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whatitshouldvebeen · 2 days

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as someone who has self harm scars i was curious. what do you think johnny would think if he saw his s/o (or victim) had some? also i love ur writing so much <3 hope ur staying hydrated and getting enough sleep !!

First tysm for loving my writing!! I have the type of ADHD where I forget to drink anything so unfortunately not but I do get decent sleep ty for asking ❤️ I hope you enjoy the fic and remember, Johnny is not a licensed therapist so please don't follow his suggestions 😂

Scars of the Past

Pairing: Johnny Slaughter x reader

Warnings: self-harm, blood, local insane man is certain he can make a girl feel better via knifeplay, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 1,670

Maybe Johnny was stupid for hitting the same place twice after already having picked up a girl, but he had to see if you were still around. You, the girl who checked everyone into the nightclub. The girl he’d been following home for the last week. When you'd taken his hand to stamp it, he honed in on your wrists right away. Scars, and plenty of them.

You were accustomed to getting looks and were used to it by now, so all you did was smile at him and usher him inside. He left a few hours later with a drunk girl on his arm and that was that, or so you thought.

So when the club closed around twelve, you were surprised to see the same tall, dark, and handsome man from last night push himself off the brick wall and approach you.

"Hello, little miss," he drawled as he stopped in front of you while you put on your jacket.

"Oh, hey," you replied, not fully engaged.

"I'm Johnny. What's your name?" he asked.

You glanced up at him and shared your name as you finished fastening your coat.

"Pretty name for a pretty girl," he remarked.

"Thanks. Listen, I gotta get home now—" you began, but he interrupted by taking your hand, drawing your attention back to him.

"I couldn't help but notice your scars," he said, pushing your sleeve back to inspect the faded white lines. Your gaze shifted to his, noticing a large scar over his eye that you hadn't seen before.

"I doubt you did that to yourself," you responded with a half-smile.

"My ma did it," he said, catching you off guard.

"I'm sorry," you said softly.

He brushed it off. "It’s fine. But I'm curious, why'd you do this to yourself?" he asked, genuine interest in his eyes.

You looked into Johnny's dark gaze, surprised to find understanding rather than judgment. "My childhood wasn't the greatest," you explained with a shrug.

"Don't most people hide their scars?" he inquired.

"I don't care what people think. I'm in a better place now," you replied, trying to reassure both him and yourself.

“Are you?” He asked, running his thumb over your scars. You didn't know that he'd seen you through your bathroom window, curled up on the floor of your shower, sobbing. You didn't know he'd seen why you called out three days ago, because you couldn't bear to drag yourself out of bed.

Feeling uncomfortable, you pulled your wrist away. "Yeah, I'm fine," you insisted, attempting to brush past him, but he blocked your path.

You then felt something that made all the color drain from your face. A knife, pressed against your abdomen.

“Nah, I think you'll be coming home with me tonight,” he hissed low in your ear.

–

He drove you to a hotel, and checked into a room, always keeping the knife at the small of your back.

“I'd take you home to mama, but she gets funny,” he said, gesturing to his scar.

“Why are you doing this?” You asked as he opened the hotel room door, pushing you inside before him.

“Tell me your favorite part about cutting,” he demanded, locking the door behind you.

"What?" you asked incredulously.

“You heard me,” he replied, removing his shirt and revealing numerous scars that crisscrossed his pale skin.

"Did you do that to yourself?" you asked, taken aback by the sight.

“I asked you a question first, missy,” he retorted with a cocky grin.

You sighed, sitting down shakily on the bed. “I just like to be reminded that I'm alive, okay? Shit hurts too much,” you mumbled.

“Well, you're certainly alive, darlin’. A whole club of people pretending to be happy, then there's you,” he remarked, stepping closer with a predatory gleam in his eye. “I can see you better ‘n all them. I see through the walls you built. You're not okay, but you could be,” he said, then turned his Bowie knife around, holding the handle towards you.

"What the hell?" you whispered, feeling a mixture of fear and confusion.

“Cut me. Tell me if it makes you feel alive the same way it does when you cut yourself,” he instructed, as if it was the most normal request in the world.

You took the knife, raising an eyebrow at him. He didn't move, he just stood and watched you with a gleam in his eye.

You stood, holding the knife so tightly your fingers hurt. You could've slit his throat, or tried to anyway. Why did he kidnap you just to hand you a knife? Did he have a death wish?

Adrenaline made your heart pound in your ears. He wasn't moving… he must be serious. You raised the knife, took a deep breath, then sliced it across his chest.

“Ooh,” he winced, hissing through his teeth, “got me good. Must be all the practice,” he said with a laugh. All you could do was stare as crimson cascaded down his torso.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” You asked, the knife still limply held in your hand.

“Same thing as you,” he responded simply, running his hand over his abdomen and bringing his fingers to his lips, staining them red.

“Are you going to kill me?” You asked anxiously.

“Why you askin’ me that, you're the one with the knife!” He laughed.

You looked down at the bloodied knife in your hand and realized something. In this instance, you look guilty. If you were to try anything, he could very easily claim you assaulted him.

“Guess you're in a pickle, lil’ missy. Let me help you outta it.” He stepped forward, leaning toward you. “But before I do, tell me how it felt.”

You took a deep breath, watching as the blood continued to seep from his wound he wasn’t bothering to stifle.

“It felt the same as when I cut myself, I guess,” you admitted. “I felt alive.”

“Knew it.” Johnny grinned. “In that case, I have a proposition for ya.”

He set one bloodied knuckle under your chin, angling your eyes to meet his. “There's someone who's stumbled onto my property, you see. Trespassin’. I could use some help teachin’ them a lesson. Might help you feel the same way you did cutting me.”

“I don't know, I'm not a bad person,” you said, your heart still pounding like mad.

“You aren't, but you felt that thrill, didn't ya? The world ain't black and white sweetheart.” He shrugs, moving to the bathroom and grabbing a towel, wrapping it around his abdomen. “Far as I see it, trespassers need to be punished. Come with me. If you do, I'll let you go without a fuss. But I can promise you that you'll be back.”

“And if I don't?” You asked hesitantly.

“Well then, either you escape and I tell the cops you cut me open… or I kill you before you get the chance,” he said matter-of-factly, his demeanor chillingly calm.

You held up the knife, pointing it toward him, a futile attempt to assert some control over the situation.

“If you try it, I know how to survive, darlin’, and it only makes you look more guilty,” he said confidently, approaching you and allowing the knife to dimple his stomach when he reached you.

“Come with me,” he said, wrapping his hand around yours, which was still gripping the knife.

You continued to hold on, but deep down, you knew you stood no chance against this man. So, you let go.

“There ya go,” he said, his face lighting up. “Oh darlin’, we're gonna have so much fun.”

#johnny slaughter #johnny sawyer #johnny slaughter x reader #texas chainsaw massacre #texas chainsaw game #tcm #texas chainsaw massacre game #tcm game #tw self h4rm

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impeakcharacterdesign · 5 months

Text

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.

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