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pedrospatch · 11 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 · 6 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 · 11 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 · 1 year 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 · 8 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 · 7 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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josephquinnswhore · 17 days ago

Text

Salvaging old wounds - dave york x female reader

summary: you and Dave are thriving post-birth. but someone threatens to ruin your perfect life.

word count: 5.3k

content warning: age gap, stockholm syndrome, no prenatal care, home birth, bitter ex wife Carol keeps the kids from Dave, breaking and entering, conversation about reader being a missing person, murder, set up death ‘suicide’, abuse of power, sheriff Dave, mentions of mental illness. Use of pet name; honey.

tagging some peeps that commented on part one. @sunshineispunk @summer-wine111 @romanarose @axshadows @queeneamidala @cockykookiee

It’s sometime in the early hours of the spring morning, cold enough to tug on your knitted sweater, already awake in the kitchen, soothing your son with some quiet shushing sounds as you pack Dave’s lunch for work today as he showers in your ensuite down the hall.

Your finger flicks the coffee pot on, and searches through the cupboard for his favourite mug. A tacky hand drawn Father’s Day gift from Molly when she was younger.

A small smile creeps across your tired lips, seeing the inside of the cul stained from years of use. You’d washed it countless times over the past few months you’d been re-allocated to live in the house, but he insists that it makes the coffee taste better.

The light on the microwave reads 06:58. Like clockwork, as the pot comes to a boil.. entering the room right on cue, greeting you with a sleepy smile.

“Morning, honey,” he greets, voice still rough from sleep, his hair still wet from the shower.

He approaches you from behind and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him. He presses a soft kiss on your neck before nuzzling his head into your shoulder.

Although he could tell you were tired he admires that you’re still here in the kitchen, preparing his lunch and subduing your son from his quieting cries. “Good morning to you too. I’m just packing your lunch for work.”

Noting the weariness in your expression, concern etches in his eyes, and the grip on your waist.

“You’re exhausted.” Dave steps back, his hands still on your waist, and gently turns you around to face him. “Are you not sleeping well?”

“I had a few hours, we woke up to feed and change every two hours or so, but it’s expected with a newborn, right? And I’m coping. I’ll find some time today to rest.”

Dave nods, his expression softening. “Yeah, I know. But you don’t have to handle everything on your own, especially at your own expense. I can take him tonight so you can get some rest, okay?”

You lean your head into his shoulder, kissing the blue business shirt you’d ironed last night. “Thank you.”

He smiles faintly, his hand running gently through your hair. “Of course. I want you to rest and be happy, you know that.” He pulls back slightly, his gaze filled with love and gratitude. “Besides, I’ve been practicing my burping techniques.”

A tired laugh escapes you. “Yeah? It’s been a while for you hasn’t it?”

Even though Dave had two kids of his own from his marriage with carol—it had been nearly a decade since the girls needed burping, or feeding.

Dave chuckles, looking both sheepish and proud. “It has been a while. But I’m confident in my abilities.” Massaging your luscious hips with his thumbs. “How’s our little munchkin doing?”

“He’s good. Kind of in and out with sleeping. I searched it up and found it’s called active sleep.” Finally, you set an ice pack into his insulated lunch box with a fork and set it aside.

Dave tilts his head, a mix of curiosity and concern on his face. “Active sleep?” He raises an eyebrow. “As in, he’s moving around and making noise but still asleep?”

“Yeah. It’s normal apparently, I did some reading about it last night, because it was freaking me out.” You watch as he pours himself a coffee.

Dave takes a sip, then sets the ceramic mug against the counter, fingers still holding onto the small handle.

“Well, that’s good to know. As long as he’s not crying himself hoarse or anything, I suppose.” He glances at you, a playful grin on his face. “Are you doing more baby Google searches?”

“Not right this second no. But I’m certain something will come up,” you tell him in advance.

Dave laughs softly, placing a comforting hand on your cheek. "That's completely normal, honey. Being a parent is this mix of wonder and fear. But you're doing a great job. Our little guy is lucky to have you as his mom."

“He’s lucky to have you too. So are the girls you know..” A moment of silence. “I’m sorry she took them away from you.”

Dave's expression changes, his smile fading. A heavy sigh is all he can manage for a moment, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, it was tough when it happened... still is, honestly.”

He pauses, looking at you with a mix of gratitude and sadness. “But having you here... you and our son, it makes it all feel a little less lonely, you know?"

Pushing yourself off of the countertop you’re leaning on and approaching him, kissing his cheek, the smell of his potent aftershave now clings to your skin. “They’re your girls, they love you.”

Dave leans his cheek into your kiss, appreciating your comforting gesture. "I hope so. I miss them every day." The heavy rise and fall of his chest is an attempt at gathering himself. He glances down at you, a hint of vulnerability in his dark eyes.

"But having you and this family we're nurturing... it helps. More than you know." He was glad you had adapted to this life, and seemed to revel in it.

Living up in the house with him rather than the basement. It was perfect, the way you leaned into domesticity and motherhood with arms wide open.

Dave glances down at his watch, reluctantly breaking the peaceful moment between you. "I should head to the precinct. Are you going to be okay on your own today?" Studying your face is a means to make sure you’re going to be alright.

“Of course. Joey and I will do a heap of fun things. And laundry.” You laugh humorlessly. Although you don’t mind the chores at all.

Dave can’t help but feel pleased to hear your response. “Alright.. don’t overwork yourself, the chores can always wait.”

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer so he can hold you tightly. He rests his chin on the top of your head, closing his eyes.

"I trust you." Dave whispers, a soft firmness to his voice. “You take care of our son, and I’ll be back real soon. We can spend the evening together as a family, whatever you want to do."

“I’ll have dinner prepared.” Leaning upward, you make the effort to instigate affection, fingers grazing the back of his damp hair.

Dave parts from your own lips hesitantly, wearing a content smile.

Reluctantly, he pulls away from you and your warm embrace, his hands lingering on your waist for a moment longer before dropping them to his sides.

He glances down his son, a soft smile playing on his lips. Leaning downward, a delicate finger reaches down to caress his chubby cheeks. “Be good for your momma," he utters in softly to his son.

Dave leans in to press his lips against your sons forehead, the small tuft of dark brown hair on his head were the same as his father. “I’ll see you tonight. I love you both.”

You return the sentiment and wave after him. “We love you, have a good day.”

The morning passes swiftly, with you engrossing yourself in domestic tasks. Piles of laundry need washing thanks to the sudden influx of baby clothes dumped into their own washing basket. Dirty dishes need washing and packing away.

All the while, the Joey still sleeps in his cot that you’d wheeled onto the wooden floors so you could watch him as you tidy up.

The house is quiet, the only sound coming from the soft whirring of the laundry machine as it spins to remove water, and the occasional rustle of Joey in his sleep.

When your son awakens, you tentatively pick him up and hold him to your chest with two cautious hands before sitting him down on the soft mat in the living room, a child-safe foam mat that is three inches thick to prevent him from injury.

Joey's eyes slowly open, adjusting to the bright light, searching for you. He looks around at his surroundings with innocent curiosity, his eyes still wide with that baby wonder.

Fixing his socks, you prepare him for tummy time, making sure he's comfortable. Joey wiggles, his limbs still uncoordinated and jerky, as he attempts to lift his head off the mat.

“You’re getting so good at this,” you coo in wonder.

Joey responds to the sound of your voice, turning his head in your direction with a look of recognition and delight.

His little arms push against the mat as he tries to raise himself up, but his movements are still clumsy and unbalanced. He let out a few soft, baby grunts, seemingly frustrated yet determined.

“Don’t grow up too fast, Joey. Your dad and I are still taking this all in.”

Before long Joey is whining and fussing over tummy time, and you decide to set up one of his musical playmats, with a half circular cover, soft animals dangling from the play equipment. Quiet nursery songs play a simple instrumental with flashing rainbow lights.

Joey's attention is drawn to the musical mat, his little brown eyes wide with fascination as he gazes at the movement and sounds. The music and the dangling animals capture his attention, and his grunts of frustration are replaced by noises of discovery.

He stretches out his tiny arms, trying to grab at the dangling toys, though his aim is still off target, tiny hands are swatting the animals and they swing back and forth.

The house phone rings, and you ignore it at Dave’s request.

But a woman’s voice comes through the speaker of the voicemail machine in real time.

“Dave. I have been calling non stop. Seriously, you’re refusing to contact me about money which I know you have. I need you to call me back or I’ll have to use the spare key to retrieve my personal documents from your house which will only make things worse for you in court.”

Dave had informed you about his ex-wife, how she was trying to make contact with him over child support for the girls. You had been instructed not to answer the phone or door at anytime, for any reason while he was gone.

So it wasn’t exactly a surprise to hear this, more like a bit of an annoying interruption to the sweet moment between you and your son.

The thought of her showing up to the house with your son, armed with a spare key and able to break into your home while Dave wasn’t hear made you feel sick. You look down at Joey, his attention still focused on the musical mat, unaware of how anxious you’re feeling.

“You have one new voicemail.”

As the voicemail machine plays the automated message as she ends the call, anxiously, you resort to chewing on your bottom lip.

You hesitate for a moment, looking down at Joey before deciding to do what you thought; was acceptable in regards to safety. Then, summoning your courage, you walk to the phone and dial Dave’s personal phone number.

And you’re pacing a little up and down the hallway as the shrill shrieking of the call trying to connect reverberates through your ear. He’d only been gone four hours or so, you hope he wouldn’t be upset.

Dave is busy with some administrative work at the precinct, thankfully sitting in his own office with the door shut, when his work phone rings. He glances at the number on his screen, recognising his very own landline.

A flicker of concern crosses his face, a little surprised that you're calling so soon, but doesn’t hesitate longer to answer the call. "Honey, what's wrong?" Dave asks, his voice laced with concern.

“Dave.. Carol just left a voicemail. She mentioned having a spare key to the house, said something about her showing up to let herself in.” The padding of your relentless pacing is noted on his end of the call.

He curses under his breath, the tension evident in his voice, even though the rustle of the phone he can hear your panic.

"Damn it." He mutters, a mixture of frustration and anger in his tone. Rubbing a hand over his face, trying to process the situation, but quickly comes to a solution.

"Okay, listen. I'll be home as soon as I can. Just don't answer the door for anyone, alright? And keep Joey safe."

“Okay, got it. I love you.” With a shaky exhale, you clutch onto the phone, watching your son play on his mat.

"Love you too, honey." A concerned sigh exits his lips. Dave ends the call and lets out a sigh, running a hand through his disheveled hair. His mind is racing, hoping that Carol wouldn’t show while he was gone.

He just knew he had to get home to you first. Before all his hard work and family are taken.

Setting the phone back down onto the hook, you take a hurried step toward the front door to lock it. But it’s too late, there’s a rattle of a key being put into the front door and unlocked.

Carol walks into the house as if it were here own, and stares at you for a moment, freezing when she recognises you, it takes a moment.. but you’re the girl on the news.. the missing girl.

Carol stands before you, her eyes narrowing as recognition gradually dawns on her. She takes in your appearance, the image of you from the media coverage suddenly clicking into place.

A mix of shock and confusion washes over her face.

"Y-you..." She utters in disbelief, her voice trembling. "You're... you're that missing girl..."

The realization hits her like a ton of bricks. She looks at you with uncertainty, her lips trembling as she struggles to process the situation.

"Oh my god... oh my god!" She repeats, her voice filled with fear and outrage. "You're here in Dave's house."

Carol takes a step towards you, her eyes wide and frantic. That could only mean one thing. "Come on sweetheart, let’s get you out of here!"

“I’m not going with you, stop it. This is my home, you cannot waltz into here and start making demands!” You shrug off her attempts to grab at you.

Carol doesn't anticipate your swift reaction, and her hand is abruptly shrugged away. She looks at you with surprise, her eyes wide and panicked. Taking a step backward, looking you over again with newfound fear.

"Sweetheart, listen to me-" She starts, the desperation evident in her voice.

“You’re vile.. coming into our home and trying to take me away from him after you left him with nothing! Your feeble attempt to take his son away won’t work! I love him, and I’m not going to ruin our family!”

Carol's eyes widen even further as she listens to your fierce defense of Dave. She hadn't expected this kind of loyalty, certainly not after what she knew.

She stands there for a moment, her chest rising and falling with rapid, shallow breaths as she tries to process. But her fear begins to turn into a different emotion, anger.

"You- you're brainwashed! Do you understand that? He kidnapped you!"

“Do not insult me. I need you to leave, now!” The loud shriek of your newborn son filled the air between you. “You’re upsetting my son.”

Carol's shoulders shake with frustration, despair seeping into her voice. "I’m upsetting your - what?! You don't even realize how twisted this all is."

She glances towards the crying in the background, the sound of your son's unrelenting wails adding fuel to the fire. "You think I'm going to walk away and leave you here like this? You're brainwashed, do you not see that?!"

“He told me you’d do this. You’re a pathetic excuse for a woman, you took the girls from him! What the hell is your issue with me and my son?”

Carol's cheeks flush with anger, her hands trembling at her sides. "You can't seriously believe what he's told you, do you?"

Her voice disbelieving. "He's manipulated you, honey! Can't you see it?"

The woman approaches you, hands outward as if you’re some savage animal. “If you want what’s best for your son.. you’ll run and not look back.”

You felt so much anger inside of you.. “Don’t you dare. Dave is a great father to our boy.”

Carol rolls her eyes exasperated, not believing a word you say. "He's a monster!" Her voice rises in anger. "How can you not see that? He took you from your family, held you prisoner and forced you to bear a child."

Carol glances towards the sound of the infant's cries in the background with disgust, a glance that doesn’t go unmissed by you.

“He did not force this child upon me!”

She stares at you, pleading. "You may think you love him, but he's manipulated you. It's called stockholm syndrome. You're not thinking clearly!"

With another moment, she pulls out her mobile phone, “if you won’t protect your son.. I will. This is for your own good.” Turning her back to you, she’s already dialling 911 on the keypad of her mobile phone.

It felt like things slowed to a standstill, hearing those three loud beeps on her screen of her dialling the number sent something instinctive off within you, to protect everything you had.

There’s no real decision made, just reaching for the nearest thing in your reach, the landline chord, as you tear it out of the wall, the phone clatters to the ground. In that fleeting moment, Carol's world abruptly crumbles.

She barely gets time to process what's happening before the chord from the landline is wrapped around her neck, the realization of your actions dawning on her are too late for her to save herself.

Carol gasps and struggles, her phone clattering to the ground as her hands fly to her neck, clawing desperately at the white chord, but you’re in a state of rage, protecting your son, and yourself.

Everything you’d built with Dave. That’s what was on the line.

Carol fights against you with every ounce of strength she has left as her breaths become short inhales, unable to deliver the oxygen her burning lungs are aching for, her body writhing and her legs twitching out in panic, her nails clawing at the chord around her neck.

But the power of your grip and the determination, she didn’t stand a chance, Carol fought with every fibre of her being, kicking and trying to grab at you. But it was too little too late. Before long the last panicked gasp escaped her lips, the life leaving her eyes.

Time seems to stand still. The air fills with the silence of a struggle, the tension leaving the space around you seems to thicken. Your chest heaves with victory, heart racing as you drop the chord from your hands.

Slowly, you rise to your feet, the weight of what you've done settling in. But your son's cries pull you back to the present, a reminder of that innocent life you've vowed to protect.

With shaking hands, you pick up your infant son, comforting him, hushing his cries as you hold him close.

With a softness that contradicts the violence you’re capable of, you cradle the infant close to your chest, settling him.

Dave comes barreling through the unlocked front door, his usual composure thrown to the wind at the thought of you being gone.. He takes in the sight before him, the reality of what he's seeing sinking in, and he decided it’s a better outcome than what he had worried about.

He closed the door behind him, locking it, approaching slowly, his eyes fixated on the body on the floor, the woman he once married. His face contorts in anger and relief all at once.

“What the hell…” Dave whispers under his breath, his voice betraying his stunned, curious surprise. “Honey?”

You come into view, cradling your son close to your chest. “Dave..”

Dave's eyes meet yours, drinking in the sight of you holding your son, and he knew that this was inevitable.

Slowly, his gaze moves down to Carol's body, then back to you, a mixture of concern and suspicion etched across his face. "Honey..." Dave repeats, his voice laced with a hint of confusion. "What happened?"

“She.. “ Your bottom lip trembles. “She said she knew me. And that you were a monster and if I knew what was good for me I’d take our son and flee.”

Dave's expression hardens, his jaw clenching in frustrated anger. “God damnit...she’s wrong, so goddamn wrong. I’m glad you have some sense in that head of yours. Our son belongs with us,” he mutters, shaking his head in disbelief.

He doesn't move to investigate her cause of death yet, but can assume it probably has something to do with the phone chord on the floor right beside the body, dedicating his focus completely to you. "Did she touch you?”

“No, but said that if I wouldn’t protect our son from you, she would. I.. I caught her trying to call the police, but I.. I. I had to stop her before she could make the call.”

Dave swears under his breath, anger and frustration written all over his face. But he nods, “this is good, you did good, honey.”

His gaze falls on Carol's body, then back to you, a myriad of emotions playing out on his features. "Damn it... she just... she couldn't leave things well enough alone.”

He steps toward you, his voice soft, "It’s okay. I know. She forced your hand... it wasn’t your fault."

“She was trying to take our son away from us. Attempting to force my hand to abandon you. Our family.” Your son coos softly against your chest, tiny hands seeking comfort of your skin.

Dave's dark eyes search your own, his expression softening further as he tries to soothe your anxiety. He takes another step closer, his voice low and steady.

"Honey, that was never going to happen. No one's taking our son away from us. No one. You did what you had to do."

Dave reaches out tentatively, placing a gentle hand on your arm, as if testing the waters, a gripe of fear settles inside of him that this may have set you back to where you started twelve months ago when he brought you here. "You defended our family. That's all it was."

“I love you.. but what are we going to do about this?” Your hand gestures to the dead body in your hallway.

Dave looks down at Carol, his expression hardening once more. "We're gonna deal with it." His eyes flicker back to you, his hand still on your arm. Dave's voice is firm, but gentle.

"Trust me. I'll handle everything. For now, just take care of our boy, alright? Leave this all to me.” His large hand takes up the entire length of your baby’s back. “I need you to do me a favour, okay?”

You nod compliantly, listening. “Anything you want.”

Dave meets your gaze, his expression serious and focused.

"I need you to trust me. She recognised you, honey. You need to change your appearance, cut your hair.. colour it. I’ll buy some contacts for you. So that way we don’t have to be a secret anymore. No one would recognise the old you.”

“I’ll do it.” Dave's lips twitch into a faint smile. He appreciates your willingness to comply, no argument, just trust and commitment.

“Good.” Dave says, his voice quieter now. He takes your hand, his grip devoted to comforting you.

“It’s going to be okay. I won’t let anything happen to us, to our son. Trust me.”

Later that evening you hack carefully at your hair, and colour it. You hardly recognise the face of the girl that had gone missing. Because she was gone. “How did Joey go down?”

Dave watches you affectionately from the doorway in the bathroom as you hack away at your hair. “Effortlessly.” He murmurs.

“How do I look?” The transformation of your physical appearance is gradual yet significant. When you step away from the mirror and approach him, revealing the new you, he can’t help but smile.

“I can hardly recognise you,” he says, his voice soft. “You look... different.

Dave steps closer, his gaze roaming over your new look as he takes it in. He reaches up, running a hand through your hair, fingers caressing the strands. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” a slight warmth rushes up your neck and ears at his complimentary praise.

Dave moves closer, standing a few inches from you. His hand tangled in your hair, he pulls you against him. Strong arms wrap around you, his hand resting in the small of your back, holding you flush against his chest.

Dave leans forward, tilting your chin up so that your eyes meet. There’s a deep tenderness in his gaze as he speaks, “I never want to lose you, you know that?”

“You won’t,” you promise. “Never. Neither Joey or me.”

Dave sighs, his relief evident. He leans his forehead against yours, drinking in the moment of comfort. The weight of the situation lifts from his shoulders for a brief moment.

“Good. I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost you...”

Pulling backward to look down at you, his thumb gently caresses your cheek. He searches your eyes, before suddenly he places a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead.

His hand rests on the small of your back as he guides you to your bed with a gentleness that belies his strength. “You won’t ever need to know.” The promise sends a thrill of affection up his spine at your devout promise.

Once there, Dave lays down, pulling you onto the bed with him, manoeuvring the duvet so that he could tuck you in.

He wraps his arm around you, his body cradling yours, holding you tight against him. “I know...” He whispers, his voice a low, comforting rumble against your ear.

Dave warned you that in the coming days there would be someone coming to knock on their door about carols death, to leave it to him.

Three days after her death, they arrive.

Two of his officers greet him as he swings the door open. “Dave. We dropped by to have a chat, hoping that now is a good time.”

He eyes his men, nodding, fooling them with a deep gaze of concern. “Of course, what’s going on?”

“It’s Carol.. we got a call for a welfare check and she.. I’m sorry, sir. But she’s dead.”

Dave stutters, and his men express their sympathy. “How did she..”

“Suicide. Left a note and found her hanging from the ceiling fan.” One of his men turned to the police car they’d arrived in. “We don’t think the girls saw anything, but we recommend sending them to see someone anyway.”

Dave knew how it worked, they had to offer grief counselling as apart of the process.

“She struggled with her mental health for years but I never thought it would come to this,” Dave utters in disbelief.

They see you holding your son and wave to you. “Good morning ma’am.”

You smile and wave. “Good morning officers.”

They don’t recognise you.

“We didn’t know you had a son,” an officer commented.

Dave smiles proudly at his son. “I’ve been trying to keep my life as private as possible since the divorce.”

“Well, congratulations, sir.”

“What about my girls?” Dave asked, voice remains steady and composed as he plays his part, playing the role of the grieving ex-husband. He truly was concerned about his girls, though. They were so young, but with the family Dave had orchestrated, he knew they’d be down.

“We’ve got your girls in the back of the car, I’ll go get them.”

The sight of his daughters after twelve months since the initial divorce makes his resolve truly crumble, how much they had grown.

“Alice! Molly!” Dave's heart aches as he holds his two daughters in his arms, their presence filling him with intense emotion and relief. He had grown used to the pain of their absence in his life, the separation a constant weight on his shoulders.

But with them in his arms, the pain he had so valiantly endured crumbles. His eyes brimming with tears as he weeps gently into their shoulders, fingers clutching into their backs softly.

“We’ll.. give you some time to process all of this. I’m sorry again for your loss, Dave.”

Dave's grip tightens around his daughters, as if afraid to let them go again. He holds them close, a mix of grief and relief coursing through him.

“Thank you. Thank you for bringing them back to me.” He mutters to the men, not for delivering the news, but for returning his daughters home.

Dave watches as the officers leave, their departure marking the end of having to play the role of the devastated ex husband. Once they're gone, he turns back to his daughters.

“I've missed you both so much…” He says, voice choked up with emotion.

“We missed you too!” His girls cherp into his shoulder. Molly, the older daughter of the two looks past her dad and sees you, holding a small baby in blue clothing. “Who is that?”

Dave looks over at you, a hint of pride and affection in his expression. He then follows Molly’s gaze, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

"That... that's Joey," Dave inquires softly, his voice filled with tenderness as he glances between his daughters and his infant son. He stands up, his hand still resting on his shoulders, gesturing for them to follow him.

"He’s your little brother.”

You slowly approach the girls holding your son in hand. “Hi girls, my name is rose. I’m Joey's mummy.”

“Like the flower?” Alice says.

The alias rolls off your tongue as you introduce yourself, the name Rose sounding unfamiliar and foreign to your ears, but it was necessary to move on with your new life.

Alice's comment, however, brings a slight smile to your face. "Yes, like the flower." You confirm, your voice soft and gentle. “Do you want to meet your baby brother?”

The girls' eyes light up with excitement as you offer for them to meet their new baby brother. They look up at Dave for confirmation, before turning back to you with eager nods. "Yes, please!" Molly says, her voice brimming with anticipation.

“His name is Joseph David York. But your dad and I call him little Joey.” Dave grins at the mention of his son's name, pride evident in his gaze. He steps closer as you speak.

“He looks like you, dad!” Molly comments. Your son did have Dave’s dark brown eyes—and the subtle curve of his nose. The infant was practically a carbon copy, your genetics failing on this conception.

"That's right. Joey does, doesn’t he?" Dave nods, his voice filled with affection.

Dave watches as his daughters take to the little baby, their hearts instantly won over by the sight of their young brother. The sounds of their admiration fill the air, soft and innocent.

His gaze falls on you, meeting your eyes with gratitude and relief. In that moment, everything seems to fall into place, a sense of peace and happiness washing over him.

Dave takes in the sight of his two daughters playing and cooing at Joey, their faces lit up with joy and affection. Beside them stands you, the woman he loves more than anything.

He feels a surge of contentment and gratitude, his heart swelling with the weight of it all. Dave's eyes meet yours, his expression filled with love and thankfulness.

Dave has achieved all he ever dreamed of and so much more, and he knew he couldn’t stop himself from wanting more. He wonders what your daughter would look like.

One day, he’d find out.

#dave York #dark dave york #dave york fic #Dave York x you #Dave York x female reader #reader is a mother #dark Dave York fic #part two #sheriff Dave York

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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 · 1 year 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 · 1 year 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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t1redang3l-xo · 6 days ago

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Guys idk when this sudden hyperfixation on mha and dabi specifically started but here we are :/

Also Ive never written Dabi before and this is not proofread so I'm sorry if he's a little ooc I love him a lot guys :)

(Yan!)Dabi x reader

TW!!! Adult themes so MDNI, mentions of blood and wounds(not reader), unhealthy coping mechanisms, dark content, um.. kidnapping?, mean dabi, afab!reader, toxic behavior (not reader), mild suggestive themes, he is literally obsessed with reader, he loves you but he's not very good at expressing his feelings, yandere!dabi, stockholm syndrome!reader because I said so, also some minor reader descriptions mainly just about height and stature though, also I do not condone any of what is written here please do not do these things !!

You knew that walking home alone at night was not a good idea, but the busses weren't running, all your friends were all too drunk to drive and so were you. You'd heard the stories about the girls going missing before, you just never thought it'd happen to you.

And now you were sitting in a cold, dirty, empty room, your hands and feet were tied and they're was a rope (suck to what you could only assume was a collar) keeping you tired to some object that was embedded in the wall, and to make matters worse you were also gagged and blindfolded so you had no idea where you were or how you got there. Stuck in your tiny dress and heels you decided to wear to the club you were beginning to get really cold and couldn't stop the shivering, you could feel that you were sat on an old worn out mattress with a small blanket on it but your hands were quite literally tied so you couldn't cover yourself.

Going over what had happened in your head you realized you likely passed out not lond after your fourth shot, when you'd stepped outside to get some air because you felt really wobbly and suddenly super tired so you'd stepped out bag in hand so you could smoke a cigarette, naively thinking that would help, but next thing you knew you had woken up here, unable to move, see, or do anything. The only explanation was that you were drugged. To say you were scared was a bit of any understatement. You didn't know where you were, you could see or do anything. For all you knew this building you were in could be in the middle of nowhere, so there was a chance that even if you screamed until your throat bled nobody would hear you. Not even your quirk could help you, all you really could do with it was heal yourself and those you touched, not very useful in a hostage situation, especially considering you were the hostage.

All you could really do was bide your time until your captor, whoever they may be, came back for you. Surely they didn't go through the trouble of kidnapping you just to leave you here. So that's exactly what you did, you waited. And you waited. And you waited. You waited for what felt like hours, probably because you had no way of paying the time. Eventually, though, you heard a door in another room open and shut, and footsteps that seemed to get closer and closer, every step this kidnapper took seemed to take an eternity to get to the next one, until finally they stopped outside the door to the room you were being kept in. Oh your heart was pounding so hard, you had no idea what to expect, being kept in the dark(literally and figuratively) was something you absolutely hated.

The door was opening and your heart rate picked up even further. Your kidnapper walked in and closed the door behind them, as he walked closer to you you could tell by the weight and rhythm of his footsteps that he was definitely a man. He stopped right in front of you, crouching to meet you where you were, on that old dirty mattress on the ground. He took the blindfold off of you and before your eyes could adjust to get a good look at him he stood up and walked over to an old rusty fireplace on the other side of the room. Using his quirk he set it ablaze, seeing the flames turn a bright and intense blue you had to hold back a gasp, immediately recognizing that if you tried to fight him you'd be burnt to a crisp. In that moment you decided that fighting was not a viable option, you'd just have to be the perfect prisoner until the right moment to escape arose.

You stared at him as he stood, staring at the fire. He only looked at it for a moment before speaking up. "I know you won't recognize me. It's been.. far too long. However I still recognize you, y/n." You were even more screed now, how did he know your name? How much more did he know about you? So many thoughts raced through your head but he probably already knew that you were trying to recognize him, trying to see if you could remember him, so he cut off those panicked thoughts. "You can call me Dabi now." He turned to face you finally, the first thing you saw were his scars, and there were so many and they were so big too. Just what had happened to him? In your current state you found yourself feeling just the slightest bit sorry for this man, even though he'd kidnapped you, and you still had no idea who he was. You wanted to speak but he'd never taken the gag out of your mouth, so whatever you'd wanted to say died on your tongue before it'd ever see the light of day.

The man you now knew as Dabi, walked closer to you, he walked slow like he wasn't in a rush, like he had all the time in the world. Once he reached you he sat in front of you on a stool next to the bed(if you could even call it a bed, this mattress was really falling apart). He pulled the blanket over your legs, he didn't want you catching hypothermia and dying on him after all. "I wish I could've brought you some place nicer for our first time together as adults. But right now, I just don't have much of anything really." He spoke so matter-of-factly, but his words left you confused, did you actually know him from somewhere from your childhood? If you did he looked so different now that you'd never recognize him. You tried to ask who he was but all the sound that came from you were just mere muffled noises due to the cloth wrapped around your head keeping you gagged. "I know, I know. You have questions, but I need to keep that pretty little mouth of yours quiet until I can trust that you won't do anything stupid." He let out a long dramatic, yet playful, sigh and dragged his fingers through his dark hair before he continued on, "You always have been a little dumb and ditzy haven't you?"

He was laughing at you. This man was really rubbing salt in the wound he'd inflicted. Mocking you for falling into his trap. It made you want to cry, you hadn't really done anything wrong and now you were here. You felt like you were really all alone.

Well except for him.

As time passed by you realized that he didnt seem to want hurt you, for most of the days he just talked to you, sat with you, held you often. Sometimes when he was in a good mood he'd take you gag out and adjust the restraints so you were more comfortable. Yeah he could be kind of mean when you cried too much or questioned him too often or ever said anything stupid, but for a kidnapper he wasn't that bad. You've heard of cases that were far worse than yours. Over time he gave you more and more freedoms, but he never let you leave his sight if he was with you and if he wasn't you'd be restrained again, gagged and blindfolded. He often told you he loved you and that he needed you, and how after all your time apart he felt complete to have you again and he couldn't let you go, not again. He never said anything more about your past together though, leaving you silently taking your brain to try and remember him. It was almost as if he didn't want you to remember the old him.

Eventually he'd put locks and boards on the windows and made sure every door in the building had at least three separate locks on each one, just so he could let you move around a little, considering how good you'd been for him. You don't know how long you've been here, maybe a few weeks or maybe a few months? It was hard to tell. But you didn't have much strength anymore, he didn't feed you very much, you did eat at least once a day but not enough to maintain your body weight, you've definitely lost a few pounds, so in turn your energy levels also depleted. Likely also part of his plan to keep you where you were. He wasn't so cruel as to starve you to death, however, so he did make sure to feed you.

One day when he came back from wherever it is that he goes to he was angry, he was walking really loudly, slamming doors and cussing throughout the place you were both in and it made your heart race, you'd never seen Dabi angry before.

He walked into the room you were in and slammed the door behind him. Your hands were tied up behind your back and your ankles tied together, gag in mouth but no blindfold this time.

You tried to keep your eyes off him, out of fear of upsetting him, he hated in when you stared at him.

Making yourself as small as you could, you looked down at your legs, avoiding any and all eye contact. He shot his fire into the fireplace with somewhat if a disregard, the walls and floor around it turning black with ash. The smell of burnt paint and ask filed your senses and you stole a glance at him, wanting to see what had happened. He was breathing heavily, chest heaving up and down as he gripped his hair. It looked like he was really struggling with something, you almost wanted to comfort him. You were kind in nature and it seems as though that's become your downfall. You don't look at this man who kidnapped you and see a criminal, you don't see a villain, you don't see evil.

You see someone who needs help, who needs love, and care.

Deep down you knew that was a dangerous mentality and it's likely what got you here in the first place but you just couldn't help it. You hated seeing people in pain, hurting. It hurt you when others were hurt. It probably has something to do with your quirk. As your eyes moved from the burnt walls and floors to Dabi himself. As you looked at him you noticed a huge gash in his abdomen and he was bleeding a lot, blood was dripping his side.

You wanted to heal him but you were tied up for him. He'd rather you not move about when he'd not hear, he fears you'll leave him and in his mind he won't make it another day if lost you again.

On the rare occasion when Dabi was allowed outside to play when he was a child, he was at a park and happened to meet you, little you. He remembered exactly how small and kind you were, how happy he always felt when the little kid versions of you two played together. That's when the infatuation- no, the obsession with you started. In the turmoil that was his youth your rare playdates at the park were the light in his life, he didn't look forward to much else, with all the abuse and neglect from his father. Until one day he got seriously burned, which is what caused him to look the way he does now. First it was abuse, next he nearly died, finally he was neglected and forgotten about by his whole family and since then, he'd disappeared. His only regret, not finding you first.

But now he'd found you, he has you. You are his. In his mind he owns you. And he'll never let you go again. But now that things were finally starting to go well for him he ran into his asshole father out in the street and it pissed him off, the thought of know he has you here, at home waiting for him was now the only thing holding him together. He was thinking about how he'd use you and your abilities to, quite literally, hold him together. He needed you, he needed you to heal him, yes. But he also needed to feel you. He needed to feel you so bad. He'd been holding back for your sake, he wants you to want him. But he's also growing impatient, especially with the situation with endeavor he needed a release so bad, if you didn't start to want him soon he was going to get desperate. But little did he know he'd get lucky tonight. In more ways than one.

Slowly he tried to calm himself, just a bit for your sake. Once he wasn't so panicked he started walking over to you, when he got there he crouched and removed your gag and started untying you. "Let me heal you Dabi, I can help you!" You nearly yelled it at him, you had caught him off guard. This was exactly the reaction he'd needed from you, he'd been waiting for you to want to help him, to want him. And it looked like you were finally getting there. Fully removing the ropes from your legs and then your hands he looked up at you, it was like he was looking for something, he was being cautious, he was looking for any sign of you lying but your eyes were crying you, you looked worried, for him. "Okay." It was almost silent, that's how quiet he spoke. He moved so you could see his wound, it was really bad. Like you were apprised he was still standing.

Leaning down you gently raised his shirt to get better access to the damaged area. Putting your bare hands to his wounds, this was the first time you've seen him like this and the sight of him trusting you made you blush ever so slightly. You were glad it was dark. You'd never admit it before but after spending all this time with Dabi you honestly started to like him, you starting to find him really attractive. And seeing his chest and abdomen exposed like this was making you feel things, things that left you getting very conflicted.

On one hand he literally kidnapped you and is keeping you locked up in this cold empty building. But on the other hand you've begun to really like him, you've begun to want him. When he doesn't notice you've started to look at him the way he looks at you after a long day, full of want and hunger. So you healed him. You treated his wounds. You comforted him as you healed him until he was better. You were wearing that little dress you wore when he found you, he loves seeing you in it so he made you wear it often. You were so focused on healing him and your own conflicted feelings that you failed to notice him looking at you. His gaze might as well be glued to your thighs and tits the way they squished together in your tight little dress made his head spin, he wanted you so bad.

With the hand opposite his wounds he reached over and grabbed your thigh, he didn't grab so hard it hurt but he made sure you knew where his hands were. You jumped a little at the sudden contact, but tried to ignore it as you focused on his injuries. That proved difficult the way his fingers slowly inched up your though closer and close and closer.

By the time you were done healing him there were butterflies in your tummy from the way he touched you, one hand on your upper inner thigh, the other on the curve of your neck and jaw. You could feel him starting at your body and suddenly you felt a little exposed, shifting where you sat. Moving his left hand to the back of your neck and his right to the small of your back he quickly leaned in and pressed his lips against yours, he seemed like he hadn't wanted anything more in his life. Like he needed you more than he needed oxygen. His hands roamed around your body roughly as he kissed you and that was when you realized that this would be a very long night.

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