#longlegs fanfic

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Cocooned

Lee Harker x autistic!fem!reader Warnings: autistic overwhelm times (let me know if I've missed anything!) Word count: 0.8k

Summary: You're wildly overstimulated, but you never seem notice until it gets out of hand. Thankfully, your girlfriend does.

NOTE(S): Lee is autistic and I am willing to fight about it. Also, autistic x autistic girlfriends are my favorite thing in the world. Yeah, sure, I'm biased because I'm autistic, but... I don't know I just think it'd be the best thing in the world to have someone who gets it, you know?? P.S. I am not usually a horror movies person, but someone called Longlegs a modern-day Silence of the Lambs, and I'm an absolute simp for Clarice Starling, so it's no surprise here that bbg Lee Harker now falls into the same category.

You glanced at the clock as you heard the door open and shut. 3:30 PM. Awfully early for Lee to be home. A few moments later, she knocked quietly at the open door of your home office. You swiveled your chair around to look at her. She smiled softly at you. That’s how everything was with Lee. Quiet, soft–just how you liked it.

“You’re home early,” you observed.

Lee shrugged, leaning against the wall. “Carter sent me home. Not much to go on until the techs finish processing the scene.”

You nodded, trying hard to pay attention despite the harsh afternoon light glaring in through the window and the mechanical din from the edge of the property, where the neighbors were having work done on their tree line. Even the record spinning on the turntable was becoming a bit too much for you.

Lee furrowed her eyebrows, watching you intently.

“What?” you asked, flushing a little under her gaze.

“You’re rocking.”

She nodded toward your body, rocking forward and back in your office chair. She noticed more, but didn’t quite have the words to tell you. She noticed your jaw was clenched. She noticed that your breathing was faster than usual, a bit uneven. She noticed your foot bouncing against the hardwood floor, your fists clenched against the armrests of your chair, even the slight squint in your eyes every time you turned toward the window.

You shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s like pulling teeth, getting work done today.”

Lee watched you a moment longer, then tilted her head toward the hallway.

“Come here.”

“Why?”

“Just come on,” she insisted, taking your hand gently in hers and pulling you down the hall and into the bedroom. Your body immediately relaxed in the dim, diffused light of your sleeping space. But you didn’t have time for a nap.

You eyed her suspiciously. “Lee, I still have work to do.”

“I know.” She gestured at the bed. “Lay down. Please,” she added after you hesitated.

You did as she told you, curling on your side to watch her, still unsure what she was trying to accomplish here. Lee draped the quilt over you, pulling it up over your forehead so that it formed a dim, little cave without inhibiting your breathing or your sight. Then she pulled the weighted blanket from the chest at the end of the bed and covered you in that as well, careful to ensure the weight was evenly distributed, and that you were completely covered from the base of your neck all the way down to your toes.

Your breathing slowed and anxiety leached out of your body. How did she know? How did she always know exactly what you needed?

She leaned down to peek into your cocoon, smirking at you. You just looked so cute. Your little face peeking out from under all those blankets. “Better?” she asked.

You nodded. “Mmhm. But–”

“Shh.” Lee pecked you on the lips to cut you off, leaving you flustered and warm and content in your dimly-lit blanket shell. “Be right back.”

When Lee returned a few minutes later, she carried your laptop, setting it up in front of you so you could continue working. Silently, you watched her change into sweats and dig through her bag, pulling out a stack of case files. She sat on the bed next to you, legs crossed, leaning back against the headboard as she opened a folder and started to read.

It was quiet, almost silent, except for the shuffling of Lee’s papers when she turned a page. And you were struck, all at once, by an almost overwhelming surge of love for her. Your girlfriend, who knew you so well, who knew what you needed before you did, who was so much like you and so different at the same time. You loved her smiles because they were fleeting and lovely and just for you. You loved the way she bit her lip when she was particularly focused. You loved that when she took care of you, like today, she expected nothing in return, acted as if she was just doing what she always did. And, in a sense, she was. But she didn’t realize how rare she was, how beautiful, how ethereal. And you couldn’t quite believe you’d found one another, found someone you fit together with so well.

“Thank you,” you said, leaning your head against her protruding knee as you resumed your work, typing softly.

Lee didn’t say anything in response. Sometimes she didn’t, and that was okay. After all, you didn’t always have much to say either. Instead, she ran her hand through your hair, ruffling it at the top before carefully putting the blanket back, adjusting the way it lay on the top of your head to make sure you could still see your laptop screen.

You kept your head against her knee as you both worked, time seemingly at a standstill here in your quiet, peaceful den. Just to know that she was there, just to hear her breathing, to feel her solid and real next to you–it was enough. It was more than enough.

[ohtheewhorer]

Dale “Longlegs” Kobble x Clingy/Dom Gf!Reader

I can’t stop thinking about how tragic Dale’s life was and how it ended in the movie… (828 words)

So we know that Oz Perkins made Dale a very layered character with one of those layers being that, aside from being so evil, he’s a very sad and lonely old man.

Dale is definitely so used to being feared and avoided that it’s natural for him to be alone for long periods of time. He never goes out much unless it’s to run some errands for himself or Satan. At home, he’s either making his dolls, singing and head-banging to his music, or straight up talking to himself.

Then, you come along. Probably as roommates or maybe you’d eventually move in to his home after sometime of dating. You and Dale instantly click because your interests align. You both love music, crafts, dressing up and such. Not to mention you’re an absolute angel in his eyes; bubbly, full of heart, and always willing to see the good in others. And you’re also very perceptive and could easily identify that Dale is in desperate need of someone who’ll care enough about him. The world’s so ostracizing of misfits and he’s been casted aside for so long that he’s not only accepted it but embraced it to the point where he simply does not care to conform.

But you don’t ever wish for him to conform. You love the way he is and despite what he may say regarding his insecurities of his appearance ‘fading’ youth, you find him so breathtakingly beautiful and you only wish he could see it. The only ways in which you’ve expressed this is by being so doting and loving to him.

The way you’d hang on his every word, hold him, sometimes clinging to his side even when he’s busy working in the basement, or telling him he’s beautiful and that you love him every chance you get, and, of course, in the way you kiss and make love to him.

At first, Dale’s probably uncomfortable and maybe a little annoyed, wondering why is it that you wished to be so close to him all the time. But give him the benefit of the doubt, he’s just not use to such sincere love like this and one day it legit makes him cry to the point where he’s sobbing so loud and you just end cradling him and telling him everything’s okay and that you’re here for him now.

No more were the days would Dale come home to a quiet and empty home because he’d barely get a foot through the threshold of his house before your jumping him and peppering his plump face with big wet kisses. No longer were there days or even weeks where Dale would go hungry, because you’d always whip him a good home-cooked meal making sure he’s well-fed and hydrated.

One day he’s home alone because your probably at work or out with friends, and these anxious feelings like the fear of abandonment would just hit him hard. He’s worried that you’ll leave him one day and he’ll be all alone again. That meant no more of your warm hugs, playing in his hair, or hearing your sweet voice singing to him. And whenever Dale gets scared, he does irrationally things. So he’s just planning ways he could keep you from ever leaving him like searching up ways to slowly brainwash you and make him be all that you need.

You learn of this tactic one day when he’s acting all suggestive and weird around you. Then, you stumble upon the collection of books he’s purchased that are about persuasion and other psychological things. And you simply laugh and feel so happy, telling him that you’re not going anywhere.

“Why else would I be stuck to you like glue, Dale?”You say. “I’m never leaving you and you’ll never leave me.” Because you’re just as obsessed with him as he is with you.

And you’d show him just how obsessed you are late in your shared bedroom where you bound his hands and legs to each post of the bed and ride him until he sees God. And even after he’s cum already 2 times, you push his limits and overstimulate him because you know he can take it. The squish and squelch of your combined fluids and symphony of moans gives you the great idea to record the noise as a gift for him to sample in a song he’ll make someday for you both to listen to.

Then for aftercare, you’d both soak in a nice hot bath and he’d lay against your chest while you shampoo his hair and lightly scratch his scalp. And you’d take the time to wash his body and really take your time admiring and caressing every part of him, handling his pretty cock with care. And it’s in that moment where he truly allows himself the freedom to bask in such wonderful treatment of him and maybe he doesn’t feel like he deserves it but you’re pretty damn convincing.

~All of this to say, I want to pamper and love on Dale *sigh*

[funeralpartyclown]

Please I'm actually begging on my knees and crying violently for you to do a one shot or a story of Longlegs kidnapping fem reader but not for anything ritualistic (well not all the way, lmao there's no avoidence) and he's just so soft with her, like he genuinely loves her and he has to keep reassuring her that he won't hurt her?! Pleaseeeeeee🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻😭😭😭😭😭

Okay anon I hope this satiates your desires. I could also do a second chapter to this and I think I might..

Everyone send me more suggestions PLEAAASE I will never get tired of talking about him

[shadowsteed15]

I have a bit of a suggestion cause it could be interesting… would someone write a vampire Dale Kobble fic? 😊

[margaritaville]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Longlegs (Movie 2024) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Lee Harker Additional Tags: Character Study, QVC, mundanity, Post-Canon Summary:

Used to be that one could sit and look at horrible things without feeling the gut twist of hunger. Lee Harker is human again.

[anarchy-n-glitter]

finally finished chapter 7! i promise next chapter’s gonna be a lot less dark.

[bebx]

"how many times are you going to write the same prompt same trope about the same two characters going from enemies who try to kill each other to enemies who also harbor homoerotic feelings toward each other in your fics?"

me:

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

The Halloween Party

Lee Harker x fem!autistic!reader Warnings: brief mentions of drinking/intoxication, smoking, awkward autism times, explicit language (let me know if I've missed anything!) Word count: 1.7k

Summary: You and Lee meet in the most unlikely of places (at least for you two): a party. But it's your mutual awkwardness that endears you to one another.

You couldn’t believe you’d let your friends drag you to this Halloween party… You weren’t a party person, especially not big, loud ones like this. But they’d insisted, said they were going all out for their costumes. When you’d clambered into the back seat of the car as they picked you up on the way, you realized that you’d wildly misunderstood what “all out” on costumes meant. All your friends… their outfits were skimpy and sexy. They looked amazing.

You, on the other hand… well, you’d spent three hours spiking your short hair up with gel and drawing a beard on your face with eyeliner and a brow pen. When you got in the car, you swear you could’ve heard crickets.

“Um… so who are you exactly?” one of them asked.

You shuffled awkwardly. “Gay Fieri.”

“You mean Guy Fieri?”

“No, no. Gay Fieri. Because I’m gay, get it? Like drag, kind of.”

They all laughed, and you blushed a bit. It was all in good fun, of course, but this wasn’t the first time and it wouldn’t be the last time that you’d unintentionally missed the memo on what a particular turn of phrase meant. You'd missed what kind of costumes all your friends would be wearing. Not that you’d have worn something like that anyway… You were much more comfortable in your loose button-up and jeans.

You knew, ten minutes into the party, that you’d probably end up Ubering home after a while. There were too many people for you, many of whom you didn’t know. It was too loud and chaotic and your friends were having fun in places other than the corner with you. Which was fine, you just weren’t cut out for parties like this.

Another woman–a little taller than you, sunglasses on even in the dimly-lit house, sidled up to the corner with you, sipping quietly from a cup. She wore an FBI jacket and a lanyard with what you assumed were fake credentials.

“I hate parties,” she muttered over her drink.

“Me too,” you agreed before settling into a comfortable, people-watching silence.

After a few minutes, even behind the sunglasses, you noticed she was watching you.

“What?” you asked, flushing a bit.

“Who are you supposed to be exactly?”

“Gay Fieri. Like, the Food Network guy, but gay. Here, like this.” You set your drink down on a nearby counter and stood up tall, doing your best to adopt Guy Fieri’s voice and personality and, you weren’t gonna lie, you were pretty good at it. Call it a remnant of a childhood hyperfixation on Triple D. Your voice immediately shifted into that particular Guy Fieri cadence. “I’m Gay Fieri, and we’ll see you next time on Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dykes!”

The girl cracked a smile, just a small one, like she was trying to keep her face passive, and you grinned, knowing that even if she didn’t want to show it, you’d made her laugh.

“Anyway,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck nervously. “Your costume’s pretty obvious.” Then you realized your words could sound insulting and backtracked quickly. “Not in a bad way or anything! Just… uh... clear, you know? Not… ambiguous?” Jesus, this conversation was going terribly. You probably should go home while you were ahead or, well, not so far behind.

“It’s not a costume,” she said, her voice blunt, almost flat.

“Oh…” It took a minute for your brain to register what that meant. “Oh, so you’re… a real FBI agent?”

She nodded, taking another sip of her drink.

“That’s cool.”

You sat in silence for a few more minutes. Normally, you’d be nervous about the silence, it’d make you feel like you were doing something wrong. But somehow with this girl, it didn’t feel wrong, just felt like how both of you would be most comfortable.

“I’m Y/N,” you blurted out, realizing you’d forgotten to introduce yourself or even ask her name.

“Lee,” she replied, watching you stim your hands awkwardly at your sides for a moment. She slumped against the wall. “So who’d you come here with? Boyfriend?”

You scoffed, amused. “Do I look like the kind of person who has a boyfriend? Please. I came here with my friends. I don’t like boys, not my type.”

Lee had that look on her face again, the almost-smile, but she was hard to read with the sunglasses on. People were hard for you to read anyway.

“What is your type, then?” she asked, fiddling with the zipper of her jacket.

Your answer was honest, blunt, and you blurted it out before even thinking, before making the connection, not realizing how it would sound: “Women in law enforcement.”

You meant it as a joke, you meant it as a stupid, stupid reference to your obsession with cop television shows, like Criminal Minds or SVU, but… there was a real, live woman in law enforcement in front of you and… well, you’d just accidentally been more forward than perhaps you’d ever been in your life.

“I mean, uh… anyway…” You shuffled uncomfortably, your body and brain screaming at you to get out of there before you dug yourself further into a hole. “I gotta… one of my friends… see you later.”

You found one of your friends and joined the group she was talking with, not really wanting to converse, but trying to at least act intrigued, act… not as flustered as you were. But you noticed her all night–Lee–in your periphery, and you thought it might be just your imagination, but it felt like she was watching you. It made you both embarrassed and excited. On the one hand, maybe she… maybe she liked you, too? But, no, why would she? You looked ridiculous. You acted ridiculous. Probably she was watching you because she couldn’t believe anyone could be such a huge, raging idiot.

A little bit later, you were sitting on the curb outside, relishing the quiet of the night, waiting for your Uber, when two women sat down on either side of you. They weren’t your friends. You didn’t know who they were at all.

“Uh..” you stuttered.

“You’re Y/N, right?” one of them asked.

You were very confused. You weren’t a popular person, and there’s no reason at all why these two random women would know you.

“Yeah…?”

“Our friend Lee really likes you. She thinks you’re cute.”

Your stomach dropped nearly to the asphalt underneath you. No way. No fucking way. “Uh… what?”

“The FBI dweeb who didn’t even wear a costume,” the other said, describing her. “She couldn’t keep her eyes off you all night. You should ask her out.”

“Oh, I don’t–”

At that exact moment, Lee herself appeared in the doorway, her face immediately turning crimson as she saw her friends sitting next to you.

“Guys,” she grumbled, walking quickly down the porch steps. “Oh my god… seriously?”

Her friends giggled, obviously a little drunk, as Lee approached, hands crossed over her chest.

“Get out of here,” she chastised as they stood, laughing, and made their way back inside. “Jesus… leave her alone.”

Lee sat down next to you, sighing heavily as she removed her sunglasses. Your breath caught in your throat, and your cheeks burned. She was already pretty, but her eyes. God, so lovely and deep and–and… You had to look away.

“Sorry about them,” she said, her voice flat.

“It’s okay…”

“Did they, uh… did they say…” Her face was turning red, too, and you could tell what she was trying to get out.

You nodded, your voice quiet, timid. “Yep.”

She blew out her cheeks, letting out a shaky breath. “Okay…”

You sat in silence again for a minute, and you still loved having her there, still liked the way the silence didn’t feel uncomfortable. Lee pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one, holding it gently to her lips before exhaling. She was so pretty. So cool. Why would she ever like you? But you knew you’d never forgive yourself if you let it go without even trying, without even just seeing if maybe it was real, the things her friends said.

“Was it… were they right?”

She looked at the ground, taking another drag on her cigarette, blushing a little. “Yeah.”

Your stomach did a little flip. You couldn’t believe it, couldn’t quite wrap your head around it. You knew you had to make a ridiculous picture, you sitting here with your fake beard and your spiked hair, Lee next to you looking impossibly cool like, apparently, she did every day. And she'd looked at you and thought… more?

“Um…” You weren’t really sure how to go about this. “We could… maybe we could… hang out sometime?”

She still didn’t look at you, her eyebrows furrowing thoughtfully. “Hang out?”

Be clear, you thought. Say what you mean.

“Go out… on a date.”

Now, Lee did turn to look at you, her wide, brown eyes piercing and intense as they took you in. You couldn’t read them yet, couldn’t tell what they were saying, but god you’d like to learn.

You were quick to backtrack. You didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. “Or just hang out. Either one. Or neither… or–”

“Give me your phone.” She tucked her cigarette behind her ear, so that both of her hands were free, typing her contact info in. You could barely breathe, barely believe this was happening to you, it was like a dream. She handed it back, looking you in the eye again, retrieving her cigarette and taking another drag. “I’m free tomorrow. If… if you are.”

“I–” You stumble over your words. “Uh… yeah. I’m free. I’m 100% free. So free, you wouldn’t believe.”

She gave you that half-smile again, looking at the ground, and you felt your stomach erupt in butterflies. Oh, you didn’t think you’d ever get tired of making her look like that.

Your Uber pulled up, and you were reluctant to leave, but you held onto the promise of tomorrow. “Tomorrow then?” you clarified. “I’ll text you?”

She gave you a little wave, smiling softly, for real this time, her whole face. And it was as if the sun itself had shone on you. “Tomorrow.”

It was all you could do not to scream in excitement the whole way home.

[ohtheewhorer]

Imagine you’re Dale “Longlegs” Kobble’s Chubby!Virgin!FWB whom he slowly corrupts (3.3k words)

So here’s what I’m thinking—follow me on this…

Warnings: Graphic Description, Shameless Smut, little bit of fluff, Desperate Sex, Passionate Sex Loss of Virginity w/ Blood, if you squint incubus!Dale, Religious Guilt, Blasphemy, stalker longlegs, yandere longlegs, Horny Reader, Loss of Innocence, Dark themes, Chubby Reader

A/N: I wrote a lot more than I expected as I always do 😩. Please enjoy my long ass blurb/fic about this hot evil old man. You can also read my fic on ao3 (I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE IMAGES USED)

You’re the preacher’s daughter who just wants some freedom from your overbearing, shotgun-toting, bible-wielding father. You’re innocent in appearance but if people really got to know you they’d know that you’re really a mischievous, horny little minx with a yearning for something dangerous; anything opposite to your sheltered life.

Then, one day, you run into Dale while visiting the local hardware store with your father. At first, you’re unnerved by his presence. After all, Dale is…unique-looking to say the least; his graying thin long hair, his filler plumped lips and face with skin that has an unnatural blotchy alabaster coloring to it which made him appear quite ghoulish yet somehow ethereal. But then there are those intense blue eyes of his that seemed to sparkle with joy the moment you entered his line of sight.

Dale made the bold move to approach you knowing your Paw was only a few distances away—something no man ever had the guts of doing in this small town—only to simply congratulate you on your upcoming 20-something birthday. You shrunk under his towering stature, eyes darting anxiously around in search of your dad. You weren’t sure whether you should be afraid of the fact that—regardless of it being a small town—how did some random stranger know your birthday? Or maybe you should be afraid for him considering he could very well be a victim of your father’s wrath. And all because the strange man dared to do the kind gesture of wishing the preacher’s precious girl an early birthday.

You even pitied the man enough to throw many discreet hints that he needed to back the fuck away from you before it got ugly. But the ever eccentric and bizarre Dale didn’t take any hints and ended up singing to you an old classic rock song that your worldly uncle would probably be able to identify.

Your father came around the corner and he had questioned Dale of his intentions while speaking to you, very well aware that his pretty princess had many suitors who vied for your hand in marriage. And you knew your father well enough to read his judging eyes as they scanned Dale’s entire presentation, scowling that a man like him would ever think he might have a chance regardless of if Dale ever had the thought to pursue you.

And Dale, oh, Dale…he’d speak broken sentences and barely audible words, euphemisms and epithets, riddles and rhyme and your increasingly frustrated father would curse him in biblical verses and claim that he’d spoken the ‘devil’s tongue’. And the moment your Paw calls out the lanky male as a ‘satanist’ instead of disproving his claim—preventing any potential small town witch hunt—Dale, instead, sends him a botched-lipped cheshire cat grin ending the interaction with a chilling line, “Your ignorance won't save you when the shadows you've denied finally come to claim you."

Goosebumps arise on your supple skin, staring up at the man with both fear and admiration. No one’s ever stood up to your father that way. Everyone’s always having to walk on eggshells around him, not wanting to be seen as a delinquent in the eyes of the lord’s appointed servant. But Dale has done it with that high-pitched playful lilt in his tone and that bright smile on his face. His courage alone was enough to spark your interest in him. He was dangerous and you wanted nothing more than to experience him.

And sure you could find plenty of pretty boys and bad boys in town that would happily sneak around with you and give you a taste of the wild side that you so craved. But you didn’t want just “a taste” nor did you wish to hide your deeds. You want to be very loud and proud with your degeneracy.

And so you made the effort to see him again, going to the hardware store within the next few days because it’s all you knew of him. You’d gone at least 5 times already, at varying times in the day; all alone, too, much to your father’s chagrin. Just when you planned to give up on your 6th visit, while turning to leave you could hear the familiar flowery voice from behind you that has you swiveling in his direction in elation.

He’d found you and so the rest was history. It didn’t take long after to build an intense bond with him that teetered the line of being sexual at times, especially once you got past the stage of learning each other’s name. He doesn’t usually leave his shabby house much so it made sense that you’ve not seen him around before. Though by his own horrifying admission he’d been observing (stalking) you for a while now and had already known about you. You’re just grateful to have met him; a man unafraid to push boundaries.

With him, you didn’t have to feel guilty for wanting to do things beyond what is appropriate within your conservative community. For one, you got to hold his hand that’s a lot more than you’ve ever done even while attending college. And when you asked to go even further like hugging…he lets you hug all over him (though mostly for his own selfish reasons since he’s as touch-starved as you). To most outsiders, doing these things aren’t much of a big deal but to you, a beginner hedonist, it meant everything. You want fun and Dale promised you this with every interaction; upping the ‘depravity’ as you went.

But then one day, Dale suggests to you that he could show you fun beyond the tantalizing ‘indirect kisses’ via sharing lollipops or the occasional lap sitting with added knee bounces for effect.

“You want to take my virginity…on my birthday…as a gift to me?” You ask incredulously. It was scummy of him to even think such a thing would ever be considered a gift. And from a man like him no less; much too old for you and quite terrifying to look at from certain angles. And yet…you felt a gush of your slick soak your panties. You needed therapy. You need to find God again. This is sick!

But it’s sooo damn tempting.

“I only want to open your mind to many great pleasures, Angel. Is that not what you told me you’ve been seeking?” Dale says, reaching a hand over the console of his car to rub one of your nylon-clad voluptuous thighs. “Be a good girl for me, just two more days… and it’ll be an even special day for the birthday girl.”

You tense a little, feeling his hand traveling higher up your thigh. “Do you think I’m ready?”

“That’s for you to decide, silly.” He giggles.

“I think I’m ready. I-I’m ready.” You repeat, giving him a struggling smile that falters when your breath hitches again. His hand is kneading the meat of your thigh.

“Oh, I’d bet these legs around my head would feel like just the loveliest hug.” He sighs dreamily.

You tilt your head in confusion. “I couldn’t. I wouldn’t want to hurt you like that.”

He laughs some more, running a calloused hand down your cheek and admiring its youthful elasticity. “You could never hurt me, angel. But I get the impression you have no idea what I’m talking about, don’t you?”

“I don’t think I do. I’m sorry,” You say, batting your long lashes and flashing your alluring doe eyes up at him. “Could you show me what you mean? I’d really like to know, pretty please.”

“In due time, love. You’ll have to first show me you can be a good girl when I ask you to be.”

“How do I do that?” You nudge your face deeper into his open palm, sliding his fingers over the edges of your jaw until they’re close enough to your pouty lips. Using your tongue you drag one long nimble digit into your mouth, suckling lightly on the tip. He has an earthy taste to him that you quickly grow addicted to.

Dale pulls his finger from your lips, webs of saliva connecting your lips to it. He smiles, wagging his finger side to side. “Tsk, Tsk. That was very naughty, angel. Being a good girl means you’ll have to listen to the sky father’s rules again. That means no premarital activities. You’re not allowed to touch yourself either. Wouldn’t want you to be a sinner before the big day? I’ll give you a pass for today although with some limitations. But then it’s 2 days of being on the nice list, missy. You’ve got 3 strikes if you lose them…you’ll be punished. And I beg you not to get on the naughty list or I won’t be making you sing pretty for me like the sweet birdie you are.”

“Why? Why should I go through all that trouble for you?” You hate having to bottle up your desires again when the excitement’s only just begun.

“Because it’ll make your blood much more pure for the sacrificial ceremony,” He jokes, then frowns when you place his hands away from you, turning in your seat so you’re not facing him. Dale leans into your ear, whispering. “You’ll know what real freedom is once you’ve had a taste of it and then it’s ripped from you like an anticipated treat stolen right out of a dog’s mouth. And if you cower from the dark side, back to your sheltered life, you’ll always feel as if you’re on the brink of going…FERAL!” His hand slaps against the window beside your face making you jolt up and stare back at him in terror. Your chest rises and falls, hyperventilating as he stares intensely into your eyes, his face is only a few inches from yours.

“So…I give myself to you and I’ll be free?” You question timidly. “Like you?”

Though he wears a big crooked smile, his eyes betray him as a tear runs down one plump cheek. “Why, of course, angel. You’ll be free…like me.”

You cup his cheeks, swiping your thumbs over the lumpy skin before placing your mouth over his. Your first real kiss! With a man you knew, at most, for a week. It’s a tender yet short kiss as you relish in the feeling while you can. His lips are slightly chapped and uneven in texture yet you moan into it because it felt so right. You pull away before you get too carried away and do something devilishly sensual like sticking your tongue down his throat.

You anxiously gauge his reaction. Is this strike one?

His eyelids slowly flutter open before looking back into your eyes again. He hasn’t experienced this kind of softness in forever. People are usually afraid of him and he’s used to being alone but having such a young beauty as yourself having just an inkling of interest in him blows his mind farther than any fucked up shit he’s seen and/or done.

But Dale’s just not capable of understanding these intense feelings he has for you and it makes him feel as if he’s losing the little control he has in his life. So he’s always jumping to the default of trying to creep you out as some sort of power move he possesses; proud that he can make people fear him by his actions aside from just his bizarre appearance. So now he’s just running his thick wet tongue along his puffy lips after your shared kiss, playing up the perverted gesture which should’ve been enough to make your skin crawl but you always match his freak.

Leaning over the console to invade his space once again, you touch the tip of his tongue faintly against yours just before he darts it back into his mouth. And if he were to give you a strike for that wicked move, it’d be so worth it.

Dale’s such a little shit, though, because he’d for sure make you watch some vintage porn that he owns and it’s not at all vanilla. It’s rough, dirty, pearl-clutching, thigh-clenching stuff. Choking, spitting, biting, bondage… it’s all so violent to a wide-eyed beginner as yourself. Your heart’s pounding a mile a minute, squeezing Dale’s arm and willing yourself not to look away or he’d consider it a strike.

And the next two days are even worse with little devil Dale making sure he tortures you through the agonizing march of time. He’d refrain from touching you at all, avoiding you like the plague. You’d feel like you’re going crazy like he’s some form of drug to you because all you can think of is him. Even while you sleep at night it’s as if his presence lingers around you. Now you’re beginning to understand why your father says that lust is a poison to a god-fearing mind. You’re convinced that Dale has sunken his gnarly sharp teeth into you, infecting you with his toxic venom so that you’ll never come out the same again.

When your birthday finally arrives, Dale knows for sure that you’ve officially surrendered yourself to him. He could tell it in the way you waited on his words hand and foot, wanting to follow whatever it is he asked of you with no question. He could make you up and break you down into the perfect little subservient minion of the dark side and you’d gladly sign away your life. It would be that easy.

He’ll take you to his special place, down in his dimly-lit basement, where there’s no chance of anyone hearing you scream. He’d start by making you cum with his mouth first just as he’d promised and you’re seeing fucking stars! The man feeds on you like he’s been starved for centuries. He didn’t even have the decency to pull off your cute lacy pink thong you’d carefully selected at some lingerie store for him to marvel at. He just flips up your pleated skirt, pushes your panties to the side and just digs in with an eager mouth and even eager tongue. Those same puffy lips you’d kissed the other day now sucking and making out with your own puffy lips while he gets his wish of you wrapping your pillowy thighs around him.

You’d offer to get on your knees and suck his cock the way you’d seen in one of his films but he’s too wired, wanting to fuck you right then and there on his dingy worn couch.

When he pushes into you, it’s as if you’re being split in two; surprising because, based on what you saw in those nudie films, Dale’s isn’t as big as those ones. It’s actually quite short, deliciously veiny with a hook. Girthy, too. As thick as coke can. Dale Kobble proves the theory of girth over length by a long shot.

He’s positioned you on your back to where your legs are pressed deep into your shoulders and now-exposed chest since Dale, in his impatience, lifted your shirt over your ample breasts and pulling them out of the cups of your bra to watch them jiggle and knock against one another other with each drive of his hips.

This man has zero patience for anything actually. He’d just push into your tight heat in one fell swoop and you’d gasp out loud, feeling the faint tearing within you. He’d pull himself out a little to marvel at the blood and cream coating his dick, gathering some on his finger to paint your sweet lips. And you’d flick your tongue between the spaces of his fingers wanting to drink in the essence and you feel so fucking powerful.

Once he begins his pace, it’s erractic, unrhythmic, desperate, and awkward but you fucking love it so much that it has you whimpering and clawing at his back. You don’t care how little experience he has, you never want him apart from you.

Dale would want to be as close to you as he could, falling over your masterpiece of a body with his full weight. He’s penetrating DEEP. He wants to give you all that dick no matter if it isn’t much. He’s all sweaty, his belly sticking to yours from all the worked up perspiration. You enjoy the feeling of his softness against yours, appreciating his torso (when you could at least) for the ‘dad bod’ built that it was.

He’s hoarsely gasping, whispering the dirty filth in your ear, caging you between his arms. You can’t push him away even if you tried but you’d be crazy to ever want to, squeezing your legs around his body in a death grip.

He’ll let his face fall in between the valley of your breasts, inhaling you. He doesn’t care to breathe anything else so to suffocate this way, would be an honor. High-pitched sobs and breathless whispers against your skin indicates to you that it’s been so long for him since he’s felt a warm body against his own. The more he thinks about how lucky he is to fuck such a tight, greedy cunt as yours it make him turn into an inconsolable mess; crying, spitting, and kissing all over you.

You’re no better, whining and mewling with reckless abandon. Your hands are anywhere clawing at his boringly pastel colored shirt, running your hands up his shirt to sink your nails into the sides of his ribs until you're settling on his long hair. With every bruising thrust, you tug hard on his hair earning pathetic “unh”’s and “ah”’s from him.

Whenever either of you muster up the strength to pull away from each other for just a few centimeters, you’d sloppily crash your lips together, swapping spit or devouring each other’s tongues then swallowing down your moans from each other’s mouths like passionate lovers who’ve known each other for years.

Dale feels like just as much of a virgin as you with how much you’ve reduced him to a sniveling lovestruck fool. He can already sense his approaching climax, not wanting to blow his load before you get a chance to experience bliss.

He’ll bring a finger to your clit, specifically the finger that dons that fucking ring so you could feel the cool metal against your sensitive button. And obviously, he won’t be nice about it, rubbing harsh, rapid circles on it until you fall apart. He’s not stopping until you’re sobbing—begging…you’re absolutely delirious. Your back arches off the couch cushions, eyes rolling into the back of your skull like it’s an exorcism. You can hardly breathe. This is exactly why orgasms are called ‘little deaths’ because you must’ve died and now you’re reborn again offering yourself to the soulless world.

Before you could protest he spills his sticky, hot cum inside of you. Your hands would instinctively try to push away but your legs keep him there, wanting every last fucking drop of Dale’s seed. The man’s got some big kahunas so you’re going to overflow with his essence.

And without a doubt, for all the money in the bank, Dale will scream “I love you” as he cums until he’s just whispering it while shuddering against you.

After it all, you’ll both lay together in an entanglement of limbs, cuddling in the afterglow while seesawing between either cleaning up or going for another round. Though considering you could feel him stirring up inside you again, you think it’ll definitely be the latter.

He’ll truly surprise you with your actual gift. A beautiful gold necklace with an amethyst pendant (and a secret tracker you don’t so that he’ll always find you everywhere even if you ever try to run away from him). And, of course, he wouldn’t forget to gift Paw something for having his part in the creation of you, so he mails him your bloodied lacy underwear as a reminder of the lost innocence of his precious girl.

Oh, and aftercare definitely involves those large hands of his giving you nice belly rubs and soft scratches along your skin with the occasional peppered kisses along the pudge. Then, you’ll eventually both come to the conclusion that you're each other’s anchor whether for better or much, much worse.

[funeralpartyclown]

Hello be fed. Dinner

Freaky. Satanic ritual sex and whatnot

[honey-flustered]

Honey’s Kinktober Masterlist 🎃🎄

18+ Only

*i do not own any of the images shown above

Kinktober 1-18

Day 1- Xenophilia/Oviposition (ft. Eddie Munson)

Day 2- Free Use (ft. Bucky Barnes)

Day 3- Brain-washing/Reprograming (ft. Cooper Howard/The Ghoul)

Day 4- Pet Play (ft Coriolanus Snow)

Day 5- Uniform (ft. Ralph Penbury)

Day 6- Mutual Masturbation (ft. Dale “Longlegs” Kobble)

Day 7- Virginity (ft Steve Harrington)

Day 8- Feeding/Stuffing (ft. Michael Hoard)

Day 9- Body Worship (ft. Jim Hopper)

Day 10- Chastity (ft. Steve Rogers)

Day 11- On Camera (ft. Kurt Kunkle)

Day 12- Coulrophilia + DDLG (ft. Cooper Howard/The Ghoul)

Day 13- Dirty Wrestling (ft. Eddie Munson)

Day 14- Punishment (ft. Coriolanus Snow)

Day 15- Dollification + Roleplaying (ft. Dale Kobble)

Day 16- Face Sitting + Pregnancy (ft. Aegon Targaryen)

Day 17- Writing On Skin + Thigh Fucking + Frottage (ft. Spencer Reid)

Day 18- Aphrodisiac + Oral Fixation + Body Hair (ft. Eddie Brock/Vemon)

[shadowsteed15]

Here I wrote a new thing about an idea I got a few days ago. 😊 Hope you enjoy it.

A chance encounter on a seemingly mundane evening sends your life spiralling down into the unknown, where you may discover that if you allow yourself to let go, your happiness might be just a dream away.

[leeharkerd]

navigation to my profile

sidneyprescottswhore -> leeharkerd

i use she/her pronouns, and i am a lesbian!

MY REQUESTS are always open unless stated said otherwise, so go ahead! check out the glory hole..

FANDOMS IM IN include glee, the boys, gen v, scream, and longlegs

CHARACTERS ill write for are quinn fabray, sidney prescott, jill roberts, amber freeman, mindy meeks martin, sam carpenter, queen maeve, starlight (annie january), cate dunlap, marie moreau, victoria neuman, and lee harker

MASTERLIST

[anarchy-n-glitter]

you're the only writer who's work I've read that actually characterizes dale well. been loving your stuff, hoping you write more for him :)

omg thank u sm!!

rn im still working on Ptolemea though i’ve decided to space out the chapter releases. it’s low key for my mental health but also cause i’m dm’ing a dnd game w my friends and have to work on that for each week LOL

what i can tell you is that Ptolemea, as of right now, will eventually get a sequel but i have to work on and publish its sister fic first, which will have a crossover character as its POV character - so def expect more Dale, even if he’s in a different form at a different time <3

[questions-about-blorbos]

This request was sent to us and we made a poll in response to it. Send any Blorbo-related question you want to our inbox and we’ll make a poll on which people can vote with their own Blorbos in minds

[rottedghuleh]

Dale Kobble (Longlegs) x GN!Reader

A/N: ANOTHER ONE! Another self indulgent story because I do not see enough written about Dale Kobble. Longlegs was a good movie to me and of course my mind immediately started to hyperfixate on it. Another thing, I don't remember FOR SURE the year date of Longlegs, besides I can come to the conclusion that it's set in 1991 because the most recent murders in the movie was four months ago at the time, and Haker's birthday was January, which was the month it was set in. And in the files at the beginning when Harker is looking through them, it says 1990. SO LET'S PRETEND I KNOW WHAT I'M SAYIN!

Warnings!: Dale being a creepy, desperate man. Dale also being very pathetic. Of course unedited writing again because my lazy ass don't wanna. Noncon, riding his cock until he's panting like a pathetic pet, death gripping your chest to keep him from cumming sooner, praising.

A job at a hobby craft store wasn't as boring as you thought it was. Of course, it was something your friend, who also worked there, pressured you into doing so they wouldn't be so bored. The added perks of you borrowing craft supplies to make whatever you wanted while watching The Silence of the Lambs on the shit box television that was up on the wall.

Mostly your work was to get away from home. Between the arguing with your partner and the constant bitching you have to hear, sometimes having an escape is nice to have.

The bell on the door jingles, signalling an almost unwelcomed customers. You were right in the middle of gluing random buttons onto the jean jacket you wore over your shirt. Your eyes stayed on the older gentleman that came waddling in. It didn't take you long to remember it was that fucking creep that was asking your friend weird questions at the counter. Dale Kobble, the fucking freak.

"Welcome." You call out as the older man shuffled down the aisles. He was creepy as shit, that was for sure. His blonde hair framed his face that almost seemed feminine. He clutched onto his robe and gave a smile to you.

Your eyes glued back onto the TV for the next few minutes, trying to avoid the stares of the older man until the bell rang at the front counter. "Is that all you need?" Your eyes glued to the various items he had, doll eyes, synthetic hair, the works. Dale slid his items across the counter to you with shaking hands. They looked soft, but you could see the callouses on some parts of finger pads. Guitar player.

"When's your birthday, little angel?" Dale's voice was odd. It was whiney, but in a way it was oddly comforting. The same damn question he asked your friend. You debated on calling for the manager, to tell him that creep was back again. "I'm not comfortable with sharing my birthday." You gave Dale a dirty look, looking up through your lashes to give him a glare as you scanned his items.

Dale didn't say anything, just stared at you with that creepy smile. The entire aura of him was...off. He wasn't right in the mind and it was obvious through the haze in his eyes. You were almost convinced that this man was either high as shit or he escaped the retirement after being pumped up full of medications.

With that, he was gone after paying, leaving you with a pile of change at the counter that he made sure to count out exactly. "Of course that fucker would pay with just change." You grumbled as you started to put it away.

About an hour later, you were off. Your house was luckily not that far away, but the cold snap of winter wind was bad enough to make you wish you had a car. It was in the shop currently due to a drunk driving accident your partner had. You wrap your jean jacket around your midsection tightly to get rid of some of the bite.

Winter was always a bitch in Oregon.

In the distance, a ratty, old station wagon. If you could remember correctly, looks just like the Chevy Caprice station wagon your own father has. Maybe older. Not that it was important. It didn't seem important until you saw Dale getting out of it.

"Shit-" you turn, walking a different direction. Hell, you've been in this town long enough to know the back roads to get back to your place but all knowledge was wiped of it when you felt a strong grip on your shoulder.

"Are you lost, little angel?" That voice felt like a death sentence. It was heavy on your shoulders and felt like it knocked the air out of you. "No...sir. I'm fine." You felt the hand turn you around and for sure, you were face to face with Dale.

The two of you sat in silence, the grip on your shoulder getting stronger. "My friend tells me you have a mean partner." Dale said suddenly.

How the fuck? You don't tell anyone about what really goes on at home. Not even your own parents. "What fucking friend, you creepy asshole?" You tried to shove away by both of Dale's hands grabbed your shoulders, pushing you roughly against the station wagon.

"My friend, the one downstairs. He lives there so much that you can call him, 'Mr. Downstairs'." It was clear at this point, Dale has definitely lost it. "Play with me and I won't gut you and hang you by your fucking innards in front of your mommy."

Dale pressed his hips against your's, it was obvious what he was asking. The bulge tenting his thin dress pants pressed right between your thighs, against your crotch. You were frozen. You knew what could happen, you learned to never underestimate someone despite how they looked.

After more silence, Dale's hand gripped the hair on the back of your head, steering you into his car as he shoved you in, forcing you to straddle on top of him. He laid beneath you, it didn't take much of his whines to understand that he was already wound up. Dale rested his hands on your hips, his thumbs catching your shirt before pulling it up over your chest.

"Oh, angel, you're so sweet. Just like Satan made you perfect for me." Dale praised. It was weird, but in a way, you felt the ache between your legs start to build. Dale's bulge was right pressed against your crotch, his hips rutting it against you.

Dale's whimpers came out like a needy dog. He was so fucking pathetic and the way you perched perfectly against his cock straining his pants was a beautiful fucking sight. Dale reached a shaking hand down to undo his pants and his erection springs out almost immediately.

It didn't take long for you to strip either, seeing the leaking tip of Dale's cock was enough to make your insides quiver. Dale didn't even let your pants get all the way off before he just simply pushed your underwear to the side and filled up your hole with a sharp thrust.

"Fuck-" You choke out, his dick wasn't as big, but it was enough to make you fill full. Dale was already panting like a dog the second he was in, his hands death gripping your chest, and his thumbs rubbing over your nipples.

He was rougher than you expected, sharp, fast thrusts up against your ass and filling you completely. Dale had at least some experience with fucking fine meat, but it had been awhile. It said so in his thrusts, sloppy but still coordinated.

Dale clenched his eyes shut his mouth parted open in moans and whines like he's a desperate whore, holding onto you for dear life. By the end of it, both of you were screaming out in pleasure, a thick filling of Dale's cum shooting up into you. He pulls you off, seeing the string of the mixed fluids dripping from your tight hole that was clenching and unclenching around nothing to adjust to the emptiness.

"Such a pretty little lamb for the slaughter."