until he came. The hot and sticky ropes of his come painting your walls and the lips of your pussy.

He let out a sigh at the sight, running his finger up to collect a little of the semen he had spilt.

"Look at that," Gojo cooed, leaning forward and pressing his come covered finger to his lips. "You made me bust so hard inside, it made me a little tired."

Whimpering, your eyes were blurred and hazy, weakly locked with his. Watching as he slipped his digit into his mouth and licked up the messy substance, feeling his lips press against yours after he swallowed it. After a few moments of kissing and cleaning up your disheveled body, Gojo stands and fixes his pants, his glasses returning to their spot on the bridge of his nose.

"Now, my little dove, why don't we try this relationship over?"

a/n: this was a really old draft i decided to touch up and continue recently since I haven't been posting much. i liked how toxic it turned out since i've been feeling a certain way recently lollll anyways, i hope you enjoyed this and hope to get the next chapter of Valentino posted soon! ^^

a/n pt2: There has been a serious lack of posting as I've once again been unable to get the creative juices flowing. I hope I can get back to doing some drabbles and another chapter of Valentino soon.

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peachymilkandcream · 1 year ago

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Movie! William Afton NSFW Alphabet

(A/N: The NSFW Alphabets are their canon events I cannot stop this I'm sorry T-T Also please read the warnings, I don't care if it's fucked my guy literally stuffed children into suits he's fucked up.)

WARNINGS: noncon, dubcon, manipulation, domestic abuse, yandere themes, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, stockholm syndrome, violence, mind breaking, misogyny, age difference etc.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) William is surprisingly considerate, when he has the time to be. Most of his life is wrapped up in the chaos of covering up murders and coming up with new machines that sometimes sex just becomes stress relief and he doesn't have time for more. However when he can be convinced to take time away he really does try and care about his wife and make sure she feels clean and comfortable.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) Deranged psychos and their hands are a thing I'm telling you. The power in behind them is 100% a secret turn on they won't admit. And when you've made your career the work of your hands, (like child murders and a booming business) you can't help but pick that as the favourite. For her, he's not super partial but he really likes her hair, gripping it, pulling it, is what he daydreams about.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) Let's just saw how else did they have four kids, cmon now. ;)

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) While it's not inherently sexual William really loves putting fear into others, and he 100% has a r*pe fantasy that he puts her through often. (Although for her he doesn't tell her that's what happening so it's 'authentic') This includes fake home invasions as well when he gets bored of vanilla sex and wants to "spice things up". Poor girl lives in fear daily.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) He has some before they met, mostly teenage mistakes when he had the time. After he started his career it was rare he did simply because of time. He knows enough of what he's doing, he knows how to make himself feel good and that's all that matters right?

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) My guy is a ride or die missionary, reverse cowgirl is the only other he'll consider. Anything else is just uncomfortable in his opinion, and again it's about what feels best for him.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) William's very erratic so it really depends on the mood he's in, how his day has gone if this kids annoy him. He has been known to be more humorous on occasion but it's not often.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) Let's be honest William only gets his hair cut because his wife does it, he doesn't have the time to take care of himself like he should, those are precious moments that could go to his work. So no, he is not well groomed.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) This again depends on the occasion, usually it's just stress relief so it's quick and usually not very romantic, but if it's a special occasion like an anniversary or birthday then he'll be way more romantic.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) Same as with his hair, he honestly just never has time XD

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) Big somnophilia fan, probably a slight breeding kink, lingerie (especially stockings), hair pulling, choking, gagging, knife play 100% (he's a serial killer, I had to).

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) Anywhere in the house really, anywhere he can get a moment alone. He used to enjoy when she distracted him in his workshop in the basement but now those old parts bring back haunting memories...

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) Her being a mother to his children, it warms his little black heart and gets him going. As well as any new sets of lingerie she buys or he buys for her.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) She wouldn't but if she tried to dominate him, he would nope the fuck out of there. My guy is an S tier misogynist and believes his wife should be beneath him literally and figuratively.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) He prefers receiving simply because it plays into the whole gagging thing. Her gagging on his dick as he face fucks her is so hot to him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) As stated before it depends on the occasion, special moments require more slow and sensual whereas annoyance or hurry is fast and rough.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) His whole life is about quickies, having just enough time to get himself off is what he usually does.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) He takes too many risks, if he's not careful he's going to end up hurting her.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) Obviously when he was younger it was more, but now he's a one or two rounds at most guy.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) No no never, no matter what it is he's come to not trust machines around his loved ones anymore.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) If he's in a goofy mood he will, but most of the time he doesn't have time to sit and tease her.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) He's actually quite loud, groaning and even soft whimpers are his specialty.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) William has a thing for stockings because that's the first thing he saw her in and he started fantasizing how her thighs would jiggle in them while he was eating her out.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) I'd say he's above average, not too much but enough, he's slightly thick with a few smaller veins.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) His drive has really changed from wanting to have sex to wanted her to relieve stress. So because of all the stress he's under, it's pretty high.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) William is out like a light after, dreaming about his victims or how he disposed of bodies. Solid sleeper while his wife lays awake plagued by waking nightmares of her own.

#william afton x oc #william afton smut #william afton x reader #steve raglan x oc #steve raglan x reader #steve raglan smut #five nights at freddys #five nights at freddys movies

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slasherhaven · 11 months ago

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The Devil you Know

Otis Driftwood x Reader

CW: Typical Otis things, violence, death, threats, Stockholm Syndrome, manipulation

Not really happy with how this came out but here's a little snippet from a larger story that's been whirling around in my head for a bit!

The door creaked on its hinges, the light breeze causing it to repeatedly tap against the wall. It was open and the road was right there, stretching out endlessly. Even RJ’s truck was sitting beside the house, keys probably still in the ignition.

The door was open, the road was right there, and so was a truck. And yet your feet remained glued to the floor.

All you had to do was move, one foot in front of another. Get to the truck. Even if there were no keys, you could run. Even if it was hopeless, not another soul for miles, you could try. You should try.

Instead, you just stood in the doorway, staring out as all hell broke loose in the basement.

You weren’t completely sure what was going on down there and you didn’t want to think about it too hard. RJ had towed a car up to the house, a young couple having car troubles and needing some assistance. Some good old southern hospitality. You wished you could have warned them, but you hadn’t dared say anything. You couldn’t, not when Mama was fussing over how kind you are for bringing these strangers some refreshing lemonade. Not when Otis was still eyeing you from his seat until you set the tray down as he could pull your stiff frame down onto his lap.

They were all busy now, dealing with their latest victims. They were all busy and you were unsupervised. You could run. Should run.

You remained still. The outside seemed too vast, too impossible.

You were snapped out of your warring thoughts when a strong hand grabbed you by the arm and spun you around.

You recognized the face immediately, the man that RJ brought in. He was a large man, who seemed even larger as he loomed over you, which was probably how he had managed to get back upstairs in the first place.

Blood pounded in your ears so you couldn’t make out what he was saying. You watched his mouth moving, trying to make sense of it but he was talking too fast. Even though you could hear what he was saying, you read his expression.

He was angry. Fearful, sure, but also furious.

His grip on your arm tightened, not loosening when you flinched and hissed. It would add to the litany of bruises, you were sure.

As he tugged you towards him, you acted reflexively. You thrashed to get out of his hold and attempted to pry his hand off of you, digging your nails into his hand and arm hard enough to draw blood.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

You could finally make out some of his words, the harshness of them making you panic more. The feeling of being trapped, his bruising grip on your arm, the way he grabbed at you with his other hand.

“Get off me!” You fought and shouted, cheeks sticky with tears.

But this man was larger than you, stronger than you, and easily knocked the wind out of you by slamming you into the wall beside the open front door. Pinning you there.

Suddenly his grip went limp and the anger faded from his eyes, his words falling silent.

Your chest was heaving with uneasy breaths as the man collapsed to his knees before falling over on his side, blood pooling around his body and seeping into the floorboard.

Your vision was hazy, the whole room spinning around you.

The only thing in perfect focus was Otis. Standing just behind where the other man had been with a dark look on his face. He was covered in grime and blood, his knife left behind in the spine of the corpse at your feet.

“O-Otis…”

He said something, his lips were moving but you couldn’t hear anything just like before. The ringing in your ears even louder now. You watched, eyes wide and hands shaking, as Otis spat at the corpse, his words coming harsher even if you couldn’t really make them out. He was baring his teeth now.

The walls were still spinning and the floor was moving, the only constant was Otis.

He was your anchor.

You didn’t even realise you were moving until it was too late, your body acting on instinct. You managed not to trip over the body between you both before yours collided with Otis, your arms clinging around his waist and your eyes squeezed shut.

“Otis, he…I…what…”

Clinging to Otis’ steady frame, you feel still finally. You could still smell the gore on him but it reminded you of where you were, it grounded you. It anchored you even more when you felt his arms slow encircle your body.

“Don’t go crying on me, darlin’,” his voice was teasing, almost mocking, but you didn’t care. The threat was gone and the world was steady, you could breathe easily again. Nothing else mattered.

“Shush, Bunny, everything’s alright now,” Otis cooed, actually managing to soothe you some despite his sarcastic drawl.

“I’m here, I’ve got you. Nobody fucking touches what’s mine, right?”

It shouldn’t have brought you any comfort and yet it did. There was a time where those very words would have made your skin crawl, but now you found yourself burying your face further into Otis’ sullied shirt.

Seemingly seeing no further need to indulge your need for affection or reassurance, Otis unwound his arms from you and pushed you away by your shoulders.

For the first time you were able to catch him off guard, moving with lightning speed as you clutched at his arm. “Please, don’t. Otis, don’t leave, I’ll do anything, please, just…” you could already feel your breath quickening again in panic.

“Aw, silly Bunny,” Otis smirked with too many teeth, his eyes glinting with mischief. “C’mon, Mama will sit with ya.”

“No,” you felt a sob catch in the back of your throat, suddenly desperate to not have Otis out of your sight. He was the only thing keeping you stable.

“Oh, you just want Ol’ Otis all to yourself,” Otis’ smirk somehow grew as he dragged a calloused thumb over your cheekbone, wiping away the fresh tears, the drying blood on his hand leaving a pink streak in its wake. “Why didn’t ya just say so? You can help me deal with this fucker then, then we can check in on Baby. She’s playing with his little bitch right now, maybe she’ll save some of the fun for us.”

Your stomach churned at the thought of actually partaking in the horrors that the Firefly family enacts but the dread you felt from the thought of leaving Otis’ side was overwhelming.

You nodded shakily before you could stop yourself.

Blood and gore squelched under your feet at Otis led you away from the still open front door but you clung to his hand all the same. Otis was dangerous and you had almost forgotten just how dangerous everything else could be.

Otis was deranged and dangerous and you never really knew when he would snap but he also protected you. He didn’t let anyone touch what belonged to him, so as long as you were in his clutches, you were safe from everything but him.

#otis driftwood x reader #slashers x reader #slasher #slashers #otis driftwood #slasher x reader #my writing

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froggywritesstuff · 11 months ago

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yandere Tara Carpenter x male reader

holiday promise | yandere!tara carpenter

ship/pairing: Yandere!Tara Carpenter x male!reader

fandom: Scream

warnings: yandere, kidnapping, chains, being gagged, delusional Tara, slight stockholm syndrome, unwanted touching (not sexual), not proofread

word count: 731

A/N: i do not in any way support yandere behaviour, please know that this writing is purely fictional, and should not ever be reenacted in real life. this is sort of christmas/holiday themed, so if you don't celebrate that kind of stuff, feel free to keep scrolling. I wrote this in like 20 minutes so apologies for the lack of good quality writing. no use of y/n

Tara wasn't an idiot. She knew when her sister was up to something. Especially when she roped her friends into it and they 'whispered' right outside Tara's room. She wasn't surprised though. Sam, Mindy and Chad had grown to be very protective of the people they cared about, especially when it came to Tara. So when Tara cried into her sister's arms over her missing boyfriend, she knew Sam would go overboard trying to help her.

Tara placed the last poster into her bag, and made her way to the door, preparing herself for the looks of pity she was bound to receive. As she opened the door, she rushed past her friends, noting their deer in the headlights looks as if they weren't expecting her to open the door so soon.

Sam quickly followed after her sister, "Tara, do you have a sec?"

Tara sighed silently, setting her bag on the floor as she grabbed her shoes by the door, "Not really, I gotta go."

"Do you want some company?" Chad suggested, sounding a little too desperate and not at all like he, Mindy and Sam hadn't planned this.

Tara shook her head as she laced up her shoes, "No, not today."

"We're getting worried about you." Sam admitted, though it wasn't at all a secret to Tara.

Mindy nodded, "We know you wanna be alone, but you don't have to be. We're here for you. So if you wanna talk, or if you want some help putting up posters, you can come to us."

Tara stood up to her full height, slinging her bag strap around her shoulder and staring expressionlessly at the three, "I said I just wanna be alone."

With that, she was out the door. She went downstairs and outside the apartment building, being met with the cool wind outside. The sky was cloudy and grey, and the air smelled of rain. She briskly walked down the streets of New York, until she made her way down an alleyway. She looked around and behind her, checking no one was following her, before she reached into her pocket, pulled out some keys and entered an old, mostly abandoned building. Locking the door behind her, she walked further into the house, footsteps sounding against the stone floor, until she reached a locked door leading to a room. Unlocking the door with her keys again, she pushed open the door, smiling at the sight of you. You were curled up in the corner shivering, the chains around your wrists clattering together.

"Can I sit with you?"

You said nothing, which was mainly the result of a gag shoved in your mouth, but Tara took your wide-eyed fearful stare as a yes, and sat down beside you. She smiled, cuddling close to you and grabbing her bag, unzipping it and showing you it's contents.

"Since it's the holiday season, I thought I should get you some things." she pulled out a soft, fluffy blanket, wasting no time to wrap it around your shoulders. She knew you would need it, you were sitting on the stone ground all day, and the weather wasn't getting warmer any time soon. She pulled the gag out of your mouth, sending you into a coughing fit, and she grabbed some snacks, setting them on the ground in front of you. "Just because you're spending the holidays here, doesn't mean you can't celebrate with me."

As your coughs died down, you looked at her smiling face, and for the first time since Tara took you here, you felt a calm feeling. You never felt that when Tara was around. But maybe she did care? Maybe she did really love you, she just didn't know how to show it...

"Oh, I wanna show you something." you stared at the bag Tara was searching through, until she pulled out a poster that made your heart drop. At the top of the page was bold, black letters reading: MISSING. Underneath was your name, your picture, some other information about you, and Tara's phone number at the bottom. "How does this look?" she noticed your wide eyes and sensed your fear, "Don't worry, I'm not gonna let anyone find you, these are just so no one gets suspicious." she smiled at you, lifting her hand to your cheek, "I'm never gonna let anyone take you from me. That's a promise."

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bloody-cupcakes · 2 months ago

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Joe Goldberg x yandere/dark! reader; you kidnap him after he finds out about your secret

Tw: yandere/dark content, gender neutral reader, mentioned murder, kidnapping, obsessive and possessive behavior displayed by the reader, restraints in the form of a literal ball and chain (medieval, I know), implied Stockholm syndrome, whump elements (there's some gore/violence. it's up to you to interpret whether it was accidental or not)

He wasn't supposed to find out about the killings you'd committed for him. Unfortunately for you, he did.

You knew about his, of course. You knew everything about him, all of his dirty little secrets that he so desperately tried to hide from you.

You knew about him stalking you, about him stealing your things to keep as trophies, yet you still accepted and loved him for who he was. So why couldn't he do the same thing for you?

When he told you he was going to leave is when you knew you had to act fast. You didn't want to knock him unconscious, but what other choice did you have?

It was a lucky break for you that he already had a glass cage constructed to keep people in, though you were quite certain he never in a million years expected to be trapped in there himself.

Joe was determined to get out, even if he didn't know how yet. In the meantime, he thought that maybe by using his expert manipulation skills he could convince you to set him free. He was sorely mistaken.

You had absolutely no intention of letting him go, as he quickly realized, but you still couldn't help teasing him, making him think that one day he might get the chance to leave. Yeah, right.

Was it cruel of you to mess with his head like that? Maybe, but you just couldn't help yourself. After all, he was so cute when he begged for his freedom.

"Let me go," he demanded as he banged his fists against the side of the glass cage, clearly desperate.

"Knock it off, Joe. You're not coming out right now." It was initially adorable to listen to his whining, but after a while it started to get old.

One thing you'd done that he hadn't was adding a ball and chain, quite literally. It took you ages to get everything set up perfectly in his new little home, and that aspect was certainly no exception. It was completely worth it, however, because it meant that you could leave the door to the cage open so you could come and go as you pleased without having to worry about him slipping out.

Like now, for example. He'd recently torn up his blanket during one of his little fits, so you had to get him a new one. "Stay in your corner, Joe," you commanded as you unlocked the door and grabbed a blanket to take inside.

Just because he was restrained didn't mean he couldn't still be aggravating. You knew that from all the times he'd grabbed onto you and refused to let go until you threatened him with solitary confinement.

He reluctantly did as you said, sitting in the corner with his arms crossed as he watched you make his bed. You put the new blanket down after picking up the shredded pieces of his old one, tsking lightly in disapproval.

"I should really make you go without one so it'll teach you not to misbehave," you mused out loud as you got together the old blanket scraps and put them in a garbage bag.

He didn't say anything in return, too busy pouting. You could tell he didn't like being scolded from the way he crossed his arms and glared at the floor.

"There you go, good as new," you announced once you'd fixed up his little room. "I don't want you to tear up your bed again, do you hear me?"

He was about to reply with a snarky comment when he saw you getting ready to leave. "Where are you going?" He asked suddenly, seeming a little panicked.

"I'm going back upstairs for right now. You don't deserve to have company after the mess you made." Before you could leave, however, he lunged himself forward, falling on the floor as he grabbed onto your ankle.

"Please don't leave me," he pleaded as he looked up at you with a pitiful expression. "I'm sorry, okay? I won't do it again."

Joe wasn't usually this clingy, but he also wasn't used to not having the freedom to do whatever he wanted. Not to mention his anger towards you for putting him there was starting to fizzle out, slowly but surely being replaced with a twisted form of love, one that was even more codependent than the one you guys had previously.

"I know you are, but that still doesn't excuse your behavior. Now, let go." Your tone was firm and cold, one that you only ever used when you were truly upset with him. He knew you didn't like it when he tried to physically keep you down there, but his desperation for human contact was currently outweighing his better judgement.

"Please, I'll do anything. I won't mess up my room again, just don't go." His undeniable neediness would've been cute if it wasn't so annoying.

"Let go of my ankle, now. I'm not going to ask you again." Any other time he would've listened to you, but not this time. This time he flat out refused, determined to get you to stay.

"Please-" He started to beg again before being quickly cut off.

"I said, let go."

When he didn't listen, you brought your foot down on his face, hard. There was a loud, sickening crunch followed by a sudden scream of agony. Blood streamed down his face and pooled into his hands, which he was using to cover the injured area. In one swift movement, one single act, you'd broken his nose.

At least it had the desired effect that you'd hoped for. You'd successfully gotten him to let go of your ankle.

"Goddamn it, Joe," you sighed as you watched him whimper on the ground in pain. "Now look what you've done."

#i really really like writing gorey stuff #i should do it more often #you netflix #you netflix imagine #you netflix x reader #you netflix fic #yandere fic #yandere reader #dark fic #yandere x darling #joe goldberg #joe goldberg imagine #joe goldberg x reader #joe goldberg x you #joe goldberg fic

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an-angel-in-the-garden · 25 days ago

Note

If I may ask how would you rank the escapability of yandere Alcuard, Walter, Anderson and Enrico and why

What a great question. I can see this going a few ways so I'm gonna write out the HC's and then at the end have the ranking! Trigger warnings include Yandere behavior such as violence both at others and reader, threats aimed at reader and others, stalking, confinement and unhealthy relationships

Alucard

Old or young Alucard is one of the worst people to gain an obsession on someone

You can't run from him, and you definitely can't hide, honestly even trying to isn't worth it

Escape is only possible when he's gone for a long time and only if you've managed to get Integra or Seras on your side

Though even with them that safety will only last a few years at most. They can only do so much, and Alucard isn't willing to let go

With his powers no matter the age or stage he's in Alucard is the most dangerous and impossible to escape but the best or worst part of it is that you likely won't want to

See Alucard for all his flaws loves strongly

All yanderes do but his stems from something much deeper and the way he treats you reflects this

You're given mostly free roaming rights, anything you could ask for will be gotten and he dotes on you endlessly, its nothing but bliss and love so the idea of running is so hard to form

Honestly, he's the hardest to run from and the easiest to fall for, it's just some really good Stockholm syndrome

It's not a big deal, even if you run and he finds you Alucard could never handle hurting you, it would rip him apart so at most he just lightly scolds you and forces you to stay in his line of sight

Walter

Another hard one to escape but he's more limited than the others for sure

Walter can and will keep you locked away, hidden from anyone other than Integra and Alucard

Though you'd be kept in such a lovely set of rooms it's a prison nonetheless and without anyone to rely on or talk with escape is hard to imagine

It's important to note though that it's very possible to leave, Walter is out so often and he's normally busy working with Integra so there's time

The problem comes with what happens after you see once you do get out you still have to escape the manor and flee as far from London as possible to get out of the Hellsing organization's reach

But even if you do that Walter won't stop looking for you, he'll do all he can to drag you back to his side and if he catches you, you'll never see the light of day again

The only thing that even kind of holds him back is Sir Integra's orders and that isn't always going to work any crack will be enough for him to slip away if only for a week, no one in your life will be safe

The best option is to go back, kiss up to him and you'll be treated wonderfully, family and friends will be given cash to keep quiet and you can even write them letters!

But that's it...nothing more just him and the pretty rooms again, you can run but hiding is much harder than you might think

The only risk is too your family Walter won't hurt you physically, you're much too important for that but breaking you emotionally or mentally is very much on the table

Anderson

Anderson is a tough case to be honest

He's gone so often and will most likely just leave you at the church or his home under the watchful eye of others

This is both good and bad, these people are nice, you could befriend them work to gain their trust and have them help you escape but in the same line of thinking they trust Anderson

They probably agree with what he's doing, they see you as an angel to protect and care for so they might also tell your plans to Anderson and pull the leash even tighter around your neck

If you do manage to get them on your side, then you're set for life. He won't find you if they let go, he's so busy with doing god's work and hunting down Alucard, not to mention helping out with the kids that unless others lend him a hand you just can't be found

However, should they turn on you, tell Anderson that you want to leave or anything like that then you'll never be free

There won't even be a chance to try and escape the rooms will get smaller, but the amount of people around will only grow

It's a high risk but high reward situation if you want to escape so honestly it comes down to how well you can adapt to the game being played

Anderson is someone who's willing to shall we say clip your wings if you get out of hand, he won't harm your family or friends but he's willing to chain you down for running, reshape you until you're nothing but a doll

Enrico

By far the easiest to escape from but also the most dangerous to get caught by

See most people within Enrico's organization aren't all that close with him personally meaning they're more willing to lend a hand if you make a good plea

Not only that but he's gone even more then Anderson though he's got cameras and locks on every door and window you can find a way with or without help

we'll call this the easy step, breaking out is the first and smallest hurdle with him

Hiding is a bit harder; he knows lots of people and can be just about anywhere for " work" but it's not impossible to just drop of the grid

Now here's where it can all go horribly wrong, without a trace of you left Maxwell is at risk of just fully going insane, he's latched onto you so hard it feels like part of him is dead when you're not here

He can't stand it and he'll blame everyone around him once you're gone, his subordinates, the people close to you and even random people that happen to cross him on the wrong day

And if he ever gets a hold of you that's the end of the line, now it's unlikely that he'll kill you, that would only make the pain he feels worse but other then that anything is on the table

He's angry that you would leave, don't you love him? Hasn't he shown how much he loves you? Maxwell wants you to feel all the pain he did while you were away from him and its a lot of pain

You'll never be free after that, locked away from anyone who could or would help, only ever able to see him, he's the only thing that keeps you connected to the world beyond cold and unfeeling walls

It's not worth running, it's too risky should he ever find you, you just have to wait and hope he stops coming back if you ever want real freedom

Happy Halloween! We did it! I managed to get this done. It took me a whole month but thank you for waiting! I hope you like it, I had more fun with it than I was expecting. If you read the other thing I posted today then you know what's up but if not here's a quick summary, I got promoted at work! It's a lot more work especially with all of the holidays so I don't have as much time to myself as I used to. Still, I'm gonna do my best to keep up with at least a once-a-month post. Anyway, thank you so much for reading and I hope you all had a very fun Halloween and if you don't celebrate it then I hope today was still good! Have a good night or day and I'll see you next post. ~ Lilly

#reader imagine #x reader #reader insert #reader x #hellsing imagines #hellsing x reader #alucard imagine #alucard x reader #alexander anderson imagine #walter dornez x reader #alexander anderson x reader #walter x reader #enrico maxwell x reader

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irrelevantwriter · 1 year ago

Text

Captive Heart

Pairing: Dark!Eddie Munson (Stranger Things) x Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW, 18+ only

Warnings: Dark!Eddie, language, mentions of kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome, hint of somnophilia, consensual vaginal sex, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of bodily fluids

Word Count: 2831

Summary: Eddie wanted you. And he got you.

A/N: Dark Eddie is here and he’s pretty dark. This really came out of left field for me, but it also felt right so enjoy! Share with your friends! Feedback is that good shit.💗

Disclaimer: As always, reader inserts are true reader inserts. If you find any specifics in regards to reader’s appearance, kindly let me know and I will fix that.

Disclaimer: Characters are of age in my fics.

*Check out my other Eddie fics here

*Masterlist in bio.

**********************

Eddie groaned as he lifted his aching body into his van, his grease stained hands calloused from the day’s work.

He eagerly fished out a cigarette from his pocket and immediately lit the stick, not even stopping to start the engine. The cab was thick with the July sun, causing his overgrown bangs to cling to his sweaty skin. He ignored the suffocating heat and rolled down his window, sucking in a much needed breath of nicotine.

His body began to relax once the bitter taste of tobacco hit his tongue. Only then was he able to turn the car on.

Music assaulted him and he rushed to turn it down, the pain behind his skull intensifying. Cool air blasted from the vents as he threw the van into drive. He drove on autopilot, eager to leave the clusterfuck of a day he’d had behind.

The garage had been busy and customers were anything but kind to him. Which wasn’t unusual for a guy like Eddie Munson. The population of Hawkins had never been particularly welcoming. It surely hadn’t changed now that he’d finally graduated and held down a decent job.

That was too much to ask apparently.

The further he drove from downtown, the lighter he felt. The sensation was a reminder as to why he’d taken up residence in a nearly abandoned house on the outskirts of town. He’d let Wayne have his trailer back a few years back, wanting to give the old man his freedom after tying himself to the town freak. Wayne deserved that much.

Eddie thought of what waited for him at home. Who waited for him at home and an ache of a different kind began to settle into his bones as he thought of you.

Pretty. Smart. Kind.

All adjectives he felt were too good for him. But you’d been his from the moment he’d first spotted you in town. And unlike the majority of Hawkins, you’d treated him with respect. Like an equal. He’d fallen in love instantly. A rarity for a pessimist like himself.

He stopped at a familiar intersection, waiting for the light to turn. His eyes caught sight of the newest billboard posted. It changed every few months. The same face always smiling back. Usually the reward amount was higher, a family desperate to have their missing piece returned to them.

A honk sounded from behind him and he realized the light had turned green. He waved in apology and stepped on the gas, leaving the plea for help behind.

His fingers drummed against the steering wheel as he turned on his isolated street. There were only three homes that dotted the road, all separated by thick trees and bushes. Most of the yards were overgrown. He’d never met his neighbors and he preferred it that way. He liked his privacy. And so did they.

His heart sped up and his stomach filled with anticipation, excited to set eyes on you after a long day away. He parked his van under the car park, noticing the wicker basket that sat next to the side door leading into the kitchen. A pair of gardening gloves peppered with dirt lay abandoned at the bottom.

Eddie had mixed feelings about the sight. He turned off his van, finding it odd that you hadn’t come out to greet him. That was your normal routine.

He exited the vehicle and made his way up the concrete steps, doing his best to kick off any lingering grease and mud from his boots. He used his key to unlock the door, a refreshing blast of A/C hitting him in the face. He sighed at the feel of it on his overheated body. The van’s air conditioning was dwindling with every summer that came and went.

Silence permeated the air as he took in the kitchen. He noted the smell first. A mouthwatering scent that practically made him groan. He walked over to the stove, a large pot of pot roast sat beneath a clear lid, condensation collecting near the rim. He noted the oven was off, but the pot was still warm, signaling it’d just been shut off.

He left the food and set out to find you, his body tense and on edge. All he could think about since he’d left you that morning was being back inside you. That was his favorite place to be. And that was the only cure for the shitty hand he’d been dealt that day.

He made his way to the bedroom in the back. His bedroom. The door was ajar, the foot of the bed coming into view as he stepped closer. He reached out and pushed the door open, taking in your sleeping form. His cock hardened at the sight.

You were nude, lying on your stomach with your leg hitched up, face buried into his pillow. The position afforded him the kind of view he’d longed for all day.

He moved quietly as he approached your sleeping form, his fingers itching to reach out and touch you. He gave in to his desires and skimmed your ankle with his fingertips, watching you closely. You didn’t stir.

You slept soundly. And lately, you’d gotten increasingly hot natured. You hardly slept with clothing on anymore. Not that he minded.

He would normally shower once he got home from work, but the overwhelming urge he had to take you was too strong. You were laid out so perfectly for him, beckoning him to come closer. So he listened.

Eddie undressed and crawled onto the foot of the bed, letting his hands roam up the expanse of your thighs. He licked his lips as his thumbs spread your opening, your body winking to him in welcome. Without preamble, he dipped a finger inside. Warm heat coated him. He was desperate for more.

You shifted against his touch, hips inching towards the pleasure. He watched as your walls took him in easily. So he added another finger. He moved them deeper, almost betting he could feel the many loads he’d left in you that morning before he’d left for work.

He watched your face for any signs of consciousness, but there were none. He didn’t like that.

He removed his fingers and moved his mouth closer to your sex, hovering. A large glob of saliva fell from his lips to your skin and he sought out your clit, done with being considerate. He needed you.

He was aggressive with his actions, using his fingers to rub intentionally. A soft gasp was his reward. He smiled as your body jerked, your legs fighting to close around his hand as your eyes flew open. He held your thighs, keeping you in position as he shushed you.

“Shh…shhh,” he soothed, his fingers betraying his gentle tone. “It’s me, baby. It’s just me.”

You settled for only a moment before you whimpered and tried to push his hand away.

“M’still sore, Eddie,” you whispered, voice thick with sleep. The sound made his cock twitch.

He smiled down at you, not at all trying to hide the condemnation in his features. “Sore from what, baby?”

His fingers dipped back into your slit, the appendages flooded with your arousal. You bit your lip, the need to cry out written all over your face. Your brows furrowed and your nose scrunched in that cute way he loved. Your fists clung to bedding below you. It was an indication of just how close you were, despite your pleas.

“This morning,” you answered between moans, hips rocking into his hand now.

“You saying fucking you three times before I leave is too much?”

You didn’t reply. He hooked his fingers, making you arch off the bed.

“Answer me.”

“No. No, s’not,” you slurred, trying to reach for his forearm.

“That’s a good girl,” he praised, his pace slowing, removing his fingers all together. You whimpered and he soothed the ache with a swipe of his palm over your puffy lips.

“Turn on your side.”

You wordlessly obeyed, twisting so that your upper body was now turned towards him, your lower half still flush with the mattress and open to his touch.

“Hold still for me, baby,” he instructed as he shifted on his knees. He held your thighs in place as he angled his throbbing cock to your opening, rutting against you and coating himself in your wetness.

“Mmm,” you hummed, already cock drunk at the feel of him.

“Need you, baby. Need you so bad.”

Eddie gritted his teeth as the tip of his cock slipped past your entrance, your walls squeezing in acceptance. It’d taken him weeks to get you trained to that point and now he was addicted to the sensation.

As soon as he felt your body clench around him, his self control disappeared. He acted on instinct and buried himself to the hilt, his hips meeting the flesh of your ass. A high pitched moan ricocheted in his ears as your body took him.

You always made the prettiest sounds. Even when you cried.

“Fuck, baby…feel so good,” he babbled, fingertips digging into your thighs. Flesh slapped against flesh as he moved, watching the way your tits bounced in response.

This was the feeling he’d been chasing all day. Shit, all his life if he was being completely honest. That was why he’d swooped in and took you for himself. He had to. He had to do it.

He’d planned it for weeks. How he’d lure you to him. Which wasn’t hard considering how sweet you were on him. He could tell. He thought it was cute.

You fought him at first. Of course you did. He’d taken you and held you captive in his home. But over time you grew comfortable with him. You understood he wasn’t trying to hurt you. He took care of you. Took care of your every want and need. And pretty soon you were coming to him. Seeking him out to make you feel better.

Eddie had done his research. He knew all about Stockholm Syndrome. And he put it to the test with you. Now, eight months later with his cock buried so deep inside of you he could practically see the outline in your stomach, he could call it a success. You were well and truly his.

“More, Eddie…please,” you begged, knowing better than to disobey him. He gave you what you wanted and let two fingers seek out your clit. He never let you touch yourself. A rule you were good at following. It’d only taken you two times to know you didn’t want to do it again.

“My good girl…so good for me. Always. Isn’t that right?”

You nodded, mouth agape as your body writhed on his cock. You were close. And so was he.

He sped up his movements, seeing your face twist in pain as he hit deep. He didn’t stop. He kept going.

“Cum for me, baby. I know you want to,” he demanded, using his free hand to swat at your ass. You recoiled, but the moan that left your lips betrayed you. So he did it again.

You came with a shuttering gasp, limbs twisted so tight he was sure they’d snap. He held still so that every shock of pleasure that washed over you traveled along his cock.

When your body went limp, he resumed his efforts. He sought out your chest, squeezing the flesh as he fucked you. Your eyes were glossed over and staring up at him, your lips curved into a drunken smile. When his hand traveled further up to clutch at your neck, you let him.

Eddie growled as he applied pressure. You arched into his touch, your pussy so utterly fucked out that he was nearly slipping from its clutches.

“Fuck. Just like that, baby,” he grimaced between clenched teeth, feeling that telltale sensation at the base of his spine. “You’re so good to me. Letting me use you. Right?”

He released your throat and you sucked in air, your hand wrapping around his tattooed wrist.

“Yes, yes…whenever you want.”

“You’re mine. Say it,” he growled, punctuating his words with a punishing thrust.

“I’m yours, Eddie.”

That was all he needed to finish.

He pumped you full, like he usually did, hips never stopping, even when the sensitivity kicked in. Your whiny moans and whimpers only spurred him on as he collapsed over you, bodies sweaty and sticking to each other. He kissed your cheek sloppily, still stuck in the throes of his climax.

Everything always felt so much better with you. Before you, sex never felt this good. Coming home never felt as good. You were all he needed. And he would fight until his dying breath to keep that hidden from you. Because the moment you realized that you were the one that held all the power, he knew you’d leave him. Just like everyone else.

“Fucking fuck…so good for me, baby…so good,” he panted into your neck, hands squeezing at every part of you he could reach.

Several seconds passed before either of you attempted to move. He settled his full weight onto you, cock still very much nestled between your legs. He could feel his cum trickling out, so he lazily thrust his hips in hopes of catching the runaway drops.

“Sensitive,” you sleepily murmured, hips edging away from him.

He ignored your comment, peppering your chest and neck with kisses.

“You know the rule about wasting,” he reminded you, nose burrowing into your cheek.

Your hands came to rest in his hair in silent apology, pushing the tangled waves away from his face. You met his eyes and all he saw was adoration.

“Let’s take a shower.”

He groaned in protest, nipping at your bottom lip, eliciting a giggle. “Don’t wanna move.”

“You’ll feel better. I’ll help. And then I can feed you.”

Eddie acquiesced, shifting off of you. He was hungry. And a shower did sound nice. Especially when his muscles ached in protest of his movements.

“Come on,” you purred, somehow finding the strength to pull his hand into yours, helping him off the bed.

He followed you wordlessly.

************

An hour later Eddie sat at the small dining table in the kitchen, eating the pot roast you’d made. His hair lay in damp streaks along his naked back and shoulders, the slight chill helping him stay cool. He watched you move around the space with ease, humming to yourself as you made yourself a plate.

He admired the way your ass shifted in the little sundress he’d gotten you last week. The fabric fell over your curves like it was made for you. And with the sun streaming in through the little window near the sink, you looked like an angel with a halo. His angel.

He regretfully pulled his eyes away and reached for the newspaper sitting beside him. While your back was turned, he thumbed through the pages, looking for what he knew would be there.

On page six he found it. He stared back at the picture of you, the words MISSING printed above the image. You were smiling, looking as beautiful as you did now standing in his home. He quickly snatched the page, tucking it into the pocket of his pants, moving quickly so as not to alert you.

You turned just as he folded what was left of the newspaper aside.

“Saw you went into the garden today,” he commented, taking note of the way you straightened in your chair.

“I thought that was allowed,” you whispered, the fear in your eyes giving you away.

Eddie reached for your hand, soothing your worries. “It is. It is, sweetheart. I just want you to be careful. Don’t want anyone to bother you,” he gently explained, seeing you visibly relax. No one ever came around his property, but it didn’t hurt to remind you.

“I know, Eddie. I’m always careful. I promise.”

And he believed you. Because you hadn’t left him yet.

He’d given you more and more freedom over the last few months, and you’d proven time and time again that he could trust you. He still took precautions when necessary. He didn’t have a television. He didn’t own a telephone. Everything you heard about the outside world was through him first. He made sure.

“I know you are, baby. You’re my good girl.” Eddie planted a kiss to the back of your hand, his heart thudding wildly when you smiled at him.

You nodded in confirmation, letting him playfully nibble at your fingertips.

“Now eat your food. The baby needs it,” he gently ordered, releasing your hand.

You did as he said.

He had five months. Five more months to save and get you and the baby out of Hawkins. Shit, he was going to get you out of the fucking state. Settle down on one of the coasts.

He’d done what he’d set out to do.

You were his.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things

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pondslime · 1 year ago

Photo

liminal spaces

bo sinclar x afab!reader

rating: explicit

word count: 6.3k

Bo POV. It’s been a long day. Crackin’ open a cold one (and then another, and another) in a town the world forgot.

Crossposted on AO3 here.

⚠️ Established codependent toxic murder couple relationship. Reader’s pretty far gone and is ACTIVELY complicit in the wax murder fuckery. Nothing about this is healthy, lmao! Very dubious consent due to Stockholm Syndrome. References to violence/murders the reader has participated in.

Alcohol consumption and intoxication. Weird affection and drunken banter. Soft but in a VERY strange way because this is the worst situation imaginable, and the reader is clearly Not Doing Well. Childhood abuse/trauma is discussed. Light sprinkling of humor. Lots of kissing. 69ing.

Both parties are varying levels of drunk when the aforementioned making out and 69ing takes place. Bruises/rough sex are briefly mentioned, but the actual smut is very........not rough??? Daddy kink. Light orgasm control/denial and general smug asshole dialogue from Bo. Occasional degrading language. Unfortunately, this is still him we’re dealing with. ⚠️

💭💖@visceravalentines MEG MY BELOVED, thank you so much for this request!! I had a TON of fun working on it. I hope you enjoy it!! it’s kinda goofy, kinda creepy, kinda soft in the worst way possible!

It was messy, doing it in the house like that.

Bo stands and surveys the damage, a thrum of anxious excitement humming under his skin. The shattered remnants of one of the plates you’d prepared litter the floor, an explosion of potatoes and peas smearing the baseboard. All of this was a waste of damn good food—but then again, you never could expect the out-of-towners to have any respect for that kind of thing. Whistling, he picks up the biggest pieces of ceramic, sweeping up the rest and dumping it into the trash.

His eyes land on the knife you left on the counter. There’s blood coating the blade, dripping onto the laminate. He sets it in a glass in the sink, watching red bloom slowly in the soapy water. Glancing down at his hand, he finds his palm slick with blood. His mouth pulls into a smile as he gives the handle a stir. The blood swirls in stringy curls, metal clinking against the glass.

He runs a sponge under the tap and wipes the counter off. Washing the blood from his hand, he looks over at the glass. The bubbles on the surface are pale pink, the glint of the blade faintly visible through the cloudy red water.

He leaves that for later, for you.

He chews absentmindedly at the inside of his mouth as he dries his hands off, staring out the window. The texture of the dishtowel is all wrong—your skin is softer, and that’s what he wants right now. He thinks of the way you’d held the knife, your knuckles blooming white with the pressure.

Kid had been young too. Twenty-something.

God, he’s itching to get his hands on you.

He calls out for you, twisting his head to listen for a response. The only sound that answers him is a low crackle from out in the living room. A record spins on the dusty old turntable, the needle scratching away at the vinyl as it skips. He picks it up and the house falls into silence.

Walking over to the stairs, he calls for you again. Still, no answer. He lets out a frustrated exhale, squinting up at the second floor. He knows that you’re gone before he reaches the top step, but he checks anyway. The rooms are all empty. You must have slipped out when they were moving the bodies.

The needling edge of want in his belly is twisting unpleasantly. The killing was only as fun as what came after it. You couldn’t leave things like that unfulfilled.

Back downstairs, he opens the fridge and pulls out a case of beer.

“Always makin’ me chase you, girl.” He mutters to himself.

He finds you on the back porch of one of Ambrose’s many empty houses, hugging your knees to your chin. The screen door whines against its hinges as he pushes it open. If you hear him, you don’t move.

You startle when he nudges your shoulder with his knee, swiveling your head up to look at him. He offers you one of the beers with a grunt. Setting the case on the wood, he lowers himself down beside you.

“You can’t be runnin’ off like that.”

You make a small noncommittal noise, turning your face back to the dessicated yard. It’s an overgrown tangle of weeds and dirt. An explosion of honeysuckle hangs over the fence, the weather-beaten pickets bending underneath the weight. He follows your gaze across the lawn. A kiddie pool sits in a dense patch of crabgrass, the plastic cracked and sagging. Years of being baked by the sun have left the print nearly indistinguishable, vague splatters of cartoon flowers scattering the sun-baked surface.

He cracks a beer open, watching as you look out at all that nothing.

He was always spooning you out of yourself on days like this. Every time was the first time for you. Eventually, he was sure this would get old. You’d get tired of being tired and you’d stay put.

You haven’t made a move to open your bottle yet, your fingers scratching aimlessly at the label.

If you decide it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter. That’s all there is to it. Pa had told him that once. Old man had never been one for good advice, but Bo figured there was something to that. He’d tried to pass that lesson on to you—once with words, once with his hands, once with a screwdriver jammed into the fleshy neck of another tourist.

That was before he figured things out about you. Before he’d realized that telling you things was pointless. So was showing you things. It could be right in front of you and it wouldn’t matter. You could watch him kill, clean up the mess, but you weren’t learning anything. You had to do things yourself. You had to have your hands on the blade.

“Need some help with that?” He reaches for the bottle, and you give it over wordlessly. Opening it easily, he tosses the cap off into the yard.

“Thanks.” Your voice is soft.

“Yup.” He hands the bottle back to you.

You sit there for a bit, sipping on your beers.

“Who used to live here?” Your voice breaks the silence, low and quiet at the back of your throat.

He peers around, glancing up at the rusty old wind chimes. They hang statically overhead, a wooden angel dangling dejectedly from the center string. There’s hardly a breeze today.

“A couple, I think. Had a kid. They didn’t last.”

You pivot your head towards him, a hardness to your stare.

“They moved.” He raises a brow. “Christ, girl. Lookin’ at me like I’m some kinda animal.”

The silence resumes. This time, he’s the one to break it, clearing his throat.

“Whatchu doin’ out here, anyway?”

“I like it here.” You mumble. “It’s peaceful.”

He’s always thought that was a strange way to describe dead things, but he’ll indulge you today.

“Whatever you say, Mrs. Sinclair.”

You let out a humorless laugh.

“Thought you’d like that.” You raise the bottle to your lips. When you speak again, there’s a sharp edge to your voice. “People trust a family man a lot more than a bachelor.”

“Got me a little actress.” He chuckles. “How many kids you say we have?”

“Twins.” You sigh, pinching at the bridge of your nose.

“Runs in the family.”

“Which side?” You murmur.

“Father’s.” He leans forward, trying to catch your eye.

“Mmm.” You say tonelessly, staring off into the yard.

“You kept those folks occupied for a while.” He states, his voice tinged with begrudging pride. “How you swing that? Thought all that noise would set ‘em off.”

“It almost did.” You take a deep swig of the beer, wincing a bit at the taste. “I just…told them I had two boys running around, so they shouldn’t mind any noises they heard. Said they're fine when they're loud. It's when they get all quiet that you have to worry."

“They buy that?” He arches a brow.

“I guess.” You shrug. “Said they were grounded and pissed.”

“Grounded for what?”

“Oh, uh—” You rub at your temple, squeezing your eyes shut. “I caught them in your shop, messing around. All covered in grease, digging through daddy’s tools.”

“Breakin' shit?”

“I was thinking finger painting in motor oil, but yeah, that works.”

“Little shits.” He lets out a low whistle.

The flicker of a smile teases at the corner of your mouth. It’s gone as fast as it comes. Figures that you don’t want to give it to him yet. You’re a selfish little thing. He takes another pull of the beer, remembering the sound you made when you plunged the knife in.

He’d faltered a bit on purpose back there. Let one of them get the upper hand, just long enough for you to notice. He’d gone down on the floor, hands wrapped around his throat. It wasn’t tight enough to hold him, but you didn’t need to know that. Your eyes were wide and glassy with panic when you’d picked up the knife. It was the same one you’d used to carve the meat out and portion it onto the plates.

When it came down to it, there were two men in the kitchen that afternoon.

One rack of knives and you picked the sharpest one.

He was always giving you choices.

If something loves you, let it go. If it comes back, it comes back with blood on its hands. Somebody had said that once. Probably.

“Pot roast was a nice touch.” He remarks. “Had some of it. Shame most of it ended up on the ground.”

“Can’t believe you could eat after that.” You breathe out.

“Works up an appetite.”

You go quiet next to him. He glances over to find you staring intently down at your shoes, your brow furrowed. There’s blood speckling the toe of your sneakers. He watches as you lean down and begin undoing the laces, pulling them off. Tugging your socks off with a tight exhale, you stuff them into your shoes. With a sigh, you toss them unceremoniously off the porch steps, letting them land messily in the grass.

“You gonna make it?” He knocks his knee against yours.

“Don’t know. Are you?” You reply back tartly. “Mr. Sinclair?”

“Well.” He deliberates for a second, pursing his lips. “That depends on you, baby.”

“What are you talking about?” Your voice is brittle.

“You either know or you don’t.” He shrugs.

You let out a breathy laugh, your mouth working into an open-mouthed grimace. For the first time this afternoon, he sees the shimmer of tears in your eyes. Throwing your head back, you down the rest of your beer. A bit of it spills out of your mouth. You swipe your hand across your lips, rubbing at them for too long, too hard.

When you turn your head to look at him, the tears are gone. They’re just another thing you aren’t giving him today.

“Guess so.” You place the empty bottle down on the stoop with a pointed thud. “Can I get another one of these?”

“Yes ma’am.”

A small collection of bottles has gathered on the porch, brown glass glinting in the warm afternoon light. Out in the yard, you’re standing with your back to him. Hands on your hips, you peer into the kiddie pool. He leans back on his elbows, his eyes tracing up your figure.

“There’s water in this.” You announce, your voice oddly serious.

“Oh yeah?” He calls over. “You gonna jump in?”

You spin on your heel, wobbling a bit. He watches you steady yourself, straightening your neck to fix him with a incredulous expression.

“No. Way.”

“Look at’chu, bein’ all smart.” He smirks. “You a little drunk, girl?”

“Nope.” The word lengthens in your mouth, pops.

“Uh-huh.” He nods, letting his eyes fall closed.

“Bo?” He opens his eyes to find you beckoning him forward excitedly. “Come see!”

He shakes his head. You shoot him a pleading expression. Frowning, he drums his fingers on the wood. Despite his better judgment, he raises himself off the stoop. He’s a bit drunker than he thought he was. Slowly, he makes his way across the yard. You beam up at him when he reaches you, pointing at the pool.

The two of you stand in silence next to each other, peering down into the grimy swill of water. Clumps of scraggly vegetation burst out from the sludge. A gum wrapper bobs dejectedly on the surface, its cheerful neon wrapper covered in muck.

“What am I lookin’ at?” He asks dryly.

“The water.” You exclaim. “There’s…organisms…growing in it.”

“Organisms, huh?” He chews at the inside of his mouth, biting back a laugh.

“Yeah.” You bat your lashes up at him. “I dare you to go in.”

“Don’t know ‘bout that, girl. That water’s lookin’ mighty deep.”

“It’s not deep at all.” You scoff, not registering the sarcasm in his tone. “It’s like…the shallows at a beach.”

“That don’t mean anythin’ too me. Never been to a beach.”

“Never?!” You gape at him, blinking.

“You see any beaches ‘round here, girl?”

“Wait.” He watches as you tilt your head, your eyes narrowing. A flash of realization steals over your face. “Can you swim?”

He debates lying to you, but the liquor in his system answers for him.

“No.”

Your eyes go wide, your mouth curving into a surprised grin.

“You done makin’ fun of me?” He grumbles.

“I’m not. Promise.” Your eyes twinkle. Drunk, you’re not very convincing. “Hey. You know what? I’ll teach you.”

“Oh yeah?” He gestures at the kiddie pool. “In that?”

You snort out an inelegant laugh, your nose crinkling. Grabbing onto his arm for support, you wheeze out a string of jittery cackles.

“Real hilarious.” He mutters, jutting his thumb back towards the porch. “You wanna go sit down ‘fore you hurt yourself?”

You let out an indignant huff, but you follow after him. With moderately more effort than usual, you make your way up the steps. Plopping down next to him on the porch, you reach over, tugging playfully at one of the buttons on his shirt.

“Don’t you get hot in this?”

“I’m used to it.” He picks up his beer. “Gives you grit.”

“Really?”

“Yep.” The liquor’s loosening his lips. “You wanna hear a funny story?”

You nod.

“So, gets real hot in the house. Sure you noticed. Always been like that. And I ‘member one day…had to be summer. Just like this. No breeze. And I…” He pinches his tongue between his teeth, searching back in his memory. “I broke this, uh, statue.”

“Why?” You rest your chin on his shoulder.

“Dunno. Ma had it in the hallway, right next to our room. Couldn’t tell ya’ what it was now. But it was an ugly fuckin’ thing.”

“Where’d she get it?”

“Made it, I reckon. She had a buncha that kinda shit, all ‘round the house.” He swirls the beer around in the bottle idly. “It’s not like I wanted to see it every day. And that’s why she put it there, I figure. She was always doin’ shit like that. Used to really piss me off.”

“So you broke it?”

“Not on purpose. I was just tryin’ to move it. But—” He shrugs, raising the bottle back to his lips. “That’s what happened.”

“Did you try to hide it?”

“Didn’t bother. It wasn’t the kinda break you can fix. There’s no gluin’ it back together.” He smiles a bit. “So you wanna know what I did?”

“What?” You pull back to look at him.

“Broke the rest of ‘em.” He breathes out an exasperated laugh. “Every. Single. Fuckin’. One. And Mama comes home, and oh, she’s mad. Bat outta hell.”

You’re quiet, watching his face.

“Downstairs, that’s Vinny’s now, but it wasn’t always.” He clears his throat, smacking his lips. “Used to be a root cellar. We added onto it, over time.”

“Yeah?”

“And she…” He laughs, leaning back on his elbows. “Stuck me down there for a bit. Put somethin’ on top of the hatch. Dunno what it was, but I couldn’t push it open. I was real scared. It’s dark down there and your eyes don’t—uh—they don’t adjust. Least mine didn’t. ‘Cuz there’s nothin’ down there to look at. It’s just those walls, and they’re just dirt.”

You don’t say anything in response. He continues.

“Dunno how many times I tried that door. And I kept feelin’ like there was somethin’ down there. Kept hearin’ things. But nothin’ ever came. Know why? It was just me down there.” His lips curve into a grin. “Wasn’t scared of the dark after that, I’ll tell ya’.”

“How old were you?”

“Eight. Nine.” He shakes his head dismissively. “Old enough to know better.”

You’re silent. When he looks over at you, your mouth has flattened into a thin line.

“What? Why you lookin’ at me like that?”

“That’s awful.”

“Says you, city girl.” He snaps. The concern on your face is making him feel oddly exposed, pinning him under the spotlight of your stare. “Shoulda known you wouldn’t know what the fuck I’m talkin’ ‘bout.”

“Hey—”

“You grew up soft.” He spits out. “Never had to grow a backbone.”

You open your mouth and he cuts you off.

“You gonna tell me I’m wrong?” He glares at you. “Gonna pretend like that ain’t the reason you’re still here?”

“Bo—”

“Leave it.” He nods towards your beer. “It’s gonna be flat by the time you get ‘round to drinkin’ it.”

He’s not sure why he told you that story. It’s not like it had much to do with heat, anyway. Underground, it was cool.

You slowly shift away from him, angling your body back towards the yard. The porch creeks as you move.

The longer the silence drags on, the more it feels as if he can hear it. It’s a shuffling, rustling thing. It’s the type of sound you hear in a dark room, surrounded by wet earth. A sound that isn’t really there. He wrinkles his nose a bit, pressing his tongue against the back of his teeth. Dimly, he can feel the slither of the noxious feeling that creeps over him from time to time. It comes on slow, starting as a insistent twitch in his eye. That’s before it begins to crowd around him, turning the taste on his tongue sour and flipping in his stomach.

You’re always tripping him back into old memories. Of course you are. You like dead places like that. You said it yourself. You find peace in all that nothingness.

He glares down at his hands. His goddamn wrists itch. There’s something wrong with you—wrong from the start, wrong in the way you just can’t fix. You’re more trouble than you’re worth.

Beside him, you clear you throat, raising your bottle up so you can peer at the label.

“Bottled in New Orleans.” You read out. “Have you ever been out there?”

He furrows his brow. Your question has sent his brain tunneling away from his thoughts. He wants to be irritated at you for that, but the soft buzz of alcohol is making that difficult.

“Yeah.” He grunts, scrubbing a hand over his mouth. “Played football in high school. We had a game out there. Grew up, went back. Been there a couple times.”

“What’s it like?” You chirp.

“It’s a city.” He shrugs. The silence is loosening its hold around his stomach.

You sigh, displeased with his answer. Setting your beer down on the bottom step, you fidget with your hands. Tentatively, you bump your leg against his. He glances down at you. Grudgingly, he claps his hand down on your knee. Emboldened by his vague acceptance of your affection, you scoot closer. He stretches his legs out as you lower yourself down, laying your head on his lap.

“Is it nice there?” You look up at him, your hair spilling over his thighs.

“If you like that kinda place, yeah. Sure.” He wraps his hand around your throat lazily, enjoying the even feel of your pulse against his skin. “Food’s good, music’s what you’d expect.”

“I heard it’s haunted.”

“Didn’t see no ghosts. Ya’ know what I did see? Bunch’a drunk idiots.” He narrows his eyes at you. “Was one for a couple weeks.”

“Really.” You giggle a bit. “Will you take me there?”

“Sure.” He huffs out a laugh. “Bring the kids, get the vows renewed.”

“Good.” You say, grinning up at him. “I want a beignet.”

Your blatant mispronunciation has a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“I’ll getcha one.”

“You promise?” You fix him with a surprisingly earnest expression.

He can promise you something now, even if he doesn’t mean to keep it. Dulled under the haze of alcohol, his thoughts are dizzy, impossible things.

“Yeah.”

He runs his thumb along the column of your neck and your eyes flutter shut. There’s a bruise against your throat. Taking another sip of beer, he circles it with his finger.

“I give ya’ this?”

“Yeah?” Your eyes snap open and you stare up at him quizzically. “Who else would?”

“Dunno. Figured it was from one of your New Orleans boys.”

“Well, you haven’t taken me there yet, so…it can’t be.” You roll your eyes, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “I haven’t met any yet. It’s always just you.”

“Lots’a attitude today. Don’t think I deserve that, honey.”

He’s sobered up some by the time the two of you make it off the porch and into the house. Not by much, but enough that he’s steady on his feet. He can’t exactly say the same for you.

In the kitchen, you flip through a tattered telephone directory, gazing down at the faded print. He comes up behind you, resting his hand on the small of your back. Exterminators, landscaping, law offices. You turn another page and pause. The House of Wax looms in a full-page spread. Printed in black-and-white, it looks larger than life, its doors flung open in invitation.

Bring the whole family! Fun for all ages!

“There it is.” You say softly, tapping at the paper.

“Huh. Must’a been when they were still payin’ for ad-space. 80-somethin’—” He pats at his pockets, his brow scrunching. “Fuck.”

“What is it?”

“Didn’t bring any smokes.”

Your eyes widen and you jolt up.

“The fuck’s the matter with you?” He frowns.

“I, um, I got these off one of the guys from earlier.” You reach behind you. “They’re your favorite and I—”

Eyes alight, you brandish a box of cigarettes in front of him. They’re Marlboro’s, a bit crumpled from being sat on, but otherwise intact. He plucks them out of your palm, turning the box over in his hands. Flecks of dried blood speckle the label.

When he looks up at you, you’re shifting a bit back and forth on your feet, blinking up at him. He flips the lid open, taking a cigarette out.

“Well, ain’tchu all peaches and cream.” Walking over to a dusty table, he pulls a chair out. Dragging it along the tile, he angles it to face you. Sitting down, he fishes his lighter out of his pocket and offers it to you. “You wanna come light this for me?”

You nod, quickly bridging the gap between the two of you. He rests the cigarette between his lips, watching as you raise the lighter up. After a moment, the flame catches. He lifts his hand, inhaling a mouthful of smoke. Resting the cigarette between his fingers, he glances up at you.

“Put that on the table and c’mere.”

Pulling you down onto his lap, he takes another drag of the cigarette. He slips his hand under your tank top, pushing the hem up to wrap his fingers around your waist. Your skin feels softer today, warmer—he’s not sure if that’s the alcohol muddying his head, but he likes the way it feels under his hand. You hum in contentment, leaning forward to press your lips to his brow, trailing kisses down his nose.

“You wanna tell me what you want?” He asks.

“I don’t…want anything.” You pull back to look at him, tilting your head in confusion.

“Nothin’ at all?” He watches you intently.

“…No.”

“Gettin’ me shit. Kissin’ me like that.” He sighs. “You’re tryin’ to make me sweet on you. It ain’t gonna work.”

“I’m not!” You exclaim, eyes wide with surprise. You drop your voice to a hushed murmur, your eyes flickering down his face and landing on his lips. “Anyway, I don’t want you sweet.”

“You don’t?” He arches a brow, flashing you a bemused smile.

You shake your head slowly, humming out a low sound of dissent.

“Don’t want me treatin’ you nice, huh?” He teases. “Looks like we’re learnin’ all kinds of things about each other today. You wanna tell me what you do like?”

“You.” You don’t miss a beat.

“Uh-huh.” He smirks. “That so?”

“I would’ve gone to your football game.” You blurt out suddenly. “I wanna see you play. I bet you were good.”

“Depends who you ask.”

You play with the neckline of his shirt, dipping your fingers underneath it to stroke at his collarbone. He watches as you fiddle with the buttons on his overshirt, scrunching your brow up in concentration. Halfway down, your fingers worry uselessly at the fabric. You pinch your lips into a pursed frown, peering intently at the machinations of the button-down.

“Need some help there?”

You nod gratefully, dropping your hands from his shirt.

“Somebody’s gotta keep an eye on you.” He laughs. “You don’t know which way’s up, angel.”

“I know a lot of things.” You announce.

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Like…I can’t be that drunk. Because you had the same amount as me.” You widen your eyes at him, your pupils blown out from the alcohol. “And you’re fine.”

“I had more.” He snorts. “Not my fault you can’t handle your liquor.”

“Is that bad?” Your lips twist into a frown.

“You tell me, baby. You feel good?”

You smile at him, giving a small bob of your head in reply.

“Hold this.” He extends the cigarette to you.

He leans back in the chair, unbuttoning the rest of his overshirt. Shrugging it off, he watches as you raise the cigarette to your lips. He indulges you for a minute, resting back in the chair as you blow out a wispy curl of smoke. Reaching forward, he snatches the cigarette out of your hand.

“I was gonna finish that.” You protest. Flicking it onto the floor, he crushes it under the heel of his boot.

“Ain’t lettin’ ya’.” He shakes his head. “It’s a bad habit, baby.”

You open your mouth to argue and he shushes you. Cupping his hand against the back of your neck, he pulls your face towards his. Your mouth tastes like smoke when he kisses you. You run your hands up his chest, resting them on his shoulders.

You’re bold in a way you never are when you’re sober, all hazy and loosened up in his lap. You tug at his bottom lip softly with your teeth when you pull back from the kiss, rocking your hips against him. He raises his hand to your lips, easing your mouth open with his thumb. You lick at the pad of his finger, curving your tongue around it. Reaching up, you wrap your hand around his wrist, swallowing your lips around the tip of his thumb.

“Could get you to do anythin’.” He mutters, watching your eyes fall closed as you suck on it. “Goddamnit, girl.”

He pulls you in again, kissing the side of your face. Your skin tastes like summer, the shimmer of sweat from the sun on your cheek. You’re warm and sweet and close and he’d like more of that on his tongue.

“Think you can make it upstairs?” He asks.

“Yeah.” You smile. “I’m really not that drunk.”

“Sure, baby.”

Up in the bedroom, you lean your back against the faded wallpaper.

Golden rays pierce through the smudged windows, casting long beams of light onto the hardwood floor. When he pulls at the latches, they crack open with a showering of dust. Throwing off the blanket that covers the bed, he tosses it to onto the ground. Sitting down on the edge of it, he undoes the laces of his boots. Setting them on the floor, he inclines his head toward your jeans.

“Take ‘em off.”

You give him a lopsided smile as you work the denim down your hips. He pushes himself back, tucking a stack of pillows behind his head. You step out of your pants, kicking them to the side.

“C’mere.”

If you were sober, he might have a harder time coaxing you onto the bed. As it stands, though, you climb on without protest. He watches as you undo his belt, fidgeting with the fly of his jeans. He lets you pull him out of his boxers, trailing your fingers up his cock. It’s only when you move to dip your head down that he taps at your knee.

“Up here, baby.” He motions at you.

You look up at him in confusion. Scooting forward slowly, you watch his face.

“Turn around.”

You bite into your bottom lip and worry with the flesh there. Hesitantly, you turn. Without warning, he pulls you on top of him. You let out a muffled sound of surprise as he readjusts himself a bit, tugging your legs higher. You brace your hands on either side of his thighs, craning your head back to try to look at him.

“What are you—” He drops a kiss on your pussy through the cotton.

“Can taste you through these.” He rumbles out, his mouth pressed against the fabric. “Wet all the way through.”

Despite the warmth of the room, your skin prickles with goosebumps. You let out a shaky breath as he slides his hands up your thighs. You’re so still on top of him, hands flexing against his jeans. He reaches up and eases your panties off, letting them slip down your legs. His eyes slide down to your pussy, the shine of wetness obvious between your folds. He doesn’t touch you yet, pulling your legs further apart to get a better look.

“All this just from kissin’?” Raising his mouth up, he ghosts his breath along your sensitive flesh. “Oh, darlin’.”

He feels you shift slightly, your breath hitching in anticipation. He nudges at your clit with his bottom lip and you gasp.

“Hey, listen to me. I want you to do somethin’ for me.”

“Anything.” The word falls from your lips instantaneously.

“Don’t you cum til’ I say. You feel it, you hold it. You hear me, girl?”

“Yes.” Your voice wafts up to him, shaky and uneven.

“Yes, what?” He grunts when he feels your hand wrap around the base of his cock.

“Yes, daddy.”

“Get your mouth ‘round that dick.”

Your hand strokes up his cock as you lick a broad stripe along the side. Pulling you down onto his mouth, he grazes over your clit, teasing it with the tip of his tongue. Tipping his chin up, he rounds his lips around it in an open-mouthed kiss. You freeze, your hands stilling and your mouth going slack. Your breathing is uneven, your lips hovering over the head of his cock.

“You forget how to suck dick?” He pulls back, flicking sharply at your thigh with his index finger. “Keep goin’.”

You drag your tongue around the head of his cock in messy spirals, lapping at the slit with tiny, careful flicks. Bobbing your head, you work your tongue up and down the veins.

You let out a yelp when he strokes his fingers between your legs, prodding at your entrance. He sinks a finger into you, and you give way easily around him. You arch back gratefully, your moan a dizzying vibration against his cock. When you swirl your tongue up his cock, he adds another finger, curling them inside you. He pumps his fingers into you, feeling your walls clench tightly around them. With a soft mewl, you raise your mouth off his cock.

“You’re gettin’ distracted, darlin’.” He murmurs. “Stay focused.”

“I’m trying.” You whine against his skin.

“Not hard enough.” He smirks, squeezing at the soft flesh of your thighs.

“Daddy…”

“It’d be a real shame to leave you like this, baby.” He muses. “Figure you wanna cum, huh?”

You keen out your agreement, your breath hot against his skin.

“But you can’t get somethin’ for nothin’.” He sighs, pulling his fingers out of you. “You gotta put the work in, darlin’.”

He feels your body shake as you nod, taking him back into your mouth with a moan. Your lips close around him, and he lets out a sharp exhale through his nose.

“Now there’s my girl.”

He flattens his tongue against you, licking up your pussy in long, lazy sweeps. Slowly, he drags his tongue onto your clit, lapping against the sensitive bundle of nerves. You tremble on top of him, bowing your head to take him deeper. All those little noises you’re making are vibrating back on his cock, making him pulse hungrily in the wet clasp of your mouth.

Once again, you lose the rhythm you’ve set, your lips falling open. He chuckles, clucking his tongue in disapproval.

“What am I gonna do with you, baby…” Leaning his head back, he reaches up to drag his thumb through your folds, playing with the wetness there. You gasp, your hand trembling around his cock. “Ya’ know, if I didn’t know better, I’d figure you were ‘bout to cum.”

You moan.

“But you wouldn’t, not when I told ya’ to hold it, right?”

“Daddy, please.” Your voice is strained. The desperate edge to your voice has his cock twitching, heat building in his belly.

“Always wantin’ somethin’.” He murmurs. “Little slut.”

You aren’t going anywhere, not with all that blood on your hands. He dips his tongue into you, running his hand up your thigh. You hate him half the time and you hate the killing more. But that’s what makes you like this, leaves you wet and begging and his. You rock back on his tongue, your moan garbled around his cock.

You only hate things that are part of you. You inhale enough smoke and it’ll catch up to you eventually. You can’t take that back.

With a choked sob, you raise your head off his cock, high-pitched, stilted cries falling out of your lips. You desperately try to take him back into your mouth, but your lips shake, panting hot and useless against his skin. Poor thing. Your desire to please him can’t ever match that needy hunger between your legs.

You whine when he withdraws his mouth, violent little tremors racking up your legs and making them shake.

“Gotta ask you somethin’.”

You kiss up his cock, a broken cry tipping out of your mouth. It’s a sweet gesture, a pretty apology. He’ll forgive you, but he won’t tell you that—it’ll mean less if you know. He rubs at your clit with his thumb, watching you twitch helplessly under his finger.

“You like killin’ for me?” He asks. You tremble, whimpering against his thigh. “Like the way it feels? It make you wet?”

“Yes.” You whisper.

“Then you can cum, baby.” He says, tugging you close again. “You earned it.”

He seals his mouth around your clit and you’re thanking him for it, over and over again. You’re summer on his tongue, salt and skin and that edge of sweetness you only give him when you think he isn’t paying attention. You tense up on top of him, pressing back onto his mouth with a pitched sob. You shudder with a full-body shiver as you cum, the air filling with your moans.

Still shaking, you lean forward to wrap your lips around him with renewed fervor. He grits his teeth. He’s close, closer than he thought, the warmth of your mouth dragging him wildly towards the edge.

“Just like that.” He bites out, digging his fingers tightly into your thighs. “Don’t fuckin’ stop.”

You’re wet, you’re in his mouth, you’re stealing cigarettes off a dead man. He’ll take you to the city with a wallet full of bloodstained cash and you’ll sit on his lap in a bar.

“Goddamnit, girl.” He groans, his jaw tensing up. His hips buck up and you gag, spit dribbling down his cock. You take him deep as he spills in your mouth, swallowing your lips around the base. He grits his teeth as the pleasure rolls through him, dribbling out of him onto your tongue.

Even as the sensation begins to ebb, you keep him in your mouth, gently sucking around his softening prick. Milking out the rest of his cum, your hands stroke up and down his thighs.

He swallows roughly, wetting his lips. They taste like you.

“That’s good, baby.” He breathes.

You lift your mouth off of him with a satisfied sigh, dropping kisses along his length. With shaky hands, you reach back and pull your panties back into place. Climbing off him gingerly, you turn to face him. You’re starry-eyed and weak, wiping drool off your chin. He opens his arms a bit and you lower yourself down into them.

The sun is slipping away now, hanging low in the sky. He watches the dust motes bounce in the pale gold light. You nuzzle into the crook of his arm, your breathing slow and rhythmic beside him. He’s almost sure you’ve fallen asleep when you raise your head off his chest.

“Did you mean it?” Your expression is pensive.

He could ask you the same thing.

“What?”

“About New Orleans.”

“Yeah.” He laughs, shaking his head. “You get in the truck, I’ll take you right now.”

“You’re not supposed to drink and drive.” You yawn.

"Course, ‘cuz we’re law abidin’ citizens. How’s tomorrow sound?”

Tomorrow, he’d take you back to the house and the days would begin again. There was work to do in the morning, wakes to visit, more glass to sweep up. Sometimes you ask him questions just to see what he’ll say. He never knows what you want him to tell you.

“I’d like that.” You shoot him a tired smile.

It was a nice dream. There wasn’t enough gas in the tank, though. Not enough to get much of anywhere.

“You got it, then.”

#he shouldn't have worn the stupid hat if he was not prepared 4 this #if ur willing to talk the talk. u better be ready 2 walk the walk.#ILY MEG I HOPE U LIKE THIS MWAH MWAH MWAH #house of wax #bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #slashers x reader #slasher fandom #x reader #my fics

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