#tcm x reader
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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.
#slasher x reader#thomas hewitt x reader#Thomas Hewitt x fem reader#fem reader#slasher smut#MDNI#thomas hewitt smut#leatherface x reader#leatherface smut#leatherface x fem reader#slasher community#slasher fandom#slasher fanfiction#thomas hewitt#tcm the beginning#tcm#texas chainsaw#texas chainsaw massacre#tcm x reader#my writing
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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.
#✎ᝰ : delilah writes the texas chain saw massacre#this is just a silly little headcanon but I wanted something posted while I’m writing my fic!#johnny slaughter#johnny tcm#johnny slaughter x reader#tcm the game#texas chainsaw massacre#tcm x reader#texas chainsaw massacre the game#slasher x reader#banner by : cafekitsune
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serving body realness (screenshots from friends on discord😛)
#GUYS I NEED REQUESTS SPECIFICALLY ABOUT HIS STOMACH#johnny slaughter#texas chainsaw game#the texas chainsaw massacre#johnny slaughter x reader#johnny slaughter x you#johnny slaughter x male reader#x reader#tcm x reader#x male reader
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀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.
#ꕤ 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘶𝘮 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘴 ⌨️#tcm#johnny slaughter x female reader#johnny slaughter x reader#tcm the game#johnny slaughter#tcm x reader#texas chainsaw game#texas chainsaw massacre
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🩸 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…
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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?
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#johnny tcm#tcm#johnny x reader#johnny slaughter#johnny slaughter x reader#tcm x reader#leland tcm#tcm game#johnny sawyer#johnny sawyer x reader#fanfic#x reader#julie tcm#ana tcm
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Hi! Could I request a Thomas Hewitt x male reader???
Back when Thomas was 13-14 he was buying popsicles (Because like, Texas is hot as hell in the summer months..) once he walks out of the store, he hears something like an angel singing. He follows the noise and sees a theatre production of something, and the most BEAUTIFUL boy his age is singing, Thomas grows a big fat crush on him, then maybe they meet years later?
Seeing Him Again (Thomas Hewitt x Male! Reader)
Thomas meets a familiar stranger.
THIS WAS SO CUTE 🥺 This might be a tad bit off script, but I think it fits the request still.
Tagging: @slaasherslut
The hot Texas sun glared down at Thomas as he walked along the deserted road, his energy drained from his shift at the slaughterhouse. He walked at a slow pace, savoring the silence he had before he had to go back home. Though it wasn't long before a car blasting music interrupted his peaceful walk.
He stood in his spot, silently observing the car driving up to him. Soon enough, the car parked right beside him and he saw the driver lean over to roll down the passenger side window. "Hey, uh- need a ride?" The man yelled, his volume fighting with the noise from his radio. Thomas tilted his head, analyzing the vaguely familiar features of the stranger. The man turned down the music, "I just didn't think you'd want to be walking out in this kind of weather- I don't mean to bother ya." He clarified. He was about roll the window back up before Thomas drew closer and opened the door.
The driver smiled as the bigger man made himself comfortable, "Where ya heading?" Thomas stayed still upon getting a closer look at the man. Everything about him felt so familiar, but recognition was just out of reach. "Not much of a talker?" He asked and Thomas nodded. "How bout you just point to where we're going, does that sound good?" Once again, Thomas shook his head and pointed straight ahead.
It wasn't long before Tommy heard the volume on the radio increase. "Do you mind? I like this song." The driver asked, to which the he shrugged in response. The stranger smiled and began humming along to the upbeat song, to which evolved into a quiet, mumbled singing. The man's voice was music to Thomas's ears and was the key to unlocking who his chauffeur was.
That deep, melodic, voice was unmistakable.
It brought him back to the days where he'd hide behind trees just to listen to a boy his age recite the catchy jingle of his favorite ice cream brand. It reminded him of all the times he lied to Hoyt just so he can come see him practice right in front of him. He'd make him feel so special by calling them "private concerts." He even remembered the boy bringing him into an embrace because he told him that he'd have to move away.
Thomas used to fantasize about meeting you again, being held by you once more. But now that it's happening, he wanted to kick himself for not realizing sooner.
Quickly, Thomas rummaged through his apron to find a crumpled up piece of paper and pencil that's seen better days. His frantic movements caused the car to stop and for it's owner to look at him in concern. "Everything alright? What's going on?" He asked. Thomas was busy scribbling down on the back of the paper before handing it off to you. "Y/n?" He wrote.
He heard playful laughter coming from the man. "I knew it was you, Tommy. Been waiting for you to finally notice."
#Thomas Hewitt#thomas hewitt x reader#the texas chainsaw massacre x reader#the texas chainsaw massacre 2003#tcm x reader#tcm#leatherface x reader#Leatherface#slasher x male reader#slasher x reader#slashers x reader#horror x reader
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If you could, could you write a little drabble or fic of a yandere nubbins chasing his darling who's trying to escape?
🥀Run, run, run piggy!🥀
!warnings!: yandere trope, violence, murder, spoilers for tcm 1974, cannibalism mentioned, violence and injuries towards reader, sadism, failed escape attempt
Yanderes are OK to enjoy in fiction. They should stay fiction. They are not example of healthy relationships. These behaviors are NOT okay in real life. This is for entertainment purposes
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The hot dry air of the texas summer was suffocating as you ran. The sun's golden morning rays breaking over the vast fields of sunflowers. It would have been such a pretty sight. Oh how it could have been such a pretty sight to enjoy with your friends. Shame you'd never get that opportunity now. Your lungs burned, your head pounded, your cuts stung as you hobbled along. You weren't even that far away from the house yet, in fact, you were still close enough to where you could hear the sound of clamoring footsteps on the porch behind you.
You don't know why, but you turned your head a brief moment to see. Even when you knew who it was. You don't even haft to look for more than two seconds to recognize the lanky, greasy, feral thing of a man chasing you. Your body answers your plea of flight to the best of its ability. Pushing past the pain and hobbling just a bit faster. You can hear his voice crystal clear stammering behind you.
"H- hey! W- where do you think yer gettin t-to?"
He wasn't far behind. You can hear his footsteps quickly catching up to yours. You had learned early on, during your first few attemps of escape, that he was quick. Nimble too. Any crawl space you could squeeze yourself through, he could damn well weasel his way into too. A never ending game of hunter and prey.
You can hear his stiffled giggles and squeals of excitement even over the thunderous sound of footfall. You had pushed your luck hadn't you? So desperate for escape. So desperate to be free of the stench of rotting meat, decaying bodies, dirt, grime, blood, all of it. Foul. A home built on people's bones and skin. Never able to return to their own. Nothing more than pigs lead to slaughter.
It didn't help that they even tasted like pork too. The taste had flooded your mouth when he forced you to eat the disgusting meals his brother had prepared. Shoving the vile concoctions down your throat. One night head cheese. The next chili. The next steak. Not a single bit of animal meat present. God. Why couldn't they have just killed you too. Why couldn't you have just been turned into a stew like the rest.
Instead you have to suffer a monsters sick delusion of what he thought love was. It wasn't of course, it never would be. It was torture. Of wich you were quickly reminded of as his blade made contact with your back. Tearing through your shirt and at your skin with ease. You cry out in pain, the only sound you could muster anymore. He had gained on you so quickly, and you were only growing slower.
One, two, three, more painful cuts land on your back as he makes animalistic noises of excitement. His hands feverishly grabbing at your shirt, desperate to snacth you up once more. You're barely able to put up a fight as you desperately try to pull and writhe away with what little strength you have left.
"I gotchu! I gotchu, I gotchu, I...gocthu!"
Pure glee taints his voice. He knows he's won. You do too. Even then you still flail and struggle as he wrangles you to the ground, up until you can taste the dirt road beneath you as your face is smushed against the ground. You can can feel him shift above you, quickly followed by a sweeping pain in your legs. A familiar burning feeling as he relentlessly slashes at them. It feels like forever before he finally stops with a shakey laugh.
"T- there! You can't g- get nowhere if your legs don't work c-can ya?"
You can hear him taunt. 'Pffbt! Pffbt!', the sound of him blowing raspberries like an obnoxious child only adds insult to your many, many, injuries. It was a game to him. It all was. One he won everytime. No matter how hard you tried. You can feel his arms slink around you as he hauls you to your feet. Well partially anyways, you're more at a slouch as he starts to drag you back towards the farmhouse.
You don't bother to struggle anymore. You simply can't. You can't even walk now with the condition you're in. Still he held the cold steel of his hunting knife against your neck, just to make sure. In just a couple minutes you'd be trapped inside the house again. In worse condition than before. You hadn't even gotten that far away from the house. Even if you did, where would you go? There was nothing for miles. No help for miles. No hope for miles.
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#writers on tumblr#dweller's writing#yandere slashers#slashers x reader#cw: yandere#nubbins slaughter#nubbins x reader#nubbins sawyer#tcm x reader#tcm fanfic#tcm 1974#the hitchhiker#texas chainsaw massacre#tcm nubbins#Yandere tcm#Please give feedback I poured my soul into this#anyways
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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)
#norman bates x reader#norman bates#psycho 1960#lester sinclair#lester sinclair x reader#lester sinclair house of wax#house of wax x reader#nubbins x reader#nubbins sawyer#tcm x reader#slashers headcanons#slashers x reader#slashers x y/n#slashers x you
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thomas hewitt masterlist
** means nsfw content &. you are responsible for what you read, so minors please do not read / interact with any of my nsfw content.
COMING SOON !
#thomas hewitt x reader#thomas hewitt imagines#thomas hewitt imagine#leatherface x reader#leatherface imagines#leatherface imagine#texas chainsaw massacre x reader#texas chainsaw massacre imagines#texas chainsaw massacre imagine#tcm x reader#tcm imagines#tcm imagine#slashers x reader#slashers imagines#slashers imagine#thomas hewitt#leatherface#texas chainsaw massacre#tcm#slashers
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Behind Locked Doors
Pairing: Johnny slaughter x FemReader
Summary: Y/N recently moved into a somewhat small town, Newt, In Texas with her father. Y/N's father thought this would be a good opportunity for them, since things got rough back in California. Little do they know the trouble that awaited them..
!?THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS NSFW?!
Warning: This series will contain 18+ content & material! NSFW situations and possibly TRIGGERING topics such as- Depression, stalking, blood & gore, manipulation, mention of kidnapping and small amounts of self-harm, such as scars/cuts.
{{ Please proceed with care if you're sensitive to ANY of these topics }}
Author's Note: This is my first time really writing NSFW stories / stories in general. Tips and tricks on how to improve my writing and overall layout are welcome, though keep it respectful please. Other than that please enjoy! 💋
Chapter 5: The Basement
‘The night was cold and dead, the air thick in your lungs as you struggled to breathe. Your skin ran cold to the touch and you felt yet a warm feeling of liquid drip down your arms, pain ran through them as they hung above your head. For some strange reason you couldn't feel your hands, they felt numb as if they were cut off or tied. Your head was throbbing which distracted you from the darkness around you, you felt as if you were walking upon clouds and yet felt weighed down by bricks. You wanted to struggle to fight or run.. yet nothing came, no movement of your body, no flicker of your eyelids, no twitching of your fingers or nose. You felt dead, as if you floated underneath water and yet you still felt the pain surge through your body as if it were real. As you ponder within darkness, a horizontal slit of light appears in the distance. You could almost feel the warmth of its light hit you, as if you could touch it. However your body failed to do so, limp and motionless as you watched the light. It's teasing warmth almost taunting you now as you could only watch. You suddenly heard a voice, you couldn't figure out what it spoke but you could tell it sounded familiar. It was distant yet you could tell it was filled with regret and concern.. maybe even anger, you felt warmth hit the side of your ribs if someone touched you. It felt warm, comforting and strangely familiar. Your eyes glanced back to the light that now grew closer, your head pounding as if were to explode. You felt the twitch of your fingers as you felt your body tingle, the cold from your body slowly turning to warmth. The light held something within it, things moved around in the light and yet you couldn't understand what was happening. The voice came back louder now, paired with another. They argued about something.. one sounded older. But it was only muffled as they yelled at each other. The only words you could make out were “fuck you” ,“I could handle it” and “child” while also a few other muffled things were said. Your throat grew tight as you could feel groans of pain claw their way out, only whimpers of agony left you. Suddenly the arguing stopped, silence quickly flooded your ears to the point they began to ring. The aching pain of your limbs started to get to you as the slit of light began to widen more and more.. the warmth of the light hit your skin and you watched it shine through a window..’
“Well golly!..” you heard a male voice speak out, the scratchy yet almost surprised voice filled your ears as whoever spoke near you stammered slightly on their words. The smell of animal shit and blood filled your nose and almost made you puke on the spot, your vision was still fuzzy as the dim light glistened through the window. Your eyes struggled slightly to fully open as they started to examine the room around you, a stone brick wall greeted you along with cluttered shelves of boxes and tools of different sorts lined some of the walls. A small set of stairs on the far wall leading up to a door, only lit with a dim red light. Buckets scattered around the room and other pieces of scattered objects filled the surrounding area, dust floated slightly above the floor as the air stayed thick above it and you watched dust particles slowly dance around as the sun shines on them. Your vision started to become more clear as your head felt as if it were going to crack open, something felt dry on your face. The smell of iron now filled the air as your eyes landed on a pair of dirty black shoes, your eyes slowly went up along the gray baggy pants until you saw a baggy green shirt.
A weird necklace of fur and other things you couldn't make out around the person's neck, as your eyes went up your gaze met a face that had an ear to ear smile whipped across it. A weird birthmark on his cheek and greasy black hair that hardly looked washed. His crooked smile never faltered as his beady brown eyes watched you like a crazy and feral animal, his smell alone made you wanna vomit. He started to jump around like an animal with worms in its brain, laughing crazily as his arms slightly flailed around in the air. “She's awake! She's awake! Hahaha!” His annoying laughter made your head pound even harder which caused the pain to grow in your body, the realization started to hit you like a ton of bricks. Adrenaline started to fill you and the memories of what felt like last night came flooding back into your brain, your eyes started to dart around your body in more of a panicked manner. The sight of red trailing down your arms and body set off a wave of pain and panic and you realized it was your own blood, the smell of iron from before when you felt something slightly dry on your face became clear. Blood, your blood was running down your face.. Groans of pain escaped you as you went to struggle, only causing more pain as you looked up to see what held your arms from escaping this hell. The man only laughed more at the struggles he was witnessing, almost mocking you with his beady eyes. Shock struck you hard as your eyes became wide… your hands, the conclusion of why you couldn't feel them hit you hard in the face as you looked at the rusty and bloody hook that ran through your palms.
Adrenaline kicked in overdrive as you struggled against the painful restraints, the pain grew too much to bare as you felt blood start to dripping down your wrists, the scrawny man that stood in front of you only laughed hysterically at your failed attempts to escape the restraints, bouncing around almost like a toddler as he mocked and pointed towards you. “I see why he likes ya’!!” He laughed, clawing slightly at his cheek before pulling a small pocket knife from his baggy pants. His wild grin sent a shiver down your spine. The urge to scream and call for help attempted to come out, yet only a broken cry escaped. Your throat felt scratchy and dry, you couldn't muster a voice to save your life..literally.. and panic set in as the man slowly but surely brought the knife to the heap of your neck, trailing its sharp end down to your collarbone. Wincing as he left what felt like paper cuts across your skin, a devilish glint shined in the deranged man's eyes as he watched himself drag the small knife from your collarbone to your shirt. You almost thought he was drooling as he started to cut at the Hem of your shirt, his smile only grew wider on his face as he focused on his knife. “I've never really seen a’ woman before!” he chuckled, bringing his other hand to the shirt to help cut down the length of the shirt. However before he could even start the job you heard the door open from the staircase, light footsteps followed closely. They sounded bare, as if someone was almost tip-toeing on their bare feet. You almost felt relief as you saw a blonde woman come into view, she was wearing a dark gray dress with white spots along the neck, skirt and straight down the middle of the dress. Her hair was up in a bun and she looked more sane then the wild animal of a man you had cutting at your shirt, her smile was almost comforting until she spoke. “nubbins! The heck ya doin' to the poor thang!” She scolded the man, who jumped at the sudden interruption. “N-NOTHIN!’..” the man reacted before quickly scurrying away like a kid who just got caught, her tone was cold and calculated almost before her attention was brought back to you. A smile across her lips as she stood there for a second before revealing the cup of water from behind her back, your eyes widened towards her at the sight of the water. You felt as if you haven't tasted water in days or even weeks, you did your best to muster words.. they only came out wheezy and dry as you spoke. “P-please! Get me down from h-here!... They’re cra-” you were cut short as you coughed, the strain on your throat only brought more pain. However the woman in front of you seemed to understand the pain as she slowly brought the cup of water closer to you, bringing it to your lips before tilting it so you could sip from it. Your body felt relaxed as you drank the water, finally someone who felt like helping you.
“Awe… poor thang’ been out for almost a week now… must be so thirsty!” Her tone sounded sincere yet mocking at the same time, your face filled with confusion ‘for a week?..’ you thought, however joyfulness filled you as you felt the water hit your guts. You went to speak, to ask for help.. to know where the hell you were.. Everything suddenly felt dizzy again, your vision blurred as you started to drift in and out of consciousness. “Makes it easier to put a lil’ something in here for ya’..hope it takes the pain away a lil' darlin’!! Hehehe” her giggled rang through your ears, her blurred figure slowly drifting away as she headed towards the stairs, the patter of her bare feet on the concrete now stained your mind as darkness swallowed you.
You felt dazed and confused, ‘is this a cruel nightmare..’ you thought, seeing moonlight shine through the window. Fear crept through your body as you hung there in the dark and cold basement, or what you thought was a basement. As you hung there you couldn't help but take another look around and everything felt, smelled and almost tasted of blood, dust and shit. You saw bones scattered in the corners and along shelves. Buckets of what looked to be filled with blood and guts of animals.. you hoped they were animal. Your mind raced, thoughts that felt like yesterday ran rampant in your head. ‘johnny.. where's Johnny… he'll help me’ kept replaying in your head. Your body was exhausted but you didn't want to let yourself fall asleep, you needed to escape however the hook in your hands proved too much as you once again struggled. You quickly stopped your attempts as you heard heavy footsteps from above, they sounded as if they were trying to keep quiet themselves as they walked along the floor above you. They became muffled as they went in the direction of the door, and then you heard that familiar creek of a door opening. You felt your heart start to race, a mixture of fear, excitement and terror all at the same time. “Johnny? Leland?.. Connie?..’ you thought in your head, the fear of that horrific woman or deranged man coming back down made your heart pound. You wanted to act like you were still out cold, to avoid anything or anyone that came down. Then you heard it… “you awake sunflower?..” his voice almost brought tears to your eyes almost immediately, like a ray of light finally came as you perked your head up to meet his gaze. “J-johnny!” you shakenly struggled to get his name out from your lips. Johnny quickly made his way over to you, not releasing you from your restraints yet as he examined you. Seeing the blood made his eyes widen slightly, yet you couldn't help but notice he expression seemed blank, as if seeing you like this didn't faze him. He could tell from your eyes alone how exhausted, yet excited you were to see him, his gaze never left yours as he embraced you in a weird yet comforting hug as you still hung there. “Thank’ Goodness you're finally awake…” he spoke, hsi comment seemed off but your brain was too relieved to finally be free, to run to the police and get help. Johnny quickly gave water to you that he brought down, you hesitated for a second before you drank it. The cool liquid washes your throat and guts. “thats it'… drink up sunflower..” he spoke softly as he used a hand to wipe off the liquid dripping from your neck, your lips parted from the cup as you went to speak. “P-please.. get me down from here. We gotta escape this hell!..” you yelled, however your mouth was quickly covered by his hand, his eyes seemed stern and almost offended by what you said.
You felt your brows furrowed in confusion as you have yet to see him attempt to free you, “I … can't” he spoke, his gaze breaking from yours. His eyes met the floor as your breathing fell in a panic as your mind raced. eyes widened with confusion and fear as you watched Johnny back away from you slightly. Anger and confusion built up in your brain as you watched him, “wh- why not?...” You spoke, confusion and anger in your tone, the tone in your voice seemed to gain his attention as once again he looked up at you. Guilt riddled on his face as he seemed to fight off other emotions, “sunflower… I can't just let you leave..” he had an expression close to pleading as he stepped closer towards you before he continued, “my family…won't let that happen.” the word ‘family' rang in your ear, you felt your face grow cold and pale, your face blank of emotion as you felt almost numb. Your brain went blank as you processed everything, you felt yourself stare into space. Johnny interrupted your gaze by standing closer to you, leaning down to meet with your eyes.
“Come'on sunflower… talk to me..” he spoke, as if this your reaction shouldn’t be surprising to him. The broken trust you felt as you broke into tears, you felt nothing as Johnny's hand cupped your cheek as if to comfort you. “Fine…” he muttered, almost seeming annoyed or angry at the lack of response. You watched blankly as he walked away, his body tensed as if he was stopping himself from punching something. He gave one last glance back towards you over his shoulder, his eyes shooting daggers into you before he spoke. “I'll bring food soon…” he growled as he stomped his way up the stairs, the slam of the door making you flinch slightly. The tears started to stream down your cheeks, the thoughts ran wild as you felt yourself lose hope.
You found yourself looking around the room once again, the numbness you felt started to kill small parts of you. The table was to the right of you had small tools placed on top of its surface, a hammer and a few nails laid scattered around the table. A knife also sat itself on the table, rust or dried blood stained the silver steal. You looked over to your left and saw another one of the blood filled buckets, this one reeked and mold and rotting guts. On the concrete floor beside the bucket laid larger gardening tools such as a rusty shovel, rake and shears. Rope Hung on the walls slightly behind you and you noticed a large deep freezer on the far right wall, rust lining its corners and edges. You looked hesitantly up towards your hands, the hook still puncturing through them. You knew what you needed to do but didn't know if you had the strength, with a grunt and groan of pain you started to swing yourself carefully in order to hook your foot onto the table. Trying your best to hook your foot onto one of the legs of the table, each swing more horrifically painful then the rest before managing to hook your foot onto one of the legs. You celebrated in your head as you brought the table close enough to use it as leverage, using your foot to push yourself up and managing to unhook one of your hands, the feeling of relief and freedom filled you as you quickly unhooked your other hand. Dropping yourself to the ground as victory tears overwhelmed you, examining the palms of your hands. You looked at the hole in them in almost disbelief, the holes were small, however they did enough damage to make it extremely difficult to move your hands properly.
You heard footsteps once again above you, ‘Johnny’ you thought before you quickly looked around having no clue on what to do except the deep freezer. Even though it would seem dumb to lay in a cold freezer meant for meats, you had nothing else.. as you rushed over and opened the somewhat weirdly empty deep freezer, you heard the creek of the door and without hesitation you quickly jumped inside. The freezing touch of ice stabbed at your back and sides as you laid there, listening to the heavy footsteps come down the stairs. “Sunflow-..” you heard Johnny speak out, panic in the back of your mind as you held your breath tightly. “Y/N?!” You heard his tone turn to panic and even slight anger. The frantic footsteps walking around the room, the sound of things being haphazardly tossed to the side before the footsteps faded for a few seconds. He was looking for you definitely, only when you heard footsteps get closer to the freezer did you feel the sweat start to beat down your forehead. ‘please…’ you thought, dread washing over you as you watch his finger curl under the lid of the deep freezer to open it. Seconds felt like an entirety as you watched the lid slowly open, your heart pounding in your chest. You shut your eyes tightly as the lid opened fully, awaiting to get grabbed by him. Yet a gentle touch came instead, peaking through an eye to look at him.. instead. “Leland?!” You couldn't help but get filled with excitement, your eyes quickly widened as joy and relief filled your body. However Leland's hand quickly hushed you as he looked around slightly nervously, “shh.. shh.. I know..” his tone soft yet stern as he quickly comforted you, taking you in his arms to make sure you were ok. “Thank goodness...” you said, exhausted as you finally got reunited with your friend. “Let's get the fuck outta’ here..” Leland harshly whispered before slowly standing up and walking back towards where he originally came from, you followed suit before stopping at a toolbox that you saw on a shelf earlier. Some small nails and bulbs greeted you before you grabbed a screwdriver, you watched Leland round the corner and disappear behind it. It almost looked like a tunnel or cave, you went to quickly catch up with Leland before you heard a thud..
“Now now sunflower…” your heart sunk quickly to your gut, your eyes locked with his once again as he now held a knockout Leland by the back of the neck. “why’d ya’ go and do that…” Johnny spoke, his eyes closed with disappointment written on his face. Making a ‘tsk tsk’ noise with his tongue as he dropped Leland to the ground between you and him, you couldn't help but stumble backwards onto your butt as you watched Johnny slowly step over Leland's body towards you, he was now towering over you. You felt helpless as he squatted down in front of you and looked you dead in the eyes, they were filled with rage and yet a strange calmness. “j-johnny please!..” you pleaded, your protest was interrupted quickly as Johnny held a large knife to your throat, his face blank as he held it firmly against your skin. “Get Up.” He growled and without hesitation, or wanting to piss him off more, you stood up quickly. Your body in pain and starting to cramp as you did so, you knew you were too weak to run.. let alone fight back. Johnny stood up with you, still hovering over you before he urged you backwards towards a wall with the knife. The cold steel against your skin as your back hit the wall, no words were spoken for a good minute before Johnny leaned himself closer towards you. His lips now against your ear as he practically growled into your ear. “Why’d ya’ do it sunflower?..” his tone cold and dead as he spoke, his knife firmly planted against your neck still as he brought his head back to look at you. His other hand on the other side of your head as he leaned himself closer to you, “I was gonna keep ya’ safe..” he muttered, anger clearly started to come through as he gritted his teeth. He waited for a response, a response you didn't give as you felt frozen in fear and shock. This clearly started to piss Johnny off as the hand that was once on the wall now wrapped itself onto your waist, his grip tight as he slightly dug his fingers into your side. This caused you to yell in pain, shivers went up your body as you felt your legs buckle underneath you. You weren't paying attention as Johnny brought the knife down towards your chin to make you face him again, the cold blade touching your chin as it forced your head upwards. Your teeth gritted together in pain as your legs wobbled, you gripped onto Johnny's forearm to hold yourself up and Johnny quickly smirked as he brought his face close to yours. In almost a caring yet mocking tone, Johnny spoke “let me take care of ya sunflower…” as he helped you sit down on the cold floor, kneeling with you as he did so.
You sat there helplessly, confused and conflicted. Tears streaming down the sides of your face as then darted to an unconscious Leland, Johnny using his hand to firmly grab your chin and bring your attention back to him. “Look at me when I talk to ya’..' ' he demanded, his change in behavior almost terrified you as it felt like yesterday when you were in his embrace and loved you like nothing else. You felt stupid for giving into love.. for trusting him.. and yet something still gave you the feeling that he wasn't going to hurt you. His gentle touch, the way he watched you.. “Johnny… please, I'm sorry” you begged, wanting to not be put on that hook again. Johnny's face softened as if he was conflicted with something, yet he didn't say anything as he looked at you. You watch his brows furrowed ever so slightly as he gently cupped your face, his lips parting as if to say something… yet nothing came. “Sun-.. I..” words struggled to come out as he spoke before he started to lean in slightly closer to you, your faces only inches apart. You tried to back yourself up and away but a wall stopped you from doing so, nervousness and anger filling your head as thoughts came rushing through you. Your trust betrayed and yet you wanted the embrace, to get out of this place. Your breathing heavied as you watched his face closely, his expression showing one of guilt and even remorse. Johnny took your lips onto his, the taste felt dry, almost dusty with a hint of blood as he kissed you. His grip tightening on your face as he pressed you closer to him, you felt waves of emotions hit you. You wanted to smack him for even thinking to do so and yet the kiss felt almost freeing, the comfort of someone caring made the tears trickle down your cheeks, you felt numb slightly as you felt his lips pull away from yours. Johnny noticed your reaction as he gave a soft smile.. his eyes hooded slightly as you spoke in a gentle manner “let me help ya’ Y/N..” you felt slightly surprised he used your name, it made him sound almost sincere as he spoke to you. You looked into his eyes as he offered his hand, you hesitantly took his hand in yours as he helped you off the ground. He gently held your side as he brought you into another room, this one much larger as you saw a bed in the left corner. The muted red sheets covered a slightly torn mattress and metal frame, it almost looked like a prison bed from the looks of it. The wooden bucket sat on the end of the bed on the floor before you looked to the right side, some random scraps of bones and small piles of dirt laid scattered around the edges. Johnny slowly led you to the bed before helping you sit down, a look of confusion landed on your face as you wondered why you were brought in here. Johnny gave a soft smile before he headed towards the door of the room, looking at you from over his shoulder. “I'll take care of ya’ here sunflower…” he spoke before walking out of the room and closing the door behind him, you felt confused for a second before you heard a click of a lock. You felt your gut sink before adrenaline kicked in and you rushed yourself to the door, “j-johnny??..” no response came back as it started to bang on the door. Once you realized he wasn't gonna come back, tears formed in your eyes as you slid down against the door.
You cried on the floor as you were now trapped in practically a cell, you hugged yourself as you wept there for hours…you lost hope in trying to escape this hell, the trust you felt only shattered more as you felt betrayed, you cried… as now you were stuck In a house with maniacs.
END OF CHAPTER 5
Heyo Darlings!❤️ I apologize for the delay in this chapters release.. been a bit burnt out from doing a lot of things. However I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Let let know what you've thought.. I'm excited for the next chapters! I have a really good idea in mind 💋💋💋
Special Tags - @thisissky @lil-spider 💋❤️
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Close Encounters (Leland McKinney x Fem!Reader)
Leland McKinney x Fem!Reader 18+ Minors DNI
A/N- Filling the giant Leland sized hole in the fanfic internet with massive amounts of smut and fluff. Lots of plot conveniences, because let's be real I just want to write protective Leland fucking the shit out of someone. I will eventually write Leland x Male!Reader too, because that's what we deserve.
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Concept- You and Leland have been best friends for years, always subtly hoping for a little more but both of you are too scared to make the first move out of fear of the other not feeling the same. Leland can bowl into a family member that's about to murder him no problem, however when it comes to confessing his feelings he fears rejection more than he does his own life.
Content- NSFW 18+, Reader is a little taller than Leland, Dom!Leland x Sub!Reader, Oral, Praise, Leland is a pleasure dom
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The noise floods your ears, before you're even fully awake, making your blood run cold. The loud rev of a chainsaw, though it's slightly disoriented, perhaps from the blood loss. You blink a few times, your mind foggy, trying to recall just where you were.
It's only when you feel the sting of the rope tightly woven around your hands and that smell... you almost throw up... that you remember what had happened. Where you are. It takes everything in you not to let out a scared whine, as you shift slightly on the hook. The noise is loud and echoes through the room, making your heart race.
Your eyes adjust to the darkness, only to instantly wish you could forget, spotting the various body parts and buckets of blood surrounding the room. You can't help but let out a quiet groan, trying to slip off your restraints. You needed to get out.
The sound of footsteps caused your movements to be more frantic as you squirmed, silently begging for the rope to tear quicker. What had it been made out of fucking iron?
The noise grew louder, the rope burning into your skin the more you resisted. Everything felt like too much and had it not been for the adrenaline coursing through your veins you'd probably have passed out again a long time ago.
Your heart stops however, when you see the careful wiggle of the doorknob, silently whispering for it to stop to no one in particular. As if the ominous presence outside the door would adhere to your requests and you'd be completely fine. You feel the slight trickle down your cheeks, cursing yourself for crying in a moment like this. You couldn't panic, not right now. You had to get out of here.
It takes everything in you not to start sobbing when the door slowly opens, however you're thankful you didn't when you spot a familiar mess of brunette hair. Your heart stops, relieved to see he's okay.
"Leland?" You whisper anxiously.
He glances up, eyes widening, as he races towards you, using what looks like a sharp bone to tear through the rope. The sight makes your stomach churn, however you're too focused on getting out to really ask questions about how or where Leland might have gotten such a thing. Not that you really needed to ask.
Once free he gently grabs your shoulders, doing a once over.
"Are you okay?" Leland's voice is quiet, barely a whisper, and he looks worse than you.
You nod slowly, unsure what you could possibly say. A part of you was too stunned to speak, as you noticed the blood patterns on his shirt and the tear of his clothes just above the waist. The wound looks a little old, blood now dark and a little crusted, but it also didn't look healthy.
Before you can ask him anything else, he gently grabs your hand, guiding you out the door you had come.
"I'm going to get you out of here... I promise," he assured quietly, gritting his teeth. Leland moved with careful calculation, darting down dark tunnels and through tiny little slits in the wall. The sound of the chainsaw sounded a little closer, the more you limped. Part of you wanted to ask about the others.
Had he even seen them?
Leland opened a tiny blue box, glancing around, before quietly sorting through the pile of scraps. You were a little confused in his movements, eyes darting around carefully. You felt so exposed standing under the dim light of the room. You're surprised when Leland lets out a sigh of relief grabbing a tiny looking sharp object. It almost reminds you of an ice pick.
His hand is quick to find yours again, guiding you carefully through the corridors. Leland glances over his shoulder ever so often, as if he's terrified you're going to disappear from his grasp any moment.
Leland then stops in front of a door, and you're a little surprised at how effortlessly he slides the tool in, fiddling with the lock. You didn't even know Leland knew how to pick a lock.
Your heart continued to hammer in your chest, as the chainsaw revved up again, sounding way too close for comfort. Leland's shoulders tighten, and he starts moving a little quicker on the door in response to the noise, a look of determination crossing his face.
You were shaking so bad, trying to block out everything about the dank cellar. The smell. The heat. It all made your stomach churn.
Leland quickly slides the door open, glancing around anxiously before grabbing your hand once again. A familiar pattern now. He looked up the stairs, before pulling you through the blue door as well, crouching and taking slow quiet steps.
You stared at each other, an almost unspoken conversation occuring. The dark circles under his eyes and the redness revealed that he had probably been crying for a while. Leland also had a small cut on his lip which you hadn't noticed before in the dim lighting below. It was hard to resist reaching out and affectionately touching it.
Both of you were terrified, though Leland did a better job at hiding it. He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, before turning his attention back to the stairs. You both listened intently, the sound of thudding footsteps rushing by overhead then a voice, a male's.
"Before you go running off with those back house hippies again, can you PLEASE find these damned kids!"
Leland seemed to cling to the shadows, shielding you with his body, as he eyed the stairs carefully. After a few moments the footsteps faded, and he carefully made his way forward again, creeping around the house. It was fairly dark, which made it hard to step around.
Having Leland as your guide made you feel a little more comfortable, stepping everywhere you saw his feet go, constantly looking over your shoulder. You half expected something to pull you from his grasp, the idea sending a chill down your spine. Part of you wanted this to be some fucked up dream, silently begging to just wake up.
The more you walked through the house, the more on edge you got. You tried not to focus too long on anything in the house that wasn't a window or potential exit, growing nauseous when your eyes landed on a bucket of blood for too long.
It wasn't long before Leland slipped out of a swinging screen door, quietly opening it and guiding you further. After glancing around and seeing you two were alone, he stood up, pulling you towards a thick patch of bushes. His grip was gentle but firm, as he pushed down on your shoulders a little, instructing you to crouch.
You could hardly think or act, so he did it for you. Leland spoke again, his voice barely audible.
"You stay right here, keep quiet, and if anyone approaches you, stab them with this," Leland started, handing you the bone scrap he had before. His eyes studied your face intently, before letting out a quiet sigh.
"I will be right back, I promise, I just have to get this gate open. I think I saw a pressure valve back there. If they find you, run, don't look back. Don't worry about me. You just focus on getting out of here."
You were reluctant at first, not wanting to part with the man, as you let out a quiet sigh of your own. Your heart was racing and you felt like crying all over again, shaking your head.
"No... don't leave me," you pleaded quietly.
Leland studied your face, chewing his bottom lip, as he stared at you determinedly. His eyes were serious.
"You need to listen to me okay? I don't want to split up but if we are getting out of here, this is the only way to do it. We have to work together," he replied, before gently caressing your cheek.
"I will try to be back quickly."
It wasn't the guarantee you wanted, but you knew that a guarantee wasn't possible. Not in this circumstance. Your stomach churned, the thought of having to leave Leland behind making you feel violently ill.
The brunette said little else, quickly slipping away in the opposite direction you had come. You tried to keep your voice quiet and still your movement, as you crouched low, nestling in the grass. You felt so exposed, not even convinced that your "hiding" spot was all that safe, but there wasn't much else you could do.
How did things shift so drastically?
You focused on steadying your breathing, trying to remember small details, familiarizing yourself with the area. You had to escape. And Maria... your heart faltered at the thought. She deserved better than to get nabbed while out having fun with her friends. Your stomach lurched, not wanting to think too long on the young girl's fate.
Poor Ana... you could still hear her screams and cries, when you'd learned of Maria's fate. The others had to be alive. You and Leland couldn't be all that was left. You refused to believe it.
You tried to nestle a little deeper in the grass, when you heard footsteps approaching. You recognized them instantly, your blood running cold. The same ones you had heard back inside the house on the stairs with Leland.
The man's voice is sharp and makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. He's so close you could reach out and touch him, but he doesn't seem to notice you just yet, eyes darting around in every direction. It takes everything in you not to inhale, holding your breath when he crouches down, his fingers brushing along the trail in the dirt.
He grumbles something to himself, and you're terrified he's going to eventually hear you slip up, noticing you cowering in the grass. Your fingers wrap around the tiny sharp bone scrap Leland had handed you, studying the man and thinking of all the possible places you could stab to keep him from coming after you. He was certainly a bit bigger than you and could easily overpower you if it came down to it. You had to be smart about it.
He stands back up, and you're relieved, until you notice the sinister smile curling on his lips. He had turned something up. Probably Leland's tracks. The realization makes your stomach churn. If you didn't do anything, he'd find Leland.
Once his back is turned, you slowly stand up, ready to strike into the man's neck. You aren't as stealthy as you think however, and upon standing up, the man seems to sense your presence behind him. You inhale sharply as he turns, grabbing your arms. The bone scrap falls to the ground, as you struggle in his grip.
Your wrists are still sore from when you had been hanging from the cellar moments before. You're relieved however, when you spot Leland's familiar shape, ramming his body into the man, which causes him to loosen his grip on you and fall over.
While the guy is stunned, Leland carefully helps you up, urging you to run the opposite way.
"We gotta go," he frantically screams, limping a little behind you, ready to take on the guy that had been after you if he needed to.
Leland continues to guide you from behind, telling you to keep moving forward, until a gate comes into view. It looks like it's not too far away and leads out onto the open road. Safety tasted a little closer with every step you took, the minute victory eased every fear and pain that had arisen since awaking.
You can hear the guy Leland knocked over screaming after you, calling out to what you can only assume are the other psychopaths on the small plot of land. Your muscles in your legs ache, as you push on, glancing back ever so often to make sure Leland was keeping up with you.
He had reopened the small cut near his ribcage. Your heart lurched, hoping it didn't get infected. Leland seemed unbothered however, hobbling on as if it was hardly an issue.
After what seemed like forever, you eventually pushed out the gate, making your way further up the road. The loud screams of the man slowly drowned out, until you could no longer hear the noise.
Once Leland was sure you were safe, he paused, leaning against a tree. After catching his breath, he gently took your face in his hand, giving you a once over.
"Are you okay? He didn't hurt you did he? That fucker... I should've done more. Stabbed him with-"
You cut him off, shaking your head gently, as you tried to process what had just happened.
"I...No..."
You struggled finding the words, as you finally allowed yourself a moment to catch up, tears slowly slipping down your cheeks. Then the silent cries turned into slightly loud sobs, as your whole body shook.
Leland gently moved his hands, wrapping you into a careful hug, as he rubbed your back.
"Hey... hey... it's okay, we're okay," he whispered reassuringly.
You hear his words but don't listen, the world blurring around you. The adrenaline was slowly starting to wear off, and all you wanted was to be back home. Everything around you seemed to slip away, and you can hardly remember what happened after.
All you can recall is one minute you were crying on the road, and the next you were back in the van, hiding far away from the horror house, hoping the others would show. Leland had confirmed that Connie and Sonny had been alive, but they all departed after the maniac with the chainsaw ran after one of them, allowing the other two to escape.
Leland had found them before you, urging them to meet him at the van once they got out. Informing them he wouldn't step off this property until he knew you were out and safe.
He couldn't help but feel a little anxious, as you waited for the others. You were curled up quietly against his chest, the tears just now stopping, your body calming. The slow rise and fall of your chest was the only indicator to Leland that you were even alive.
There's several times you hear of how a near death experience affects people. How the adrenaline runs in your veins, your life flashing before your eyes. All the things you still hadn't done, the life you wanted to lead slipping out in a hazy blur. Part of you wonders if Leland had those same thoughts.
You wouldn't have wanted to be found by anyone else, knowing he was the one person that would know how to keep you from spiraling. To keep you calm.
You nestled a little deeper against him, hands slinking around his waist, mindful of his somewhat new wound. He didn't seem to mind the closeness, resting his chin on your head, a hand gently combing through your hair in soft smooth motions. A gentle comfort to each other.
Leland closed his eyes softly, letting out a quiet sigh.
"I was so scared I'd lose you..." Leland whispered, closing his eyes, as his other hand pulled you closer to him. "After seeing where we ended up I couldn't stop thinking about what I'd do if I couldn't find you. I... I can't live without you."
You carefully moved to study his face, staring up at him with wide eyes. Leland has always been so strong to you. In the many years you'd known him, he cried rarely. Usually it was him quietly reassuring you. To see him practically fall apart made your heart ache. You're surprised when his eyes open and they're a little glassy.
Leland's hand moved to carefully cup your face, as he let out a somewhat dry laugh.
"This is what it takes?" he whispers, and you can't tell if he's talking to you or himself. You're unsure what he's even talking about. You shift slightly, placing your hand over his.
"Leland?"
Your voice is the calm amidst the chaos. A comfort for him. It seems to be a reminder. Leland shakes his head quietly, chewing his bottom lip. Your heart is racing, feeling a sudden shift in the enclosed van. Tension is thick in the air, practically suffocating, as you take in a sharp inhale.
The way Leland is staring at you makes you practically shrink, your whole body blushing.
"Wanna know what's stupid? My life was on the line, I was terrified of it, and all I could think was I can't believe I'm going to die never telling you things. How I feel. I told myself if I make it out of this, I won't risk that again. Now that I'm in front of you, it's... so much harder than it seemed it would be. I still am... such a coward."
Leland's voice gets quieter with each word he's speaking, until he's whispering at you almost like he was still afraid of getting caught. Your shoulders tensed, trying to understand his words. You had often fantasized of a moment such as this many nights over, however it was never like this. Part of you was worried you might somehow manage to misinterpret his words, tearing each sentence apart and analyzing if he could mean anything different than what you wanted.
"Leland..."
He cuts you off, gently taking your hand off his and holding it with both of his own. The brunette shakes his head softly, his brown eyes staring up at you intensely.
"No. Don't speak... not yet. If you do I might lose my nerve," Leland begins, his grip on your hand tightening a little. "I've known you since we were kids... have been in love with you since we were sixteen. It felt like before we had all the time in the world. I was so... scared you wouldn't feel the same. If it's not broken don't fix it... you know? But I... I don't want to talk around it anymore. I want you. It's always and only ever going to be you."
You meet his gaze with an unwavering look, heart racing, as his words sink it. Part of you is convinced you passed out from blood loss, and all of this is a hazy dream. Leland's words don't feel real, and the only thing keeping you grounded are his careful fingers wrapped tightly around your hand. They're warm against your skin.
You try to find the words, your mind racing. Leland is staring at you with such desperation, his split lip sticking out, almost in a silent pleading. Begging for you to be merciful with his heart.
The van suddenly feels hundred of degrees hotter, your skin flushing, as you bat your eyelashes up at him, still a little stunned. Like him you stumble over your words.
"Leland..."
You feel his temperature increase in your hands, his heart racing wildly at the way you say his name. Leland blinks back at you, that hopeful look shining in his eyes. You, like always, had his full attention.
The words never leave your lips. Instead you were slinking forward, closing what little space remained between you too. The world seemed to slow down, when your faces were close, your noses barely touching. Leland's hand moved to brush your hair behind your ear, as his eyes darted from your lips to your eyes, silently asking for permission.
You nodded, scared that by speaking the moment will be broken.
When his lips touch yours, your heart flutters, eyes flickering closed. His hand moved to the back of your neck, carefully cradling it, as he urged you closer. You can taste the blood on his mouth from the minor cut, shifting in his lap.
Your heart drops when he lets out a quiet wince, his free hand moving to his waist. You slowly pull back, heart racing, as you study his wound.
"Shit, I'm so sorry-"
You're surprised when Leland cuts you off with a quiet laugh, smiling up at you.
"Are you kidding? I'd break every bone in my body if it meant I could feel your tender caress," Leland whispered quietly, adjusting his position, the wound forgotten once again. Then the brunette blushed slightly, closing the space between you once again, as he pulled you between his legs.
"Don't worry about hurting me... Not anymore."
Leland's hands gently snake around your waist, as he stares up at you. You'd never seen him smile up at you like that. At anyone for that matter. It was almost like... a crooked smile, his eyes lit up.
"I want to kiss you again... really I want to never stop but..."
He seemed rather proud of the statement, laughing quietly to himself, before meeting your gaze once again.
Your hands gently went over his shoulders, resting on his back, as you smiled back at him. He took that as an invitation, getting on his knees and wrapped you into another kiss. This one wasn't near as gentle as the first, his lips moving intensely against yours, as his hand reached the back of your head again.
He smiles against your lips, another soft chuckle leaving his lips, as his lips move down your jaw. Leland then seems to catch himself, freezing against you, before stopping and looking at you. The scarlet flooding his cheeks makes you smile a little, as he shifts a little.
"I... I'm sorry. I don't ex-"
Nothing mattered in that moment. Everything outside of the tiny van no... outside of Leland faded away. The only thing that you could see were his soft brown eyes and the gentle look on his face. You shook your head, your hands moving to the collar of his shirt, as you pulled him forward a little.
"Leland, I want you."
You didn't think it was possible for his face to get redder, as he looked up at you through his thick lashes, chewing his bottom lip. He didn't seem opposed to the idea, his body warm beneath your fingers, as his hands moved to your hips, gently squeezing them.
"Are you sure...?"
With everything that had happened today, you were desperate for a little sense of normalcy. To let off some of the pent up stress from moments ago. Almost losing everything made you only more assured that this is what you wanted. To take advantage of every quiet moment alone with the boy.
"Yes. I don't want to wait."
You'd been waiting for the man long enough.
Leland's smile makes your heart flutter, as he gently pushes you down, your back meeting the floor of the van. Everything seems to fade away as he carefully unbuttons your shirt, trailing kisses from your jaw down to your neck.
"You're so beautiful..."
He praises quietly. While Leland was no stranger to seeing you bare, often with years of friendship you two had been comfortable enough to change in front of each other. However this time his glances didn't have to be subtle. He could worship your body the way he always believed you deserved.
You squirm a little beneath his mouth, letting out a soft moan, when his teeth subtly graze against the skin just above your breast. A faint purple mark settles in it's place, when his lips move to another patch of skin. Everywhere his mouth touched grew warm, only for the cool air to hit it after he moved. The sensation makes her skin crawl, as Leland's hands move to your back, making quick work to unclasp your bra.
Like your shirt it was quickly discarded, his lips moving to your breasts themselves. Every touch is subtle and soft, his tongue running along your nipple. Your back arched slightly in response, when his teeth wrapped around it.
Leland seemed rather pleased with the way your body reacted, letting out a quiet hum of amusement, before moving to your other breast. While kissing, his hands trailed down the length of your body, squeezing your sides once again, before slipping into the belt loop of your pants. With a careful tug they started to slip down and he stopped kissing for a moment, looking up to see your reaction.
After seeing you still enthusiastic for his touch, he smiles, slipping them off. His lips trail down your midriff. Leland's tongue is tickling against the more sensitive spots on your skin, as your stomach sucks in and you let out a quiet giggle which slips into a moan the second he bites you again.
There's nothing subtle about his movements, however he's careful, ensuring to be gentle. Leland worked with determination, his long fingers removing your underwear at an agonizingly slow rate. You wiggled your hips a little, hoping to encourage him. He smiled up at your response, kissing the inside of your thigh.
"Already so needy..." he teased, his hands gently running up and down your thighs. Leland's eyes shined every time he saw your body react to his touch, almost like it was a reward itself for him. "I plan to take my time."
It was clear he was rather pleased with himself. You huffed slightly, chewing your bottom lip, as you smirked down at him, your undergarments now completely removed.
"I'll remember that next time."
Leland looked up subtly between your legs, as he continued to kiss on you.
"Next time huh? I like the sound of that."
You scoffed, ready to quip back, when you felt his tongue gently tease your entrance, making you let out a surprised moan. Your thighs squeezed together slightly, glaring down at him when he pulled back.
"You're so pretty when you're desperate for my touch," he whispered quietly, his lips returning to your thighs. "Don't worry, I'm going to make you feel real good."
Leland covered your left thigh in small bruises and bitemarks, before moving back to your entrance. This time his tongue dove in a little more aggressively. It moved slowly, exploring your insides. One hand rested on your waist, the other carefully squeezing your right thigh.
Your own hands ran through his hair, as you tried to push his head a little deeper, shifting beneath his mouth. As expected it did little, only seeming to make his tongue slow down.
"Leland..." you pleaded quietly, letting out an annoyed whine when he pulled away completely. Leland crept upwards, towering over you a little, his grip on your thigh tightening. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes, as he tilted his head to the side.
"Hmm?" he hummed innocently in response.
You stared up at him unamused, which only seemed to encourage him. Leland let out a little laugh, kissing his way back down.
"Tell me what you want. Use your words," Leland whispered against your skin, smiling coyly at you. God if you didn't need to cooperate to get what you wanted, you'd smack that smug look right off his face. Or fuck it off.
"Leland please... move your tongue faster," you replied.
Before you could even finish the sentence, his tongue slipped back in, adhering to your request a little. It wasn't quite the pace you wanted, however before you could complain his hand slipped off your thigh, gently rubbing along your clit. Your hips jutted forward in response, and you felt him smile against you.
You couldn't sit still, the more he slowly worked on you, desperate to increase the speed at which he moved. Each time your hips squirmed however, the pressure from his finger would move. He was teasing you and enjoying every moment of it.
He slowly pulled back again, smiling up at you.
"I'm going to make sure everyone knows just who you belong to," Leland purred, and before you could respond, his tongue darted inside of you again, his fingers moving in a rather quick rhythm.
It isn't until about the third movement you realize he's spelling his name inside of you, causing your stomach to tighten, as the familiar heat builds inside of you. Between the claim Leland's making on you with his tongue and the quick movements of his fingers, you're unwound completely beneath the man.
Every quiet little gasp and moan only seems to encourage him further, as he places your legs on his shoulders to get a little deeper. Your hands tighten on his hair, pushing his head in, as your breathing becomes ragged.
"Leland..."
The way his name leaves your tongue drives him wild between your legs, as he continues working you to that point. His tongue is moving frantically inside of you. L-E-L-A-
He doesn't even get to finish the spelling this time, before your thighs clench around him, and your body shakes a little beneath his tongue. That doesn't seem to stop him however, determined to finish his spelling, as he continues to lick around you.
When Leland pulls back, he seems rather pleased with himself, towering over you once again. The hand that had been on your waist moves to carefully grab your chin.
"That's my good girl," he whispered softly, licking his lips. Leland smiled slightly at the taste, savoring every little response you gave him. He then kisses you, his tongue slipping into your mouth and swirling around. You can feel Leland smiling against your lips as you deepen the kiss. Your mind is still foggy from the orgasm, drunkenly moving your own tongue inside his mouth.
When he pulls away, he's still smiling, resting his forehead against your own.
"Think you can handle any more," Leland asks quietly, rubbing his hips against your own. You let out a breathy moan, feeling how hard he is through his pants against you. That seems to almost sober you, as you nodded.
His eyes shine, as he guides your hands up, helping him pull his shirt off. You studied his muscled chest, fingers carefully running along his abdomen, then gently grabbing his waist.
You were so desperate to feel him inside of you already, grabbing the belt buckle of his pants and quickly undoing it. Leland has no complaints with your actions, helping him slip off the last of his clothes.
You're surprised however to see him just staring down at you. He looks so... peaceful. Content, as he studies your naked form.
"What?" you ask quietly.
Leland's smile only widens as he leans down, kissing your ear, his voice just above a whisper.
"You're just so beautiful. Not just your body but just... everything. I'm enamored by you."
His praise makes your whole body warm, glowing with joy, as he continues to kiss along your neck. God you were just so perfect to him. He couldn't control himself. He wanted to get lost in every curve of your body.
Leland reached down guiding himself in. He's slow at first, giving you time to adjust, before fully slipping in. You let out a slight shiver, gently caressing his face, as you smiled up at him. Leland began to thrust inside of you in careful slow movements in response, his lips now moved down to your breasts again.
He loved the way your body felt against him, as his pace increased a little, noticing the little pout you gave him. Everything about his touch, his movements, were gentle. Very aware of how you were feeling, leaning into your queues.
It was evident that his pleasure came secondary to yours, as he ground your hips against him, making him increase his speed. Leland wanted your first time with him to be completely in your control. After everything that had occurred today, he wanted to do everything in his power to give you a sense of security.
Leland's hands gently ran up the sides of your body, as he let out a low moan himself, feeling you tighten around him. His face twisted in pleasure, as he moved a little deeper against you.
The response only made you feel a wetter beneath him, as Leland ran into that particularly sensitive spot. Her back arched in response, the more Leland got to know your body, the quicker he was with catching your reactions and acting on them. Every careful touch and kiss was made with calculated precision.
"Fuck... you feel so good," he moaned, struggling to control himself.
The words made a quiet moan of your own escape your lips, shouting his name, as he continued ramming into that one spot, each thrust a little quicker than the last. You matched his speed with ease, eager to bring up to that point.
You could feel him brush against all the sensitive areas inside of you, which only further drove your desire, as your nails dug into his back. The gentleness when you had started had completely faded into a more passionate tango, Leland's thrusts becoming more feral. The way he moaned your name only seemed to turn you on more, now so slick he could easily slip in and out of you.
You enjoyed every little whimper and moan that escaped the brunette's lips, as you tightened around him a bit more. You wrapped your legs around his waist, wanting nothing more than to be close.
Leland then lets out a rather loud moan, releasing inside of you. He twitches a little, that shooting sensation making your back arch. After a few moments, he slowly slips out, letting out a breathy sigh. Leland rolls onto his back beside you, letting out a little laugh.
"I needed that... I've wanted..."
He can't seem to string the words together through his labored breathing, running a hand through his sweaty hair, as he turns slightly to face you. Leland smiles when his eyes meet yours, reaching out to pull you close to him, as he presses a soft kiss on your forehead.
"You... have no idea how many nights I laid awake thinking about you. How desperately I wanted... and now I have you. You feel the same. You... are just everything to me right now."
He rested his chin on your head, gently wrapping his arms around your waist. He didn't even mind that you were sweaty, inhaling quietly. Leland was rather fond of your musk. It was no secret, especially now, that he was fond when it came to a lot of things about you.
You only purred in response, nestling deeper into his chest and kissing it affectionately.
"Fuck... Leland that was so much better than I ever imagined..."
Leland smiled softly in response, his sleepy eyes crinkling slightly. He never wanted to let go of you.
"I love you."
The words fall so effortlessly from his lips, and you stiffen in his grasp, stunned. You hadn't expected it, and based on the way his body seemed to tense up and flinch it seemed he hadn't been expecting it either. You slowly lifted your head, your heart fluttering.
"I'm sorry," Leland quickly added, his cheeks reddening with embarrassment. You'd known Leland long enough to know he was always rather impulsive. It didn't lessen the extent of his words for you, as you gently reached up, grabbing his face in your hands. You smiled sweetly, before climbing on top of and straddling the man.
"I love you too," you assured him quietly, adoring the relief on his face and the way he seemed to relax beneath you, as you kissed him intensely. Leland McKinney. A name you never wanted to forget.
#leland mckinney#leland mckinney x reader#texas chainsaw massacre#tcm game#tcm fanfic#tcm x reader#smut
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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.”
#johnny sawyer#johnny sawyer x reader#johnny slaughter#johnny slaughter x reader#johnny tcm#texas chainsaw game#x reader#fluff#tcm x reader
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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.
#➳ : messages#lambofjudgement#your brain works in wonderous ways sjdbejdnef!!!#I couldn’t stop thinking abt this like??? it’s so hot omg#anything abt johnny got me going FERAL!!#johnny slaughter#johnny slaughter x reader#tcm x reader
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prison for life | johnny slaughter x gn!reader
a/n — I don't really like this lol, butttttt the low amount of Johnny content constitutes that the worst fics must be posted for the quantity
summary — Johnny got into a fight over you at the bar you own, and you patch him up.
words — 1.9k
warnings — mentions of blood and Johnny getting more scars. language
~~~
Watching people trickle out of the bar and onto the gravel pathway leading to your bar was always a treat—wishing them a safe travel home and a safer time searching for their keys while they laughed at the jokes the regulars heard every night and the newcomers would eventually get sick of. It’s what the final few minutes of any establishment should strive for. You got to be a part of the community from behind the bar, towel slung over one shoulder and the stream of a bottle flying over the next with the help of your many acquired flashy tricks. The final drink would be made just for you, by yourself. What wasn’t fun was watching them leave with shock and awe painted on their faces, the women ogling the man that just clobbered another out cold. The men with their spouses left in a hurry, both in fear of what happened moments before and nervousness that Johnny would snake his arm around those he stared at all night; his intentions for staring? Unclear. The line at which he would go from another bar patron to your champion of contest was equally so. Closing time should be that, but here you were, serving your last patron with alcohol that didn’t go anywhere near his mouth. It was for a scar on his shoulder…and for the nosebleed…and for his de-rooted tooth…and for the scar on his face. You would definitely need another drink after this.
Maybe two, just to see if Johnny was still alive. Still in the real world, if he was in it to begin with. His pain tolerance was uncomfortably high and he didn’t wince as much as you would in this situation. He proved it when he spoke, his voice low and gruff but still permeating through to the levity you were used to.
“Another scar to add to the collection.” He smirked, revealing the blood staining his teeth and wrinkling the blood that had dried on his skin just under his nose.
He could fight pretty well, but everyone has a center of gravity and the guys from the city possessed the knowledge to know how to tip him over like cattle. But Johnny actually did tip cattle, he was the one getting his hands dirty almost every day. He was used to meatheads. So in a quick motion of left-hooks and failed dodges, Johnny had the man on the floor within seconds.
“And another tooth lost.” You said, swishing around the one that was sitting at the bottom of an empty drinking glass. It rattled and clinked against the inside of the glass like someone dunked the body of a savior—your savior—in a stoup. While it was covered and stained with blood from the root it had been separated from, you could see between the red striping over it to notice the yellow staining—a trademark of bad hygiene. At certain angles, there seemed to be a black spot that was insidiously drilling into his tooth to rot it from the inside. “At least the cavity’s gone.”
“I got more of ‘em, though. Plenty, like shark teeth.” His smirk stretched into a wide grin, flashing his teeth in your direction. The gap between his teeth would have led you to believe he was missing something much bigger, but it was probably just your own head struggling to recognize it as a new feature on his face. It wasn’t like his fresh cuts that would turn to scars and eventually fade, no. Every time he smiled, smoked a cigarette, or bared his teeth to threaten someone, there would always be something missing now.
“I’ll count each row and if there aren’t fifty… Well, I know where one is. You want it?” Good thing there wasn’t anything missing in your relationship. He still bickered and didn’t lose his bite after the loss of one molar.
“Nah, just chuck it.” He didn’t want it to be more trouble than it was worth. It was his DNA—not yet incriminating for the time but it would be harder to identify him based on dental records, for the little paper trail he had left behind.
While he didn’t want to take home the proof that he didn’t walk away from the fight unscathed, he still won the fight. You tried to remind him of that, “Hey, you get to tell your family about the other guy when you get home. I think they will be pretty happy to hear that you’re okay. Minus one tooth.”
He laughed. This would be the part where he’d usually take a drink between pauses during the many conversations you shared with him before, his hand cupping at the air in a reflex before lightly knocking against the wooden bar with a flat palm. Almost in defeat; it was the same hand he had successfully tipped a cow down with one punch. “Sure… they’ll be real worried.”
You set the glass down as he tried picking one up, moving over to the first aid kit that was open and ripped apart from the inside, unpacking all of the quick medicinal fixes it had to offer. Johnny had a few cuts and you rushed to get it when the fight turned serious. Now that it had de-escalated: the man still on the floor with glass shards surrounding him, Johnny returning to the seat he’d been occupying at the bar all night, it made you feel a little overreactive to the situation.
Rounding the bar, you filled the space atop the empty brown stool next to Johnny. He leaned in your direction, brandishing his wounded shoulder with ease thanks to his sleeveless black tank. There was one deep cut heading straight for his bursa in the middle of his shoulder and a few lighter ones surrounding it that would only need to be cleaned and bandaged. The man didn’t speak and Johnny didn’t wince when you started patching him up. You were using vodka to treat his wounds, and a small glass of water to clean that after you wiped away the blood. The towel you usually had slung over your shoulder was now turning a deep red from its vibrant white, matted down with his blood. Lightly, you dabbed a little at his face, but he wouldn’t really turn to look in your direction. Once they were all clean, it was time to start on his dwelling laceration: you started on the right side and pierced the surface of his skin to lightly sew it back together. Johnny was a little squeamish to the feeling, but it started looking better towards the end. Too bad you couldn’t do the same for his tooth.
“Try not to move that arm so much or I’ll have to put another stitch in it.” You tried to get his mind onto something else and decided that being a pain in his ass would be better than letting his mind settle on the pain in his shoulder and face. You had two stitches or so left to do before you could tie off the thin thread. “C’mon, you can tell them about how you kicked that guy out!”
“He came at me with a glass after I asked him to leave. Not much of a story to tell.” Johnny sounded a bit unamused, like the work he did was conscientious to the liking of a law enforcer.
“That’s not how I remember it.” Johnny came up to the guy, commanding him to leave for the things he overheard. When he refused to leave, Johnny grabbed him by the arm with enough strength to lift him out of his seat. The man’s drink spilled out of his glass, and in an undefinable rage, he hit Johnny with the glass on his left shoulder—the same side as the arm he used to pull him away from his source of intoxication. You only caught wind of the last action, returning from the back office with a rack of clean drinking glasses that you let slip out of your grasp when you saw Johnny get hit. The noise caused him to turn to look at you, revealing the scar across his face from one of the shards of glass grazing his cheek from the impact on his shoulder to cut him up.
“Listen!” He snarled out, shooting up and pulling away from you. You just had to tie the knot at this point. “I woulda kept my cool but he—”
“I don’t pay you to keep your cool.” And you were right, he kind of just came in and occupied a seat in the bar. He would stare at people when they barked at you—his warm brown eyes hardening into dirt-colored pebbles and silica daggers, unseen but felt. Sometimes, these men would take it too far and he’d cause them to fall face-first into the dirt outside after a harsh eviction. What would Johnny do with this guy? You could probably drag him out of the place if you really tried, but Johnny could lift like he ate—big and hefty.
“You don’t pay me nothin’” But he was right, too. He wasn’t the typical image of security. He wasn’t big enough to block doors, he didn’t sit at the entrance, and he sure as hell didn’t care to card people walking in.
“Except in free drinks. Get a six-pack out of the cooler on your way out, you earned it. Just… don’t drink it ‘till you’re home?” There was a black refrigerator by the door with a glass panel taking up most of the hinged door in front of it. Of all the things to get broken in the fight, you wouldn’t expect a measly cup to go first.
Or for your heart to shatter, when Johnny asked with a little bit of surprise, “You worried about me?”
“About myself. I don’t have the strength or gall to take on the farmers around here.” You pulled on the string hanging from his shoulder, tying it into a knot. You decided in the brief moment between spoken words that Johnny would be fine without treating his face if it was only cleaned. “And you have to get that guy home—that’s your last job of the night. I’ll help you throw him into your pickup, yeah?”
“But he, he said things about you I didn’t like.” You turned to the first-aid kit, reaching in for the tiny pair of scissors to cut the extra thread. When you turned back, you spoke with intrigue.
“Like what?”
“I don’t want to think about it. He might not make it home safe if I do.” Johnny smirked, his eyes wandering off into his own fantasy for a moment at the things he could do to the man on the floor.
“Fine, I won’t pry.” You finished up stitching him, closing the book on the night’s chaos. Johnny got out of his stool, standing over the guy with both legs on either side of his unconscious body. He reached down and hoisted him up by the shoulders, being intentionally careless as he let his legs drag and hit against the table and chair legs on his way out. You got a six-pack for him—a Pearl beer, his favorite—and followed him out to his old Chevy. Johnny didn’t tear any of his stitchings when throwing the guy into the back of his truck, and the drunken bastard didn’t wake up to any of Johnny’s rough handlings. You said your goodbyes to him and wished the guy a safe and bumpy travel home, but he would never walk back into the bar again.
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝒜 𝐵𝐿𝒪𝒪𝒟𝒴 𝑅𝐸𝒰𝒩𝐼𝒪𝒩 — j.slaughter
word count ; 5k
warnings / tags ; MINORS / AGELESS BLOGS DNI, fem!reader, VERY DARK CONTENT, murder, heavy non-con to dub-con, light stalking, minor knife play (?), blood play, forced to fuck in ur boyfriends blood, typical johnny slaughter things, biting, fingering, oral (f!recieving), p in v sex, johnny threatening you, mentions of kidnapping + more murder, kinda dead dove do not eat.
authors note ; ok I wrote this at 5am feverishly, so there will probably be a lot of errors and it’s a bit rushed, but shirtless johnny has had me in a chokehold and I’ve been THINKING so I had to scribble something down — I swear I’ll do better next time 🤍
the heat haze shimmered above the road as you and your boyfriend continued to drive in the rust bucket of a car, which had practically become an oven. the smell of the leather seats mixed with the intense heat and long journey was enough to make you nearly throw up. your only saving grace was a little hand fan your grams gave you as a kid, and the occasional breeze that came through the window when the car could manage to go faster than 20mph.
you and your boyfriend were heading to dallas for a weekend away together, taking his fathers rusty old car that had started making a weird sound and smelt of burning about half way into the journey. you got lost at least three times, and of course your boyfriend blamed it on you because you had the map, and not the fact he just wouldn’t listen to you and take the directions you were giving him.
“look, there’s a mechanics there, we should pull over and see if it’s anything important.” your boyfriend spoke in the most annoyed, yet monotone voice he could, not even sparing you a glance.
“oh great, stay in this backwards little town that I’m pretty sure neither of us have heard of, sure that’ll be great.” you retorted, folding your arms and looking out the window to the streets you were driving through.
“just shut up and wait here.”
you glared at him as he got out and slammed the car door as loud as he possibly could, shaking the car side to side and managing to get the attention of the mechanic working in the garage just ahead. you didn’t even bother looking at him while he was talking away inside, instead you got out the car and headed to the little store just a few buildings down.
“heya, darlin’.” the shopkeeper chirped up from the seat behind the counter, his feet propped up on the glass top as he read the newspaper.
you spared him a polite smile and went straight to the refrigerator toward the back of the store, grabbing a bottle of water and sighing in relief at the cool air that hit you as soon as the door opened. the shop was pretty small, paint peeling from the walls and the door, posters all over that were a couple years past whatever they were advertising, and the cigarette smoke hung heavy in the air — presumably from the rugged looking man behind the counter.
you decided to grab a few more drinks and some snacks for yourself before making your way to the counter, not bothering to buy anything your partner liked.
“is that all, darlin’?” the cashier stood up and tapped away at the till, counting up all the things you bought for yourself.
before you could reply, you saw a stack of newspapers at the side of the counter, big bold letters on the front reading “another teenager missing—” and you couldn’t read the rest from it being folded over.
“oh that’s some nasty business, that is…” the man behind the till spoke in a thick southern accent, noticing how you were looking at the papers, “whole bunch of ‘em gone missing recently, search parties ain’t turnin up nothing, I bet they all dead by now…”
“oh wow…” you grimaced a little to yourself, “sounds like it’s quite a big issue round here.”
“yeah, like we say it been happenin’ awhile now, was one at a time then a few of them seemed to disappear. cops say there ain’t no way of knowin’ if they went missin’ round here, but everyone knows they did.”
you politely put a paper on the top of your other things and he nodded, placing it neatly into the bag he packed some of your stuff into already, “you be careful out there, darlin’, ain’t no safe place nowadays.”
“I will, thank you.” you gave him another smile and took your bag from the counter, you stopped just shy of the front door, “you wouldn’t happen to know if there’s a motel or somewhere to stay round here, would you?”
“oh sure thing, there’s a motel ‘bout mile and a half up the road, ain’t nothing too fancy but it’s a roof over your head.”
“thank you.” you grinned and let the door swing shut behind you while you reached into your bag to find your water, the little bell on the top of the door ringing out as you left.
“oh gosh, I’m so sorry!” you yelped as you walked into something solid.
“it’s alright, darlin’, you all good?” the deep voice spoke out from above you, his firm grip on your elbow to balance you.
you looked up to him with doe eyes, a heat rising up your face as you looked at his ruggedly handsome face. your eyes tracing across the scar that ran across his head, then down his jawline before quickly coming to your senses.
“I’m so sorry, I should really watch where I’m going, I was just trying to grab my water…” you spoke sheepishly, strangely embarrassed that you hadn’t been paying any attention and walked into someone that looked like him.
before the man could even reply to you, you heard a familiar voice shouting at you from across the road, the anger in his voice very apparent.
“where the hell did you go? didn’t I tell you to wait in the car? I was worried sick.” your boyfriend stormed across the road without even looking to see if there were any cars or anything, “what the hell were you doing?”
“hey, do we have an issue here?” the man you just met spoke up, moving to stand in front of you, he crossed his arms across his broad chest and glared at your partner to the point you could see how uncomfortable he was becoming with the stranger looking at him.
he was taller than your boyfriend by quite a bit, more muscular too, he had a deeper voice, better hair…honestly he was better in nearly every way. a wave of guilt washed over you pretty quickly after thinking that, you should be defending your boyfriend and not lusting over another man, but you couldn’t help it — after the day you’d had with your partner treating you the way he did, you thought it fair to think another man was attractive — it’s not like you were going to act on it or even see this man again after today.
“oh no, don’t worry, he’s my boyfriend, he was just over at the mechanics up there and I went to get some snack without saying anything,” you chirped up from behind the stranger, tiptoeing around him to get closer to your partner, “you know with all the stuff happening around here, it was a silly thing for me to just wander off without saying anything, especially in a strange town.”
“alright…” the strange man paused and then frowned slightly but nodded, giving you a slight wave as he turned and walked into the store you just left.
“who the hell was that?” your significant other muttered as he began walking away up the road, dragging your suitcase behind him.
you opened your mouth to answer him but before you could even get a word out your boyfriend spoke up again, “doesn’t matter. the cars gonna be in here for the rest of the day, said it’d be fixed tomorrow, noon by latest. motels not too far up the road so we’ll just stay there for the night and then we can get the hell out of here.”
you sauntered behind, not even bothering to give him an answer, instead you just rolled your eyes and admired the way the sunset cast a beautiful orange hue across the fields in the distance. the entire walk to the motel had you thinking about the man you bumped into and the headline of the newspaper that was in your carrier bag from the store.
a chill ran across the back of your neck just at the thought of all those poor kids who’d gone missing, and you wondered if they were all dead just like the shopkeeper had said they were. it was weird that it seemingly kept happening and the police didn’t seem any closer to catching the perpetrators, because you knew it had been going on for a while — but then again, what use were the cops anyway?
“looks like the motels just up here”, the voice pulled you from your thoughts and you looked up to see the large building with a big sign outside with “MOTEL” written on it.
“what gave it away?” you chucked to yourself, ignoring the annoyed sigh that you got in response.
“give me a second and I’ll go check us in for the night.”
“alright.” you grabbed your carrier and suitcase from him, and he kept hold of his own bag as he walked to the front desk.
you stood outside for a couple of minutes, having the uneasy feeling that you were being watched from somewhere, but there was no one else but you around for what seemed like a good way away. your eyes darted back and forth along the long stretch of road, looking into the trees that lined it, but it was too dark already to see anything if it were stood there stalking you.
“hey, got the key, come on.”
you followed close behind as your boyfriend guided you to your room on the second floor, once you stepped in you looked around with a bit of contempt. it was far from perfect, honestly it looked a little grimy and dusty, but it was a roof over your head for the night like the shopkeeper said to you.
you threw your bags down at the small table and chairs that were in front of the window, locking and latching the door shut behind you. you peeped out the curtains and looked back down to where you were just stood, scanning intently for a sign of anyone else but there wasn’t, the only thing that seemed to be moving were a few birds fighting for some scraps on the side of the road.
“you got nothing I like?” he grumbled as he scrounged through the bag you got from the store.
“nope, if you want something then you should go get it yourself.”
he mumbled something under his breath as he stood back up, grabbing his jacket from the bottom of the bed and storming towards the door. the mood he was in was foul, you could practically feel it in the air and you just wanted him out of the room for a little while. you both needed some time alone to cool off, and as much as part of you wanted to ask him to get himself a seperate room, you were too scared to spend the night alone here.
“lock the door behind you, I want to go have a shower.”
he didn’t even reply to you as he slammed the door behind himself, but still you heard him lock it behind himself just like you requested.
you took your light jacket off and threw it over the back of one of the wooden chairs with a grumble, as you did your coat caught the bag you got from the store and made the newspaper fall to the floor. you bent down to pick it up with annoyance and then sat down, unfolding it and reading the headline in full — “another teenager missing in newt, ninth person missing in the last four months.”
“holy—” you whispered to yourself in shock, your eyes looking at the picture of the long haired young man on the front, your heart feeling heavy just from looking at it.
you read a little of the article, it talked about when it first started and when each disappearance happened, and how little they knew about anything. there had been a lot of search parties in the county and the surrounding ones too, but there was never any luck. from what it seemed, it was like all those people just up and vanished into thin air, the police had nothing and there were no witnesses. apparently it caused a lot of ruckus within the town, lots of meetings held in the town hall and people trying to come up with their own solutions rather than relying on the police to do anything.
you threw the paper onto the table and shook your head, an uneasy feeling creeping into your entire soul, you wanted out of this place — you wished you could have stopped in any other town than this one, why did it have to be this one?
“god, I hope he’s okay…” you thought out loud to yourself as you stood, suddenly worried about your boyfriend being out there all alone.
you ran your hands up through your hair and let out another sigh, deciding it best to take that shower you said you would, hopefully washing the day away would make you feel any better than you did now. you grabbed a few things from your suitcase and bag and took them into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind yourself — double and triple checking it was locked before placing your things down and turning on the shower.
you undressed and kicked your clothes to the chair that was next to the door, and stood with your hand under the water, waiting for it to heat up, yet it only seemed to get to just under lukewarm before not getting any hotter. it didn’t really bother you, you were in need of a cold shower to wash away the grime of the hot summer's day, but you’d still have liked a little heat to the water.
you stood under the shower head for a good while before washing your hair and body, reaching out the shower to grab your shampoo from the side of the sink. just as you did you finally heard your boyfriend return, and you smiled to yourself, just happy he was safe.
“hey, sweetie,” you called out from the shower but it didn’t seem like he heard you, instead you heard the tv turn on and you rolled your eyes.
you knew he was probably still in a mood with you, and it didn’t surprise you in the slightest — he was always one to hold a grudge, if you didn’t apologise then you swear he’d go weeks without talking to you, just to spite you. he was stubborn and argumentative, but he could be sweet and caring, and even though some of your friends hated him, you loved him. he never really showed the better side of himself to other people, but when it came to you, he’d do anything — even if it drove him up the wall crazy.
the water switched off with a squeak and you carefully stepped out, wrapping your towel tightly around you before moving in front of the sink and looking into the mirror. you made quick work of brushing your teeth and squeezing the water out of your hair, then you did your usual nighttime routine to get it out of the way sooner rather than later.
“hey listen, I’m sorry about earlier,” you stepped out of the bathroom into the dark bedroom and switched the light off behind you.
just as your eyes adjust to the light difference, a large hand slammed over your mouth from behind, and then you felt the cool sensation of metal pressing up against your throat. you cried out from behind the hand as you saw your boyfriend splayed out on the bottom of the bed, his blood soaking into the covers and spilling onto the floor, throat cut ear to ear to the point you swear he was nearly decapitated completely.
“don’t make a sound, okay, sweetheart? otherwise you gonna end up like that annoying boyfriend of yours.” the voice was familiar, deep, southern.
your eyes widened, blurred from the tears pouring from them. it was the man from earlier, the one you walked into outside of the store. was he annoyed to bumped into him or that your boyfriend seemed to mouth off at him?
a million thoughts ran through your head in an instant, you didn’t even notice the hand move away from your mouth until the figure slowly walked around you and stood in front of you, his knife trailing along your throat at the same time.
“you… you’re from the store—“ you could barely spit your words out coherently through your sobbing, not being able to take your eyes away from the pools of blood trickling down the sheets.
“hey, you remembered me? that makes me feel real special…” he laughed, the tip of the blade tracing a light line down the middle of your chest and stopping at the top of your towel.
“I’m sorry for walking into you, I swear I didn’t mean it, I was just—“
“sweetheart, I don’t care about that, I ain’t that sensitive.”
he placed the blade under your chin and forced you to look up at him, he wanted all your attention and he’d make sure you gave him it. you didn’t know what to say back to him, you weren’t even sure if you should speak.
your heart was practically beating out of your chest as he stepped forward, backing you up against the bathroom door. you shut your eyes in wait to feel him attack you, but instead you felt his lips against yours — warm and gentle at first, but then he moved with more forced, more hunger.
you instinctively moved away from the kiss, smacking your head off the door behind you and gasping.
“I’m sorry, I just…”
“what’s wrong, sweetness? you’re a single lady, dont be going and worrying on me now,” his tone was mocking as he pushed his knife more firmly against your throat, a warning.
you couldn’t even speak, you just nodded. you knew what was coming and you knew you couldn’t exactly fight him, he was twice your size and clearly had no issues with killing anyone that didn’t give him what he wanted. you couldn’t look at him though, you felt dirty beyond what a shower could wash away, instead you stayed looking down at your own feet, trying to ignore how much of your boyfriends blood covered the man’s clothes.
he leaned down and kissed you again, this time he was a lot rougher, his free hand grabbing at your hip with a painful grip, his body pushing up against yours until there was no wiggle room left. you barely kissed him back, but still enough that he’d recognise you were doing as you were told.
he lowered the blade slightly as he forced you toward the bed, a sudden horror coming over you, he wanted to fuck you on that bed. the bed soaked in your boyfriend's blood, pools of it. that’s when a realisation dawned on you, he was the one who made all those people go missing, all those poor teens everyone thought was dead — all those people you know are dead.
“wait—“ you quickly spun around and faced him, looking up at his face and you could see the anger flash in his eyes, you knew you couldn’t push your luck too much, “at least…at least tell me your name, please.”
he laughed and gave you a genuine smile, “it’s johnny, baby, why? you wanna know what name you’re gonna end up screamin’?”
you nodded innocently in hopes to just buy yourself some more time, praying the police would barge through the door and shoot him dead, but you knew it was wishful thinking. he’s a man that’s got away with it for this long, he obviously doesn’t make mistakes, he knows what he’s doing.
his finger hooked over the top of your towel while you were distracted, he loosened the fold that held it up, and it crumpled to the floor with a quiet little thud.
“damn.”
johnny smiled to himself as he carefully dragged the blade from your pubic bone to the bottom of your ribs, his eyes practically fucking every part of your body already. without much thought your hands shot up to cover your body from his gaze, the embarrassment of being naked in front of a stranger immediately making you cower in front of him like a scared puppy. he didn’t even speak as he grabbed your wrists and yanked your hands away from your body, a quiet sadistic chuckle coming from him as he moved closer to you.
“you got some body on you…” his mouth ghosted across yours as he moved his lips down to your neck, kissing and suckling at your supple flesh.
he kept moving forwards until you both fell onto the bed, the sound of the blood squelching under you and you couldn’t help but yelp, to johnny’s amusement.
it was cold now, the sheets were full and with every movement more blood squished out of them with a sickening wet sound. you couldn’t help but whimper at the idea of it, the way your entire body was covered in blood, how it slashed up on your face and was soaking into your hair — it was enough to make you want to throw up, you squeezed your eyes shut and breathed in and out loudly to try and calm yourself.
“hey, open your eyes.” his voice was low, annoyed.
the knife pressed against your neck enough to pierce the skin, blood trickling from the wound just enough for johnny to run his tongue along it, licking up all the blood with a satisfied hum.
“you taste good.” his free hand ran up the inside of your thigh, the blood coating it making it all the easier for him.
more tears rolled down your cheeks but you didn’t make a sound anymore, instead you were too focused on the way his thumb rubbed rough circles on your clit, his mouth suckling on one of your nipples — it was like he was trying to pleasure you, and some part of you hated that more, you’d rather him just get it over with and hurt you, but it was obvious he didn’t want that — or at least that’s not all he wanted.
johnny let his mouth move further and further down your body until his mouth replaced his hand. his tongue swirling around in circles across your puffy, sensitive clit, quiet moans coming from him as he relished in the taste of the blood and your slick mixing together so beautifully. you felt sick to your stomach, not because of what he was doing but because you were enjoying it, because his mouth sucking and teasing at your cunt was one of the best things you’d ever felt. your boyfriend rarely went down on you and when he did, it never felt like this.
you couldn’t help but let out a quiet whimper, your back arching from the bed and coaxing him on even more. his tongue moved with more speed, going between circles on your clit or fucking into your clenching hole.
“fuck, such a desperate whore,” he smirked to himself as he forced two fingers into you, not even caring whether they were too big for you to handle or not.
“wait, ah—“ you tried to move back and away from his hand but his other hand gripping at your hip was too strong, you couldn’t move away from him.
his fingers were buried knuckle deep inside of you, curling and twisting against the deepest spots inside of you, his mouth resuming what it was doing before — and you could feel yourself unravelling like you never had.
the tears only got worse when you looked to the side, your boyfriend still laid there with his neck slit ear to ear, a horrible feeling in the pit of your stomach as you squeezed your eyes shut. you were disgusting, a horrible human, who in their right mind enjoys getting fucked by a psychopath? one that just killed their lover, one who has you coated in the blood of the person you loved? what the hell had even happened? you had no idea how any of this happened, and your heart broke the more you thought about how he died angry with you, how he died with you angry at him.
you were too busy in your own thoughts that you didn’t noticed your orgasm sneaking up on you so quickly, that disgraceful feeling in the pit of your stomach unravelling into something much better, a white hot ball of pleasure, johnny’s name rolling off your tongue like it’s a name you’ve moaned for the last few years.
he couldn’t take his eyes off you, the way your mouth fell open and your eyes rolled back as he forced you to come on his fingers, the way his name sounded so angelic when it came from your pretty little mouth. he could barely contain himself anymore, his cock almost painful behind the confines of his tight jeans.
“so… goddamn needy,” he panted as he stripped himself down to nothing, his muscles highlighted by the tv’s flashing pictures at the bottom of the bed.
there was something about you that he couldn’t put his finger on, you lured him in from the moment you walked into him. everything about you was perfect, was enticing, you were made for him and he knew it — he knew he had to make you his, and that’s why he followed you and your boyfriend to the motel. he needed to get rid of him and claim you as his own, to fuck you in front of him, but he got too cocky, said somethings johnny didn’t like and he got mad and slit the fuckers throat.
johnny loomed over you, his big cock teasing up and down your slit, and you couldn’t help but cry. he was too big, bigger than you’ve ever had, and you knew he wouldn’t be gentle with you. he looked down at you with the devil in his eyes, and a smirk on his face, “I’ll give us a little more room, yeah?”
he kicked to the side and forced your boyfriend's corpse to the floor with a loud wet thud. he laughed to himself as he slid you more into the middle of the bed, more into the pools of blood. he was sick, disgusting…he was getting off on this, all the blood and fucking you in it.
as he began to push himself into you, you whimpered at the stretch, “wait, johnny please, too big—“ your hands slapped up and gripped at his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin and breaking it.
“it’ll fit, don’t worry, just take it.” he licked the blood from your cheek and forced himself deeper into you with a groan, “fuck…shit”
he relaxed and leaned down, letting his head fall against into the crook of your neck as he got as close to bottoming out in you as he could.
he loved the blood, he loved fucking you like this, claiming you as his own whether you wanted him to or not, and it was obvious. you didn’t know whether he wanted you after this, what was going to happen but you needed to live, to fight for your survival, that much you knew — you had to do the things he liked, and it became pretty obvious what that was.
it wasn’t exactly hard to enjoy it, the way his hips moved all the way back then slowly pushed back to you, his cock sliding all the way back in again, the tip kissing your cervix surprisingly gentle.
a pleasurable sigh escaping past your lips as your hands weaved into his hair, dragging his mouth down to meet yours. you opened your legs further to give him more access, and he took that as an invitation to speed up.
“dirty little slut want more of daddy’s cock?” he muttered in between kisses, his bloody hand resting against your cheek, and covering your face.
“fuck— m…more please” you couldn’t help yourself, every single atom of self respect had practically left your body with each thrust.
his cock had stretched you out beyond your limit but you didn’t even care, the pain was part of the pleasure, and the more that his cock hit that spot inside of you, the less you could think straight. cuss words fell from his mouth as he forced two of his fingers into your mouth, and you could see the glimmer of sick satisfaction in his eyes as he made you taste your lover's blood. you could see how much he enjoyed it, so against every fibre of your being, you let your tongue swirl around his digits. you let out a moan and sucked on them, never once letting your eyes leave his.
and with that one move you send him over the edge, his thrusts became uneven and hard, he was practically feral. he leaned down and slammed his mouth against yours and bit harshly at your bottom lip, making it bleed just so he could taste you again. he moaned into the kiss, blood and spit stringing up to his lips from yours as he leaned up, his cum coating your insides without any care in the world.
“fuck…” he panted and collapsed down on you, taking a moment to catch his breath.
when he moved back it didn’t take him two seconds to replace his cock with his fingers, forcing you to keep his cum inside your aching cunt.
you could feel how heavy your eyes were getting, the mix of traveling all day, crying, and being brutally fucked had took it out of you. every single muscle in your body ached, you didn’t even think it was possible to be as tired as you were right now.
“that’s it baby, don’t you worry, I’ll take care of you, I’m keepin’ you.”
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— “ 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐥 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 ” ; 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈
𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐋𝐚𝐦𝐛 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫
𝘈 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴.
𝙃𝙚𝙧 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙠 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙡𝙞𝙥𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙩 𝙞𝙩.
𝘈 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘛𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘩 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺’𝘷𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘥.
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.
—
Strapping arms mottled in scarred, calloused skin accompany the faintest scent of the ashen, stale smoke of woody tobacco from the cigarettes he smoked and the oddments of fresh linens — the same ones he laid upon just five minutes prior. It’s a bitterly comforting scent, the acridity of herbaceous nuances and the pleasantries of simple, clean laundry detergent meet their match in the assuaging nose of musk that followed him down the drive.
He’s austere and tenacious, a valiant leader in times of great hardship and need. His stalwart determination and carnal instinct to staunchly protect his people and come to her aid would only showcase how strong and worthy of a man he was. The way his lusty figure strides with a fierce purpose and fervent motivation, his visage making it all the more evident how grave her fallen endeavor was to him. In other circumstances, perhaps it would have made her heart flutter with avid concupiscence. His virile persona and dauntless attitude a beautiful depiction of the true man Johnny Sawyer was, one gallant, stouthearted and resolute.
It was no wonder girls swooned over him and sluts threw themselves at him in forlorn and desperate attempts to be bed, for if it hadn’t been his manful character it would be his animal good looks. A brawny physique like his was enough to make any young girl drool, but the way in which his work ethic displayed itself was all the more impressive. Resolute and undaunted, characterized by the intransigent persona he carried. Unshaken, indurate, purposive, a strong and protective man who served to remedy her from this mess. A mean stare, a cold shoulder, a flagrant saunter, those pretty dark eyes shrouded by the chocolate lashes that surrounded them make him nothing short of an enigma, a breath taking image of the dangerous and allusive. Any imperfections were overshadowed by the illusion of his angelic smile, even the slight bend in his nose; presumably from being broken at some point.
It’s a wonder she’s not feinting at his virile demeanor, but then again, the predicament at hand makes itself out to be much more prevalent then her precognitions. Still overcome with grief and the weight of her grave mistake, Rebecca sporadically makes the trip back to the front drive of her farmhouse. With trembling appendages wrapped thickly in her blonde hair and tugging at the follicles, her quivering lips spurt incoherencies even she cannot make out. Something about screwing everything up and not tying down loose ends, what a damn mess this had become.
Heavy is the hand that takes refuge on the small of her back, a gentle reminder that he’d been alongside her all that time. The simple gesture is enough to cease her thoughtless blabbering and pull her from the demented pool of self deprecation she’d imbedded herself in. He was there now, it would be okay.
“Now you tell me just what it is that happened, calmly.”
She opens those pretty pink lips, only for the breath to get caught in her throat and hitch itself as she stammers on her own thoughts. Reliving the moments in her head, she thinks back to what it had been like when she was still at the bar in Pfluegerville, and whether she should have just asked Johnny for help from the very beginning. But nah, that ruined all the fun.
The events of the evening play about her mind like the films she saw on the television alongside her father, a horrid moving picture show of the macabre and inhumane. It’s strange, the feeling, as though she were watching herself from the outside, as if she were the movie star in this grotesque drama of the diseased and grisly. However as she stood there, going through the frightfully wonderful acts she’d committed that night the sensation of delight pangs at her heart, and with it the fluttery feeling that burgeons in the pit of her stomach. She can’t believe she’s actually done it.
“I wanted to do it. I wanted to kill a boy. I don’t know I-I-I brought home a boy.” She starts, sapphire eyes gazing blankly in the far off distance as she speaks frantically, face still wet with the tears of her hysteria. The fear of what’s to come picking at her from the inside out, she wonders if he’s disappointed in her. “I meant to fucking do it! He just- this was all on purpose, he just- he- I hate him. I hate him so much he-I- he’s just like Matthias, just like him I swear I aughtta- no, no, I lured him into the wash but I wasn’t there, I waited, I waited so patiently. Everything was so perfect- everything- I did so good and then I just- and I just-.”
“Stop.” Johnny hushes, watching the tears well and drip down her face before he’s got her cheek by the palm again, flicking away those pesky tears with the pad of his thumb. “Be good, tell me what happened darlin’.”
She sharply inhales, a stabbing pain itching at her side as she battles the hyperventilations that accompany her heightened state. Those arms are hoisted back up over her head, grasping onto the hair and pulling as though it were the only thing keeping her grounded, the single thing holding her back from going absolutely insane. A pitiful sob falls from her lips, and just as it does the cacophony of the smack! that besmirches her cheek ceases it all. The stinging burn of Johnny’s hand sets her on fire, the red imprint of his fingers etched into her cheek. She gasps, eyes wide with shock before she looks to him with anger and a newfound sense of relief.
“I said be good ain’t I? Now quit actin’ a damn fool and spit it out, we gon’ catch this fucker but I need you to get that damn head of ya’s on straight, you got that?”
“I-I-I-I forgot.” She cries, prying at the hair on her head. Dazed sure, somewhat clear, his smack wasn’t hard but it sure did knock her straight. “I hit that bitch, I hit ‘em with my axe- yeah. I don’t know how many times, I don’t. No- Yeah- yeah. I sliced his shoulder, and then I cut ‘em up real good, and I cut his damned dick off too. But- I-I messed up I didn’t know- he hurt me! My head! He pushed me down the damn stairs that’s it- how’d I let it happen! No- no I meant it, Johnny, he hurt me!” Her screams pitch high and she feels belligerent, grasping onto his shoulders with a degrading type of need. “Please help me Johnny please, I was wrong I can’t do it without ya’. I’m scared, I’m scared, I need help. I need your help.”
Those rough hands of his rake through the tangled lengths of her hair, not before brushing the flyaway strands from her eyes and grazing over the soft skin of her lips.
“I’ll find ‘em, don’t you worry ‘bout that.”
The words spoken from his lips alone are enough to quell the anxieties that plague her, a perpetual aura of calm washing over when he gazes through her and speaks it. In anxious anticipation, she watches patiently as he pushes past her and acts to examine the porch and the front area of the house, only to let out a soft chuckle when he finds what he’s looking for.
“Here. Come ‘ere.” He points to the ground in front of him, crouching down as he swipes the spot and nods up at her. “Footprints. They’s faint as hell, but they there. Gotta look closely when they get away, theys slippery little bastards I give ‘em that, but you can always catch ‘em. Now you tell me, where you think that trail leads off to?”
Suddenly the weight of it all comes thwarting down onto her, the pressure seeping through her as her face turns a bright pink. She squats, carefully analyzing the very thing Johnny had been talking about and making out the trajectory of the steps. Her swollen eyes squint just a tad, not before they look back up to him seeking some sort of approval.
“Well? He ain’t of gone far.”
“I- I don’t know. I don’t.”
“Think now, think with that there head of yer’s. I know you’s more than a nice lookin’ face.”
Rebecca obliges his orders, her gaze shifting to the ground where the puddles of crimson and dusty footprint resides. Despite his words she only becomes more flustered, eaten half alive by the plaguing thoughts of her anxieties and presumed failures. She’s desperate for help, not a damn lesson, there wasn’t much time to be wasted. So, concluding no clear answer and growing wary of the looming fear over her shoulder she shakes her head, throws her hands up and shouts.
“Please, I-I can’t. It’s just one shitty damn footprint- there’s no fuckin’ point.”
“Tch, ways I see it you can follow the direction of that there print, possibility there’s a trail, you got ‘em leakin’ after all. Or, miss thang, you put yourself in your target’s shoes.” Johnny doesn’t move, only stares at her, waiting. “You start thinkin’ like yer’ prey, things’ll get a whole lot easier for ya’.”
She stops, blue irises blown out as she looks to him in disbelief. It’s an epiphany, of sorts. A sort of realization in his words, think like the prey. Reluctantly she picks up the pieces and sutures herself together, able to make some string of coherent thoughts. Her head turns towards the side yard, thinking deliberately in the eyes of that damn boy. It seemed the most intelligent outcome would be to run up the front drive, however, that’s all most sure the first place anyone would look. So to avoid suspicion and buy more time, he had to of run elsewhere. Perhaps through the brush against the sides of their land, or more likely the back where they’d keep the cattle.
“I uh- looks to me like he ran off someplace out ‘n to the back, only thing back there is the cattle fields and wild life.” She says, the tinge of uncertainty in her voice a demonstration of her willingness to please. Johnny smiles wide, gesturing to her with his head as he strides forward.
“Well, let’s see how right you are ‘bout that.”
“I thought he’d made it out to the road and got away, thought I was done for.” She stands up straight, hands shaking at her sides when her vision fogs with tears. She sniffles, hastily wiping the underneath of her nose as she stares forward at the vacant trail of dusty footprints and spattered blood. “He made a damn fool of me.” Her hands ball into fists and her brows dive into a scowl. “Why I gotta be so shitty at it, alls I wanted to do was prove I could do the damn job.”
“Rebecca,” Johnny warns, grabbing at the wrist that reaches for her axe. “Come on pretty girl, you got a natural knack for this sort of thing.” Her eyes meet his gaze and she frowns, only to smile a sad smile at his words.
“You really think so?”
“Ah come on now darlin’,” he grins, tucking his fingers under her chin and forcing her to look up at him. “I know so. Don’t you think I know a thing or two ‘bout killin’, ain’t bad for ya’ first time, all by your lonesome.”
“Yeah? Yeah . . . And I’ll make ‘em pay- yeah- where ever that little fucker is he’s mine.” Through teary eyes she smiles at him, and somewhere in there she feels as though she’s earned his approval. His words worth more than any consolation killing Matthew could provide. She looks to him and he quiets the never-ending thoughts in her head, he takes away the need to fret about anything and gives her the thing she craves most, that warming look of praise and gratitude. It replaces that need for control, at least temporarily, and she knows then it’ll all be okay. Even as his demeanor changes and he thwarts her forwards. Her steps stumbling into themselves as she looks to him in infatuation, only before she presses on with a determined effort to keep him appeased.
“Now quit standin’ round lookin’ pretty and get a move on girl.”
A muddied track of stammered prints planted into the wet earth and heaps of blood splattered about the dirt lead to a quick chase, one that takes them through a spastic path of snapped branches and fallen foliage, plants crushed and broken in the wake of her running victim. Inevitably, he met his demise at the swimming hole long ago, truth be told by his cold, lifeless corpse at the bottom of the dried out pool.
He must’ve ran off in a dazed state, in shock from the trauma endured and the blood loss of his wounds. Without realizing the dip in the land led to a ten foot tumble down a steep hill into the ole hole, where his carcass lie sprawled out and mangled. A bloodied bath towel partly covering his nude and mutilated body, she’s disgusted by him. A pathetic excuse of a man who hadn’t even the manners to hold the door open for her.
At first she’s relieved, fully, and a bit proud too. She’d like to claim she knew she was the superior being, the one who’d win this charade, but given the turn of events it became clear she’d need to plan much more carefully. One thing was certain; never underestimate the victim.
But then, as she stood there, gazing over his pale corpse with a look of disdain written in her features, she becomes angry. The predilections of the last hour or so coming back to her in a raging fit. At the end of it all, he had taken away the satisfaction in beheading him. He still ruined it, and despite the cruel fact she’d reign supreme; she sought vengeance over the life that had already been reaped.
“Well well well, not bad at all for a first time.” His voice beckons her from her thoughts, not enough to alleviate her passion for violence and ultimate satisfaction. This was it, this was where she’d feel that cathartic release, the feeling of control coming back to her.
“You slimy little bitch.” Heavy footsteps March down that steep hill, gripping the splintering wood handle of her axe, she pauses, chewing at her lower lip as she watches the breathless corpse with pure hatred and animosity. “Fuck you.” She spits, watching the coagulated wad of saliva splat against his bare skin. The warmth of tears riddle the cusp of her eyes and she feels the emotions gurgling back up, only this time it’s pure anger and a feral inkling for revenge. Letting out a flustered scream Becca lurches the axe over her head, only to scream again when she sends it down onto his neck. “Rot in hell you son of a bitch! You deserve it like the rest of ‘em!” Again, a powerful swing halfway severs his neck in two, his head hanging on by a few torn ligaments and flesh. Blood sprays each time she swings; painting her a vibrant crimson and plastering over the grass they sit upon. Again, a third time she hoists the thing up over her head and contracts her muscles to swing it downward with all her might, the blade entirely separating his body from his head. Which rolls some couple feet away. She pauses, screaming out in great relief as she laughs about his dead body, hysterically, like a mad woman who’d lost her way. She spits again, this time crouching over the head and making sure it lands over his face.
“Like a lamb to the slaughter.”
She picks it up, gripping a handful of the bloodied dark hair that sits upon its head. She holds it up, examining his features before she squeezes the puffed out cheeks and fronts a frown.
“Lookit here, lookit who stands on top. The strong, not the coward.” Smiling widely she throws the thing to the ground with a sharp arm, screaming out something incoherent between her bouts of delighted laughter.
It exorcises the demons within her, does away with all the bad thoughts of yesterday and brings in a newfound joy she never knew she’d discover. It frees her of the need to take hold of trivial matters and emotions, purges the very concept of her idea of control and replaces it with something new, something exciting, something erotic. It arouses her beyond belief and fulfills the sensation she craved so violently, quells the aching throb in her soul and makes it feel full. For the first time in a long time, she feels happy, she feels full, she feels satiated.
Gripping the hand of that axe just a little tighter she screams fervently, smiling like a madwoman. Blissful tears pool at the edge of her pretty eyes, looking up to the starry night sky as she laughs in hysterics. She forgets Johnny’s there, forgets he’d been watching the entire thing with the pleased look he wore. But he strides over to her, taking her wrists in hopes of calming her down and bringing her from that high.
“You sure are as good as I knew you’d be, I told ya’,” he says, pulling her arms back down only for her to look at him with a face of disbelief. “I like watchin’ you do all that, that kinda thing really gets a man goin’, you know that?”
Dazed and excited she looks to her counterpart with a trebled stare, eyes wet and wide with enjoyment and a profound look of thought over her features. She thinks his words over, and though it aggravates her, pesters at her self respect, she cannot help but ponder the thought of cutting into him, making an example of him. One more time, one more time and she’d reach that ultimate high.
“I’m the one with the axe, all alone out here, in the middle of no where . . . . with nobody else about.”
“Oh Becca,” Johnny shakes his head, “You threatenin’ me?” He wastes no time in making his point, patting over the hunting knife tucked into his waistband. “I said you wasn’t bad, not damn near perfect. Think I’m scared of that?”
“I’d like to do it again,” sure his comment pisses her off, and she feels the regurgitating feeling of fury pit in her stomach and rise through her throat like hot air. He doesn’t believe in her, that’s upsetting. Doesn’t take her seriously. But she’s only thinking aloud, saying the inside part outside, staring blankly at him as she toys with the splintered handle of her toy.
To think of how fondly it made her feel, even with her frenzied state of self control and madness. How pleasurable it made her feel both inside and out, her mind in pure ecstasy and core in tight coils. She’d love to do it again, love to watch the fear on his face and the blood spurt out in pretty scarlet splatters. It’s a high she keeps on riding, the ever present feeling of tension arising between her legs. Sinful maybe, but she thinks the thought alone might drive her over the edge. How powerful and dangerous she could be, the superiority over the boys she loathed so much, so perfect, it all felt so lovely. If she could just show him what she was capable of, show him how powerful she could be. She could make a splendid example of him.
Her body moves before her head forms a thought, scrounging her face up tightly as she lifts the axe over her head. Without thinking she swings downward, not with the intent to kill but the intent to make an example of her point. She was every bit a danger as he was.
The blade comes crashing down to land suspended in the air, the uppermost part of its handle caught by his big hand. Riddled with shock and disbelief she gasps, eyes wide in both fear and anger as he tears the thing from her grasp and chucks it out somewhere into the night. She can hear it smash into the wet earth, but her focus is elsewhere, observing the angry look plastered over Johnny’s face.
“Well lookit this, somebody’s ready to fight.” He’s as sly as the fox hunting it’s prey, clasping her wrist as he waves that knife in front of her face and presses it carelessly against her neck. “Let’s not forget who had to come out all this way and help ya’, you still got lots to learn darlin’, best to quit makin’ a fool of yourself. But uh, you sure do turn me on.” His lips lean into her neck and press sensual kisses along the dirtied skin, sliding wet up to her ear where his teeth graves over the tender skin. Enough to entice her, draw her in, and yet yer stubbornness reigns supreme.
Be it the residual effects of the distaste and anger towards Matthew or the genuine disbelief in his words and actions somethings stirs in Becca, ticking off the bomb that orates her brain and causing her left brow to twitch in the wake of her fury. Instinctively it is in her nature to attack him, striking those strong arms and pushing him backwards. Delicate features twisting into a heinous display of fulmination; where her brows tilt downwards and her eyes swirl with rage. Those kissable lips pulling downwards in some sort of inveighed image. Once Johnny steps back, she can see the anger beckon him too. His own handsome face somewhere along the lines of both shocked and disrespected.
“How dare you.” Those are fighting words, and without a second thought she grapples him, arms intertwining in a battle of dominance and power. His own expostulation is evident in the way he glares at her, with a visage written in disapproval and denouncement.
“You best watch that attitude of yours girl, lest you wanna be gettin’ into trouble- now quit it.” His firm grip can be felt against her shoulders, his reach much larger than her own despite her strength. His thick fingers dig into the skin of her shoulders and he pulls her forward, all the while she’s clawing at his biceps like a feral cat, groaning and hissing as she struggles to keep him at bay.
“You aughtta learn to keep your mouth shut boy.” She warns, tussling herself when her body begins to thrash about his grip. Likewise she meets him with that same competence, only falls short in getting the upper hand that his tight grasp has over her.
Johnny laughs, the same laugh that is demented and evil and downright demeaning. Like he’s toying with his food, or playing a childish game. The disgust held for him bubbles up again, and she’s half but forgotten all his benevolent qualities and his status as a worthy counterpart and leader. Only does it come back to her when he yanks her closer, staring into those equivocal eyes. She whines, cries out in a desperate attempt to push herself from him to no avail. This time his hand clutches a handful of the dirtied hair at the back of her head, the other tightening down on her wrist as he lurches her forward. She begins to cry; not because she’s afraid or unwilling, but because of the tumultuous nature of her consciousness. Both enchanted and disdainful of him, timid in her affairs and the lingering of his scent in her nose and closeness of his touch.
The tears come sopping down her cheeks when she screams out, in one last vociferous attempt to free herself from him. Her hands move to push against his face, pawing at it and shoving him away. Between grunts of frustration and anger Johnny pulls her towards him stridently, prising her hand away and biting at the other. Her yell is scornful when she jerks it away, and finally he takes the advantage of the clearance and forcefully closes the gap between them, their lips sealing in an ardent kiss potent in impassioned desire and earnest lust.
At first it’s apoplectic, acrimonious and powered by the incensed nature of each of their perspectives. A splenetic, rough and messy kiss imbedded with the bittersweet passion that resides in them. Then her expression lightens, her forceful nature dwindling as time pressed on. Her limbs go limp in his grasp, fingers stretching out in a strained state and she leans into his touch with an inkling for more. Where she is soft and tender, he is callous and brusque. Then it is reciprocated, quiet sobs breaking the seal between their lips when she cries. Those hot tears sear down her cheeks; she hates the way she loves it, despises the way it excites her, the way his words gift a fluttery feeling inside her. The way her head swirls with adulate emotions her actions follow suit, head feeling dizzy with those foreign feelings of pleasure and bliss, a resentful delightment. Even when the heat of her face and upset overpowers the touch of his palm over her cheek, she loves it. Or when he forcibly wipes the burning tears away with his thumb, his palm squishing the flesh of her cheek together as he does so.
There is an arcane sense about the ghost of his touch or the bitter cold of his kiss, not electrifying, not warm, it brings about a certain piercing sensation. After which her body feels numb and tingly, brumal from the ice that was his grasp. And all the while, the gelid feeling is peculiarly comforting. In an odd, backwards sort of way. His bitterness cooled her fire, and in many ways she would feel at peace after the initial bite of his touch. It would all fade into a stultifying, tingling feeling; one of pure peace and contentment, sangfroid.
Her heat melts into him, giving into the temptation and stumbling into him just slightly. Fingers still twitching in aggravation, they pry away to clasp at his shoulders, gripping onto them with such need and fervor. It is a violently passionate kiss, one that finely captures the line between adoration and the utter barbarity shared between them. Her eyes are scrunched shut painfully, and it isn’t until now that she relaxes. Her tense figure falling into his broad one like the gazelle the lion, the bunny the fox, or the lamb the slaughter.
He is vicious, cutthroat and relentless, each movement like a stab to the heart when he gnaws and bites and rubs at her raw lips. It makes it all the more delightful, that is until she reacts with that same intensity.
It isn’t lost on her how absolutely loathsome he is or how demented he might be, how everything that had led up to this moment was one combative argument over the next. But the way he looks after her and comes to her aide even without being asked to far overshadows the reality between them. It was then that in her eyes, he became the man she was so revered with, the one she trusted enough with her life, the one who’d truly take care of her. And still; she hates how perfect he really is.
Despite her endless mental battles or the back and fourth of her thoughts, and even the kill that had so nicely satiated the hunger for control she could no longer quell, it all comes rushing back in that instant. The terrorizing phenomenon of her looming thoughts and lost consciousness; she can no longer differentiate what she wants versus what she feels, and the daunting feeling drives her into a deeper panic. The need to kill regains traction, and she cannot deter whether she loathes or loves Johnny Sawyer.
Flustered and angry once more, Rebecca pulls away from him and with her newfound freedom levers her strength against him and pushes him back. Only Johnny has caged her into his arms, and now she freaks, thrashing her body against him and screaming, crying and sobbing miscellaneous threats and whines his way. Those tears burn her stained cheeks once more, and for a passing second the lightheaded feeling that overtakes her makes her feel as though she may faint. But it’s his soothing southern drawl and wintry touch that polarizes her. Now she stirs, succumbing to defeat when she tucks her face into his chest. There she sobs quietly, cupping her hands carefully around her face as her body wracks with the overwhelming urge in her. Johnny hushes quietly, his roughened touch grazing over the knots in her hair and patting over her trembling head. Her figure blurs into his, racking with the tumultuous thoughts that ill her head. She doesn’t have to say a thing; he knows. He proudly tells her it too, through the serene grin on his lips and the simple words from his lips. He knows he’s won, and it isn’t a question of if, now of when.
“Shhhhh, I know . . . I know.”
Her body shakes with vehemence, oscillating in his arms. Even when he cautiously rubs the small of her back, in hopes of calming her incessant cries and restless breathing there is no avail, no indication of even a thought behind those teary baby blues. But he knows, he knows too well.
“When’s ya’ daddy get home?”
“‘Bout another day or so, I reckon.”
“You go on ‘n get the inside fixed up, clean yer’ self up.” Her swollen red lip quivers and she feigns innocence, cradling herself into his big strong arms. Soft eyes glazing over in a wave of calm, she nods her head. “I’ll be gone a little while, stay inside ‘till I get back, you understand?”
Rebecca’s nod is lento and messy, her trembling arm reaching up to dance over the roughness of his cheek. She moves lethargically, pushing herself off of him as she maneuvers away.
Stammering back in a haze she sniffles quietly, nodding briefly before she turns to run up the steep hill and back to the front of the house. Her wary gaze quickly glancing behind to meet Johnny’s lingering stare. One shrouded in his perturbed features and stern leer.
Thick pools of crimson veil the wood floorboards of the house’s fanciful interior, plashes of it spattered along the ivory curtains that hang from the front door and alongside the white walls. The purity of it tarnished with the devil’s wrath, the home bathed in a thick and nasty smell of iron and bloodshed. Up the stairs and down the hall the scarlet bespatters the hand woven tundy rug that lines the grand hallway, and dowses the linen shower curtain that hangs pitifully by a thread. The hot water has long run cold, still spilling the remnants of blood that ooze from the severed anatomy in the tub down the drain in a tumultuous spinning cycle. There, in that dreadful bath, the once steamed mirrors are soused in the rich fluid, curating some abstract painting of the obscene and bizarre. The blood-slopped walls that intertwine with the water droplets that cling to the drywall the additions to such a mundane collection. She was never artful, and yet there was merit to that bathroom saturated in the viscous and gummy liquid that adorned those walls.
There is a looming consternation in her, one birthed from the disaster that had become the home and the inevitable disappointment her father might have felt for her; if he were to see such a gruesome scene. And yet, the staunch opposition of the luminous red against the stark white of the washroom was a peculiarly pleasant reminder of her achievement. There was some beauty to that grimey image, a stunning picture of the dreadful and tragic, the horror and fatale.
It is with a heavy head that she scrubs at the floor boards, bleaches the walls and rips the lace curtains from the door to drench them in the same liquid. Eyes wet and vision blurred, her hair matted in a tossled heap, her tremulous figure haunches over the steps of the stairs and the stretches over the sticky walls. Red goo staining the bucket of bleach and water. The bathroom, to which she debated savoring in, had proved most daunting. Yet the years of homemaking had done her well, and in no time it had been just as spotless as it had been before. The only remnant of the affair the bloodied wash bucket and stained gloves and sponges, and Matthew’s manhood dumped into that same murky bucket.
Cold water lathers into the nest that had become her hair and drizzles down the length of her body, gliding over the skin and washing away with it the dried blood and clumped pieces of scab that nestled into the fresh cuts. She sits against the porcelain floor of the tub, staring blankly at a tile wall that seems to distance itself further and further away from her. So far that she can’t seem to touch it, not even with the tips of her elongated fingers. As it moves further from her, her vision spins and her thoughts become loud. Before shutting her eyes and tilting her head to face the downpour of icey water. The feeling of ice pelting at her skin brings fourth the events of the evening, and she relives the moments of pleasure elicited from the look or torment and fear in Matthew’s eyes, in them Matthias, two boys who’d she’d come to despise with such fervor. Cathartic, euphoric, renascence, the rebirth of her own self. A more informed, liberated self not suffocated by the grip in which those boys grasped onto her. And yet, the pleasure of it all seemed to bludgeon a knot in her abdomen, a tingling sensation of bliss that called to her from regions below. A moan, then two, or three, and the revitalizing feelings of her intricate fingers drawing against herself in sporadic motions. All most as soon as it had began, the tension snapped and relief became her, a newfound sense of sexual repentance and divinity birthed straight from the act itself. Her fantasy was no longer that, it was a beautiful memory.
Clean hair neatly detangled and dripping wet spots onto the back of the tank top she now wore, she sits at the vanity mirror in her room, gracefully running the bristles of the silver brush through her tresses as she stares blankly into the mirror. Purplish bruises taint over the skin of her arms, indication of Matthew’s attempt to fight. The back of her head aches, and a tender bump finds it’s place there. The cause behind her lingering headache.
She slips into a pair of cotton shorts, only to find Matthew’s clothes sprawled out over the floor next to her bedside. One moment dazed, she’s now flustered, abhorrent at her inability to properly dispose of them. She decides, rather than burning them, utilizing their pieces as scrap fabric is much more useful. Yet, the desire to completely eliminate his presence there resides in her. It’s then, as she’s grasping the fabric of his trousers in her hands and prying at the thing that she glances toward the clock. 3:24 am.
One couldn’t help but wonder where that time had gone, how the events of the night surpassed that which she thought capable. The frustration looms, and the bitterness picks at her insides like vultures. She succumbs to the mental battle once again, handing over the defeat as the remnant tears cloud her vision and drip down into the fabric she held. Where was Johnny, how had he held up?
Vexation is an ugly thing, and yet as it consumes her and Becca becomes maddened by the terrors her shortcomings ail, she is all the more fascinating. As she hurriedly clasps together all the pieces of clothing — from his undergarments to his shoes, and frantically stumbles down the stairs shouting incoherent sobs. The swelling at her eyes and stinging of her cheeks are near numb, null in comparison to the dinging in her head and turbulent thoughts.
It always seemed as though Johnny had perfect timing, always stepping in at the right moments. This had been one of those times, when he turns the knob to that front door and steps inside just as she’s about to reach for the damned thing. He’s tall, seems so much bigger than she remembered him to be, more muscular, more dominant. There she stands doe eyed, tears trickling down her cheeks as she furrows her brows. She watches him with a saddened look, his critical countenance meeting her with an ominous look. He locks the deadbolt on the door, then the barrel bolt. The slinking of the metal click echoes in her ears and she feels like stone, petrified in her place. He’s dirty, muddied up and partly bloody.
“It’s done.” He’s stern. “He’s gone, you ain’t gotta worry bout him no more darlin’.”
Johnny steps forward, meeting her halfway.
“The clothes,” a whisper. “I need to burn the clothes. I have to.”
“No.”
“Okay.” She hushes.
“I’ll take ‘em. Head back upstairs.” Without another word he takes them from her.
It’s some unspoken thing, the way she feels at peace with his words, like she can believe anything he tells her. It brings her to ease, quells her anxieties and it’s as though anything she’d thought prior was only a faint memory. She hadn’t the need to question him, ask how or why, nor had she the desire. Only basqued in the comfort of knowing he’d maintain that control for her. It’s the comfortability he instills in her that introduces the thought, one in which falls from her lips in saccharine toxicity.
“Johnny?” It’s a quiet plea, her head turns back around and she ceases in her place down the foyer. Through a strained voice to calls for him, riddled with newfound joy, grief and love and struggling to juggle them all. “Stay.” She pauses. “Stay with me, stay the night, here, will you? Stay, just for tonight. I’d like you to stay with me. Daddy ain’t ‘round and I, I don’t wanna be alone.”
It’s that same unspoken thing, something neither of them would have been able to foresee. A certain degree of knowing and acceptance, a mutual understanding, a bond forged in the pits of hell.
“Please, do it for me?” Johnny watches her with eyes of cynicism, as though he were trying to figure her out. He watches as her wet eyes glazed in her own despair look to him through coagulated lashes, luring him in with a pretty face. He steps toward her, moves his hand to fiddle with her hair, twirling the wet tresses in his fingers and brushing through it. Then he looks to her again, eyes narrowing with a mean look, one she’d come to know as pleasant.
“I’ll be up shortly, lemme get cleaned up first, doll.”
Some time passes before he walks into her bedroom, drawing her from her thoughts as her gaze moves from the wall to the doorway. He’s wet with the drippings from his shower. Droplets of water adorning his bare skin, dressed only in his bath towel and his hair wet and messy. He steps in, shutting the door behind him before he moves to sit atop the same bed she lay on. His gaze instantaneously meets her own, watching in thought, as though he were trying to read her own.
“How did it feel?”
“What do you mean?”
“When you killed ‘em, how’d that make ya feel?”
“I,” she heaves, “I liked it.”
“No shit,” his hand grazes over her cheek, sliding the wet strands of hair behind her ear. “I know you like it girl, been knowed you’d like it. I wanna to hear you tell me how it made you feel.”
There’s a drawn out pause in her speech. Perhaps she’s in thought, or the rugged pads of his fingertips has her leaning into him a little too much, or both. But she’s bewitched by him, entranced.
“I ‘spose it felt, like it was natural or summin’, felt, good, like I’d finally let my those urges run wild,” she speaks earnestly. “You was right ya know? Bout me bein’ a control freak, and I, him, killing him, it gave me that.” She smiles faintly, watching as he chuckles softly, shaking the bed beneath them.
“Would you do it again?” He already knows the answer to that, and Becca knows it too. He just wants to hear her say it, but she obliges his little game.
“I hated it when he got away Johnny boy, thought I’d be caught. That feeling, like a bug in ya’ drawers, it gits under my skin and I can’t take it. I just can’t do it.” She’s flustered again, upset. “Makes me mad that I couldn’t do it the way I wanted, the perfect way. But I, well, you know dear, there’s always something, the feeling doesn’t last forever. I need, I think, well, the more I think bout it all the more I’d feel like doin’ it all over again. I love that feelin’, what you call it, the power, the control over ‘em, but I hate that he got away. I can’t, thought I had everything all figured out.”
Be it the tenderness in her eyes that softened her hardened exterior or the inkling of disappointment in her voice and features when she speaks of her fears, Johnny is attentive to her expression, drawing out a prolonged sigh from his lips before he punctuates with a quiet chuckle. Muffled beneath his heavy breaths.
He appears to be some sort of sentient being, a deity, a god. The way his wet hair falls about his face and clings to the skin of his neck, the way his fingers tear into those same locks and hem they prop his head up with his elbow against the bedsheets. His eyes so solemn and resolute, quiet, intense. In all her readings, the antichrist was meant to be beautiful, like Johnny had been. A breathtaking man with undeniable charm, whose existence and evilness would bring about the end of the world. Sometimes, she felt that way about him.
But through it all there’s been something about him, and she’s convinced in the way he so daringly comes to her aide or soothes her thoughts, in his own little way, that he’s anything but demonic.
“Oh, darlin’,” he breathes out, smiling gently. “I was hopin’ you’d say summin’ like that, might of had to get rid of ya’ otherwise.” The hand that had been so tantalizingly pressed against her features grasps at her chin, pulling her face closer to his. “You’s perfect. Don’t you worry bout what’s been done with, you got a real . . . . skill. The rest, that’ll come with time, believe me.” His voice quiets.
She knows he hates repeating himself, knows it’s best to leave it at that. But her temptation as a woman rooted in her emotions gets the best of her and she just has to press on, her face inching closer as she does so, drawn in by his pleasantries.
“Tell me,” her eyes are wide with curiosity, maybe worry. “You think I could do it the way you do? Think I’d get to bein’ that good? I can’t slip up like that again you heard me boy? I can’t, I want, I want them to fear me, I want that control.”
“What’s the fun in that?” Johnny questions. “See it ain’t about what’s accordin’ to that there plan you got, it’s ‘bout the thrill of the hunt. Let ‘em have that hope, think they got a chance at livin’, let ‘em be scared, just long enough for you to take it all away from ‘em. You go ‘round plannin’ it all there ain’t nothin’ exicitin’ bout it. I like it when they run, makes it interestin’. There’s summin’ real satisfyin’ bout workin’ for the kill, makes it that much better when you cut into ‘em.”
Contemplation and confusion, then a steady realization made evident by the lift in her features. His words heavy on her mind, it is the intense emotion that comes over her at the notion of it all. Let them have hope, then take it all away.
“See, I knew that there kill of your’s wasn’t gonna be gettin’ too far, you did far too much damage to let ‘em run. These people, victims, they act stupid when they panic. Ain’t very smart, the power of fear works in your favor. That’s summin’ you ain’t come ‘round to understandin’ just yet. You gotta put the surroundings you got to good use. Ain’t expect anyone to be that good on their first time, but you, I told you you’s like me, got a real knack for this thing.”
Sapphires glossed in infatuation, a limerence so far gone that her own father could not draw her from it. She stares in awe, his words of affirmation more than enough to quell the scarcity that runs rampant in her deranged, pretty little head. What once is uncertainty, paranoia and self doubt is now contentment, relaxation and confidence. Thick wet lashes bat against the ocean in her eyes, flickering up to the tarry abyss that was his ominous gaze. She is bewitched, comforted, entranced by the masculine presence he provided.
“In fact,” the back of his roughed up hands graze her cheek, intertwining themselves into the strands of her damp hair and clutching at the back of her head. His thumb prods miscellaneous patterns into her scalp, an uncharacteristically gentle gesture that has her head spinning. “I reckon you start comin’ along with me, I’d like to show you a few things, think you’d get some real use outta it. I wanna see just what kinda stuff yer made of miss Rebecca Payne.” His smile is taunting, like the grinning leer of a demon laughing in God’s face. “Hell, maybe you and I’d make a better pair than you initially thought. Might even work better together, huh?”
Those pristine eyes narrow to look to him through fanned lashes, as if to make out what his true intentions were. But again, it becomes easier and easier to believe him. There’s no ulterior motive, he’s telling the truth. And the delight that was his presence only furthered that fluttery feeling within her. She’s made up her mind.
“Sounds mighty fine to me Johnny boy. Teach me everythin’ you know.” She’s teasing him, the way she leans in and weaves back, tilting her face up and drawing out her words in an exaggerated manner. “I should thank you, reckon there’s anyway I can repay you for tonight?” A delicate hand lands perfectly over his bare shoulder, Dainty fingertips soft like velvet and a featherlight touch that glides over the scars of his skin.
“Don’t disappoint me.” It’s blunt, his smile sort of faltering. “Show me I’m right ‘bout you.”
Her stare tender hearted, eyes lost in the callous look that was his own. She can only nod, her inhibitions incessant on abiding to his wishes, proving herself to him. And still, the grievances arisen from their past bury themselves further within the back of her mind. Slowly to become a distant memory. Her acknowledgement is signified in the sweet kiss she places upon his cheek. A gesture that is met with an intense and fervent stare, that with the hand that palms her cheek.
“Johnny boy?” There’s that angelic tone once more, beckoning him like a siren a sailor. “Hold me, would you?” He’s not the affectionate type, though the way in which she nestles the soft skin of her cheeks and the gentle touch of her Pam over his chest would only convince him to clasp his arms around her. Ensnaring her in a cage of flesh and bone, as he stares into the blank, white paneled walls of her bedroom. The night would soon pass.
The days that followed were a stark contrast to the slower ones that had prevailed prior, filled with father’s return and the herding of cattle, and Johnny’s looming presence on their property. Given the added workload the arrival of cattle had on Raymond it was no surprise that Johnny had hung around more to aide him, and it wasn’t lost on Raymond that the relationship between Rebecca and Johnny had taken an unprecedented turn, one disturbingly idyllic and peaceful, a direct counterpart to Rebecca’s less than ideal attitude towards the boy prior. All most as though it were an entirely different thing all together.
Though there were many things that took Raymond by surprise, from the moment he’d returned to that farmstead. From his daughter’s eerily steadfast smile to her seeming detachment from him. He’d partially worried something drastic had happened during those few days he was gone, something that changed her for worse. Yet again he’d chosen to be blissfully ignorant, as her attitude seemed to improve, and for the first time in a very long time she seemed content, happy. He supposed that in regards to her mood he should have been glad for her, proud even, for she’d finally managed to let free the events of the past and come to terms with the move, but deep down the lord knew he couldn’t help but feel something was so dreadfully wrong.
The way she smiled and laughed with such a free spirit when it came to that boy, or how her touch lingered just a tad too long for comfort. Hell, even the way in which she brought him cold sweet tea or a bottle of beer while they worked out in the fall sun, marking cattle and getting them all settled into their fields. It reminded him vaguely how she treated him, and it hadn’t dawned on him till then that her demeanor had entirely evolved. She hadn’t been nearly as doting as she was before, and he thought maybe he’d consider it a good thing.
It wasn’t until he’d taken notice to the murky bucket of water that sat up against the back wall of the garage, slumped into the corner behind the door that he’d truly become skeptical. He’d examined it more closely, until he saw the sight of maggots and signs of decay, floating about the reddish brown suds, he’d felt sick. A cultivation of anger and fear arose within him, and for but a moment he marched into the house with the bucket in tow, about to confront the girl on his findings. He was sure it must’ve been there some time, judging by the putrid smell. Only, when he’d seen her there, smiling peacefully as she dried the dishes she’d just cleaned and putting them up in the cupboards he felt a pang of guilt, one that quelled that anger so quick he could only turn away in shame. Must’ve been a wild animal of some sort, he was sure of it, and he’d dispose of it himself only to ask about it at a later time. He couldn’t bare the weight of trashing that illusion of hers, whatever it might’ve been.
That same evening, there’d been a knock at the door. One Raymond met with a somewhat annoyed look, only to smile once he’d seen it was Johnny Sawyer. He stood there, wearing a days worth of work and holding a six pack of beer. A good looking grin spread over his features as always, nodding to him in his typical manner. A sign of respect, mutual trust.
“Evenin’ Johnny, what can I do for ya’?”
“Evenin’ sir, brought summin’ for ya’. But I’d be lyin’ if I said I ain’t came here lookin’ to ask you summin’.”
“Right,” he can’t help but chuckle, looking down to the workbooks on his feet before he looks back to Johnny. “Well don’t be a stranger, come on in.”
The smell of metal has long faded and is replaced with the scent of soft vanilla candles and a smokey fireplace. Johnny can’t tell if Becca is home or not, but judging by her absence he can tell she isn’t in the house. Maybe in the fields, he couldn’t tell. Either way, his attention is diverted to her father whilst they sit at the kitchen table, the same table they’d first met at. Ironically they sit in their very same places, and he makes it a point to place the pack of beers on the table.
“Now I’m awfully appreciative of yer help round here boy, I ain’t got much but I owe you son. But uh, I just seent you yesterday, why the sudden formality eh?”
“It ain’t no problem, I ain’t mind helpin’ y’all out. Don’t owe me a thing.” Johnny’s eyes are on him, a charismatic smile over his features as he reaches for the cans over the table. “I’m a man of respect, sir.” He nods, freeing a bottle from its cardboard trap and waving it towards him. “Care for a beer?”
“I reckon one won’t hurt,” Raymond smiles, taking the bottle from him and popping it open against the table. “Don’t go tellin’ that there girl of yours though, she’d kill me if she found out.”
“Yeah,” Johnny chuckles. “‘Bout her, Rebecca,” he hums her name against his lips, taking his own beer bottle and opening it against the lip of the table. He takes a swig, popping the bottom down against the wood table and gulping it down. He clears his throat then, nodding towards Raymond. “I uh.”
“Y’all gotten along real close ain’t cha’?” Raymond asks between drinking from his own bottle. “She wasn’t real fond of ya’ all that long ago, not sure why, fill me in on that, will ya’?”
“Well she’s a firecracker, I’ll tell ya’ that much. But, I think she just came ‘round to me, ain’t much to it. No hard feelin’s, knew I was gonna have to prove myself to ‘er the second we met.”
“Yeah, well,” he takes another swig of his beer. “I’d say she’s more than came ‘round to ya’ son.”
“Yeah well, I’d been wantin’ to ask for yer permission, takin’ her out on another date.”
Raymond holds back his laughter, chortling behind his clasped hands.
“Lemme tell you summin’ boy, s’long as you get ‘er to say yes it’s all swell with me. I like you, you’s a fine young man. Ain’t no quarrels with me. Don’t make me regret that or it’ll be my shotgun to your head, ya heard?”
“Why thank you sir, ‘ppreciate that. I won’t let yer blessin’ go to waste.”
“Well now, at the end of the day it’s up to Becca. That girl, she ain’t all that easy to win over. But I’d say she’s takin’ a likin’ to you, better keep it that way.”
“Right,” Johnny nods. “Where she off at?”
“Store,” Raymond shrugs, “summin’ ‘bout needin’ flour, think she bakin’ summin’. How’s the family been? Ain’t seen the old man in some time, only met yer mother that once.”
“Oh they doin’ just fine,” Johnny somewhat chuckles. “Drayton, he always ramblin’ on ‘bout how I’m over here too much, thinks I’m botherin’ y’all’s. But he asks ‘bout ya an awful lot, think he likes havin’ some company ‘round here. Momma, she doin’ fine too. Lil’ skeptical of Becca but she’s always like that. She’ll come round. Reckon we aughtta get together again.”
“I’d say, maybe we can get those brothers of yer’s over? Remember summin’ bout there bein’ others. Reckon it’s time everybody gets acquainted with each other.”
“Right, yeah,” he’s hesitant, as though he’s hiding something yet his calm gaze makes it seem otherwise. “Rest of my kin don’t get out much, they real quiet folk. But I’m sure we can figure summin’ out.”
“Daddy, I’m home!” Both their gazes avert towards the foyer, the echoing sound of the door closing ringing in the hall where Rebecca steps into view, a brown paper bag of groceries nestled against her hip. She comes in, placing carefully the bag on the kitchen counter before moving to plant a kiss over Raymond’s cheek. “Here’s the change,” she reaches into her pocket to plant a few coins onto the table. Her mien is gracious yet admittedly neutral. Even when her eyes lock with Johnny’s and she raises her brow ever so slightly. “Johnny boy,” she nods her head. “Y’all workin’ out in the fields? I’d of stayed if I knew. Needed some things to help with supper, though.” She says so matter of factly, hands atop her hips as she stares over the two of them. Her eyes sort of gloss over Raymond, who sits there with his gaze fixated on that newfound gleam in her eye.
“Don’t you think you aughtta invite our guest to dinner?”
Becca only sends him a questioning countenance, looking to Johnny with a perturbed face. It’s only then that she takes notice to the pack of beer sat on the dining table, that and the bottle in each his and her father’s hands. Disappointment riddles her features and her brows furrow down in upset, she wastes no time in stepping toward them.
“Johnny,” she sighs. “Figured you’d invite ya’ self, like to have supper with daddy ‘n I?” Her tone is more disdainful than anything, patronizingly childlike. She still couldn’t let him on that easy, and she’d more than shown him her weakest sides.
“And daddy,” she sighs, “what’s all this then?” She picks up his bottle, holding it up. “You know you ain’t s’post to be drinkin’, it’ll kill ya’ if you make it a habit you know that?”
“Darlin’ ain’t no use in gettin’ between a man and his beer,” it’s that instant Johnny rises from his seat, circling round the table to place a firm palm on Rebecca’s shoulder and his other against Raymond’s chair, splitting them from one another. “One ain’t gon’ hurt ‘em, let the man rest for god’s sake.” It doesn’t take much to pry the bottle from her hands, with her wildly irate stare and faltering grip. “Now let yer’ old man and I catch up while you cook up summin’, we’ll be sat here if you need us.”
Silence can be blissful, except when it is filled with the rising tension of a blistering temper. Her disbelief at his utter disrespect and lack of regard is evident in the way which she stands there, glaring to him with an ugly look of vehemence and anger. Strange, the way she feels an overwhelming sense of loathing for him, yet, she stands there with her thumb in her mouth bewildered with forced acceptance and utter awe. A sort of odd concoction of love, hate and a murder most foul.
It’s foreign to her the way she can find both comfort and peace in one man but also aggravating hatred. The way the past had yet to be settled despite their mutual understanding. Perhaps her turbulent personality was the culprit, her unwillingness to compromise unless in the face of someone she respected and her stubborn head. Even her natural confrontational nature could have been behind it, yet there was no confrontation here, only acceptance. Yet she no longer wished to lob that head of his off the broad shoulders which they sat between, nor did she wish to make him suffer an insurmountable amount of pain at her hand. Rather, she’d like his approval, his understanding, his acceptance. And it only fueled her rage and the insatiable love for bloodlust that took refuge within.
So she steps away without another word, only shared glances to which she looks with a hellish expression. Going about her business in the kitchen where she’d began to prep the days meal. The distinct chatter of both Johnny and her father are in short earshot, and she makes it a point to punctuate her own seething anger with the chop of her cutting knife against the carrots. It was a stupid little thing she did, carrying about her activities in a manner that was obnoxiously loud, to make her upset known.
Just like her mother used to do.
Just like her mother.
How pitiful.
Then it was as though nothing had happened at all, as though she’d been nothing short of gracious all the while.
—
𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭! - 𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭
@yixxes @bdudette @nerdykat101 @kaymarnun
#melodrama#johnny slaughter#texas chainsaw massacre#johnny slaughter x reader#tcsm game#johnny sawyer#johnny tcm#johnny sawyer x reader#texas chainsaw game#johnny slaughter x you#johnny slaughter x oc#johnny sawyer x oc#johnny tcm game#johnny texas chainsaw massacre#black nancy#the texas chainsaw massacre#tcm drayton#tcm johnny#tcm x reader#tcm nubbins#tcm game#johnny slaughter x y/n#dead by daylight x you#dead by daylight x reader#dead by daylight#dbd x you#dbd bubba#dbd x reader#dbd imagines#slashers x you
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