#tcm x reader

[impeakcharacterdesign]

Just the Tip

— Thomas Hewitt x Fem!Reader —

MDNI!!!

Summary: It’s the 1960s and Luda Mae frowns upon premarital sex like any good Christian woman. You and Tommy are young, hot, and in love but the only problem is that Tommy was raised to wait until marriage and never lets you two go any further than kissing and some groping.

But the devil lives in the hot Texan sun and even God takes a break from the summer heat.

Notes: this is super short, just pure smut, self indulgent I’m obsessed with big boy Tommy 😭😭😭 i swear I’m working on part 2 of my sister Sinclair fic but Tommy has me in a choke hold and I needed an outlet.

No TW that I can think of other than bad smut and maybe ??? Coercion??? Cause Tommy wants to be a good boy and stop before y’all go too far but you flash him and then he’s absolutely 100% in. A bit of religious stuff, period typical sexism but vaguely. Let me know if I should add anything else and I’ll get right on it. Reader isn’t ever referred to using “she/her” pronouns but is described as having breasts and does have female genitalia so I tagged it fem reader to be safe

Enjoy!!!

The early morning sun burned, chasing away what little cool air remained of the night before. While the barn shaded you from the unforgiving sun and hid you from disapproving eyes — or lecherous in the case of the older men of the family — it also trapped in the heat your two bodies gave off.

Thomas pressed his open mouth to your own, tongue swiping over your teeth eager to taste you. Your hands gripped his dark hair, ruining any half-effort attempt he had made earlier in the day to smooth down his unruly hair. He held you in his arms, body pressed tightly against him in an attempt to get as close as possible, his large frame hiding you even further from prying eyes than the shadowed corners of the old barn. The kiss was deep and hungry and served as a brief respite from Luda Maes ever watching eyes. While she had been fine with you living with the family before you and Tommy were married, she forbade you from sharing a room or being intimate, a rule she absolutely refused to budge on and one that Uncle Charlie took a strange glee in ribbing you about. But much like the Texan heat, the heated looks you gave each other were unavoidable and only grew hotter as the summer days went on. Luda Mae wanted to wait until the following spring to make your union official but at the rate the town was drying up, there wouldn't even be a priest to officiate the ceremony, much less any guest to attend. You highly doubted anyone outside of the family would want to witness your union anyway but still, Luda Mae didn't want the few who would to get wise and start counting months.

These stolen moments in the barn were as good as you could get — and by god were they good.

Tommy’s large hands groped at your breasts, pawing roughy at your nipples through the worn fabric of your old dress. It wasn’t long before you found yourself in the familiar position of being sprawled out on the barn floor, coarse hay a discomfort you had long learned to endure for the sake of pleasure.

You desperately thrust your sex up onto his growing bulge, whining when he groaned and pinned your hips with his own, preventing you from getting your desired stimulation. “Please Tommy,” you beg, lips separating, “We don’t have to do too much, I just wanna touch you.” You press open-mouthed kisses to his neck, pulling softly at the flesh with your teeth and tongue dragging across the bites to taste the salt on his skin. Your hands eagerly worked to untuck his faded green shirt and wrap around him, roaming the vast expanse of his back. His whole body shuddered in your arms, an attempt to hold back from eating you whole.

You know Thomas will put an end to your romp soon, the tense lines of his shoulders and the way he shuts his eyes a sign that he's reaching his limit, that if you two don't stop now you won't be able to stop — but that’s exactly what you want.

You're tired of holding back, of this constant edging you have to endure when you’re in his presence and it gets harder every day. Just yesterday afternoon, Uncle Charlie sprayed Tommy with the hose, telling him that he was filthy and needed to get out of those clothes before he went inside. Watching as he undressed by the back door so that you could put his clothes on the line to dry had nearly given you a heatstroke — and if Charlie’s leering grin was any clue, you swear he did it on purpose in an attempt to rile you up. You ran off before you sinned right there in the yard, the memory of Thomas's shirt clinging to his arms, his chest glistening with water had kept you company well into the night.

So before Tommy puts a stop to your roll in the hay you make your move. You lift your dress up past your breast and expose yourself to him, you can see his breath stutter in his chest, this was quickly becoming the farthest you two had ever gone.

“Just watch me, Tommy, watch me,” you say breathlessly.

And he does, he sits on his haunches like a predator, his engorged cock straining against his pants and imagining just a taste has your tongue darting out to wet your lips, his gaze fixated on the movement.

Sliding your panties off your legs, your fingers dip briefly into your wet hole, gathering slick to rub onto your clit. At the very first touch, you let out a shuddering breath and you watch as his shoulders heave.

You begin rubbing your clit at an intense pace already turned on from the earlier heavy petting, not once breaking eye contact with Thomas as you do. With each moan you muffle you see his eyes grow darker with desire breathing with his mouth open as though he could taste your scent in the air. When he finally lets his cock spring free you let out your loudest moan yet. It’s better than you ever thought. His cock is thick and heavy, drooping slightly under its own weight but still undeniably firm. It curves slightly and you imagine that if it was inside you it would scrape against your walls in a way you've never been able to do with just your fingers.

Thomas grips his cock firmly and gives it a few tugs, eyes alternating between hungrily drinking in the sight of your blissed-out expression and your dripping pussy. You buck your hips, desperate to press your clit against your fingers and Thomas jerks his length even faster, rubbing his tip and spreading his precum on his hand.

God, you wished it was you that was touching him.

Thomas settles onto his knees and after a brief hesitation begins to shuffle closer to you. The sight of him crawling to you on his knees with his dripping length in hand made your pussy clench around nothing and you let out a whimper. You remove your fingers from your clit, feeling the heat radiating from his cock as he settles on top of you, legs spreading around his waist, your hips slightly raised and resting on his thighs.

The tip hesitantly pressed against your clit and your moan fills the small space before you can suppress it. This was better than you were hoping and it felt as though you were pressing against the boundaries the lord had set for you. Tommy’s eyes find yours looking for reassurance, asking without words, “Do you think this is okay?”

You find enough comprehension in your lust-addled brain to come up with a coherent answer, “It should be fine, I think,” you stammer out, “I mean, it’s not like — not like you’re putting it in so, it should be fine.”

You’re not overly familiar with the word of God outside of Sunday services and Luda Mae’s lectures, both of which you were forced to attend and spent tuning out in favor of watching the sweat build on Tommy’s brow while he worked through the window.

You think that if God could feel the weight of Thomas like you did, feel the heat like you could, you think he’d forgive the sin of your act.

It seems like that was all the reassurance that Thomas needed because no sooner than the words fumbled their way out of your mouth that he begins to drag the length of his cock against your slit.

God, if this is what hell was supposed to be like, burning and full of decadence, then perhaps you didn’t mind being a sinner.

The way he ruts against you is euphoric. Heavy breaths escape you both and you can’t help the words that spill from your lips.

“God, Tommy, I wish you would put it inside me,” you whine out “‘wanna feel your fat cock in my pussy, wanna get filled,” you might as well be begging at this point, and Tommy's increases his pace to the point that you think he wants the same thing, that he’s desperate to thrust into you rather than against you and —

And then the tip of his cock catches on your entrance and you both stop breathing.

“Maybe — Maybe it doesn’t count.” You stammer out, “It didn’t go in and it’s just the tip, and I don’t think that the tip counts” With the slightest twitch of his hips the tip of his cock has slipped inside.

"It's - it's just the tip it's fine” Your words sound empty even to you but the reassurance is all Tommy needs to push forward and let the head of his cock slide into your welcoming heat

His soul nearly leaves his body when he feels your raw pussy on the head of his cock. He jerks his length furiously and your fingers begin to move against your clit again, eager to meet your high with Thomas.

But it’s not enough. He was right there, right there just one push of his hips he’d be right where you needed him

“Please Tommy” Canting your hips slightly so the tip begins to dig deeper into you, you begin to plead once more, “wanna feel you fill me up, wanna remember the shape of your cock please”

Thomas feels years of control break at your words and with one swing of his hips, he bottoms out instantly. You feel like you've been punched in the gut as the air rushes out of you and you let out a sound like a wounded animal. Tommy stays still deep inside you, shaking and heaving, absolutely drunk on the feeling of your soaked walls clenching vigorously around his length.

You feel full in a way you've never thought possible. His length throbs, its girth stretching you in a way that burns.

When he finally starts thrusting, you’re not ready. He’s like a man possessed, solely focused on the feel of you around him, your skin pressed against his, his blood pounding in his ears.

“Wait— Tommy, ah, slow — slow down, oh god!” You can’t hold back your moans and he can’t stop, both fully engrossed in the feel of each other with no control over your own lust. Thomas crashes his lips onto yours in a halfhearted attempt to keep down your moans, it’s sloppy, clashing teeth and drooling tongues, spit escaping your lips, unlike any you’ve shared before.

This is completely different from what you’ve imagined your first time together would be like. It’s not your wedding night, you're laying on the dirty barn floor and there’s absolutely nothing gentle about the way Tommy is ravaging you. Your pussy is sopping wet and with every thrust, it lets out an embarrassing squelch, your juices and Tommy’s pre-cum leak down your ass and make a sticky mess in his dark pubes.

He doesn’t stop even as your walls spasm around him, cumming on his cock and digging your nails into his strong back. He works you through your orgasm even as your mouth clumsily forms the words to beg for him to slow down or to give you a moment. It’s too much, the sensations completely overloading your brain and all you can do is hold on tightly to him, lost in the ecstasy of your release.

Thomas lets out a deep, guttural groan as he cums, hips stuttering as he bullies his fat cock into the deepest part of your sex, filling you to the brim and your vision goes white.

Boneless, neither one of you makes a move to separate from the other, so thoroughly satisfied and content to lie where you are holding each other, Thomas’s softening cocking slipping out of you and spilling his release onto the ground.

His weight on you is comforting, you gently press kisses to his face and bask in the way his heavy breaths caress your sweaty skin.

“I love you.” You whisper into the shell of his ear and he squeezes you against him, repeating the words in his garbled voice the best he could. Your love is just for the two of you, no one else had a place in your world, no one else had the right to peak in on your affection or gawk at your differences.

This moment in time was just for the two of you.

“Thomas! Where the hell are ya, boy!”

Well, until Uncle Charlie’s voice brought you back down to reality.

[ashtheketchum]

How would the Sawyer family react to their first kiss? (+ Thomas Hewitt)

A/N: I thought for a long time about whether I really wanted to start something with the horror fandom here and I've decided to do it! I'm a huge Texas Chainsaw Massacre fan and accordingly I'm going to write something about these characters. This is my first time writing for the Sawyers and Thomas, so please show mercy!

Warnings: GN.Reader, mention of s(c)ex, mention of cannibalism, I use they/them pronouns for Bubba

Characters: Bubba Sawyer, Drayton Sawyer, Chop Top Sawyer, Nubbins Sawyer, Thomas Hewitt

______________________________

Bubba Sawyer:

They would squeal loudly and mumble something that you can't understand

They never thought that someone as adorable as you would ever kiss them!

They would also be so happy that they would hug you and spin around on the spot

If your ribs aren't broken from the hug, they wouldn't let go until you couldn't breathe anymore

Then they would apologize with loud whimpers and squeaking noises

If the brothers found out, they would be a little shy before admitting it

They would make fun of it in their own way, but you didn't mind

But they themself would never kiss you on the mouth afterwards, but on the cheek or forehead

They just feel too insecure to kiss you on the mouth without really knowing that you want it too (But oh boy, you want it)

But you also respect that they doesn't want to step out of their comfort zone

Drayton Sawyer:

This poor old man would say insults under his breath

Don't expect too much of a reaction from him, he doesn't believe much in love and (as he would spell it) scex

But he's an old fashion man that means he would also give you a peck back (But only if his brothers aren´t around-)

But nothing more

"Why would you kiss an old man like me now?" would be a question he would ask you, but he still has a slight grin on his lips

Sometimes he also teases you that these lips recently ate a human

If his brothers found out about this, he would beat them with his broom

Bubba would just shyly turn away and cover their eyes, so Drayton only insults them

Don't you dare kiss him in front of his family! He doesn't like to do it, but if you provoke him, he'll use the broom on you too!

With him, there would only be small pecks, don't expect more from him

Chop Top Sawyer:

He would jump around happily and scream loudly

"I just got a kiss! I just got a kiss!"

Then he would ask you for a kiss again

And then again

And then again-

His brothers wouldn't even have to find out, he would tell his brothers himself

When Drayton acts disgusted or disappointed, Chop Top just teases him about being jealous

When you're alone, you always listen to music together and while listening to the music, you would kiss over and over again

Chop Top says that you should time your kisses to the beat

After your first kiss, there would be no more "normal" kisses, only passionate kisses

Nubbins Sawyer:

He would be similar to his twin brother

After your first kiss, which was just a small kiss, you wouldn't kiss normally anymore

Sometimes he would take pictures of him kissing your cheek or gently biting you (aka. His way of kissing you)

I can really imagine that sometimes he would just gently bite you instead of kissing you

"B-b-but this is m-my way t-t-o kiss you, y-y-y/n!"

You accept it as long as he doesn't bite you hard

The pictures he takes he would hang on your wall or try to sell to some victims

Just like his twin brother, Nubbins would just tell everyone (Even the victims-)

He would be like: "Y-y-y-you know…! I-i just ha-ad my first k-kiss!"

He might be a little too proud of it, but give him this moment

Thomas Hewitt:

At first he would be completely overwhelmed

For a whole minute he would just stare at you and not move at all before he would flinch and shake his head slightly

Although you could hardly see it through his mask, he would turn completely red

After that he would gently stroke your cheek and grunt quietly

Luda May would just smile lovingly at you two and murmur quietly how proud she was of her son

Hoyt would just gag quietly before sending Thomas back to the basement to continue working on the ,,dinner"

Thomas would only kiss you in the basement or when Hoyt wasn´t near you two

When you go to sleep, you sometimes kiss more passionately, but only when you go to sleep

You would play with his long hair while he would stroke your back

Before he goes out to hunt the victims, he gives you a quick kiss on the lips

[gravysside]

YCH BATTLE GROUNDS

MORE INFO VVVV

what's up gang all of these are entirely customizable - Any gender - Any body type - Any species I do not charge for these changes or tweaks. Some examples:

I'm easier to contact on Tw*tter

@/gravy_side

so yakno let me kno if you would like some coool art

[apocalypse-shuffle]

LEATHERFACE | BUBBA SAWYER (TTCM & TTCM P2 | TCM: Next Generation a little)

—

Being in a relationship w/ Leatherface (and coexisting w/ the Sawyer Family) (Bubba Sawyer | Leatherface x Fem!Reader)

Headcanons

NSFW-ish, mature themes, canon typical violence & gore, murder, normalized violence, (TW: Cannibalism, human-skin leather), sawyer family appearances, brief mentions of sex, slasher shit -soft!girly!reader & kind of callous!reader

Pic source: beg./middle•The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974) & end•The Texas Chainsaw Massacre Part 2

Happy 3 days till Halloween!!! 🎃

The only reason you had been spared was because of how earnestly you’d taken to them. You’d been hitchhiking too when Nubbins asked to ride with the crew you were with. But keeping to yourself in the farthest corner of the van you’d looked so alert that Nubbins had kept his taunting for the others and stayed clear of bothering with you entirely in case the aura you were immitting — despite your pretty dust riddled clothes — wasn’t just his imagination.

Still though when Nubbins starts to show off his polaroids to bring the group's guards down you pay the most attention, even complimenting some of his more atmospheric shots before tucking back into yourself.

Nubbins is so shocked he just asks to be let out afterwards, not even having cut himself or properly antagonized anyone the way he’d perfected over the last couple of months.

Really it’s the others’ insistence on poking around after Nubbins had told them a “ghost story” about cannibals in the dust storms that gets them murdered. Nubbins hadn’t wanted to deal with you (at least not without Bubba), and had lowkey been flattered by your compliments, so he’d let you guys go.

When you make it a point to just be on your way after the Sawyer’s latest grocery delivery starts trespassing all over their private land, and run into Drayton and Bubba coming back from a trip out of town, the conversation the older man starts up with you isn’t even laden with ulterior motive.

Bubba is immediately smitten by the flash of a smile you give him when you catch sight of him unmasked before he has a chance to duck from where he’s sitting in the truck bed. And how you don’t recoil and hardly bat a lash at him after he hastily ties on his mask has him ready to argue with his older brother about inviting you to dinner and not letting you go before Drayton’s even halfway through talking with you.

He doesn’t need to do much convincing however because Drayton’s already got his hat off like the southern gentlemen he isn’t, and you’ve got your head tilted as you listen to him, guarded gaze growing softer the longer you keep catching Bubba stealing glances at you.

You’re honest though, and the pseudo patriarch likes that. Coupled with the fact he keeps applying “manners” to what’s really just your soft spoken bluntness, and he’s convinced you’re exactly the womanly presence the family needs before the day’s done.

You’re aimless and/or disowned anyway so you take Drayton up on his invite back to the house and the rest is pretty cut and dry (this is pre the first movie). You don’t participate in the deaths of your past companions, but you're introduced up close and personal to the reality of the Sawyers pretty quickly.

When “Leatherface” comes out and that chainsaw revs up you’ve got front row seats to the blunt chains tearing through flesh and cracking open bone and are covered in enough blood by the time the group of idiots you’d been traveling with are all killed with extreme prejudice to feel damn near baptized in it.

Enough blood to drive Bubba crazy and have him being mercilessly teased by Nubbins over the chub he’s sporting in his trousers.

For your part, you just go with everything (at first) so you won’t end up next. And you’re lonely enough that it doesn’t take long before you're not faking it, whether you want to believe it or not.

News Flash: You’re not very motherly at all, but by the time you’ve kindly handed Drayton his ass over whatever “woman’s work” he’d tried to give you for the last time it’s too late for him to take back his endorsements.

Bubba would kill his ass for one, and being so busy bothering you was actually slowing down all those episodes Chop Top always pretended not to have because of the war. So you stay, but Drayton thinks you’re one helluva con artist and you just tell him that it takes one to know one even though you never once sold him a lie.

You simply refuse to be “mammyfied” and that’s that.

Bubba is in love with your wardrobe almost as much as he is with you.

The first time he comes requesting you do one of your makeup looks — something more 70’s glamor for his tastes, even if it’s not a style you’d usually do — on a carefully carved out face mask, though, you pause.

It’s nearly a make or break aspect in your relationship, but if you accept this part of him (really accept it, enough to participate) then there’s no going back. No lying to yourself about just being a hostage or only acting out of duress every time you didn’t try running away or scream out to any of the Sawyer family’s victims before they were slaughtered.

When you do help out with the makeup for his mask Bubba sticks to you like glue the entire time. Part of it is just him liking to watch you work — and him wanting to study your process to (somewhat clumsily at first) recreate on his own later. The rest of the reason is that he’s so used to having his things messed with that he’s keeping an eye on you just in case, no matter how unlikely it is you’d steal from him or destroy his mask just to fuck with him.

It’s just— there was the drought, then the layoffs, then starvation, and his only family either died or got meaner. Bubba is destined to get defensive with you too sometimes, it’s not personal.

With trespassers it’s kind of personal though — refer back to the first couple bullet points.

If anyone on the goddamn planet is going to piss you off to no end it’s going to be Chop Top. Where Nubbins will accidentally mistake one of your scarves or washcloths for an oil rag, his twin will fuck your shit up or steal it completely on purpose.

Alternatively, every time Nubbins breaks or dirties something of yours without realizing he’s dismissive as hell about telling you it happened because he hates admitting he made a mistake, but he will try to give you a replacement taken off a victim or that he’s made in his version of an apology.

With Chop Top, though, you’ll see him wearing your shit one day and be too disgusted by whatever he’s done with it to want it back. And if it’d lead to anything good you’d strangle him again for his bullshit, but the last time you’d gone at one another’s throats you’d triggered him to the point of screaming nonsense while he held a knife to your throat and Bubba ended up breaking a table after throwing him into it while you recuperated on the ground.

So yeah, you don’t put your hands on each other anymore, but you definitely still cuss one another out on a regular basis.

The welts the edge of the blade left against the brown skin of your throat sent Bubba into so much distress that you vowed to stop trying to fight Chop Top just to never see that reaction from your partner again.

Bubba is the main cook in the house (the only other person who regularly touches the kitchen being the oldest of his brothers), and he is by no means bad at it outside of his tendency to get heavy-handed with his seasonings whenever he’s got some. However, you will not eat anything with meat in it from him (so long as you do eat meat) unless you watched an animal being put in there.

He finds this stipulation incredibly insulting at first, but you refuse to not draw the line there.

You paint flowers onto his kitchen apron to make up for his hurt and he forgives you pretty easily after though.

You have to make a hard distinction between what of your makeup he can use on his masks and what makeup he can or cannot share between you both that’s strictly for your own bare faces. The first time he’d asked to use some of your blush and you’d found him powdering a dead woman’s face you’d just about passed away yourself, and thus the rules swiftly followed.

Bubba always praises you whenever you get dolled up – in whatever way he sees fit: kissing your cheeks or the back of your hands, picking you flowers, twirling you around, clapping for you – but let any of his brothers make one comment on how pretty you look and he’s arguing with them.

At first Drayton cannot stand the scent of the flowers you or Bubba start bringing into the house and/or the perfume that you wear, but that’s only until he realizes how much better the scents were at making people stop at the shop. Add to that the lavender you planted keeping way more flies away and Drayton was convinced you were some kind of good luck charm. He’ll allow you this one win specifically despite how much he bitched about the smell beforehand (and the fact that he still thinks you’re one of the best liars he’s ever met).

The first time you help any of the Sawyers prep a dead animal they’re all surprised, but really you can only roll your eyes. Regardless of if you came with knowledge on how to properly kill and prep an animal to be eaten, or you diligently asked Bubba or Drayton to teach you, your appearance didn’t have shit to do with your actual ability to learn or have certain skills.

Drayton shockingly muttering that he thought you were just a delicate flower after you turn to him with a handful of guts in your hand is funny though.

Well, funny until Chop Top grabs the fist full of guts in your hand and motorboats them. You suck your teeth so hard as you watch him act a fool, eyes rolling, that Bubba stops cleaving to cast you a concerned look.

You’re either going to become a hardcore vegan or vegetarian or you're not, alright? I don’t make the rules of the universe. Outside of literal cannibalism most of the only other meat available is going to be the rare hunted animal or fresh-enough roadkill. Times are tough, but Drayton does want to start a garden now.

The only functioning fan in the whole house is in the room you share with Bubba (this doesn’t have anything to do with liking girly shit, you just refuse to be so hot all the time).

Instead of struggling with it for half an hour every time he’s in a more feminine headspace Bubba comes to you to tie on the silver bell bracelet he wears; you kiss his wrist whenever you’re finished.

Whenever you paint your nails you make sure to paint his too. You kiss each one of his fingers when you’re done, and he does the same to you while hard as a fucking rock and seconds away from begging to fuck you.

There isn’t a chance you’re ever going to try Drayton’s chili, no matter how fucking butt hurt he gets.

Whenever you cry, Bubba cries too.

Bubba definitely appreciates you helping him out. Whether being his assistant while he’s butchering or bringing him something to eat or just keeping him company so he doesn’t feel left out. Since it’s the kind of attention he for sure never gets from his brothers he cherishes it from you.

He will do nothing but stare at you if you sit down to do your makeup or otherwise get dolled up in any way, he can’t help himself. If you ask him to hand you something he’ll do it like he’s in a trance, he just likes seeing you come together like that and will be in awe. Blow him a kiss, he’ll blush.

Introduce him to ascots, I think he’d like them.

Whenever you wear your only pair of heels and your daisy dukes Bubba can’t keep his eyes off you, eyes glued to your black ass like it’s the second coming. You can’t help but tease him with the sway of your hips, it’s just too easy to coax those cute blushing looks out of him.

It’s only fair. The sight of him in his swim shorts always makes you go a little boy crazy too.

The “grandma” mask throws you off more than his others, especially considering he doesn’t wear it when he’s around you very often. He wears it when he’s cooking or doing more mundane house work (usually to contend himself with having to slip into the more “traditionally feminine” role his brothers refuse to), and if he’s not in his kitchen apron he wears an antique house dress that really makes him look like a little old lady from afar. You just watch him do it and keep him company. Whenever you try to help it kind of depends on his mood if he’ll let you. You’ll need to ask him where he wants you, don’t just guess.

Bubba teaches you how to whittle bones. He also most definitely gifts you some of the jewelry he makes out of his victim’s bones/teeth or gifts you stolen jewelry (and other things he thinks you might like) from the people he kills.

Bubba is chief decorator of the house mostly of his own accord. He wittles, strings things up, and builds all kinds of furniture out of bones and feathers and other miscellaneous things he finds that he thinks are pretty and is so calm while doing it you just sit down and watch him work with a little smile on your face.

He will 100% braid your hair (and is a quick study when you want it done a specific way) with yarn — which is easier to get than braiding hair where you are, or delicately twist decorative feathers and charms into your cornrows.

He massages oil into your scalp too and you always fall asleep with your head in his lap.

He does a lot of yard work also, so if you’re dedicated to spending a lot of time with him you will be outside often. He’s perfectly content with just having your company and your assistance here and there, but if you want to do more he won’t stop you outside of the really big jobs he has to do.

Sometimes you just dress up cutely in your overalls and boots and sit around looking pretty and soaking sun into your already sun-kissed skin for the whole day and he loves that about as much as you being his assistant. (You have sunscreen, it’s fine.)

Oftentimes you knit or sew (if you know how), but most often you’re reading a book or entertaining Bubba with anecdotes from one of the week's newspapers.

Bubba’s ass is strong. He can and will pick you up, and watching him swing a hammer borders on…overwhelming.

His clothes are the only ones you mend or help wash at all. You’re not a maid, but he respects your time and doesn’t demand it so you help him out because he’s your partner and you choose to. Also, blood stains are a bitch to get out (even when you leave them in the sun to “bleach” after washing) and Bubba gets covered in blood the most for the family so you’re not just going to leave him hanging.

“Leatherface” is lowkey a moniker that was created to taunt Bubba. The twins gave him the nickname after he started wearing his masks and it kind of stuck with everyone. You don’t use it just based off how Chop Top and Them tend to throw it in Bubba’s face whenever they’re irritated with him, but you will use the ambiguity of the moniker when talking about your chainsaw wielding partner to any trespassers and/or victims just to get them extra apprehensive.

When you got to the point where seeing him covered in blood started turning you on you spiraled a bit for sure. You kind of just embrace how aroused it makes you now though, and Bubba gets endlessly flattered.

You still wouldn’t have him any other way, really. Or the rest of his fucked up, irritating family. Even Grandpa (though you do still avoid him like the plague even when you're helping Bubba care for and feed him).

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!🧡

Honestly, after Chromeskull, Bubba is probably my favorite slasher. Anyway, this was fun! I’ll also definitely write more of these at some point too!

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

[villainology]

MDNI pure filth talk below (slight dubcon, degradation, johnny being the bully he is) — Johnny (TCM) okay listen, I just wanted to talk about his cock and how good he fucks you w it <3

johnny is the type of guy to have a nice thick bush that he very occasionally trims, its hairs creeping up his belly and stopping just at his abs, perfectly accenting his sweaty muscles when he’s out in the summer heat working on some cars.

he’s definitely packing at least 7” without a doubt, nice and long, super girthy, veiny, and he even got that slight curve. he’s got that type of girth that makes you hiss through your teeth and whimper every time he bullies his way into your tight hole — it doesn’t even matter how much he bothers to warm you up, you’re still gonna feel the way he stretches you out around him inch by inch.

of course, he loves that though. he relishes in the way you push at his shoulders and try to slide away from him, telling him it’s too much and he’s too big for you :( he doesn’t really care though, leaning down and whispering in your ear yeah that’s right, take it, just take it, darlin’. he always buries himself as deep as he can not even caring if it’s too much for it, his goal is to be balls deep in you every time.

he has two moods when it comes to fucking you, either he only cares about his own pleasure and is using you as a glorified fleshlight (you’ll still come anyway, his dick is just too good) OR he’s gonna torture you with pleasure. the type to not let you come for the longest time, bullying you and degrading you the entire time, calling you pathetic and crybaby when the tears roll down your cheeks and you’re laid begging for him!! once he finally lets you have your release then all he’s gonna do is overstimulate you, he just really loves to see you cry. he’ll occasionally praise you but mostly it’ll be him being a big meanie to you, he knows you and your body too well by now, he knows everything to do to make your toes curl and to have you screaming his name.

[scnderlands]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝒩𝒮𝐹𝒲 𝒜𝐿𝒫𝐻𝒜𝐵𝐸𝒯 — j.slaughter

warnings + tags — MINORS / AGELESS BLOGS DNI, female reader, mentions of sex, dacryphilia, blood kink, non-con kink, knife play, johnny slaughter being johnny slaughter, typical nsfw things

authors notes — I’ve been wanting to do an alphabet for some of the tcm characters forever, so why not kick it off with a dirty little johnny post? this is all for fun and games, so if you don’t agree w anything, that’s okay <3 I might make some more n/sfw alphabets if people want, too (also let’s pretend I’m not uploading this at 6am).

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

at first he wasn’t exactly understanding of aftercare, he was used to just fucking and leaving, you know, the whole family business. but once he got with you, you taught him what aftercare actually was and it became one of him favourite things — he’d actually look forward to it, not that he’d tell you that. the idea of holding you close to him, all sweaty and panting, both of you more relaxed than you ever could be, enjoying the silence and the come down from your shared high. what could be better?

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

his favourite body part of yours is definitely your ass and thighs, doesn’t matter whether they’re big or small, he just loves the soft parts of your body. he loves squeezing them, slapping them, biting them, laying on them — whatever, he is just borderline obsessed with them. but in all honesty, every single part of your body is his favourite, he’s just so into you that he can barely contain himself.

his favourite part of himself is his arms and hands, his muscular biceps and large hands make him feel manly and give him extra confidence, plus when he’s choking someone, seeing his hands or arms cover them completely kinda gets him going. plus he knows how much you love those parts of him, and that makes him like himself just that little bit more.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

he’s filthy when it comes to his cum, he’ll have it everywhere — he’ll cum on your face, your ass, in your mouth, and even forcing it into your cunt and breeding you like you deserve. he claims you as his and him having his cum in you or all over you just cements that fact. it tastes a little salty but mostly just normal, he likes to think he has a “good” diet just for your taste.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

johnny is a dirty little panty stealer, especially dirty panties. any time you’re showering or have gotten changed, he’ll pick up a pretty pair and shove it into his pocket, and he’ll act completely innocent when you ask if he’s seen them anywhere — he’ll just claim he probably ripped them to shreds when he fucked you, or threw them behind something accidentally. he loves smelling them while he’s masturbating (which isn’t often) but when he really misses you, then it just brings him that much closer to you. he has a secret little stash of them in his shack, tucked away in the back of a drawer, all different colours and styles just for his pleasure.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

no surprise but he is pretty damn experienced, but in the beginning he only really fucked for his own pleasure, not really caring about the other person. but when he got you, then all he wanted was to hear you moaning, to hear his name tumbling from your pretty lips. so he focused on and used everything he knew best, and of course he listened and learnt what you enjoyed — he basically became a god of fucking you, knowing everything that made you break, the things that made you quiver and come without him barely touching you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

surprisingly, missionary is his favourite, mostly because he likes seeing your face while he’s fucking you, having his hands wrapped around your throat or pinning your hands above your head. there’s something intimate about the simplicity of missionary and he loves that. but he enjoys mixing it up a little, missionary that turns into a mating press, and whatnot.

his second favorite is doggy, but because he loves ass, and it makes it easy to wrap his arm around your neck and pull you back into his chest. a secret favourite as well is forcing you into the full nelson, because what wouldn’t be enjoyable about that?

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

he’s more serious but it’s because he gets lost in the moment, he’s so concentrated on making you come that he doesn’t really take the moment to be more relaxed. but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t know how to laugh and joke on during it, he’ll often say things that makes you chuckle, especially when he’s being “sweet” — but he doesn’t make a habit to go out of his way to make a joke unless it’s to lighten the mood after an intense session.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

johnny is pretty well groomed, he often shaves his armpits and trims his pubes, mostly because of the hot weather so he likes to keep it shorter but also because he feels more comfortable. he definitely leaves hair down there though, and grows out his happy trail because he knows he looks good with it. and of course he leaves the little bit of chest hair he has. all of his hair is jet black, and pretty thick and straight.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

he can sometimes be nice and loving, slow and romantic. whispering sweet nothings into your ear, pumping in and out of you deeply, just showing how he loves you. but of course he has the moments, which is more likely, where he fucks you hard and rough, using you for his own pleasures. it all depends on the moment, the day, and his mood, but expect a bit of everything from him. but johnny has his own ways of intimacy, his own way of showing his love and being what he thinks is romantic, even if he is being rough the entire time.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he rarely jacks off, instead he prefers having sex with you to relieve himself, but on the off times he does need to jack off, then he has specific things he’ll do. like stated he’ll sniff your panties or look at polaroids of naked pictures you took for him, picturing you riding him and moaning for him. he’ll edge himself a lot, too, your name always rolling off his tongue when he moves his hand nice and slow up and down his cock. other times he wants it over quickly, locking himself in the bathroom and fucking his hand hard and fast, just needing to come and get it over with so he can get back to his busy schedule.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

blood kink — need I say more? he loves eating and tasting people, and your blood is something that he loves tasting, especially when he’s balls deep inside of you. there’s something so intimate about licking the blood trickling down your neck and making love to you at the same time, something so intimate about sharing something like blood with each other. he also loves having you taste his, whether it’s from biting his lip or even just licking his wound when he accidentally cuts himself.

knife kink — again, a pretty obvious one, the man who walks around with a knife and cuts people up basically for a living? he likes the way you flinch under the cool steel of his blade, cutting your clothes off your body with it, leaving lines and marks on you. he’ll cut you if you let him, not deep enough to scar, but enough to get a little blood from you, two kinks for the price of one.

non-con kink — he loves having his way with you, especially when you’re begging him to stop or when you’re whimpering and crying. of course he doesn’t hurt you, instead he pleasures until you can’t take it anymore, until you want it to stop but he just won’t. sometimes he’ll grab you from behind when you least expect it, blindfold and gag you, tie you up and fuck you senseless.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

he’s a simple man with simple pleasures, taking you on a bed or the sofa in his shack is good enough for him, anything with soft padding for him and you to be comfortable. but sometimes he likes to mix it up, fucking you in a victims car or bending you over a table in his mothers house and having his way with you. it depends on his mood like usual, it doesn’t matter where it is as long as he gets to cum in you — but he does have a preference for the risky areas, the outdoor places where you have the chance to be caught, or even just places where he didn’t bother locking the door.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

he’s a pretty simple man so a lot of things you do turn him on, it can be as simple as seeing you all warm and bothered on a hot summers day or seeing you bend over picking something up off the floor. but some other things are a little meaner, like seeing you cry when you’re upset or when you’re annoyed with him and you pout all cute like. his favourite thing though, is when you’re angry or really upset, shouting at him, pushing him away or pounding on his chest to get him away — that instantly sends the blood to his cock.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

there isn’t much he wouldn’t do, or at least there isn’t really any hard no’s. but he isn’t a fan of threesomes, he doesn’t like the idea of anyone else touching you, pleasing you — he knows he’s enough for you and you’re enough for him, so why would you want to invite someone else into the bedroom? as for turn offs, there isn’t really many, something might turn his off once because of his mood or just how he’s feeling on that day but then it might not the next time.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

just like most people, he loves recieving and seeing you on your knees, especially when you’re choking and gagging on him. but he absolutely loves going down on you, he loves to pleasure you and anything that gets you moaning his name, he loves. he’s really good at it too, he was already good before he met you but he’s learnt exactly what gets you going, and god knows he can work miracles with that tongue of his. there are times he’ll go down on you for the sake of it, not even expecting it to be foreplay for sex. he’ll just push you up against something and drop to his knees, pushing your panties to the side and eating you out, then he’ll just go about the rest of his day like normal after making you come on his face.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

he goes between fast and rough and slow and sensual, but most of the time he likes it fast and rough. throwing you about and using you as a glorified fleshlight and making you come at his will is just too much to pass up. when he’s been more romantic or sensual, he likes to have you in missionary, his head buried in the crook of your neck where his moans and sighs are slightly muffled, and he can just push his cock into you nice and slowly.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

as much as he loves taking his time with you, he loves a good old fashioned quickie, bending you over some car or throwing you up against a wall when he needs to relieve himself. he’s worse with it when he’s had a bad day and something has annoyed him, he’ll practically hunt you down just to fuck you. he doesn’t have quickies every day, but it’ll be at least one or twice every couple of days.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

johnny is completely down for taking risks, fucking you in easily caught places and places that are pretty dangerous — the most noticeable place being near his mothers house, or even inside, he’ll drag you off somewhere when you’re visiting her and have his way with you then act like nothing happened when you can barely walk. he loves to experiment with you, too, after all he has some pretty out there kinks that you didn’t exactly like or ever think about trying, but he respects if you have hard no’s — he’s a lot more caring than he pretends to be.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

not so surprisingly, he has a lot of stamina, and can go a whole bunch of rounds, but usually he’ll tap out after two, or a very long session. he enjoys having multiple sessions throughout the day rather than all at once, because then he can burn off all that energy and anger he gets during the day. during a usual session, foreplay included, it’ll last around 45 minutes to an hour — after all, he really loves taking his time with you.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

so he’s pretty hit and miss with toys, he didn’t exactly like them at first. he was kinda insulted when you brought up the idea of having a vibrator / when he found yours, because he took it that he wasn’t good enough for you and that you clearly needed to have something else make you come. after you finally convinced him to just use it on you during sex, his entire world lit up. watching how easy it was to have you a quivering, blubbering, sniveling mess sent blood rushing straight to his cock — and now a lot of the time, especially during longer sessions, he’ll use it on you to tease or give his hand a little bit of a break if he needs it. he also loves making you use it on yourself while he watches, sometimes wanking himself off while you make yourself come.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he’s a huuuuge tease, loves to edge you for as long as he can, it’s even better if he gets you to the edge of coming on a morning then he can leave for the day — but he tells you not to touch yourself, because he’ll know — sometimes he’ll even “check” during the day to make sure you haven’t made yourself come. if you’ve been good for him then he won’t tease you for too long, but it’s rare he goes a day without teasing you just a little bit. he just loves hearing you whimper and beg for him, and he gets off on being the only one that can make you come.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

johnny grunts and cusses a lot during sex, or even when you’re just teasing / going down on him. he has no issue being vocal anymore, although he was a lot quieter when you first got together. now he’s completely fine with moaning into your ear, and he actually loves moaning your name, he doesn’t even care who hears — he likes you knowing how good you make him feel, plus he knows how much it turns you on having him moaning and cussing when he’s deep inside you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

okay I’ve said it a million times, and I’ll say it a million more, he’s actually really sweet to you, and treats you like an angel. at first he’d be a little mean, still saying things that would hurt your feelings or just scaring you by him being him — but once you’d been dating awhile, he’s the “hurt them and I kill you” type guy, the one that’ll kill for you, the one that’ll die for you. he’s so wrapped around your little finger it’s almost unbelievable, he’s so in love that he’d do nearly anything you ask — but he’s only like that when you’re alone, for the most part. when you’re around other people he’s super possessive and lets others know who you belong to, always having a hand around your waist or yanking you into the most sexually fuelled kiss when someone talks to you for too long. nonetheless, he’d protect you with his life and is actually really sweet, in his own way, of course.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

okay he’s got a pretty huge dick, it’s 7”-7.5”, and it’s girthy as all hell, to the point he needs to warm you up a lot before even thinking about trying to push himself into you. he’s not cut, and he’s got a big fat vein that runs along the underside of his cock and it’s super sensitive around there, too. the closer to the tip of his cock, the more reddish purple it turns, especially when he’s hard. oh and let’s not forget, he’s got big, heavy balls as well.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

he’s ridiculously horny, that man has a crazy sex drive and it was kinda hard to keep up with at first. he has a naturally high one anyway but it’s made worse by his obsession with you — he needs to be in you constantly, filling you, making you his. as soon as he wakes up he’s there being needy, he’s the exact same at night when you’re going to bed. and don’t be surprised if he doesn’t pull you round the back of a shack to fuck you during the day, too.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

johnny falls asleep instantly, there’s not a single thought behind that man’s eyes. and it’s made even worse when he tires himself out fucking you senseless a good few rounds before finishing — he’s the type that as soon as his head hits the pillow, he’s passed out snoring, mouth open, twitching and kicking you all night. or sometimes he’s just so still that you’re not sure he’s alive anymore, just perfectly motionless, couldn’t even be woken up by the end of the world.

[adalwolfgang]

could I request some yandere nubbins sawyer hcs if it's not too much to ask? Thank you, ^^

Also sorry if I'm flooding ya with sawyer asks

-📻

A/N: Like last time, this is my first time writing for nubbins so he might be a little ooc for some.

Warnings: This is much more violate in a way than choptop's

Yandere!Nubbins Sawyer

He meet's you and your group of friends similar to the first movie.

A lonely hitchhiker you all take pity on a decide to give him a lift.

Big mistake on your part.

During his show and tell of the photos he has of him and his brothers working at the slaughterhouse, he takes out his camera and snaps a photo of franklin and then a couple of you.

He offer's Franklin the photo in exchange for $2 bucks, while handing over a photo of you for free.

Sawyer rizz ig.

Franklin just act's all offended.

When Nubbins starts acting erratically, involuntarily cutting his hand with Franklin's pocket knife and slicing at Franklin, he get's votingly kicked out of the van.

But not before he leaves a handprint of his own blood marked on the van.

When he meets back up with his brothers to go over the plan of taking you all out, Nubbin's warns his brothers not to kill you.

Bubba goes along with the order while Drayton isn't to pleased with the idea of keeping you alive.

What would happen if you escaped?

The whole family would be at risk of being arrest or worse killed by police.

Either way, they come to an agreement to you staying alive

Now onto the head canon part.

Similar to chop-top, he's possessive as hell.

But way worse.

He can be more violent and unpredictable with you.

He isn't afraid to hurt you in some way to get his point across.

He won't do anything that would bring you close to dying but sometimes you'd probably wish for that treatment instead.

Again, he makes sure you're constantly with him or as much as he hates it, one of his brothers is with you to make sure you don't escape.

If you show any form or thought of escaping, he locks you up in a room for a few day's without food or water like some abused pet.

When your 'punishment' is up, he'll act all loving towards you.

He'll feed you himself, and give you water no matter if you're too weak to do it yourself or not.

Again he's unpredictable with his mood swings.

Respect and boundaries are another thing.

He doesn't quite see them the way others do nor does he care to follow them.

He's constantly touching and petting you.

Especially your hair.

He's obsessed with your hair alone.

He's constantly touching it, stroking it, washing it, or tugging at it.

He's also always wrapping his arms around you either in a hug or just to keep you close.

If you try to push him away, he'll get all whiny and upset that you don't recuperate his affections.

He'll still force you though.

Bubba think's it's cute but feel's sorry for the both of you if you don't feel the same to nubbin's.

Drayton just finds it weird and a nuisance to the family business but he doesn't say that.

[wilddflwer]

Two-Way Mirror

reader x j. slaughter

Summary: reader manages to get away from the man who held her captive, blindfolded, and abused for days. thinking she finally escaped hell, she comes to realize she wasn’t even close.

Contains: dark themes, kidnapping, abuse, gore, Johnnys an asshole

Your jaw ached at how tightly the gag was tied, forcing your mouth to stay open, no doubt leaving a deep red marking on the sides of your face. You move your tied down wrists and ankles uncomfortably, only being able to shift them just by an inch. Your whole body ached, from the abuse, from the consistent sitting position in the chair you were bound to, from the hopelessness inside, from the lack of strength. You hung your head lowered in defeat as you stayed wondering how long you’ve been here. You haven’t been able to see anything but pure darkness for what felt like months. He never takes the blindfold off.

It wasn’t unusual for your capture to leave you alone for more than two days, starved and beaten. It was something you prefer actually, beats having to deal with his sadistic nature. It almost became some sort of routine for you. Every two to four days he would be gone, then he’d show up again, almost excited to see you. Despite not have ever looking at his face, you felt you already knew him whole. You grew to recognize his foot steps, they were heavy and paced lightly. That’s when you knew he was back, when your found peace was about to end. You recognized his touch, always gloved, never skin, leaving continuous bruises and wounds on your body. Most importantly, you recognized his voice. You’ll never forget his voice, his laugh, his mockery, his twisted praising, his mean degrading, his breathing pattern. Hell, even his scent you grew familiar with, cigarettes and death. No, you’ll never forget it. His voice and laughter echo in the your mind constantly, it bounces off the walls and follows you to your restless dreams. Aside from learning his cruel ways, the only other thing you knew of him was his name; Johnny.

It was day three of Johnnys absence. Day three of another torture of silence, aside from your own breathing and on and off cries. Your stomach rumbled in hunger as you shifted your weight uncomfortably, wishing you never went on your stupid trip. That last minute trip driven by anger and spite towards your father, who you had a pretty bad argument with just before you left. That was another thing that weighed down on you, regret. You said such awful things to him, and those were the last words your father would ever hear from you. It hurt, it really hurt. If you could, you’d apologize over and over until you couldn’t speak anymore. You figured you had until tomorrow to have time to yourself to rest and attempt to gather your thoughts. Although, he was unpredictable, so you didn’t rely too much on your own guessing games. You just preyed he’d never come back. You’d rather die at this point, your sane mind was reaching its breaking point. You were slowly losing your fighting spirt.

“I wanna go home” you whimpered to the empty room, the last little hope in you wishing someone would hear your words. Of course, there was never a response. You fell silent once more. You’ve already tried again and again to escape, thrashing around in your restraints hoping they’d get loose. They never did. You were growing tired of the mind games he’d play with you, the abuse, the inhumanity of it all. Even the small things such as feeding you. You’d feel his eyes on you as you eat what you assumed was some sort of meat. His small chuckles made you second guess yourself, forcing the food down. You didn’t want to think it was anything else besides some sort of animal.

You don’t know how much more you could endure. So, there you are once again, attempting to get out. The thought of seeing your father again and taste of freedom is enough to bring back lost determination. You thrash your wrists and ankles wildly against the rope that burns into your tender skin. You twist and pull, flexing them in different directions in hope it’ll loosen just a little. You whimper and hiss through the pain, the rope burn only seemed to get worse on your broken skin. You didn’t stop. You keep twisting, pulling, thrashing, anything you could take off to get free.

Your struggling suddenly becomes worth it as you manage to tug your left hand free, slipping and tugging it through the rope. It was a tight squeeze out, tight enough to force your hand purple for a small amount of time. That didn’t matter though, you could finally get out. Maybe he tied the rope lazily, thinking it was enough to keep you strapped down. After all, you had been trapped here for almost a month now. Either way, your escape would be a slip up on Johnnys end.

You quickly loosened the rope on your other hand, tugging your joint free from its own prison. Then finally, you take off your blindfold for the first time since you’ve been here. Your eyes adjusted quickly to the ominous, dark room you were in. The only light source was a couple lanterns that were draped on the ceiling and the little sunlight that shined down from a hole in the ceiling. It was just enough to make out the horrors of the cold room you were in. The ceiling was littered with various human body parts, from hands to feet. There were at least four corpses strung up, rotting to the bone. You hadn’t realized it until now you had become nose blind to that god awful smell of rotting. You swallowed down the vomit that crept up your throat. Then there was the ladder that led up to who knows where. You quickly started undoing the ropes around your ankles, your last step to finally find your way out of this hellhole. You massage your aching wrists and ankle before thinking about your next step.

Your legs shake as you stand, causing you to hold onto the arm of the chair for support. You keep your eyes to the floor, avoiding looking at any gruesome scene. You force yourself to stand straight as you make your way, or rather stumble, towards the door that leads out. You tug at the sliding door, attempting to use all your strength to open it. It doesn’t budge at all.

“It’s locked?” you whisper to yourself, half distraught and half confused. Why would he lock the door if you were already tied down? Either way, it’s just another obstacle for your freedom. You take a deep breath before doing a quick scan of the room. Doing your best to ignore the bodies, your eyes fall on a toolbox set on a counter. You push off the door and towards the tool box. You quietly rummage through it, finding something that could fit as a lock pick. Pulling out a skinny tool, you grip it tightly and go back towards the door. You’ve never had to lock pick something, but now wasn’t the time to just give up. You slide the tool through the keyhole and give it your best. You use the tool to apply pressure on the part that’ll unlock the door for you. It takes you a minute but you manage to unlock it. You drop the now bent up tool on the ground and slide open the door. You cringe at the loudness, hoping he wasn’t anywhere near by.

There was no mistaking it, you were in a basement. It was more of a maze if anything. You didn’t know where to go or where to start. You hold yourself for some sort of comfort as you begin to explore. Again, you avoid looking at the various dead bodies you come across. You can’t help but wonder if that’s going to end up being you. Just another lifeless corpse rotting down here. Then you wonder if Johnny did all this by himself. Surely not? This whole place was one big grave. The further you walk, the more your anxiety rises. Everything was unfamiliar and eerie. You think back to the ladder in the cold room. It seemed too easy for an escape, but you weren’t exactly getting anywhere right now. You circle back to the room that was your prison. Each step getting quicker as you approach the ladder. You wince lightly with every move as you climb up, your eyes squinting as you are met with sunlight for the first time in awhile. You could almost cry feeling the fresh breeze and the warmth of the sun blanketing your cold and bruised skin. To you, it felt like an angels kiss.

Once you’re back on your feet above ground, you find yourself in the back of somebody’s yard. It was a big property, so many areas to hide if needed. You timidly begin to move to the front of the house where you know there has to be a road. You squeeze through a small gap as a short cut to reach the side ramp that you can see from where you are. Afraid Johnny might be inside the house, you are careful not to be too obvious as you make your way up the dirt road and over the cattle grates. Paranoid, you keep glancing around for anybody that may harm you. You weren’t sure how many people lived here, but you figured they must know of Johnnys crimes. How could they not? The basement was littered with evidence.

You tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear as you admire the various sunflowers in the front yard. The front of the house was welcoming and beautiful, almost like there wasn’t any horrors behind its walls or under it. You crept closer towards the front gate that led to freedom, and to your luck it was open. You pushed the gate open and left the property without looking back once.

You were free.

A sense of relief washed over you as you began to walk faster. Part of you wanted to run, but your body wouldn’t allow it. Your legs felt too damaged to do anything other than walk. You sped walked down the road for what felt like miles, your feet sore. It had to be at least an hours now, the sun was setting and there was still not a vehicle or person in sight. You needed help badly. You needed to get to proper safety and call the police and your father.

You hugged yourself once again. The house you escaped from was long gone now, miles and miles behind you. At this point, you were in a zombie like state. You legs kept going but you felt like you weren’t really there. Your mind was else where. Maybe it was the trauma, or the self defence mechanism you gained over the month you were here, or maybe you were just tried. Either way, you weren’t keen on your surrounding enough. Not like there was anything around you for miles, you were alone and lost. Though, it was better than being tied down to that damned chair. You did your best to ignore the growing ache in your feet as you continued on. Your eyes stared at the ground in a daze. You shivered every now and then, and to think you’d be use to the cold by now.

Right now, all you could think about was your bed, your shower, your father’s embrace, the feeling of being home, your old life before your kidnapping. You squeezed your fingers tighter against your shoulders as you hazily looked forward at the gleaming light getting closer. You hadn’t realized it until now but there was a vehicle getting closer and closer from the distance just up ahead the road. It took a moment to sink in but there was indeed a vehicle approaching you, a truck is what you could make it out to be. Immediately you felt overwhelmed with emotions. There’s somebody that will help you. You could almost cry at the thought of finally getting far away from this place.

As the truck got closer, you stepped in the middle of the road so it couldn’t get around you. You waved your tired arm to signal the driver to stop. Your body shakes with anticipation as the pickup truck comes to a halt just a few feet in front of you. You can’t see the driver from where you stand, but they sure as hell could see you. The way the sun is angled is blinding your view of him, but you could vaguely make out a man’s silhouette. Without thinking, you jog up to the passenger side door and open it. You take your spot and slam the door shut. Home was so close now.

“Thank you, thank you” you repeat a couple times as you turn to your saviour, “I need to get to the police station as soon as possible. I don’t know where I am, I was taken and- and”

Your words were scrambled and fast as you tried to explain your situation without scaring the stranger off too much. At this moment you’re able to take in his appearance. The man’s got slicked back dark hair, dark eyes and a nasty scar that runs along his forehead to over his eye. Despite the scar, he was quite the looker. He’s got a cigarette loosely hanging from his lip as he studies you, nodding mindlessly to your rambling. A small smirk tugs at his lips as he begins driving the direction back to the house who had just escaped from.

“Wait…” puzzled, you shake your head desperately, “You’re going the wrong way. I can’t go back there”

It goes silent between the two of you for a minute. The bad feeling in the pit of your stomach returns as you feel the shift of speed of his driving. Then he spoke.

“You got pretty far, huh?” Johnny comments, his amusement growing as the look of horror and realization colours your face at the recognition of his voice. Your heartbeat quickens by the second as you feel your body freeze and tense. Your breathing seems to come to a stop as you can’t find the words or seem remember how to breathe. You felt your anxiety pouring over the edge as Johnny makes heavy eye contact with you. For the first time, you look straight into the dark eyes of evil and he stares into your fear struck stare. The sudden familiar smell of cigarettes and despair hit your nose, triggering your flight or flight. Everything suddenly came together. The gloves, the boots, his voice, his scent. It was him, it was Johnny.

“No…” you whimper, backing away until your back hits the door, “No…”

You reach for the handle and push the door open, falling out at a high speed. It hurt like hell, but you don’t take long to get back in your feet and run for the hills. Your body burns but you can’t go back. You can’t let him get you again. You take off the opposite direction of where he was taking you. Johnny stops the truck immediately, shifting gear and pressing his foot down on the gas, going backwards towards you just as fast. He rests his arm over the seat as he looks back to watch you run. It was pointless really, but it was both a surprise and rush to him that you still had the energy to try get away from him.

You can practically feel your heartbeat in your ears as you take off into the fields of tall grass. Johnny halts his truck, putting it in park and stepping out. He chuckles watching you make a run for it, attempting to hide from him.

“Aw…You leaving so soon?” Johnny tauntingly calls out to you, raising your anxiety. You can’t let him catch you. Surely you were dead this time. You keep pushing on until you realize you have no sense of direction, you’re completely lost.

“I’m gonna find you!” Johnnys voice calls out to you, he’s getting closer already, “I will! I promise!”

The sun was almost completely set now, leaving you without much light to see two steps in front of you. Your breathing was loud and heavy as you pushed grass out of your way. Johnnys taunting stopped and it was now eerily quiet, aside from your panicked breathes. You stopped moving and covered your mouth to avoid further detection. It seemed like time stopped completely. Johnny was being just as quiet as you. There was no way he could find you in this grass, and much less lack of light. Maybe he’d give up…you prayed he’d give up and just leave you alone.

“Hey there!” Johnnys sudden voice made you jump out of your skin. You screamed as you stumbled back, loosing your footing and landing straight on your ass. However, you moved quick, getting back in your feet and ready to take off. As much as Johnny loved the chase, the risk of another person driving by and you somehow escaping him was not something he wanted to deal with. He was quick to grab your arm and force you back to him.

“Oh, you ain’t gettin away! Im keeping you!”

“Don’t touch me! Get the fuck off of me!” You curse at him, hitting him with all the strength you have left. It must be the adrenaline, or maybe even the fear that gave you enough courage to fight back. You were so close to freedom, yet so far. Of course it had to be him driving down that road, of course you had to mindlessly get in his truck. This nightmare never seemed to end. You were desperate.

Johnny was quick to pull out his hunters knife, giving you two deep gashes as a warning. You screamed out in pain at the sudden fire stinging wounds. Johnny found an opening to sink the knife deep into you, yet he didn’t.

“Hurtin’ real bad, ain’t you sweetheart?” Johnny asks as he gets a firm hold on you, restraining you from hitting him any further. You cry, scream, anything to maybe get someone to hear you. Yet again, there’s nobody; just you and Johnny.

Johnny keeps you restrained against him until you’re done. Too tired to scream, too tired to cry, too tied to fight back. He could’ve shut you up, covered your mouth, but he thrived off it. Found your screams and cried music to his ears. He knew nobody could hear you, just as well you knew deep down inside. Any ounce of energy you had was gone. The past and present abuse on your body worn you out completely to the point where you finally slumped into his arms.

“There you go” Johnny hums, placing his knife back into his sheath, “You’ve had a long day, haven’t you, [name]?”

You didn’t reply, not that you refused to, but you couldn’t. You felt too defeated. Your only chance at escaping was gone. Instead you let your mind wander again as Johnny lifted you. You focused on the beauty of the tall grass you were in, on the fields among it. You focused on the cool night breeze and fresh air that you wouldn’t ever feel again. You focused on the arising moon way up in the sky and how pretty it looked. You wondered if your father was looking at it too.

“Damn…so close! Good try though” Johnny chuckled at your unresponsive state. He figured he broke your mind long ago, that you had no will to escape anymore and accepted the fact you were his now. Johnny knew better now, you were stronger than the others, he had more time with you. You were his favourite by far.

“Let’s go home”



[sinsofbeauty]

Lovie, could we possibly get a bit of fluff in a Johnny x chubby!reader? Like she can’t find anything to wear bc she doesn’t feel like anything she puts on is flattering and she looks bad in it and is feeling really upset?Asking for a friend ofc 😅

Dinner

Fandom: The Texas Chainsaw Massacre Game

Pairing: Johnny Slaughter x Chubby Fem! Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Established relationship, Pet names (Bunny, Baby, Honey), Softer Johnny

Requested?: Yeaahhhh

Overview: You can’t seem to find a single thing to wear, and it’s bringing your mood down lower and lower. Though when your boyfriend comes in the room, he tries to comfort you the best he can.

A/n: Literally love this idea!! I gotchu bb ;3

“Y/nnnn,” 

Heavy footsteps had entered the quiet room, belt buckling under it designated flaps as brown eyes gazed upon your backside. Through the dusty window, the morning sun shone, casting a drab ray of light on your figure. Johnny, who had just stepped in finishing up with his belt buckle, peering you down as you observed yourself in the mirror. You appear upset, frowning when you see yourself and attempting to modify the dress you wore to fit your physique. After glancing at the stacked garments on the bed in the corner, Johnny's gaze shifted to the open closet, which appeared to be nearly empty. 

“We goin’ thru clothes today bunny?” When he noticed your face, he raised his eyebrows and questioned. 

Glancing across at the bed, you suddenly became dissatisfied. In a short period of time, so many different outfits were worn, yet none of them seemed to attract your interest. “I wish,” You stare back in the mirror and say, huffing a little. “I’m just… trying to figure out what I want to wear.”

“What’s wrong with that dress?” Johnny asked, gesturing to the one you were wearing. 

What was the issue with it? The colors? The patterns? Perhaps the horrible way it molded itself around your body? Nothing you've worn in the past twenty minutes has made you feel good about yourself; everything just looked awful. From pretty blouses paired with skirts to dresses that are long and short? Simply put, you weren't feeling it today. You felt so insecure about it that it upset you. Even though it wasn't his fault, the mere question from Johnny disturbed you. You felt yourself involuntarily tugging at your stomach in an attempt to cover it up.

“Just look at it…”

Johnny had indeed taken one good look at you. His attention swept over your entire body, taking in every exquisite curve that your clothing effortlessly embraced. The thin material snatched your breasts and the remainder of your waist as it flowed down around your hips. He didn't find anything wrong with the apparel or the way you looked wearing it. The man gave you a small shake of his head before raising his gaze once more to meet yours. 

“You don’ like it?” He asked, taking a couple steps towards you. His head loomed side to side as your facial expression grew more and more confused. “I think it’s beautiful on ya’ baby.” 

Johnny had taken your hand and lifted your arm above your head, spinning you around to face him. His eyes observed you closely in it’s half lidded state before turning you back around. Facing the mirror you were looking at before all you could make was a disgusted face. Though that soon faded when the man pressed his body up against you from behind. Your eyes became a little wider as he began fiddling with the straps and smoothing out the creases that were sticking out of your dress. 

“This ones a lil’ tight,” Johnny murmured softly, his voice like a low rumble bouncing off walls. 

“Is it?” You say, your chest suddenly shifting with disappointment. “I… don’t like the way I look in it.”

“Why not?” His voice hinted with curiosity.

“It’s just… I’ve tried so many things. They don’t look appealing, most… not as flattering as I’d hoped.” 

Johnny’s movements stopped, which made you look up at the mirror. “I think it’s more than flattering.” A smile appears on his face when his large hands take your hips. “Y’know what I think?” 

“Hm?”

“I think I could take ya’ out in this one. How ‘bout dinner?”

“Johnny, this dress isn’t good enough for dinner.” 

His smile widened as all he could do was chuckle. “Really sugar? Cause I could jus’ eat chu’ up~.” When Johnny began to attack you with kisses, you squealed and laughed as he buried his face in your neck. Your body was enveloped by his arms, leaving you exposed to his comforting warmth. His teeth scraped and nibbled at your throat as you reached for his hair and yanked him away. “Ah- careful! You’ll start pullin’ on other strings-“

“Johnny Slaughter-“

“Y/n L/n,” His eyes squinted at you, making your cheeks fluster. “I think that dress is lovely on ya’. Anythin’ ya’ wear, you’re a beautiful woman.” His head leaned down and kissed your temple. “My beautiful woman.”

He just knew how to make your heart flutter. Given that Johnny wasn't always good at consoling people, you treasured these moments. Something like this, where he truly sought to convey his feelings, even though he wasn't always the one to do so? It sets butterflies in your stomach. You couldn't help but smile when you saw Johnny as considerate and positive as opposed to cold and uncaring.

“There’s the smile I like to see,” He said with a chuckle, planting a firm kiss on your cheek. “Can I get a kiss?”

“Hmm, no.” 

“Give me a damn kiss woman.”

You giggle moving your head, your lips colliding with your lovers as you both hum in sync. All he could do was nuzzle his head with yours when he pulled back. “You’re awfully… cuddly today.” 

Withdrawing from you, he grabs your hand and spins you around to face him. “Don’ like it?”

“No- No I like it!” You say placing your hands on his chest and patting him softly. “It’s just a little… different?”

“Is it? Ya’ like it when I’m more stern and rough wit’ ya’?”

“It’s what I’m used to honey,” Johnny gave you a mischievous look and a huff when you lightly tapped his face with your palm. After that you made your way over to bed, piled with clothes that you’d taken from your closet. 

“I’m serious though,” He says, the heavy footsteps of his boots trailing from behind you. The man’s hand had taken yours, lowering it as it held one of the dresses you put on before. You look up at him, confused with your eyebrows well raised. He takes the dress from your hand and looks at it, before placing it back down on the bed. “I wanna take ya’ out.”

“If you think taking me out will make me feel better-”

“How ‘bout our spot?” He said, making you pause your words. “Anythin’ ya’ want. I’ll even throw in some drinks if that’s whatcha like.”

You gave Johnny a major side eye before sighing, closing your eyes and running your hand through your hair. “So persuasive,” You state, making him chuckle. “Fine, but we’re coming straight home afterwards.”

[lavishl0ve]

🩸 Johnny Slaughter x Fem Reader 🩸

!disclaimer!

I love Johnny and he low-key inspired me to write something. This is my first “fic” and is a decent length (lol), if y’all are interested in the full story please lmk!! (btw nothing spicy in this first part- sorry 😔) Thank and enjoy.💋💋

Part 1: The Cellar

Oh God, stay quiet… I silence my whimpers pushing my hand against my mouth as I watch the skinned face wearing man run around frantically. Each rev of his chainsaw had made me flinch. I slowly shift myself in the shadows hoping to avoid detection, the tall grass covering my view. The sky is painted with tones of tangerine complimented by flesh-colors. The longer time seems to pass the more I seem unable to move. I take a deep breath and squeeze my eyes shut hoping to escape reality, the darkness only paints pictures in my head. Julie. Hanging on that meat hook in that red room. I suddenly feel a wetness dripping down my cheek. We didn't deserve any of this, especially not her and God knows where the others are. I just hope they're safe. The others. I have to do this for them, I have to escape. Adrenaline seems to rush through me, I peek my head above the grass searching around hoping for a clear shot. No sign of them. I slowly ascend and sneak towards what seems to be the closest exit. I dive back into a patch of grass as I hear the sound of the chainsaw approaching again. The sounds accompanied with female screams… Ana’s screams. My body makes its own decision and suddenly I flee from the grass patch running towards the gated fence, the sky darkening. Keep running Y/N. Just keep running. Tears blur my vision as the scream becomes distant for each pace I run. I shouldn't, I can't help doing so, only hoping to confirm reality. I look behind my shoulder, that man drilling the chainsaw through her abdomen, her blue tank top now red. Stained with her own blood. I run faster but can't help to look away. A loud snap erupts from beneath me; fire engulfs my right leg and I trip over. My ankle caught in some bone contraption it had cut deep, deep enough to see tissue. That man sensed the sound, revving up his stalled chainsaw, I look back panicking and quickening my pace to release myself. The pain is horrific. Blood drips into my shoes and I limp towards that gate. No. The faint symbol of a red padlock is tightened around the gate. I won't make it. I scream out in pain hoping for the slightest bit of hope. A deteriorating wooden barn. Maybe I can hide there. I shift my direction pulling my leg along with me as that man approaches. I ran through the large doors, the barn still in darkness. I looked behind again, that man hadn't been able to squeeze through the crawl space I shimmied through. I have distance. I’ll be okay. I face forward and crash into a hard surface. I fall back onto the floor and my vision blurs. Blood rushing to my brain, fumbling the noise around me, the chainsaw re-approaching and the laugh of a man in front of me, faint footsteps walk toward me, the orange hues of the sky paint out his features. My vision is blurry, I can only map out his sleeveless tank top, and his slicked hair…? He grips a knife in his right hand. He crouches down his arms wrapping around my waist. I groan out in pain. His hard chest instituted a throbbing headache, my head pounding. He leans forward toward my face.

“Oh, I’m keeping you.” The man growls.

Then with a effortless hurl he throws me over his shoulder. My sight goes foggy. I can’t lose consciousness now. Stay awake. With each step the man takes his shoulder digs deeper into my stomach. I can't seem to stay awake. No need to fight back anymore. This is my fate.

“S’okay, I got er’ boy.” The man says, “Put that chainsaw to use. Find the other one.”

A low moan had replied from the man with the chainsaw, like an agreement. Wait- the other one…? Leland! He’s still alive! I cry out, putting each ounce of strength into my punches trying to knock myself down from the man's shoulder.

“No need to fight me on this Darlin’. You’ll just make it harder for yourself.” He remarks.

I grunt still trying to fight back. I’ve done no damage to anything but myself. I feel my energy slip away along with my consciousness…

—------------------------------------------------------

I awaken to the cold beneath me, I sit on the wet concrete ground. My vision clears, I look above, my wrists had been tied to the wall. I pull against the rope hoping to loosen them. I feel my blood circulation cutting off, my hands are numbing. It’s too tight and I can't seem to make any wiggle room. I look around hoping for some sort of tool I can use. Nothing. The cell just contains a worn-out mattress. Just great. I crawl over on the mattress hoping it’ll bring me more comfort than the cold floor. It’s better…I guess. I sit in silence, my head against the stone wall for what feels like an eternity. I fumble with my shirt. My shirt- it’s different. Damn. That outfit I had on was my favorite. Now I’m stuck in this worn out oversized black shirt. Realization had hit me, they changed my clothes, had that man undressed me? Shivers ran through my veins; I disregard the thought. Suddenly a woman skips in front of my cell giggling whilst peeking through. I hadn’t heard her approach.

“Aww, you’se caught yourself an aw’fully purty one.” The woman remarked.

She dragged her razor blade along the iron bars making a scraping sound, hitting each bar. Laughing mockingly.

“Leave the girl alone Sissy.” The man approached.

The same man from earlier had stood next to the woman supposedly named Sissy. He jumbled his keys, standing in front of the lock for the cellar.

“Ain’tcha got things to do??” The man says sternly.

“You ain��t no fun Johnny.” She replies, clicking her tongue and walking away.

Johnny inserts the key into the lock, twisting it and sliding the cell door open. Then closes it behind him. I find myself backing against the corner, the cold shooting through my spine once my bottom contacts with the cold floor again. Johnny turns around, walks over toward the mattress and sits down, his arms resting on his knees. I sat a few inches away from him. Completely defenseless. He shifts his head toward the left a bit, enough only so he could see me. I stare down at the ground avoiding eye contact. He analyzes me for a while. Complete silence.

“You can look at me y’know?” He breaks the silence.

I feel tears dwelling in my eyes, “What do you want?”

“Ain’t no need to be cryin’ sweetheart, ‘m not gonna hurt ya’...” He trails off.

He removes some sort of compact tin from his jean pocket, following a roll of gauze...? He places them on the mattress and gestures to my leg where I’d been caught. It takes me a moment to realize what he’s motioning towards. I look down and realize my leg has been wrapped up. I gasp slightly, surprised he wouldn't have just let me rot. I scoot forward slowly allowing him to have access to my ankle, I watch slowly as he unwraps the bandage trying to see the damage that was done. I hiss once the cold air touches the wound.

“Those damn traps he be makin’,” he laughs shaking his head, “Work a lil’ too well.”

Johnny then grabs the tin container from his side, it contains some sort of topical cream. He rubs two fingers into the paste and rubs it over the wound.

“Ah-” I groan in pain. The topical stinging my cut.

“You’se all right sweetheart.” He reassures me.

I shut my eyes, furrowing my brows waiting for the stinging to be over. I can feel the gauze wrapping lightly around my ankle. For a man that had brought me and held me captive in their basement Johnny's surprisingly gentle. I can't tell why but, I find myself ease around him a bit.

“Johnny-” I speak,

He looks up at me inquisitive, like I said something wrong. He raises his eyebrows, waiting.

“...why are you helping me?”

He chuckles to himself; a piece of his hair drops in front of his face.

“Can’t have our food spoiled now, can we?” He looks up.

My eyes widen at his response, I try and jerk my leg away, but his grip stays firm, his calloused hands keeping me from backing away.

“I was jokin’.”

He finishes tying up the gauze and rises to his feet. He leaves, re-locking the cell door. And then again, I’m left in the cell waiting, thinking. I try to stand seeing where I am, yet can’t reach the front of the cell, my wrists beginning to burn from all the tugging on the rope. I stop, throwing myself on the rough mattress. My dreams ought to be better than this place, right?

————————————————————————

[ashtheketchum]

Sawyer Family (+ Thomas Hewitt) cuddle headcanons

A/N: I´m soooo sorry for not posting anything for a while! :´D I've been under a lot of stress and have no real motivation to write anything! But I'm trying my best to come back now and I've collected a lot of ideas!

Warnings: Fluff, GN.Reader, use they/them pronouns for Bubba, maybe also a little bit angst, mention of blood

_____________________

~ Bubba Sawyer ~

Biggest cuddle bear I know!

They just love good cuddle times in bed! Only in bed...

Bubba would only cuddle with you in the evening or night because they have a job for the day!

Even tho they wish they could cuddle you all day…

Loves playing with your hair while cuddling!

For cuddle time they always change their clothes

Doesn´t want you all bloodie and dirty, duh

Bubba sometimes loves the spoon position! (Doesn´t matter who the big spoon is-)

Sometimes Bubba also presses their face into your hair, just to smell you and kinda hiding their face

Their arms are always wrapped around your body

~ Drayton Sawyer ~

This man hates cuddling-

Maybe it has to do something with his past but Drayton hates it, when somebody touches him

You can´t blame him tho-

Sometimes he hugs you briefly or pats your head but only when you two are alone

But when he´s asleep, this man cuddles the shit out of you

Don´t tease him about it, he will get out his secret weapon if you do (cough cough 🧹 )

He would wrap his arms tight around you, afraid that you would leave him while he is asleep

When Drayton works at the gas station he sometimes misses your presence (But only sometimes-)

He sometimes allows you to hug him from behind while he cooks

He always has to suppress a smile

~ Nubbins Sawyer ~

This man can´t hold still-

But he wouldn´t also let go of you

Would make pictures of how you two are cuddling

Even while standing, he wraps his arms around you and hugs you tight

He sometimes also does it to annoy Drayton

While cuddling he would tell you about his day

,,A-a-and then t-they j-j-just kicked me o-out…!"

If Nubbins doesn´t play with your hair, he would tug on your clothes or pinch your sides

He would also kiss your whole face and neck

Sometimes leaving hickeys just to tease you

~ Chop Top Sawyer ~

Quiet music in the background

A comfortable bed

And some dim light

Everything seems perfect if Chop Top just would hold still!

Just like his twin brother, Chop Top can´t hold still

He has a wig for cuddle times tho-

And he also has a playlist for cuddle times

He would also always try to get some smutty time with you

,,B-but (Y/N)… I need conta-act with your body… I-i haven´t touched you f-for a while!"

He would ,,forget" his job because he prefers the cuddle times (Drayton then always beats him up-)

~ Thomas Hewitt ~

A big cuddle bear

Mabye not as cuddly as Bubba but he loves it when you two cuddle

Sometimes he also just wanna lay down and sleep

Play with his hair or stroke his shoulders and back

He loves it when you massage his muscles while cuddling

Sadly you can´t cuddle for long because of his job (cough cough killing people-)

He likes to lay his head on your chest and listen to your heartbeat

His big arms are wrapped around your hips or waist

Give him compliments! (Like how good he did his job today-)

He would only cuddle in your bedroom not in his basement

[melodrama-ticcc]

— “ 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐥 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 ” ; 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐗

𝐄𝐧𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝

𝘈 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴.

𝙄𝙛 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠𝙨 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙠𝙞𝙡𝙡, 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙𝙣’𝙩 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙠𝙨!

𝘚𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘢 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯, 𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘺.

𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙫. 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧. 𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙩 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧.

ʷᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ: ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃⁱⁿˢ ᵐᵃᵗᵘʳᵉ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉⁿᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉᵐᵉˢ. ⁱ.ᵉ. ᵈᵒᵐᵉˢᵗⁱᶜ ᵛⁱᵒˡᵉⁿᶜᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃᵇᵘˢᵉ, ᵍʳᵃᵖʰⁱᶜ ᵛⁱᵒˡᵉⁿᶜᵉ, ᵐᵉⁿᵗᵃˡ ⁱˡˡⁿᵉˢˢ, ᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵒᶠ ᵐᵘʳᵈᵉʳ, ᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵒᶠ ʳᵃᵖᵉ, ᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵒᶠ ˢᵘⁱᶜⁱᵈᵉ, ᵐⁱˡᵈ ᵍᵒʳᵉ, ʳᵉˡⁱᵍⁱᵒⁿ, ˢᵉˣᵘᵃˡ ᵗʰᵉᵐᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢⁱᵗᵘᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ.

—

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑: 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨. 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞. 𝐕𝐢𝐞𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐝𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝.

—

Strange, the way the catalyst of soul festers in her like the plague, decaying and rotten, rancid and ugly. Like a hollow corpse left to bleach in the sun, half blackened and infested with maggots and worms. The sounds of bugs twisting and crawling against moist rotted flesh filling the hot, wet air, cooking in the scorching heat of a Texan sun. The vultures long since had their way with it, the torn bits of matter ripped from ivory bone an indication of such. It tore down just as much as it built up, with the sun setting the moon rising, and then, peace.

Not even he could discern what festered up in that head of her’s, not even daddy, not even nobody, nobody at all.

And yet, he believes he does, and tries to anyways. Watching the gears twist and turn like clockwork, and her expression scrunch up in an endearing and bittersweet manner. Her brows tilted downward in some fervent way, a scowl, perhaps she’d seen something she disliked.

He wears his own look stern, as he studies her thoroughly from the driver’s seat of that old white pick up truck. Her gaze flickering too and fro, not sparing him so much as a glance. He liked that about her.

“Gotta lotta floozies, don’t it?”

“Easy targets, can’t do shit when they ain’t care so much as a penny.”

“Thought you liked a challenge?”

“Tch.” The scent of chewing tobacco is thick, as Johnny spits it out the window. The muffled sound of metal clinking as the truck shifts with his weight fills the cabin, which billows slightly, before the latch on the door snaps open and his boots hit the marsh below. With the slam of the door Becca stares at him, inquisitive, and curious. It’s only when he saunters around the front of the truck and opens her door that he looks to her, a stern apparition over his features as he lifts her from the seat — hands planted firmly on either side of her waist — as he places her upright above the ground. Their bodies shielded by the cold metal door he holds her there, a knowing look in those eyes. It’s the same notion that gives her butterflies and makes her heart work a little harder, throbbing with the faint nose of tobacco and stale cigarette smoke, one which she’d become enthralled with, addicted to. One might say she was smitten, and yet, her feminine fragility proved far stronger than that. Infatuated, but not without self respect. Stubbornness faired a good fight in her.

And still the strong burly grip he has on her waist is intoxicating, drawing her in slowly with lingering dominance and enticement. As with his hardened gaze, one which she meets with a bitter sentiment. Her hands can’t seem to find comfort, longing for the rough touch of his skin, settling for the top of his chest. Clad in the same black cotton he typically frequented.

“Now you listen here, this how it’s gonna go. You gon’ get in there and wait about five minutes for me to show up. I want yer’ eyes peeled, you watch me, I give you a sign and you head out and hide nice and quiet in that backseat. Ain’t so much as a peep outta you, watch and learn you got that? And so help me God if I see any of those snotty ass university boys so much as look your way, I’ll park yer ass in this truck so fast it’ll make yer head spin.”

“Thought I was ‘spost to be learnin’, the hell is sittin’’n lookin’ pretty gonna do?”

“Yer gonna have to trust me on that darlin’, ain’t much else to it.” He can’t tell, but by the looks of her soured face it seems he’d have a begrudging agreement.

“You aughtta learn, now we got an understandin’?”

“Obliged.”

“Right, so get on in there would ya’ and quit wastin’ time.”

“Johnny boy I swear I’ll turn you purple if you ain’t watch that tongue with me, quit it. I’m goin’ already.” The pop of her pink bubblegum punctuates her anger, only to be adorned with the ornery smacks of her muddied boots against the damp soil.

Loud and dark, with the old country music blaring so loud she can feel it gurgle her insides the deeper she goes into the place. The dance floor is lined with old whiskey barrels, rotten wood splintering off in jagged pieces and open drinks sitting atop them. The main bar is tucked away towards the back right of the interior, the main floor littered with half drunken sluts making some effort to dance in their daisy dukes and cropped lace tops. Most of them seem to be young, some just out of school and others a little older, and the men lurch out like vipers to sink their teeth into prey. They flounder about with their thumbs up their asses, twaddling to their chosen one with a deviant grin and pint of beer. Others watch from afar, taking it all in and eyeing the high rise of their shorts as they dance, either too ashamed to step foot beyond or attempting to hide the sinful nature that adorned their pants. The dazzling lights of the disco ball flash about the dim room, half the stickers missing from the damned thing. The place was just as ran through as the whores that inhabited it, and she had half a mind to march on out right then and there.

It made her face flush red and the tips of her ears burn, an unsightly appearance to her otherwise pristine features. How could he act so valiant, so stouthearted and worthy, then turn and frequent places like this. It made her sick, made her stomach go in knots and flutter so badly she felt queasy. How could a man so perfect stoop so low, and why did she care so much. It was all most as though her feelings were wounded, and she became offended by the situation entirely. But then again, it hadn’t meant anything. Anyone he’d pick up from this godforsaken place would be dead before the sun came up and the rooster did his morning wake. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling, the residual effects of his trashy taste in women and the eyesore this heinous place was. She was a superior woman than any of these girls were, she knew it too, and still it bothered her.

She sits tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the patrons, sat at the main bar towards that back corner, sipping a glass of Texan whiskey that burns soothingly down her throat. There’s a perfect view from there, one that allots her the ability to make out every single conversation, every casual hookup, every drunken confession, making the place even more difficult to stomach.

Then he walks in, looking like Lucifer when he fell down from heaven and into hell. Striding so faultlessly, as he quickly scouts the place and locks eyes with her. Staring with that starstruck glimmer for a moments time, before he swoops in on the red head drinking by her lonesome near the dance floor. She’s heavily drunk, spitting out non sense about her boyfriend just having broken up with her and losing her girlfriends to some halfwits in the washroom. And Johnny, he’s so smooth, suave and gentlemanly, calm and charismatic and even humorous. Charming surely, and all the while his eyes flick up at her — as if to ensure she’d been watching. His words are sweet and sticky like honey, yet filled with the falsified promises of love and devotion. How easily this girl fell, it made one begin to wonder.

Part of her felt the begrudging bond they shared was unique, special, and another felt obliged to stay true to her initial impression. A devil in disguise, perhaps she’d been just as foolish as these whores and she’d allowed her guard to lower too easily. But then again; the wretched and disgusting things they’d speak about were anything but commonplace. Still, she couldn’t help but feel some feeling of shame and betrayal, the way he so easily picked up women for sport. The feeling was ugly, dark and sinister. Powerful enough to move oceans and tear apart relationships, intense enough to change a person entirely; make them heinous and bitchy. Envy was such a petty thing.

And yet, as he locks eyes with her from that fair distance between them and bites that rough lower lip into a deviant smirk, and gestures his head to bend towards the exit, she obliges his wishes and slams her hands against the damp wood top of the bar, kicking her seat back and stomping out in some fervent fashion. Belligerent enough for his own displeased look to go unnoticed by her fiery persona.

The night would carry on with the pertinacious affair, Johnny domineering their small talk whilst he wowed her with his venomous southern tongue. She sounded like she was from someplace out west, in the valley, maybe. And she’d been all too drunk to comprehend even the faintest hint of what was to come her way. Not even her sweet tone could make up for the brooding makeup she wore or her blatant ditzy character. She was an all out bimbo, frivolous and jocose, the type that made men want to shoot themselves before the night was through, but she was just cute enough to sleep with.

For much of that ride Rebecca sat in back with disgust laced in her features, nestled fully under a blanket with her arms crossed snugly and lip bit. It wasn’t until they neared closer to home that Johnny showed any intent on harming the girl, and she could hear the situation turn violent when he’d bashed her head into something — presumably the dash — before he clicked his tongue and chuckled.

“You see how easy it comes, when they just hand themselves to you like that? Get ‘em to trust ya’, they let their guard down and the next thing you know you got yer self the perfect time to strike. Gives you time to tie ‘em up and get settled.”

Not a word enunciates from those pretty lips, instead taking refuge in the privacy her cover granted her. Resentful and contemptuous she garners the feeling she can handle this on her own, but her gut tells her otherwise, and so the emotion boils over and bludgeons out of her like a bull bucking out it’s cage.

“So you’se the type, huh? Like trashy girls like that, dogs, bitches?” The moonlight shines in through the windshield, enough to illuminate his silhouette through the blanket over her head. Then he removes it from her, turned partially towards the backseat with a less than gracious look.

“Keep runnin’ that mouth of yours, show me yer more trouble than you are worth my time then.” She shifts uncomfortably, sitting up from the floorboards and glaring at him like the devil.

“You tell me why you like these unbearable lil’ sluts, you thinkin’ I’m like them ain’t ya’, a harlot?”

“Jealous, then.”

“Try me.”

“You got some nerve pippin’ up like that darlin’, tch. Thought you’d understand by now givin’ yer up class nature. Why don’t you tell me what you noticed ‘bout this girl, ‘bout all the other girls at that damned bar back there, huh? Might learn a thing or two.”

“The lot of ‘em are no good lil’ hookers who ain’t know so much as a god damn cent of respect, playin’ and caterin’ to these men like idiots. And you, you eat ‘em up ain’t ya’? Love every bit of it.”

“The chase, sure.” Johnny only huffs. “Huntin’ ‘em is fun, it’s good when they get away, gets me all excited. That’s what you aught to learn, as for their acts, they’s real easy to manipulate. Men too, you gotta find the right ones. See what I’m teachin’ you? Balance, find the in between.”

She doesn’t say a word, but her expression softens a tad.

“If you think you’s like that you less smart than I thought, you’d be dead by now if I thought otherwise. And you still playin’ hard to get.”

He says what she already knows, the same things she’s repeated flagrantly in the back of her brain and yet it quells the hotness within her and quiets her thoughts of insecurities, the ones he’d brought up in the first place.

“What’s next?” Johnny only chuckles, shaking his head. He takes her change of tone as an token of her acknowledgement and gesticulates toward the redhead unconscious in the passenger’s seat. Her forehead is bruised something ugly, purple and brown as a trail of blood dribbles from the blow to her head.

“Tie ‘er up. We’ll be home real soon, baby.”

Something foreign, something strange, something rotting in her brain. Noise of cries and scent of blood, bed creaks fast to hammer studs. The girl screams in peril, and yet he remains stern; a dominant man swindled with bedsheets soiled. Her hands are bound by his own, his bare back arched over her, while he defiles her greedily and ruts into her. Then there’s something quiet watching from afar, a quick little stir as the moan seeps out in lawl.

Something about the way he fucks her so selfishly beckons her.

Watching through the creaked door of his shack, in the backyard of his mother’s house.

And just once, she had felt piqued by such an enticing act.

Now was much different.

Something wicked in her. Something demented.

Especially in the way he glides that knife of his against her chest again; watching the thick, pretty blood spill out as her wails of pain mix with his own grunts of pleasure. How might she feign innocence, with her fingers drooping down towards her sopping wet cunt. She can’t help it, she can’t. She’d never felt so aroused before. His bare skin ornamented in blood and a petty slut’s screams of helplessness billowing beneath him. He holds her down unphased, makes it look easy. She couldn’t do a thing to stop him.

And then, he turns to face her.

His eyes fiery like hell, and his grin something unnatural.

It’s a mere glimpse and she’s petrified. Had he seen her?

In floods the guilt, the disgust. A freight train steadfast to a feather, clouding her mind with shame and contempt.

With those fingers prodding at herself in eager anticipation of release.

She isn’t sure whether or not she should feel guilty, Rebecca. But the way in which he cocks his head back in delight enraptures her, tickles her insides, urges her to press on. Then it’s almost as though she regains consciousness, retracting the fingers from her undergarments, and now fueled by envy and guilt.

The cries of their victim grow more desperate, and Johnny licks the blood from his lips before chuckling slightly. His breath is caught in his throat and he buckles. Grunting and panting and eager for release.

She’d not yet understand just how wild it drove him, only that she was guilty for indulging in such sin. So much so it poisoned her mood, she’d been driven mad by the discourse she’d made. How could she be so senseless, so vile? Why, she was no better than them, girls. She loathes it, so much so she feels the need to repent, to make herself suffer and cleanse herself of such impurities. It nearly pushes her over, to where she’d collapse and thwart herself into an insufferable series of denial and self deprecation. How ugly of her.

It’s the anger that keeps her from it.

Only when the knife sinks into skin and the blood spatters him crimson does he find release, and she watches as he cuts into the girl eagerly. With each slash a spray of blood coating the stained walls, as he finishes into her with more punctuated moans. Then, a gurgle of fluid, asphyxiated by her own blood as it bubbles up in her throat. The steel blade stiff in the grain of her neck and the thick pools drawing out of her gushes. Her screams have since become quiet, and instead, Johnny’s gasps for air fill the void as he catches his breath.

A sensation she can only pivot as infectious and dangerous, one he pushes upon her with those lustrous acts of violence and carnage. There’s a lovesick notion to her baby blues, furious with watching him pull out of the corpse on his dirty couch and stand up straight. His bare body coated in sweat and blood, and his eyes looking to her as if to call her over. She’s helpless, a pawn in his little game who’ll fold to his bend and call. How is it, she thinks, how is it that he is so breathtakingly beautiful. And still he elicits the worst in her, as she stands there shaking with terror and rage. The type that always consumes her. How could he do such a thing? A cheater, a playboy, a boy just as much as Matthias. Tears trickle at the edges of her eyes, teetering over the lip. Her body trembles the same way it always did when she was angry or reckless, barely clinging to any form of sanity.

Rebecca struggles to form any sort of word, only grossed out by herself and him. If the furrowing of her brows and coarse stare is any sign of upset he doesn’t take it as such, only smirks that same way he always did.

“You no good piece of shit.” She barges through the door, blinded by her temper. “You’s didn’t tell me you fucked ‘em, you’s horrible, just as bad as any other no good pig.” She grapples him, pushing him backwards. Then points to him like one would scold a child. “I was a fool for ever trustin’ you, I hate you Johnny boy I hate you!” Her voice perpetually raises to a shrill cry, shaky as she chokes back her own vomit. The dreaded feeling regurgitating in the back of her throat. “I can’t even bring myself to look at you.”

“Oh darlin’ come on now,” Johnny can’t help but laugh, adding insult to injury. For her choler festers more violently. The feelings she thought were once dead arise again with a newfound glory; she wants his head on a stick. “Don’t tell me you’re still jealous?” He steps to her, stroking her cheek with his bloodied hand before she smacks it away.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Don’t sell ya’ self short now. That’s all they good for.”

“Don’t give me that crap, I’m fed up. You tell me one thing and make me think you’s some prim proper gentleman and you nothin’ but a cheap lil’ scoundrel. Just as no good as the others, I hate it!” She pushes him again.

“You women, always over reactin’.” Johnny sighs. “Sound like my mother now, why you still playin’ hard to get?” Again he approaches her, an attempt to bring her in for a kiss.

“I said don’t touch me!” She screams, slapping him across the face to which earns her a groan. Irascibility fuels the both of them, a bludgeon to each of their indignation. How she snaps, looking hellbent and ghastly and he the epitome of the devil.

“You aughtta listen to me ‘fore I take matters into my own hands.” He corners her, arms forming a cage when he backs her into the wall. An action that quells her outrage, so that the feelings of repugnance and abhorrence may return. She chokes back a sob, and the wretched acid that floods her mouth which she forced back down in disgust. “The fuck is your quarrel bitch, you call me some stupid shit again and you got another thing comin’.” A whisper.

It happens again, and again. The putrid abomination of a word vomit that cultivates itself into reality. She’s made herself sick with repentance, guilt. He does not a single thing to help, while she’s choking back vomit with a hand over her mouth. He watches cruelly, awaiting a response while her body wracks back and fourth with each gag. Only for her to pitifully swallow it back again. Then it stops. Her eyes muddied with old makeup as tears spew down her face.

“You . . .” She says quietly, and it’s then she thinks he enjoys seeing her like this, a pathetic abomination with nothing to show for it. As she writhes in pain and prods at the roots of her hair, her eyes wide and deranged and her head shaking vehemently. “I . . . You.” She swallows so loud it puts the buzzing of that overhead light to shame. “You told me they was sluts, pawns, that I was different. Yet you go and you have sex with ‘em and toss me aside like I’m your trash.”

“You still don’t get it.” He sighs, observes her shaking limbs and less than gracious state, and shakes his head. “That’s all they’s good for, you know that?”

“What the fuck do you want me to believe?”

“Whose still alive, and whose dead?” Johnny’s voice raises to a stern shout. “Theys sluts, whores, floozies, whatever you wanna call ‘em the whole lot of ‘em, and that’s all theys ever gonna be good for. Get it now, darlin’?” The last part is a stab, a passive aggressive attack on her personal reflection. “Drill that into your fuckin’ skull and get on with it. Quit pissin’ me off.” He leans in, and while a part of it clicks for her the stubbornness of her nature over takes the acceptance, and she punctuates her exit with a swift knee to his crotch. One that sends him stumbling back and groaning, looking to her in poignant disbelief.

“I ain’t a slut, don’t touch me.”

He’s still holding himself when she struts out, groaning out in pain and whining like a bitch.

“Try that again and see what happens, you lucky I like you’s!” No response. “You have yer’ ass back here the same time tomorrow, you hear me?” When there’s no reply he finds himself even more irate, throwing about the shack the old glass beer bottles and kicking into the cabinets with hacked off grunts.

Days go by, then weeks, and every night is some derivative of the same routine. They go out late and pick up some senseless little slut, Johnny woos her enough to take her home and the much of the same ensues. Sometimes he’d let Becca stay in the room with him while he fucked them, or let her cut into the bodies and take a portion of the kill, it became more frequent as time passed; he liked watching her do it all most as much as he enjoyed it. And Rebecca is so natural, so seamless in her execution, quick to pick up on the smaller things, and eventually she’s able to rope in some stupid men, too, begrudgingly to Johnny. Who’d never let her tease them too far before stepping in. Despite the bitterness though, he’s proud, excited even, and those weeks prove to be useful to her. Why, even their discourse had all but subsided, and she’d come around to him the way he’s liked her to all along.

She’d learned all but one thing, the thing Johnny always took care of.

She never knew what came of the corpses once they were done with, where Johnny hid or disposed of them. Whether or not he’d thrown them into the lake or buried them someplace out of the way. But she knew he did it damn well, for if it weren’t the blood that painted the rotting wood of his shack there wasn’t a trace of anything at all. Just an unassuming shed in the middle of bumfuck Texas.

Yet within that time was her perpetual inner conflict, one which picked at her each and every time she slipped those fingers into her drawers as she watched him senselessly fuck whore after whore. She learned to understand what Johnny did and why, so much so it was invigorating to her sexual gratification. The one which she all but embraced, but denied with great obstinance. Of everything it was the single most gruesome thing she could not accept; why she enjoyed seeing it so much. The self hatred that fleeted her head each and every time she enjoyed it would pick at her like fleas to rats. She still wasn’t sure if he’d ever realized, but as the weeks went by the antipathy only grew.

She’d painted herself a depiction of some shameless harlot, and couldn’t bare to stand the idea she’d become just as wretched as the girls he adulted with. Some nights she’d cry and scream and tear her hair out, work herself up so much she’d become sick and vomit face first into the toilet. Other times she became numb and would stare blankly into oblivion, nullifying her pathetic existence under the guise of being a no good woman undeserving of his praise. For the first time ever Rebecca found herself entirely horrified by the shell she made herself to be, insecure, and without an ounce of dignity. The repulsion she exudes only made things worse, as she tried uselessly to control herself and the urges, which overtook time and time again, only to send her fumbling back down the rabbit hole which she tried so desperately to climb out of.

There came a time, later, in which a fork in the road permeated itself before her. Progress, call it an epiphany. For that had been the sudden realization of her existence. She felt for the first time in some time some sensibility, a ground to stand on. Her self righteousness and worth still in tact. Yet still, it loomed over her like a storm cloud the Great Plains of Oklahoma. A familiar feeling would make itself known through this, the return of her lost sanctities, no control. Johnny had always stolen that from her, this was no exception. She craved it so much, to withstand herself, her thoughts, her feelings, she could never let go. It would drive her mad trying to do so, so many countless breakthroughs in her perfect little facade.

But why did she take pleasure in it so damn much.

This was the hunch that kept her moving forward with such grace, for what she knew it to be was a secret and nothing more. She’d hide it, for as far as he knew she was the same prim and proper woman he’d taken in. Her struggles were her own to bare, and the sacrifice of her control was one she would live with for the sake of being with him, a real man. That is, until she would pull his strings like she knew she could. And he knew too.

Sometime later, between the late nights with Johnny and the early mornings with her father feeding the cattle, there had been a change in her. Subtle and sweet, a benign switch in which her attention diverted and she found herself day dreaming in a senseless manner out in the hot sun each day. Smiling sweetly at her Johnny as he comes up on the pavement toward the front of the house. And her daddy, fixing on asking her just what the hell had changed between them.

That day she’d been cleaning the house, with plans set on seeing her Johnny that evening and heading out again to go hunting. Her father, half dazed by the days work and covered in mud and dirt clamors in from the foyer, leant up against the frame as he fiddles with the dirt stuck in his nails.

“You look real nice.” His low voice rumbles, as she places the roast atop the oven mats on the table. “Time’s he comin’ along?”

There’s a gentle hum in her cantor, as she seamlessly sets the table and minds her own.

“Any minute now I’d reckon, Johnny boy’s joinin’ us for supper, don’t you remember daddy?”

“Ah,” he glances up. “Y’all been gettin’ along nicely. Seems you’s both . . . close.”

“Yes well, he’s good to me.”

“Wasn’t always that way it seemed. In fact, there was a time you swore it was quite the opposite. Gotta imagine my concern when that’s changed all of the sudden.”

“Ain’t you like Johnny? I thought you’d be happy. ‘Sides, it ain’t, somethin’.”

“Rebecca.” He warns. “He’s a fine young man, and I think he’d do you alotta good, but I’d be lyin’ if I said I ain’t notice a change in you. You seem, well, different. Distracted, I reckon.”

“Why’s that daddy,” she only chuckles.

“Well girl, I’m gon’ tell you summin’ you might not like, but you listen and you listen well here to me. Seems you’ve caught on too quick. You go ‘bout the days without so much as payin’ any mind to this old man of ya’s, and seems that boy of your’s is askin’ to take you out every night. I know you like ‘em, but no matter how grown you’s is you still my lil’ girl. And now, I see that gleam in those eyes like you know summin’ I don’t, and I know damn well you real fond of that young man. But don’t forget where you’s come from, don’t be wait in’ to see ‘em all day, live in the moment.”

Becca’s back turned, a gentle grasp shys from the dish she’s holding.

“Love’s a funny thing ain’t it. Ain’t you tell me I knows when I got the one? Been tellin’ me that an awful long time there, since I was a girl I reckon. Now just ‘cause I ain’t waitin’ on you no more don’t mean I don’t care ‘bout ya’, just means it’s gettin’ time for me to flee the nest. Wouldn’t you say, daddy?”

“Rebecca Payne, you aught to understand i ain’t say things without no reason.” Her words frighten him, and that feeling of familiarity regarding her unstable tendencies pigeons in his gut. “I believe you, I just say be careful. Don’t go ‘n end up like your momma and I-”

“Whatchu just say ‘bout momma?” She’s gripped the glass rim of each side of the dish, planted square on the dining table which he sits. As her eyes make death threats to him and she scowls in bitterness. Hate clouds her vision, a fuzzy memory of what’s buried in the past. Feelings of discourse and guilt, animosity, all chalked up to the horrors in her head. She’d shake fervently, losing control of her body as she trembles violently. That moment she could only see red, crimson. The thick liquid that which made up all things. Pictures of her bloodied limbs sprawl out over her vision, a mad woman, painted in the blood of her friends and foes, as she take the knife to daddy’s skin. And as she makes her face scarlet in sanguine detail, the room falls.

There’s a knock at the door.

“There you are dear, daddy’s at the table. Have a seat ‘n I’ll fix you a plate.” Her sing-songy chime keeps at bay the turmoil within, as she invites Johnny in with a sweet smile.

His cold gaze lurks behind a smile, as it softens when it meets the beauty of her stature. He watches her there, her painted up face and pretty eyes. Lips shining red, a color which he most found flattering to her. Her hair was neatly curled and styled to suit the form fitting dress she’d opted for the evening, a pretty pink number which he’d half a mind to tear off — if it weren’t for her proclaimed aversion to such a sin. His arm takes her waist and the other her hand, to press the soft palm to his chapped lips in a hungry kiss. Eyes unmoving from hers, even as he bites into her skin there.

“Lovely as always.” Heavy boots step into the kitchen and her pearlescent heels follow with quick clicks. Johnny takes the seat beside her father, shaking hands to adhere to formality and greeting him with a most kind look. “Good to see you sir, gotten round to any game lately?”

“Well now as a matter of fact I’ve got some wild hog dryin’ out out back, caught ‘em just yesterday. One shot straight through the damned thing’s head.”

“Always preferred tradition myself, grandpa got me this ol’ huntin’ knife way back when. Use it for most of my kills, they die better that way. You ain’t want none of that gunpowder in ya’ meat.”

Their conversation was much of the same, about hunting wild animals and the work out in the fields. Before too long Rebecca had placed a plate full of pot roast, mashed potatoes, sugared carrots, and a piece of cornbread in front of Johnny with a smile. Then, with a kind hand pressed over his shoulder reached to place the glass of sweet tea in front of him too. She makes a point to kiss his cheek, patting the spot on his shoulder before stepping away to make her father a plate.

“Here ya’ are, eat while it’s hot.”

Disbelief perhaps, or sheer astonishment, written in the wrinkled features of her father’s impression makes itself clear as day to both Johnny and Rebecca, as she carries on without care, and Johnny chooses to await Raymond before indulging.

She had never served another before him, not even once. And there they stood, indifferent. As if the entire world had changed through the one subliminal action.

Supper was long and drawn out, like a days work in summer heat. Yet as they concluded their festivities and Raymond gave a begrudging goodbye to his winsome daughter, she and Johnny had made it out to Cedar Canyon at some back house bar with somber music and people to match. It was a quiet evening in a small cramped building that smelt of wet earth. They’d been there before; one of the rotations Johnny took her on when searching for prizes. It was always peaceful there, relaxing even. The hustle and bustle of both Pfluegerville and Uvalde paled in comparison. On these nights, the chase was much more leisurely and pleasurable. No pressure and no eyes prying, all most as though they’d found their natural element. It reminded her more and more of Oklahoma.

There in that dirt parking lot did Johnny grasp her hand, only to pull her into him with a grin that lacked the playful and malignant criteria his signature had. His eyes still stern as he watched her, palms now planted on either side of her head.

“Hey.”

“I know my way baby, don’t you worry. Gettin’ the hang of this now.”

“I have summin’, would ya’ turn ya’ self around so I could put it on ya’?” The statement seemed to have stunned her, as her delicate fingers float and her arms feather down to her sides. Her face, so prettily in awe beckons him, like a siren to man. So she twirls quaintly to face away from him, fingers grasping onto one another in anticipation.

She’s unsure what to make of his sudden change in tone, the affectionate gesture which had her heart throbbing in her chest. It was different than his regular demeanor, but she enjoyed just as much his sweeter side. And how it made her mind soar, like nothing she’d ever felt before.

“Now don’t go gettin’ a big head, s’just summin’ I found off one of them bodies, thought it’d look real nice on ya’.” He pulls out the fine silver chain from his tattered jean pocket, rubbing the damn thing until it fell straight and the slightly tarnished silver locker dangled from it. “Here, hold that hair.” As a careful grasp clasps her hair up his rough touch grazes the tender skin of her neck, looping the chain around it and hooking the eye in the back.

The cold touch of metal falls onto her skin, all most burning, and as she frees her hair from the confines of her palms Johnny cannot help but to stare. Perhaps he’d never realized what a pretty neck she had, and a part of him wondered what it might feel like to strangle it. Feel skin gripping flesh and the air vacate her lungs as he watches the life drain from her cerulean eyes. Instead however, he spins her around to relish in the fruits of his labor; the prized necklace sealed round that neck, a means of claiming it as his own. And she, so enthralled, takes the heart shaped locket between her fingertips with an unbeknownst smile, examining it thorough before she looks up to him.

Of course she’s different, his trophy wife in some ways, well not yet, but certainly what she’d become. It didn’t stop those thoughts though, the ones that plagued his brain each time he looked to someone. Even his mother, whom he loved, was no exception to his beastly thoughts.

“It’s beautiful Johnny, which ones it off?” The yellow spot on the lockets middle crumbs beneath her fingertips, sprawling outwards toward the edge of the thing where she could pop it open. She hesitates though, as there’s a somber change to his appearance, one she’d never seen before. She wasn’t sure of it, but it looked she’d prodded at some wound of his.

It takes him some time before he chirps up, a calm and casual tone.

“It ain’t from ours.” He says plainly. “This one’s different, been savin’ it.”

There’s a pretty engraving around it’s outer edges, a thin brocade design blackened with decades old dirt and grime. The bail is also browned, coated in the tarnish it had endured for so long. Then there was the bits of dried blood too, something you would only see so close. The thing looked as though it sat in a drawer for years, a little elbow grease would have it looking pristine and new.

“But you said-”

“Dammit woman I know what I said,” Johnny huffs. “It’s an old one I’d been saving, thought it’ll look real nice on you’s.”

“Well,” she indulges, stepping back and lifting her head upwards to show off that neck of hers. “How do I look then?”

“Beautiful.” That feeling came back to him like hell in a hand basket, the same one where he could hardly handle the instincts cemented within him. A part of him longed to shower her in such frivolous matters, taking to her the finest jewelry and clothes money could buy, letting her exude the lifestyle she looked the part of. He thought about it, how to treat her right. But he couldn’t understand, and maybe he never would. For as much as he wanted something like that he’d never be able to wrap his head around it, how to express such an odd feeling; one he lacked control over. Another reason he resented it so much, and still, he sat with the uncomfortability.

The other part of him wondered if what she’d look like in the cold room. Some sick and twisted side, yet he found she’d be no use for him there. Without her he’d end up lonely all over again. And something about her likeness made him feel something, other than sanguine hunger and bloodlust.

She was the only woman he’d always told the truth, from the very start.

“Oh Rebecca Payne, you sure do drive me wild.” He softens, a tense shell now keen on her beauty. The feeling subsides, not before he’s got a hand on her waist pulling her close, and the other caressing the skin of her neck. Skin gripping flesh, her hands take solace at his chest, then his neck, then the nape where his hair meets his head.

Chapped lips against cherry lip balm, soft and sugary like the pie she’d baked all that time ago. The metallic taste of blood is just faint when she bites his lip, for her turbulent nature always did rival his own. As the pads of his fingers grip into her neck his hold travels upward, pulling at her cheek and into her silky tresses. He can feel the way her hands tug at his scalp, and the way she so desperately kisses him, biting away as though it had been a millennium since they’d last met like this. Something in the way she lets his hands grip her body or his tongue slide into her mouth, or even the way she breathes out so tantalizingly against his own that has his world spinning.

“I’ll say, lookit what we gots here.”

“Well I’ll be, wearin’ a dress like that bound to get you’s into trouble. Say, how much for that there girl you’s got? She a real prize.”

First he stirs, then she follows. His head and gaze low at her, and Becca can see the anger beckon him. A fury and rage akin to no other, like the devil himself had come to reap. The darkness washes over him like it always did, tearing at the seams where his demons fought tooth and nail to climb out. And there he was, opening the gates. A scowl accompanied with that swollen lip of his rises, when he lifts his head from her height to overhead to watch two drunkards heckle like fools.

She quips her head around real quick, all most as angry as Johnny if it weren’t for his need for such inhumane territory.

The two are drunkards, half falling over the other as they hiccup on their own words. They reek of beer and sweat, still wearing the overalls from the days work that had been covered in dirt and whatever else. Their dress did little to hide the gut on each of them, grossly sticking out and firm and just plain ugly. The one on the left stood back a little, still choking on the last of his bottle before he tossed it to the ground. The mullet on his head is half balding. The one on the right does most of the talking it seems, and he’s bigger, like he’s got muscle beneath that pudge of his. He hides his round face behind the brim of his hat, nodding over to each of them and clicking as if she were a bitch.

“Well? Answer me boy, I’ll pay ya’ top coin for a pretty one like that.”

Upset stirs in her, arms falling at her sides and hands fisted. The polished nails dig into her skin and her eyes flash crazy to a Johnny as if to say ‘you gon’ do summin’ ‘bout that?’

Without a word he maneuvers her aside, gaze dead on the man attempting to negotiate. His rage is silent and seething, as he strides over to the primary subject of his vexation and sends a fist to the man’s nose. There’s a heinous crack! as the man cries and clasps at his nose, not before Johnny sends a knee into his pelvis. Again he whines out, broken by the vomit that disgustingly ruts out his mouth and to the floor. He topples over and Johnny wastes no time kicking into him, spitting over his face.

“The hell you say to me?”

It all had happened so quickly, and in an instant his friend approaches Johnny in an attempt of defense, striking dead on his jaw. It’s with a groan Johnny sends fists back, and Rebecca wastes no time in digging through the truck bed and fetching the old rusted wrench from it.

In that time the man on the ground had gotten up and, while Johnny preoccupied himself in fighting the other this one had decided to get the one up on Johnny.

She could laugh at their stupidity, how they left her all alone leaving her such a clear opportunity to enact revenge. Or she could take offense, for that meant they saw her to be a non issue. In typical fashion she takes the ladder, which only worsens her anger. She wondered if Johnny’d kill her for striking them with the axe then and there, or if he’d have her head for trying to slaughter them out in the open. Well, she hadn’t observed anyone there. Inside the bar was primarily vacant.

As fury agonizes within and her thoughts stir the idea becomes increasingly palpable. That with the pig behavior of these idiots and their lack of proper judgement about women, she was sure she aight to teach them a lesson once Johnny got through them first. There’s a yearning for hate and destruction in her, the kind where she let loose and enact a crime so vicious and malignant they’d never warrant such atrocities again. It’s a blood boiling affair that has her head dizzy with contempt and bloodlust, prodding at her consciousness as she sway towards the fantasy. Killing them had to be the answer, the utmost form of vengeance and satisfaction. Yet unlike before, she practices restraint as she watches Johnny beat the life out of the one, coloring himself red with blood splatter. The world seems to stop then, and a feeling she came to know as instinct flutters in the pit of her stomach. How undoubtedly breathtaking he was. A stalwart apparition of what she desired most; it all most distracts her from what’s at stake.

It’s in one quick movement and a brute grunt that she swings the wrench upside the back of the man’s head, striking a flesh wound into his skull that caved inwards. Bits and pieces of matter dangle from the wrench, as blood flies to coat her pink wardrobe.

Well, shit.

She hadn’t meant to injure him so badly, more than she did just to knock him out. If his unconscious body is any indication of such she’s quite pleased with her work, huffing and puffing over his body while she throws the wrench down. The scowl written in her features grows darker, and the fire in her eyes ignites.

“God damn you half wits, ruinin’ date night!” She calls out, stepping over the body to waltz over to Johnny and the man he so graciously was kicking the shit out of. A pause in her cantor and she feels overwhelmed by the joy it exudes, such a chivalrous and passionate display of emotion and adoration. It makes her feel hot, the guise in such a sweet action eliciting a feeling she cannot control within the physiological workings of her mind. It was the notion that it had been over her, a protectiveness she feigned over.

“Quick darlin’, grab some rope and let’s get ‘em in the truck, ‘fore we find ourselves in a whole heap of trouble.”

“They didn’t think I’d do no harm,” reluctantly she obliges, fetching the spares they’d keep in the truck bed. “Thought I wasn’t no threat.” She tosses some to him, then makes quick work with the other restraining his limbs and stuffing his mouth with the ends of the ropes. “Johnny boy you hear me?”

He doesn’t say anything in response, perhaps a signal of his own anger and self discipline. He only moves to hurl them over his shoulder one by one, tossing each of them in the back then covering it up in the tattered bits of burlap before opening the passenger door.

“Get in the truck.”

—

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭! - 𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

@yixxes @bdudette @nerdykat101 @kaymarnun @casually-in-love-with-madari

—

The brutal attack last night on two cotton farmers has Cedar Canyon residents left concerned with the safety of their community. Reports say the attack on brothers Aaron and Bryan Wickett happened just outside a local bar, where an unidentified man and woman were seen quote, “beating the daylights out of them.” Witnesses say the suspects wore nice clothes and looked quote “nothing out of the ordinary.” The man’s description is congruent with the violent attack on three college students in Pfluegerville just less than a year ago, however authorities say the two crimes are not connected. The unidentified woman is believed to be in her early twenties, has blonde hair and blue eyes, and exudes unusually brute strength. As of now, the whereabouts of all parties involved are unknown, and authorities are urging anyone with information to please come forward. More on this story as it develops.

[thatweirdbitchjax]

Can we give Bubba a little kith?

Absolutely! This man needs more love istg.

Break Time Kisses

Bubba barely gets breaks as most of the house work is pushed on him, however when he gets the time to take a break, he spends it with you.

Reader and Bubba sat in the basement, the coolest place to be in the sweltering heat of Texas. Bubba was stood in front of Reader while they sat on the edge of a counter. Bubba had his de-masked face shoved into their neck, hugging them tightly around the waist. Reader softly played with his hair, twisting it around their fingers and detangling it. Reader stopped all of a sudden, moving their hands from his hair to the sides of his face. Bubba tilted his head softly, letting out squeals as he looked into Reader's soft eyes, filled with nothing but love. Suddenly, Reader leaned in and pecked Bubba's cheek before moving over to kiss the other cheek, then one on his for head, and finally their lips landed on his with a sweet and small kiss. Bubba squealed happily, rubbing his nose against theirs as a small Eskimo kiss. As Reader giggled, they immidiatly began peppering Bubba's face with many kisses. All in different places, but all just as love filled as the last.

Bubba loves days like this. Bubba loves when you kissed him. Bubba loves when you show him you're not afraid of him. Bubba loves spending time with you. Bubba just loves you, and everything to do with you. No matter how big or small you are, no matter what color your skin is, he loves you.

So yeah, I think Bubba likes kisses y'all.

Tag list: @zeroisreallygood @th3-r4t-48 @puppet200

[villainology]

i feel like a kid running around with their drawing to show everyone else in the room bc i've already told like 2 other blogs about this scenario i had while i was trying to sleep but can you IMAGINE being a family friend of the sawyers? maybe your grandparents knew theirs before times were tough and cannibalism became their means of survival, and your family's died off and left you the little farmhouse and patch of land a few miles outside of the sawyers' boundaries. drayton's clarified you're off-limits (through some honorary family-friend ideals, or as not to upset grandpa 'cause your folks were always kind to them) and you're none the wiser to their true savagery they get up to (you can hear a scream once or twice, when you drive your dad's old beat up truck near their land sometimes, but you always think they've got really rowdy and funny sounding goats). but you've inherited your family's farmhouse and poor little you just doesn't know anything about farming and fixing up the house! no matter how hard you try, nothing grows, so one uneventful day you drop off some seeds as a gift for drayton since, well, they're not getting any use with you, and you mention a problem that needs fixing. maybe it's a rusty shed door you can't get open, or a busted roof. either way, drayton's always liked to keep up apparances and you haven't had a chance to meet the new additions of the family, so drayton sends johnny back with you (after giving him thorough lecturing about how no, you are NOT a potential victim, you're just a little oblivious, and plus johnny's the most... convincingly normal one out of all of them, arguably) to fix something up for you as thanks for the seeds. so now there's a sweaty, attractive, pretty charming (and maybe a little subtly condescending) guy fixing up something because you hadn't the slightest clue how to fix it, so you might as well make him some lemonade or tea and thank him! and, well, johnny might think you're amusing. pretty sweet, pretty cute, pretty *airheaded*. drayton said you were off-limits for anything violent, of course, but that didn't mean he couldn't test any other limits, right?

aaaah~ no bc wait I think you’re onto something here!! you got me thinking so many filthy thots rn, so I made a lil drabble, hope that’s okay w you? 😭❤️ sjdbdjdndnfnf I hope it’s written okay, I wrote this half asleep in bed but I couldn’t stop thinking abt it!

warnings — slight dub-con, light smut, Johnny being Johnny!

“Here you go, Mr Johnny,” you smiled up the ladder toward him as you walked out with two glasses of lemonade in hand, “where’d ya want it?”

“Just set it down on the table there.” His voice was stern, a tad hint of annoyance laced into it, not that you noticed.

Johnny stood at the top of the ladder, nail in mouth as he hammered another into roof of your porch, closing off the gap which would hopefully stop the rattling noise anytime there was a gust of wind. He slipped the hammer and last few nails into his work belt before looking down at you stood below him, so innocently sipping through the curly straw in your lemonade glass.

The Texan heat wasn’t good for much, but the way it made a light coat of sweat glisten on your body as the sun began to set was enough to make him appreciate the summer weather. Your denim shorts just a little too high up and your white vest top just a little too low, but from where he was stood he got to have the perfect angle down your shirt, and you were none the wiser.

Johnny carefully came down the ladder before picking his glass up off the table, his eyes never once leaving your body. He couldn’t help but chuckle to himself, you really were oblivious, so innocent and air-headed that he wondered how you survived off by yourself all these years before coming back to the farmlands.

The way Drayton sent him out here with you alone, like sending a lamb off to the slaughter — an adorable, pretty little lamb making lemonade for a starving lion. Johnny wondered to himself what you’d think if you found out what they were really like, just how savage and dangerous they were, would you run scared from him, give him chase to hunt you down on acres of land?

“Sorry about you having to come out here, I’ve clearly got a lot to learn about all this type of stuff, huh?” You laughed as you gestured toward the house and the land surrounding it.

Johnny was snapped from his thoughts, a fake little smile crossing his face as he nodded, “don’t sweat it, darlin’, friends helping out friends, ain’t that right?”

He knew that Drayton said you weren’t to be a victim, that you weren’t some prey to be chased and hunted down, butchered just for the hell of it, but what about anything else? After all, this was Drayton’s way of saying thanks to you, but what did Johnny get out of this? Where was his thank you for fixing up your roof free of charge? If you weren’t going to be Johnny’s victim then he’d sure as hell find away for you to give him thanks.

“Say,” he placed his half empty glass down on the table beside him, “you moved back up here all alone, not got a boyfriend following you here?”

“Oh, heh, no. Haven’t had one of those in a long while, Mr Johnny.”

“Huh, well that’s just peachy, darlin’.”

He walked from the table and closer to you, his hand stroking up and down your arm as he worked his way behind you, his warm body pressing up against yours as he leaned down to your ear, “how about a thank you for all my hard work, hm?”

His hand snaked its way around your waist and played with the button of your shorts, his lips grazing across the delicate skin of your neck, gently kisses to distract you from what his hands were doing. Truth be told you didn’t want him to stop, and he could tell. The way you let him unbutton your pants without a fight, his fingers working their way between your legs and tracing a line back and forth against your clothed cunt.

“Mr Johnny, I don’t think—”

“That’s alright, baby, you don’t gotta think,” his free hand wrapped around your throat, tilting your head to the side so he could more easily bite and suck at your skin, “just gotta do whatever I tell you to do.”

After all, Drayton said you couldn’t be slaughtered like he did the others, but he didn’t say anything about Johnny not being able to fuck you til’ you couldn’t walk no more.

[soupbabe]

I just want Nubbins to coo at me and call me his pretty boy it'd be so fricking cute omg! Could I request that?

Get a Room (Nubbins Sawyer x Male! Reader)

Nubbins loves his boyfriend

This is a v v short drabble, but I still think this is pretty cute! I hope this is alright ♡

Nubbins clinged onto your arm, smiling wide and doe eyed. "You-you're real handsome, y'know that right?" He laid a swift kiss onto your cheek. "My pretty boy~" he cooed. You chuckle and rest your arm on the table, your hand laying on your warm cheeks. "You're not too bad looking yourself, honey." Your boyfriend burst into a fit of giggles, his face unashamedly pink. "God I love ya!" He leans over a steals another kiss, this time on your lips.

You felt him lean closer to you, pushing deeper into the kiss before a groan cut him off. "Can you two quit it?" Drayton glared from across the dinner table. "Some of us are trying to eat here, I don't need to be seeing all of," he gestured to Nubbins's arms around you, ",,,that. Even Bubba doesn't want to see it." You both glanced at Bubba, to which he chose to just stare at the floor. Your face grew hotter than before, "Sorry..." Dayton grumbled, "Just eat before my food gets cold.."

[adalwolfgang]

May I ask for headcannons of slashers (mostly Norman, Lester, and Nubbins) with a S/O who has a stutter?

Slashers with a s/o who stutters

Warnings: none I could really spot except fluff?

Credit to @cafekitsune for the banner(s)

Norman Bates 7/10

He won’t judge you for it. Mainly he judges himself, assuming you can’t talk comfortably around him but that’s why communication is a good thing when it a relationship right? Just remind him that it’s not exactly his fault and that you overall cannot help but to stutter or scramble your speech.

Lester Sinclair 8.7/10

He’ll tease you a lil’ bit but not a whole lot, especially if it makes you uncomfortable or you just don’t like his teasing. In some moments he might get frustrated when he can’t understand you and what you’re trying to say, but it’s the same with with his gibberish. If he ever does (rarely) snap at you, he quickly apologizes. He might even try and help you stutter less if possible.

Nubbins Sawyer 6.7/10

Again like the others, he doesn’t really care. Hell, sometimes he stutters too! Only thing “worse” about him is his teasing. Unlike Lester, his teasing won’t stop. He’ll tease the hell out of you for it. If you bark back, teasing about his stutter, he’ll just laugh along with you. (Internally he is embarrassed)