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chiffon-and-spice · 19 days

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(18+ MINORS DNI) He's A Violent Man, and His Heart's Decayed

Fic Inspo: April to Death

Johnny Slaughter/Sawyer x GN!Reader (18+)

A/N: I just want to say I do not condone this kind of relationship in any way, nor am I trying to glamorize abuse. This is just my take on how being in a relationship with Johnny would be. Fiction and reality are two very different things, and there will be triggering topics discussed in this fic. If you don’t like violence, this is definitely not the fic for you.

Abuse Helpline: 800-799-7233 (if a phone call is unsafe here’s a safe website you can visit, you’re not alone and there are always other options.)

Concept: You’ve walked down this road with Johnny so many times before, your feet have grown numb. At this point it’s hard to tell who’s crazier.

TW: Abuse, violence, self-deprecation, mutual abuse, smoking, blood

Content: Anal, rough sex, blood drinking? (idk if this should be a trigger warning or content…), voyeurism, masturbation, dom!Johnny, sub!reader

A man beyond saving. So tormented, trained like a dog on a leash, he is unable to do anything differently than what he's taught. Despite all the pain, the anguish, the anger, Nancy is the only family he's ever known. The only family he'd ever get. Johnny had been given a shit hand, and these were the cards he had to play. And another, with so little regard for their own self-worth, seemed unable to care about being saved from him.

You made your way up the familiar driveway, as you have done many times before. It was late, the moon barely a sliver in the sky, hiding behind a blanket of dark clouds. It didn’t matter how little you could see though, you knew this path like the back of your hand. Every little loose pebble, soft patch, and hidden crack or ladder.

The outside of Nancy’s may look warm, inviting, with white picket fences and brightly colored flowers dancing almost peacefully through the wind. But you knew better. You knew about the horrors that lurked within those doors. You hadn't come here about that though. As long as you didn't bother the family, the family didn't bother you.

Perhaps that made you just as bad as them, just as wrong and twisted. Any sane person would stay away, be terrified for their life. Ask for help for the many victims that had stumbled through. Then again, it was hard to be scared for something you had little regard for. What’s a little bit of murder?

The driveway and path were covered in a deep blue hue. The night air was somewhat chilly, though you seemed unbothered by the cold. Even without a jacket, no temperature could compete with the coldness Johnny handled you with. That was a chill you felt in your bones, that nestled into your chest and pricked at your heart like a thorn that couldn’t be shaken loose.

So why were you making your way back? Every step made your feet feel heavy with lead, though a part of you also felt as if you were burning holes in the ground.

You were in one of those angry moods, the scary ones where you were eerily calm. Every step is slow, quiet, across the gravel coated road. Calculated. You couldn’t recall if this walk was something you had done before or something you’d picked up from Johnny.

Your gaze drifted up to the top window of Nancy’s house, studying where her room would be. The curtains, like usual, were closed shut. It was fairly late, and you hoped that meant she’d be fast asleep. She’d never been too fond of you seeing her Johnny. Part of you wondered if the only thing keeping her from murdering you was knowing you were just as capable of doing the same to her. She didn’t have the same control over you as she did Johnny.

There was a part of you that felt almost… confident approaching Johnny's beat down shack. You had no weapons, no items but the clothes on your back, and yet there wasn’t much concern. No fear, as you raised your fist, pounding on the old shack door.

There was a familiarity in the action, almost like you’d done it a million times before. Even with a door in your way, you could smell the place almost as if you were standing inside. Part of you had always wondered if you’d ever get used to it. It was unsettling that you didn’t even have a reaction anymore. It wasn’t even the blood that bothered you, that was nothing unfamiliar. It was the grime, the dust, the mold that all turned your stomach. The maggots that no doubt crawled around within its confines.

You knew Johnny heard you, after a noise erupted inside. A few crunching cans on the other side and the low sound of rustling. Like someone was trying to let their presence be known, that they were intentionally ignoring whoever was outside.

"Alright Johnny, come on out now, I ain't gonna be waitin’ out here forever!" you called out, your voice scarily calm.

Too many thoughts raced through your mind. Your foot impatiently tapped on the old rotted floorboards, arms crossed, while you stared narrowly at the door. The only sound you heard at first was the faint chirp of the crickets outside.

It was pitch black, hard to see, though you knew the door had opened by the sound of it scraping across the floor. A familiar head slowly started to peak out, his dark eyes protruding from the doorway. There’s something unsettling about his smile, how his eyes scan over you, after he leans against the door frame.

He had looked at you like that so many times before, like he’d somehow just won some game. Or was reading you, studying which parts of your body would result in those screams he’d been so fond of. His stance is tall, his eyes cold, while he leans against the door.

The man smelled of cigarette smoke, sweat, and… something else you didn’t quite wish to discern. You wanted to scrunch your nose up, pretend the smell disgusted you as it should. Instead however it had an allure, something that drew you in. Probably because that smell was unique to Johnny.

Like always the man was calculated, precise with his wording. His hands, which usually contained thick leather gloves, were bare, a cheap cigarette poking between the fingers of the hand that currently rested on the frame above his head. He laughed a little upon recognizing you, an almost wolfish glint in his eyes. The man was alert, like he’d been anticipating your arrival. Of course he had.

You couldn’t help but study his other hand, which was wrapped tightly with white gauze. You remembered the blood, how it slowly poured down when you’d shoved your knife through his hand. The force he knocked you over with in response. It was a vicious cycle that should have told you both to back off.

With how much you already knew about Johnny’s tactics, there was no need to draw you in. No need for him to practice his usual charm. Instead, he simply took a puff from the cigarette, blowing the cloud not too far from your face.

“You’re back early. Did you not get enough?”

Johnny’s tone was casual, carefree as if this was just another conversation. Anyone listening in might hear his words and assume he was talking about his body. You knew what he was referring to though, not forgetting the faint bruises he’d marked your skin with. The fresh cuts that littered your body. You only scoffed. “You’re calm for someone who ended up with a knife in their hand last time I showed up…” you replied just as casually.

It was hard to believe that had only been a week ago. Then again, so many of your fights blended and blurred together. The black eye back in May, the broken ribs from June, the list could go on. In between you’d always managed to get a few good hits in yourself. No one had brought out that fire in you like he did.

The dark haired man took another drag from his cigarette, lips dried and thin, as his eyes darkened. Johnny stepped outside, a little closer, and perhaps in the past you’d have cowered away. Flinched. Winced at the anticipation. However this time, you simply stood, studying his fiery glare, almost daring him to come at you again. Not many walked away after a fight with Johnny, you were aware of this. You seemed to do it almost effortlessly though.

The man was tall, could easily overpower you, which he had done quite a few times. You could never bring yourself to be entirely scared of him though. Not when Johnny treated you differently. Not after the many times he’d let you walk away.

What unsettles you the most however, is the way his lips curve into a thin smile upon processing your words. He blows out a bit more smoke, dropping the cigarette carelessly on the wood and stomping it out. Despite it being so late, Johnny still wore one of his old tank tops, covered in whatever work he’d done that day. It’s too dark to tell if it’s sweat or blood.

He made his way towards you, and the closer he got the more you could smell it on him. You didn’t cower though, only meeting his gaze with the same intensity. Perhaps this is why he was so drawn to you. Why he could never bring himself to finish you off. There’s an air of intrigue, confusion, in someone that isn’t scared of the dark things you do the way they should be.

Johnny’s warm, exceptionally warm, and he raises his hand. You’re unsure whether to expect a smack or a caress. Both would be unsettling. You suppress a shiver, as he does the later, large fingers carefully running through your hair. You’d half expected him to be angry at you, but he’s just smiling.

It should be comforting, warm. The kind of smile that would bring joy to your partner, while his fingers twist and slip through your hair. It’s the exact opposite of comforting though, almost too perfect of a smile.

Johnny gently buries his nose in your hair, inhaling sharply. A normally tender gesture from most partners, but not from Johnny.

“I’m sorry…” his voice is soft, a faint whisper, and it jumpstarts your heart every time.

The words are gentle, stirring feelings inside of your chest you’d rather not think about. Your body melts and you feel warm in his arms. There’s also that tug though, that deep pain, that thorn shifting in your chest, because you know Johnny. Know him more than you’d care to admit.

You merely shake your head gently in response, pressing your forehead into his chest. There’s a tiredness in your stance, and you don’t know whether you hurt more for yourself or the man in front of you.

“I know you’re not… even if you want to be, you’re not. You’re incapable of feeling sympathy.”

There was a bleak and tired look in your eyes as you spoke, staring at the ground. A hollow apology, that’s all it was. All you’d ever received. Maybe once, you had believed those words, tasted them on his tongue, when you’d rush in after with a feral kiss. Could feel it in the sheets, quick to forgive every rugged apology. But after the first four times, it began to ring empty. You weren’t even sure why Johnny still said it anymore.

It certainly wasn’t to make himself feel better, he was incapable of feeling guilty of anything he did. Johnny could be so hard to understand at points.

You wished the man you’d met back in that bar all those months ago truly existed. The charming and charismatic guy who had pulled a chair out for you, offered to buy you a drink. Flashed you that tender smile, as he shared his sob story about being a poor farmer boy whose mother had been murdered. About having to support his family, often finding the bar to be the one place he could wind down. How he hadn’t recalled seeing a pretty thing like you ever in his life.

Johnny had been so kind those first few hours, managing to convince you to come home with him. He wasn’t quite aware of just who he was messing with however. It took about six minutes before you’d pulled a gun out on him and shot him in his arm. You could still see the scar now.

Johnny thought he could pull a fast one on you, had pulled out a knife and talked about carving your bones out of your pretty little flesh. That was his mistake, so caught up in talk, in the soft seduction of it all.

To his surprise though, you had come back, apologizing for the gunshot wound. Which then turned into the tidal wave that grew as your relationship. Johnny didn’t do labels, no, and you were lucky that you had even been allowed to come back. You knew you weren’t his lover or anything. Just thinking the word felt weird. It was more or less about ownership.

Even if he did love you, it was in his own fucked up way, and he’d never see you as an equal. He’d made that pretty evident. Though there was something there, something that made Johnny look at you differently than his other victims. Perhaps it was the only form of love he knew, maybe part of him wanted to feel bad for the things he did, even if he was incapable of doing so. Maybe Johnny wanted to care, but couldn’t figure out how.

Not that you were all that innocent either. Johnny wasn’t exactly your first rodeo of dealing with a guy like this. The cannibalistic thing was new for sure, but not the violence, and the yelling, and the inner destruction. Something about relationships like these got your heart jumping. You craved it.

Probably because there was an allure to having something so dark and evil, so sadistic, treat you special. Not that it made you feel special in a good way, but Johnny did treat you differently..

Johnny stood, tall and quiet for a moment, his hand dropping from your hair. His arms didn’t embrace you, as you pressed against him. He was like a statue, body warm, his chest not even moving. Part of you wondered if he was even breathing.

“You’re the one that keeps coming back,” Johnny replied quietly, shoving you away from him.

You half expected him to just lose it and pull out his knife. Twist it in your stomach and laugh about the whole ordeal. Staining your hands with red, as you try to push the blood back in. Kill you like he’d killed all the others. You weren’t sure why he didn’t try harder to kill you. No matter how intense the fighting got, Johnny always let you go.

“You’re the one that always lets me walk away.”

Johnny moved closer to you now, pinning you against the door. He had pulled out his knife in one swift motion, holding it under your chin. His eyes looked darker than usual, a snarl slipping from his lips. The movements are a reminder of just what he is.

“Exactly that, I let you walk away. You only still live cause I allow it. What the hell are you even doing here anyway? Thought I told you last time I didn’t want to see your fucking face again.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning into the knife a little, staring down at him through narrowed eyes.

“And I told you, you don’t make decisions for me Johnny. I’m not going to be controlled like one of your little victims.”

You both knew deep down it was practically impossible to keep apart. Even if you wanted to avoid Johnny, the man would hunt you down. Conveniently show up to a bar you lingered at or a store you were visiting. The worst reactions were the ones where you were with another man.

No matter how bad things got, you could never truly get away and neither could he. There was a sick twisted part deep down that both of you wanted this, craved it. Maybe even needed it.

Johnny presses the knife a little tighter against your neck, and you’re wondering why he hasn’t cut you yet. And for a moment you see a flash in his eyes, it’s faint, but it’s there. It’s that look that reminds you every time why you can never leave. As quickly as that sad look appears it’s gone, knife dropping, as he gives you a rough shove, moving you out of the doorway so he can open it.

Johnny doesn’t slam the door shut, his way of telling you to come in. You recover a little, barely even feeling how his arms had knocked into you, as you stumbled into the beaten down little building. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust in the darkness.

Like always, the smell is the first thing anyone notices. You can’t help but scrunch your nose up a little, wanting to cough and choke. It lingers in the back of your throat, stinging in your eyes. There’s several dirty dishes littering the counters and sink, the beer cans on the ground, his table filled with god only knows what, and his couch looked well worn, like someone had been laying down in it most of the day.

Still though, it’s more a discomfort thing than something that puts you on edge. You don’t wander around like a scared dog, judgment lingering in your eyes.

Johnny casually kicks his way through a few of the cans, swinging his fridge open. The inside of the fridge matches the room fairly well, a few flies buzzing around inside, as he reaches his hand in and grabs a can.

The environment is nothing new to you, and you slowly close the door, fully stepping inside. Johnny barely acknowledges your presence at first, throwing himself on the couch, and cracking his drink open. There’s no thought in his eyes, as he sits there, almost as if he’s alone, looking a million miles away.

Not uncommon for the dark haired man. The number of times Johnny’d just sit there, as if he was waiting for something.

You frowned softly, sitting on the couch. You knew if your voice had even an ounce of sympathy it’d be enough to set the man off. Johnny didn’t want to be coddled. He “didn’t need your goddamn sympathy,” you recalled him saying, after he had spent one night bleakly talking about how he had gained his face scar.

Johnny had been drunk, he usually was when he talked about stuff like that, and there was always a coldness to his voice. So casual as he spoke. Perhaps because this was his day to day life.

“Why?” Johnny finally said, his voice unreadable.

You stare for a minute, confused, as he remains staring ahead of you. At first you’re not even sure he’s talking about you, until he does turn. Johnny’s dark eyes are studying you, as if you’re the fucked up one here.

“Why?” you repeat, as if saying his question will make it make more sense.

There’s a hundred things he could be talking about and you wonder if it’s in reference to Nancy, his life, your life, or just a question he doesn’t understand.

Johnny rolled his eyes, throwing the still pretty full can across the room. It hit the wall with a low thud, the amber liquid splattering all over the floor. Like your confusion was so unreasonable. His voice is low, now snarling.

“Why do you keep coming back?”

The man is on you in a matter of seconds, his hands firmly placed on your shoulders, squeezing, as he pushes you back into the couch. Johnny’s towering on top of you, and he’s looking down at you like there’s something he’s missed. Some part of you he hasn’t observed, that’ll magically make it all make sense to him.

Johnny was usually good at reading people, understanding what made them tick, what to do to see that fear in their eyes. He never saw that with you though. It drove him crazy how you were just as unpredictable as he was. Johnny couldn’t make you scared like the others. “I could so easily kill you…” he continued, voice going quieter, while his hands moved from your shoulders to your neck. “Could just squeeze… apply the right pressure until your face goes blue.”

Johnny’s hands wrap around you, tightening their grip, but despite the aggression there’s an almost carefulness in how he handles you. A desperation, as he squeezes, just enough to cause pain. His eyes are piercing your own, almost looking, begging for a certain reaction, while you remain limp beneath him.

Johnny groans, pressing you deeper into the couch, as his eyes narrow.

“And you don’t even bat a fucking eye.”

While looking up at him, the determination in his face, the roughness in his grasp, it’s easy to see a monster. To think about what he’s capable of, the dangerous person he is. You can’t see that in Johnny though. His hands around your neck, his eyes hiding layers and years of pain, while he rests on top of you. All you can see is a broken man. The way he squeezed your neck, careful enough to not kill, told you he wasn’t all monster. There was something gentle in Johnny. Well, in his sense of the word.

You know better than to try and fix him, not that he’d even want it. Not that you’d ever be able to. Instead you reached out, tenderly caressing the scars on his arm. As if your fingers could mend all the broken cracks within him.

And he breaks… he softens his grip, shaking his head and flipping you on your stomach. Johnny’s hands aggressively grab your own, holding them behind your back, his voice quiet, as he whispers in your ear. His breath is hot and makes your whole world seem to freeze while he speaks.

This was how he handled things when they got too intimate… too personal.

“Is this what you came here for?”

His voice sends chills down your spine, as you hear the soft clink of his belt. It didn’t matter what your intentions were, this was how things always ended up. And you hated how much of a rush it gave you. Your whole body quivering, as you felt the leather tighten around your wrists.

Johnny’s heavy, his hands tracing along the curves of your body, voice still right on your ear, as he lets out a dark chuckle.

“That why you keep coming back? You can’t live without the feel of my hands pulling and grabbing at your body. Can’t get enough of the way my teeth dig into your flesh, while I claim every inch of you. Make you feel every inch of me.”

Johnny loved stroking his ego, but mostly he loved when you did it for him. The way your body was flush beneath his, as you nodded slowly, face still buried into the couch cushions.

You couldn’t even focus on his words anymore, too wrapped up in the anticipation of him. How your skin already craved his touch, while he squeezed at your hips, pulling them back. His mouth had moved off your ear, biting roughly down the side of your neck.

“Not so mouthy now are ya?” Johnny growled against your skin, hands slipping underneath your shirt. “That’s okay… I know how to make you talk.”

His hands are uncomfortably hot, rough, and calloused, as he plays with your body. Squeezing your hips firmly, moving along your sides. He reaches your chest, thumb brushing along your nipples. Johnny knows all your sensitive spots, which parts hurt the most, as he explores you. Mapping out your body with his hands.

Those same hands he’d used to kill people. There was a precise way in how he explored your body, knowing which ways to take you off guard.

You let out a low moan, sensitive to his touch. Johnny’s hands are hungry, body heavy, as he presses on top of you, continuing to move his mouth aggressively along your neck. It’s evident he cares little about not hurting you, biting harsh enough to pierce the skin. The spot feels a little wet and it’s hard to tell where or how much blood is on your neck due to the wetness of his lips.

Johnny’s warm tongue pokes out, caressing the flesh and cooling your new wound. His mouth is hot and a cloud of ecstasy is choking your brain. You can’t think straight, only whining slightly from the sensation. The noise seems to please the man, as he lets out a dark chuckle, hands moving to the front of your own pants.

“Almost got a word out of you…”

And this… this is why you can’t ever go away. Why you could never wish to be with anyone else. One fuck with Johnny, and he’d shown you things that no normal man… no normal person ever would. No sane person would be excited by it. Would be driven to the edge of this madness, pulling apart at the seams in a darker kind of pleasure. And if enjoying it meant you were just as fucked up then so be it.

You could feel your own arousal pooling hot in your stomach, between your legs, heat spanning all throughout your flesh. Johnny’s shack being cramped with no ventilation didn’t help either. You could feel sweat already starting to form along your forehead and back. His bite made you moan tiredly, hands pulling on your restraints a little.

It was impossible to sit still with the way he nipped and tugged at your body. Johnny didn’t have a gentle bone in his body. No warning before anything he did.

Maybe that was why sex with him was euphoric, different from the way anyone had ever treated you. It wasn’t just the degrading… the roughness, it was something darker. Something that turned your stomach in the sweetest of ways. Something he’d already told you. The thrill of putting your life in his hands, knowing he could kill you anytime if he wished. Of not knowing how he was going to end this.

Johnny’s grip is harsh, pulling your pants down with little to no care, fingers brushing between the fabric and your skin. A tight squeeze that sends chills throughout your body. His voice is little more than quiet excited breaths.

The man’s mouth moved off the small wound he’d made in your neck, trailing down your spine. The bites were still harsh, though you didn’t think he drew blood. Johnny was so unpredictable, you could never tell what he was thinking. What his intentions were. You could only close your eyes, quivering and getting lost in the sensation. His hands continued to hold your hips, rough and no doubt forming bruises.

There’s a familiarity in his touch. In the way his hot breath slides down your back, covering it in saliva. Every low grunt he makes sends your skin crawling. Bumps form along your forearms, the back of your neck, down your spine. Any and everywhere you had felt Johny before tingling in anticipation.

Killing and fucking were an art to Johnny. A practice he believed needed time dedicated to it. Time to do things right. Not in the romantic sense. He wasn’t trying to make you comfortable. There was no checking in. It wasn’t about appreciating the act itself. It was about the thrill, the build up and anticipation of it all. The stalking before the blade bites into his victim’s skin.

Johnny let out another rough snarl, teeth sinking into your lower hip. They’re sharp, rough, puncturing the skin once more, as you let out another low whine. Your body reacts before you can, quivering and trying to pull away.

“Quit fuckin’ squirmin'’,” Johnny snaps, pushing your head down into the cushions once more.

It’s softer than Johnny, and truth be told probably smelled a little nicer. Though that wasn’t entirely a big achievement. You tried to remain still, as his lips continued to suck on the sore patch of skin. You can’t see, but there’s a dark and sinister grin as he pulls away.

Your blood is running along his bottom lip, dark against his pale skin. The indentation of his teeth against your flesh, still warm, lingers like a ghost. It’s a faint buzz that makes you feel euphoric and it’s hot and cold all at once. Mind melted, twisted, as you heard the sound of his own belt being undone. Your stomach tightens in excitement, turning in the cushions to glance behind you.

Johnny isn’t focused on looking at you, there’s no care, as he eagerly fiddles with his jeans. He's careless even with himself. The man’s dark hair is a mess, falling loosely over his eyes. When you can’t see them, he has the face of an angel.

Soft cheekbones, pale and perfectly sculpted, a stark contrast to his sharp jawline. Johnny is beautiful. There’s no denying that. Like a snake. Scales slick, patterns captivating to the eye. You can’t help but want to reach out, touch it. One tender caress. Fingers slipping along his scales gently, tracing along the patterns as if you can understand just what they mean.

That’s all it takes, before the snake hisses, lunging forward. Teeth sink into your neck once more, pressing that venom into your skin. You can’t help but whine, feeling his hands pull on your hips.

It’s painful at first, like something’s tearing through you, hands quivering in your restraints. Not that he cared. Johnny continued to fuck into you aggressively, hips rolling into your backside. His breath lingers on your neck like a bad scent, and you can feel the smile in his teeth imprints.

“Quit being such a little bitch.”

His hands are so tightly on your hips, you’re certain it’ll leave a bruise. You don’t care though. All you can focus on is how that pain rips into pleasure. How Johnny feels making you take every inch of him. His animalistic grunts, while he throbs against you. There’s such a force in his movements that results in your whole body lurching forward.

Johnny’s noises are low, like he’s trying to keep himself quiet, as he moans to himself. Like he can’t contain the pleasure, as he needily bucks into you. Your hips match his every movement, his hands guiding them to do as he pleases.

You know you’re in his control, and you want to hate it. His touch should feel dirty, his teeth rotten, but you can’t. You don’t.

You can’t hate the hot white pleasure that’s coursing through your brains. How every little grunt rushes blood between your legs. How when Johnny fucks you it makes you whimper like a bitch tied up in the hot sun. There’s no doubt he knows what he’s doing, how to please you.

“All that talk from before… talkin’ bout I don’t control you, you’re not one of my victims. Bullshit. You just roll over and take it while lying down. You like that though, don’tcha? You like that I own you?”

Johnny was doing things to you that made your mind fuzzy. You nodded softly at his statement. He could read you like a book. His fingers knowing all the right pages to bend. Spine worn out from the many times he'd opened you up. Devoured you whole, learning every letter of every word that was etched across her skin.

The man could crack your bones, tear your ribcage open, and feast on your organs and you’d still fade from life proclaiming you died at home. That you’d felt warmth in his touch, as his fingers clawed away at you. That his tongue only licked with the intent of bringing you pleasure. His teeth tore at your flesh, consuming you, because he wanted all of you. Johnny wanted to gorge on the darkest parts you locked away in the confinements of your mind.

Your body is quivering, squishing, beneath his much bigger weight. Johnny’s chest, hot against your back, as his hands glide up along your hips. They expand, fingers curving around your torso, as he pulls your body up.

Johnny’s large hands trace along the shape of your jaw, before grabbing it roughly, breath burning on the shell of your ear. The hand that isn’t grabbing your face is squeezing your waist, and Johnny’s ramming into you, deep and quick, as if it’s all that’s keeping him alive. His teeth clamp around your ear, another low growl slipping past his lips.

Then Johnny pulls his head away. There’s a lot on your face and you can’t tell if he’s become bored or impatient. The man turns you, until you’re facing him., a dark look in his eyes.

You can see a reflection of your own face, cheeks warm with arousal, eyes watering from tears pricking your eyes, and mouth slightly open to let out another low whine. Johnny hits that particularly sensitive spot in you, knowing just how hard to go.

Your body quivers all over in response, and you go lightheaded for a moment. His erratic movements, the way his hands moved along your body, and his teeth still marking your flesh. It’s all enough to make you feel like you’re about to pop like a cork bottle.

His thumb brushes along your bottom lip, prying your mouth open, as he groans. Johnny’s brows furrow a little, focusing, as he thrusts. His eyes close, and for a moment he almost looks pained. You can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking. What memory he’s distracting himself from now by burying his cock deep within the confines of you.

As quickly as it starts however, it’s gone, and Johnny’s face returns to that hard look, eyeing you down. Looking into his face while he fucked you was something that he’d rarely give you the pleasure.

You study him, as if you can read what’s going on in his mind. Like you can make sense of Johnny’s actions. He’s a lot more open tonight than most, and for a moment you can even see a glimpse of pleasure in his own eyes. Cheeks flushing a little, before Johnny exhales quietly.

“Quit fuckin’ lookin’ at me like that or I’m gonna turn ya back over,” Johnny snarls.

Your expression quickly drops, while he fucks the concern off your face. It’s all you can focus on, as he pumps into you. You glare at him once more, body squirming, as you try to speak around the pleasure.

“Like what? I was just thinking about how good you’d look with a bullet in the back of your head.”

Johnny aggressively juts his hips into you, fingers curling around your jaw, as he grabs it, forcing you to be eye level with him. You’re worried for a moment you’ve gone too far, but there’s a gleam in his eyes. He lets out one of those low chuckles, before kissing you.

His tongue worms into your mouth, teeth grazing your bottom lip, as he swallows every noise escaping your mouth. The taste of Johnny should make your skin crawl. His breath was awful, tainted with alcohol, blood, and whatever else he’d probably put in his mouth throughout the day. You can’t bring yourself to feel discomfort though. It’s like you’re seeing stars, his movements sending your body upwards, fingers curling tightly around the confines of your belt.

You want so desperately to drag your claws down his back. To mark Johnny the same way that he marked you. You whined a little at the thought, wiggling in your restraints. It’s all too much, and you feel so close. Your thighs quiver a little, unsure how much longer you can hold on.

Johnny smiles once again, pulling away. He can read your body, while his chest presses against you. Johnny’s movements slow, a dark smirk on his face.

You can never understand how he has such good control. How he doesn’t burst, no matter how intensely the sessions get. Johnny seems so pleased with himself, pulling all the way out, and gently teasing you. Dangling that sweet release ever so close.

“I’m not so sure if I want to finish you now…”

“I’ll finish myself,” you snarl back, half tempted to reach down and push him in you yourself.

Damn restraints.

Johnny’s eyes narrow in response, rolling his eyes. His body continues to tower over you, but he’s smiling. Grinning. Like he knows something you don’t. Johnny’s hand moves from your jaw to your neck, running his thumb along a scar there and smiling at the memory.

“I’d like to see you try,” Johnny chuckled darkly.

Then as if to further prove his point, Johnny removes his hands completely off his body, sitting back. He leans against the arm of the couch, his body sprawled out. You study him, watching as Johnny brings his hand to his cock, gently massaging it. His fingers slip along the underside of it, touching it with a sense of familiarity.

“Me though… I can finish myself just fine.”

His words on taunting, while he continues to squeeze, his large hands easily wrapping around his length. Johnny fucks into his fist like he’s done a million times before, leaning his head back and groaning softly.

“Johnny!”

You can’t hide the desperation in your voice. The frustration as your own body now remains untouched. There’s a fire coursing through your body, as you squirm once again on the couch. It didn’t help that watching the man play with himself made your insides tingle. There was something so hot… so tempting… in watching how he twitched in his hand. How Johnny’s cock responded to every little touch he did.

The man wasn’t sensitive by any means, but if you knew the right buttons to push. Johnny let out another low moan, still not paying you any mind.

“I’m almost there sweetheart.”

You chewed your bottom lip, frowning a little, as a low whimper escaped your lips once again.

“Please…”

Johnny smirks a little, his grip around himself loosening, as he opens one eye. Like he’d just won some sort of game. Then he lets go of himself, creeping back towards you.

“Please what?” Johnny asks softly, his voice low, as his hand moves down, fingers gently toying with you.

Part of you wants to laugh. Your comment about shooting him actually had gotten under his skin. Upset him. You knew Johnny well enough to know the thought of not needing him to get off pissed him off more than anything. He was desperate for that confirmation. It would’ve been cute, had Johnny not been a narcissistic cannibal.

“Please… I wanna cum,” you finally caved, staring up at him. “Need you to make me cum.”

Johnny doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t even give a satisfactory smile, before slipping back into you. He’s quick, movements needy and desperate, while he grinds against your backside. The way his body responds, how quickly and deeply he’s moving into you tells you he wasn’t kidding.

Johnny had really worked himself up while fucking his hand.

Not that it mattered though, you were close to, feeling your stomach tighten into hot coils, while a rush of heat slipped through your body. It all felt better the second time, already used to his size. Your body was his for sculpting, as you moaned once more, closing your eyes.

“Ngh… Johnny… Fuck Johnny I-!” you’re cut off from your own pleasure, as your orgasm tears through your body.

It’s practically impossible to sit still, quivering beneath his body. Johnny’s free hand clamps over your mouth, as if he can prevent your release, while bucking into you with a desperate thrust. His own eyes close, voice turning into a series of low grunts.

“Ahhh…” Johnny whispers quietly, feeling your release slip out, coating his stomach.

That alone seems to be enough to send him over the edge. Johnny stays buried, as his cock twitches within you. Ropes of sticky white cum shoot out, flooding your senses. That doesn’t stop him from sloppily thrusting into you though, moaning softly, while his hand still covers your own mouth.

There’s something animalistic in his release, holding himself in you for a little longer, until he’s no longer twitching. Then Johnny pulls out, cum spilling on the already stained couch.

His grip loosens, hand falling off your mouth, as he catches his breath. You come down from the high yourself, gasping, as you study him. Johnny’s eyes are blank, as he slides off the couch, retrieving his pants. You half expect him to dismiss you, tell you to go home.

Instead however, he undoes the belt on your wrists, saying nothing. Johnny slips his shirt off, making his way to the back of the shack, where his bed remained.

You sat there for a moment in your post orgasmic haze, picking up his shirt that he had thrown carelessly on the ground. You can’t help but sniff it softly, smiling, as you pull it over your head. Then you follow Johnny, watching as he’s laid, stomach first in bed.

You wonder if he’s asleep for a moment, but he seems to sense your presence, shifting in his bed. Johnny doesn’t turn his head to look at you though.

“The fuck you lookin’ at?”

You never expected tenderness or praise after your activities. Hell, even the silence wasn’t anything new. It was not being immediately kicked out after that had your head turning. You stepped forward cautiously, crawling into the bed. Testing the waters.

Johnny doesn’t speak again.

You settle beneath the covers, wishing so desperately you could read his mind. Could hear what he was thinking. You’re surprised when he stretches his left hand out a little, turning it over to reveal his palm. You study it, expecting a knife to grow out of it. Or for Johnny to use the moment where you’re caught off guard to pull a knife out.

You hesitantly reach out, pressing one finger lightly into it at first, before flattening your whole hand. You’re surprised when his fingers curl around your hand, and not in a way where the grip is overbearing. You study him, not wanting to ruin the moment, as you settle in the sheets.

As quickly as you hold his hand, Johnny seems to drift off, his snores light and quiet. He looks peaceful in his sleep, and it’s hard to imagine this man as a cold and calculated killer.

#johnny sawyer #johnny sawyer x reader #johnny slaughter x reader #johnny slaughter #texas chainsaw massacre game #johnny sawyer x you #johnny slaughter x you #tcm #tcm game #texas chainsaw game

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aklxojjk · 5 months

Text

The Restaurant’s Cashier

Waking up you knew that today was either going to be a nice and relaxing day or an anxious filled day. Every sunday you and your family visited a restaurant called Texas BBQ, where your family would take turns ordering for the whole table. Two Sundays ago was your mom, last Sunday was your brother, this Sunday it’s you. With a heavy sigh and a stretch you rose from the bed already stressing about the day ahead of you. It’s not that the cashier is mean or anything of the sort, you just had anxiety and having to memorize all your family’s orders plus having to speak up and not stutter when ordering was… hectic. You put slippers on and slipped into the bathroom, already dreading the thought of ordering food.

Gaming most of the morning away you realized that it was almost time to go to the restaurant and you had about 10 minutes to pick out an outfit, do your makeup, and put jewelry and shoes on.

“Wow, I’m just so prepared every time huh,” you said as you rushed towards your closet finding a nice comfortable pair of shorts and a long black shirt and began to change right there on the spot. Immediately after half putting the shirt on you stumbled over to your makeup stand, scattering some mascaras over your stand to find the perfect combo you always use.

‘my fucking god where is that shitty mascara at’ you though out loud for a second, eyes lighting up as you found the combo you always use. Something about this mascara made your lashes look 3 times bigger than they actually were.

“Hey, you ready?” your brother asked behind the door, respecting your privacy.

“Yeah just lemme finish my makeup and put my socks on,” you said with a raised voice knowing he could probably barely hear you from behind the door. You finished putting on your mascara and just added a bit of glitter under your eyes and some strawberry chapstick on your lips. You slipped your socks on as you opened the door, tripping over the frame.

"IM READY" you yelled, with your whole family yelling back "IM READYYYY" in response. Silly family things.

On the car ride there you tried not to mention that it was your turn to order because maybe that would make the other forget and it would ease your anxiety a bit.

“So mom wants the grilled fish with fries, I want the BBQ ribs with a side of uhm…fries i guess? dad wants popcorn chicken,” your brother said, not even looking at you, too busy admiring the usual roads you always take.

“popcorn chicken… you copying me?” you say looking at your dad with an eyebrow raised.

“I’m not really hungry so yea.”

you looked away already noticing the restaurant in the distance. It was super close to your house so the rides were always quick. you stepped outside, sighing your anxious feelings away hoping that maybe there was no line and the lady up front wouldn't ask a billion times for you to repeat yourself.

“I’ll go get the table” your mom said leading the way as the rest of your family followed close by.

‘Donald Trump if you can hear me… please save us’ is the only thought going through your head as you march down what seemed like an eternal pathway.

“Hi.” you greet the cashier; the same old woman as always.

“Hi darling! what can i get ya?” the old woman says happily, knowing you and your family always come to visit on Sundays.

“I would like a-” your eyes flickered between her and a worker in the back; he was staring you down with a pleasant smile as he continued to cook.

“uh 2 popcorn chickens and a… lord” you already forgot the order.

“Take your time now darling, there’s no one behind ya in line” the sweet old woman said laughing a bit, you glanced at the worker in the back again, noticing his eyes still lingering on you.

“Righttt okay, one grilled fish and one bbq ribs with a side of fries” you said with a smile, slightly shy from the man staring at you. He was definitely something.

“Alright that’ll be… $60.78” she said, turning the card machine towards you. You honestly didn’t even check if she got the order right. you just prayed she did as you couldn’t take anymore of the man’s eyes on you, seeing them trail up and down your body.

“I forgot the drinks…” you said giving her an anxious smile.

“Oh come on now sweetheart! you and your family come by every sunday, I already put it in,” the lady says with a smile as you shyly put the card in.

You couldn’t manage to form a reply as you looked up to see if the man was still staring. To your surprise he wasn’t, which made you think that maybe he didn't truly mean anything by it.

“Alright and would you like a receipt?” she asked and you nodded immediately, knowing that if you didn’t ask for one your dad might send you straight into the seventh layer of hell; he had a thing for receipts.

“Thank you ma’am,” you said as you grabbed your receipt nodding at her in a polite manner.

“You’re welcome sweetie, and next time just call me Nancy.” the old lady nodded back, turning around to give the order to the kitchen.

As you found your usual table— which was on the other side of the wall directly adjacent to the ordering counter— you and your family sat out of sight from the kitchen. you fidgeted with your fingers wondering if you got the order right and if she heard everything okay.

“Check if she got it right,” you said to your dad as he immediately started to check the receipt.

“Always in this damn restaurant!” he says with a bit of anger but not loud enough to warn the other customers and employees around.

He glanced at the receipt, “she put only one popcorn chicken. And she got 4 fountain drinks- you know your mom only drinks water,” he says rolling his eyes.

You let out a big sigh, rolling your eyes as you harshly picked up the receipt. You didn’t really care that she messed up. You felt a bit guilty since she was a bit old- not her fault she couldn’t really hear your low and anxious voice. You walked back to the front counter, looking at your receipt as you fidgeted with it.

“Hey ma’am this is wron-“ as you began to look up, you noticed that the woman is no longer there but that man from earlier is standing there.

He didn’t say anything, but just stared at you with a blank face.

“Oh my bad I thought you were the old lady.. uhm she got my order wrong.” you said, glancing from the receipt up to his eyes then down at the receipt again in an attempt to break eye contact.

“Tell me what she got wrong,” he said in a clear voice, trying to be heard over the sounds of the kitchen behind him.

“uhm it was 2 popcorn chickens and 3 fountain cups instead of 4. One drink was just water.” you made eye contact with him immediately feeling your cheeks lightly burn.

Honestly you had no thoughts in your head except two: this man is attractive and you couldn’t focus on anything else. You stared into his eyes as he was tapping away at the machine, fixing your order up. This was the only time you could examine his features without him catching you.

He was on the taller side and looked about close to your age with dark hair that was a bit on the longer side for a guy, but was clearly well maintained. His facial features were striking, which explained why you wanted to keep staring at him at every chance. He had a muscular build that was not initially noticeable due to his mundane work outfit, but that became apparent once you realized it was there.

“Eight dollars,” he said nonchalantly in his little southern accent after he was done fixing the order.

“Oh right,” you mumbled under your breath, taking your card out as you went to pay for the extra meal they originally forgot to put in.

“Here you go darling,” he said, handing you a new receipt.

You thanked the man and turned around, wanting to return to your table immediately.

“Hey hold on,” the man shouted as you turned back around and stood in front of him, “you forgot the other receipt.” This time he had a smile on his face as he handed you a third receipt.

“Ohh sorry,” you apologized for running off so quickly and grabbed the receipt, turning again to fill the water cup for your mother.

As you made your way back to your table you stopped by the soda machine to pour water into the cup. As you watched the water pour you realized, ‘wait two receipts?’

Just now realizing you received two receipts, you took the second receipt out of your pocket. “text me ;))” it read with a phone number under it.

“holy shit!” you said, realizing that he did actually mean something by it.

As you were reeling from this surprise, you felt your hand turn cold. ‘Oh shit!’ you yelled in your head as you looked down and saw the cup overflowing with cool water. You walked back to your table with a full cup of water and a now cold hand, placing it down in front of your mother.

“Did they fix it?” your father asked while staring up at the restaurant tv, watching some news headline about a recent murder in the area.

“Yeah, here’s the new receipt,” you handed over the receipt to him making sure to keep the one with that guy’s number in your pocket. “I’m so hungry,” you said, trying to distract yourself from the realization that you were probably blushing in front of him and didn’t even notice.

Soon your food arrived and you immediately showered your food in a bunch of different sauces.

“jesus…” your brother said, looking at your food as if he wasn’t doing the same thing.

You hummed as you were about to dig in. “It’s not going anywhere bro,” your brother added as he watched you stuff your mouth with chicken and fry goodness.

“I know,” you said with a bit of food still in your mouth.

You didn’t speak much as you usually preferred to just eat in peace instead of talk. As you were casually sipping your drink, you kept noticing the employees walking by and glancing at you. ‘Ah fuck no’ you thought, hating the feeling of being watched as you ate. You tried to brush it off, thinking that maybe they were just checking if you were done eating to snatch your plate away. But when you were actually done you noticed no waitress coming by to take your plate, that's when you noticed the big ass sign that said “leave plates on table” so you were not tripping and they were definitely looking at you weird. You shrugged it off because you couldn’t really do anything about the staring.

You pulled out your phone and airpods to listen to music while you waited for your family to finish eating. Then you remembered the phone number in your pocket and sneakily pulled out the other receipt. You looked at the paper now in your hands as you typed the number into your phone. “cute cashier guy” you typed in as his contact name since you didn't ask for his name nor did you look at his name tag.

With stomachs now full, you and your family stood up marching towards the door, stopping by the soda machine to get some more soda before returning home.

“How was y’all’s food?” The man from earlier stood next to you restocking the soda lids and straws as you refilled your cup.

“It was amazing as always,” your brother said pushing you to the side so he could get his drink refilled.

“That's always good to hear! Y’all have a good day now,” he said, staring directly into your eyes.

You gave him a nod as you mumbled a thank you and ran off to where your parents were holding the door open for you. You took the door from your dad’s grip and held it open for your brother as he was now carrying his soda and a bunch of sauce packs he found. You saw the man point to his name tag. “Johnny” it read. ‘That's actually not a bad name at all, it's definitely moanable’ you thought as you smiled and walked away, waving at johnny.

As you ran to catch up with your family— who had long since left you there holding the door open like an idiot— you kept thinking about his name.

“johnny…” you said in a low breathy voice just trying to see how his name felt on your tongue, simultaneously wondering how he would feel on your tongue. In your head this sounded normal but your facial expression was definitely cringing.

Opening the door, you slapped your tummy with a big sigh and turned to your brother, “that shit was good,” you said smiling knowing he was gonna say the same thing.

As your parents pulled out of the parking lot, you started to think more about that guy. He was very attractive. Handsome with some nice strong arms that could probably pick you up with ease… you would like that. You pondered away looking at the sky and getting lost in your thoughts until you heard the car stop and realized you were already home. ‘damn,’ you thought, ‘that was so fast.’ you hopped out of the car and walked inside immediately wanting to text him.

You stepped into your room, plopping down on the bed with your phone in hand as you drafted up a text to send him. After debating for a while, you decided to go with something simple and direct.

“Hey :)”

Some weeks had passed since you first texted him and your relationship with Johnny had grown. He would often text you during work.

Johnny

hey I’m getting off work soon

wanna hang with me?

hmm dunno I’m kinda tired

Johnny

I’ll pick you up and buy you some food

all of a sudden I’m dressed and ready to go 😝

Johnny

I’ll be there in 5 pretty girl ;)

Not only have you guys been flirting but you also got to know him more. He was adopted when he was little by Nancy, who treated him like her own son. He had plans for the future (and he wanted to make sure you were in it). You had now been to about 5 official dates with him, but truthfully you had been spending more time with him than your own family. Every day you would wake up, text him, and then go see him. Nancy had asked you so many times if you were dating but you kept telling her that you were not a couple.

A few nights after that you received a text from none other than your Johnny.

Johnny

you up?

yea what’s up?

Johnny

uhm i have a smalll tinyyy question

just say it johnny

Johnny

would you be my girlfriend?

I know i shouldn’t ask over the phone but i just wanted to get it out, I really like you.

You gasped at the sudden question. Yeah you expected this but still it was shocking.

yea

you tried to act very nonchalant

Johnny

okay then send me a picture of your face.

what for?

Johnny

oh come on honey just send me a damn picture already

tell me what forr

Johnny

I just wanna have something to look at…

while doing… what 😇

You were no saint, you knew what he was implying but you wanted to make him spit it out.

Johnny

you’ll find out.

just let me know when and I’ll pick ya up ;))

Panic settled into you, ‘oh my god…’ you quickly rushed to the closet looking for something pretty but not try-hard, maybe some shorts and a hoodie. gotta work for it you thought as you looked at the hoodie.

pick me up in 10

Johnny

straight to the point

I like it.

You didn’t have many sexy undergarments but at least you had a thong your friend bought you a while back.

“That’ll do” you said, putting your shorts over the thong and putting on the plain hoodie, no bra.

You were lucky you had just showered or else you could’ve missed the chance to finally stand on business. You just had to spray a little perfume and apply your scented lotion now. ‘hmm this smells just like strawberries’ you thought when you got a whiff of your arm while fixing your hair.

“am i fuck-ready or what,” you said while looking at the mirror, staring your body down. You kept staring and a bit of worry began to form in your eyes.

“Maybe I should put a shirt on,” you said, tugging at the ends of your hoodie strings.

Not another thought could enter your mind before your phone went off.

Johnny

I’m outside.

You felt a shiver go down your spine, it was time. You quickly exited your room and made your way out the front door, seeing his car pulled up in your driveway.

“Hi Johnny,” you wanted to seem totally relaxed and not nervous.

“Hi sweetheart,” he said in a low voice as you entered the car.

No other words were exchanged. He only turned to face the road and started the car. You quickly realized this was the way to his house, you had been there before a couple times.

“Wait your parents aren’t home right?” you asked a bit worried you would have to be quiet.

With an eyebrow quirk he turned to you. “Why would that matter?”

“Wait, are we not…” you started but got cut off.

“I’m just kidding honey, yea we are.” he said putting his palm up waiting for yours.

You slid your hand on top of his and he immediately closed his grip and brought it over to his side. You can feel his hand trace circles over yours, he seemed extra gentle today.

Letting go of your hand he exited the vehicle and you could see him go around the back making his way to your door. You felt a breeze and turned towards the car door.

“we’re here,” he said, holding the door open for you with a charming smile.

“yay” you replied in a sad tone. You couldn’t help a worried expression from creeping over your face.

You were finally here and now you had to actually follow him inside. When you made it inside his house you paused to take in the house, not particularly interested since you had already been here before.

“Just give me a sec,” he turned around to put his keys on the key holder then take his shoes off.

You followed suit then took the time to sit on one of those fancy looking high chairs he had around the kitchen bar.

“soo uhm what did you mean by that?” you stared at his back waiting for him to look at you.

“You know what I meant,” he said as he made his way over to you, looking you up and down as if he had been waiting for this moment.

It doesn’t take long for his hands to find their way under your shorts’ leg bands. You enjoyed the new feeling of warmth emitting from his rough hands.

“do I?” You did know what he meant but you just wanted to try and seem flirty.

He scoffed in response to that, rolling his eyes and removing his hands from your thighs.

“I was joking~ come on” you took his hand in yours and guided it back to your thighs, already missing the feeling of them.

“you play too much,” with a single quick move, he snatched you up in his arms, making your legs wrap around his waist.

“Johnny, wait-” was the only thing you managed to say before he started to kiss you, getting a taste of the chapstick and smelling the perfume you showered yourself with.

The lotion made your skin smooth and soft as he rubbed one hand on your leg and the other found its way under your hoodie to support your lower back

“been waiting for this-” he bit your lower lip, wanting more of you, “-for some time now.”

He didn’t move you over to his bedroom just yet, wanting to savor you more. The taste of strawberry made him want to lick his lips after he was done with you. At this point your body started heating up, feeling a heavy blush overtake your face and your eyes fluttered with lust. The heat emitting from your body and the fact that you were wearing a hoodie did not go together.

“It’s so hot in here,” you exclaimed, breaking the kiss to fan yourself with your hand.

“So let's take this hoodie off. It’s 80 degrees, what were you thinking?” He chuckled, setting you down again on the chair and hovering his hands over the waistband of your hoodie.

He wanted to tease you- to make sure you felt desperate for his touch. He took his time lifting your hoodie, observing your expressions to see if you were still comfortable.

“Why are you taking so long,” you pulled your hoodie over your head, setting it down on the chair next to you.

His eyes were staring at your now exposed body with eyebrows raised and a small ‘o’ shaped mouth.

“What?? what's wrong?” you glanced down to see what he was looking at and immediately realized what made him become so shocked: you had no bra on.

“So ya came prepared, huh?” he looked into your eyes, a smirk on his lips as he took a hold of your waist and pulled you off the chair and into him.

He wanted to take you right then and there but he knew that he couldn’t just yet. You tugged at his shirt wanting him to take it off and he received your message loud and clear, taking his shirt off and watching you stare at his abs.

His lips attacked yours once more earning him a muffled moan that vibrated against his lips, his hands now exploring your chest and bare abdomen.

“You feel so good,” he paused and whispered in your ear before diving back into kissing you, his hands squeezing your hips.

His strong arms wrapped around you once again, pressing you flat against his body as if to eliminate any space that could’ve possibly remained between you. He started to walk towards his bedroom, enraptured by the taste of strawberry on your lips.

He stumbled slightly as he made his way to his room while carrying you, hitting the walls and corners on the way there. Neither of you really cared to let go of each other to let him see the obstacles in his way. He set you down on the floor and turned you to face the bed, standing behind you towering over your shorter figure.

“I feel so bare…” you looked down at your feet feeling a bit vulnerable.

“You look beautiful,” he said, finding the crook of your neck and kissing it gently with hands snaking around your waist.

His hands ran across your skin, rising from your waist to your breasts and giving them a firm squeeze, reveling in the feeling of your soft skin.

“I don’t feel it..” you crossed your arms over his hands, feeling too exposed.

He brought his hands down from your breasts to hold your elbows, sliding them down to your sides.

“I’ll make ya feel it,” smirking against the skin of your neck he now used your hands— which were being held by him— to make you caress yourself.

Wanting you to feel yourself. Wanting you to feel how good you felt to him. How your skin felt soft and tender under his touch. He brought your fingers up to your mouth so you could suck on them. You parted your lips and did as he wanted, sucking on your them until they were decently wet.

“Does that feel good?” he moved your now wet fingers to your right nipple, making you swirl it and play with it.

He used your other hand to massage your left titty, which made you squeeze your eyes in satisfaction.

“Yeah… it does,” You whimpered in response, allowing yourself to be vulnerable in his presence and arching slightly at the feeling of his body pressed up against your own.

He let your hands go, encouraging you to keep playing with yourself without his help. He held your hair up, wanting to have more access to you and began leaving a trail of kisses that started at the back of your neck and went down to the middle of your back then to your sides where he left a love bite. Unzipping your shorts, he slowly slid them down, watching them fall off to reveal your thong.

“Who would've thought you owned a thong huh?” he smiled cheekily, now sliding his hands up your legs stopping at your hips.

He lowered himself, bathing your hips in kisses and gentle squeezes. His rough yet gentle handling fueling a fire in you. He didn’t speak for a while before he suddenly spun you around and pushed you to the edge of the bed.

“Johnny—” you yelped, a bit shocked as he pushed you rather harshly.

He placed a knee under your own and pushed it to the side, wanting to get a better view while his other leg was placed on the edge of the bed for support. He lowered his body to give you a quick peck before kneeling down. ‘A munch has got to eat I guess’ you thought, smiling down at him as you watched him kiss up your thighs, the feeling of his teeth scraping against your skin sending shivers up your spine.

“If you move I'll stop. I wanna take my time with you” he said, sliding your thong down and chucking it to the side.

“That’s not gonna be a problem,” you confidently replied.

He smirked up at you, knowing you wouldn't be able to hold still at all. He stroked the inside of your thighs with one hand while he drew his thumb gently along your slit with the other, making you shiver at the cool sensation of his fingers. He wanted to make sure you enjoyed this whole thing. He began tracing your clit in the slowest, faintest circles.

“That feels… nice. I like—” your sentence was cut short when you suddenly felt his thumb press more against your clit and his soft strokes became more prominent. You rolled your hips, trying to chase his hand.

“yeah, you like that doll?” you felt his smile against your skin as his kisses came dangerously close to your pussy.

He moved his hand from your clit down to your entrance sliding his fingers in and out of you, his mouth open as he watched you squirm at the slow pace while pondering if he should just give it to you straight.

“Why are you going so slow Johnny,” you said while straining your body to get him to speed up, which he happily obliged to.

He began pumping in and out of you while he sucked on your clit, sending pleasure straight to your core. You whimpered at his fast pace and that skilled tongue of his, arching as you combed your fingers through his hair with a sigh of relief. The slow pace was agonizing and this felt so much better. The tip of his tongue began rapidly pounding against your clit. The room was silent except for the occasional wet sounds and moans that emitted from you. You tried to close your legs due to a tightening feeling forming in your stomach, which made him immediately stop what he was doing.

“Why’d you stop johnny?” you huffed in frustration with a displeased look on your face, not wanting him to stop.

“I told you not to move darling. You have to listen to me,” He went back to that same slow, excruciating pace as he circled your clit with his other hand stretching you out slowly, “but if you beg I’ll make ya cum real quick. Would you like that baby?” his head was tilted and he was smiling at you; he knew you wanted it badly.

“tsk.. please johnny… can you please make me cum? I’m begging you,” you begged with pleading eyes.

He chuckled in response, “yes ma’am.”

He loved the way you begged and the way his name rolled off your tongue. He immediately dove back into your cunt eating you out like it was his last meal. He gripped your legs to prevent you from moving which you were thankful for.

“Fuckkk,” you dragged that word out with a whimper, feeling that familiar knot in your stomach.

You whispered his name like it was a prayer, your high slowly approaching as you squirmed. You reached up to cup your breast, throwing your head back in pleasure. Letting out a loud moan you stopped moving, feeling your release finally arrive. But Johnny kept going.

“Keep going pretty girl,” he helped you ride out your high with his fingers as he went up to kiss you passionately.

“you’re so good at this…” you huffed, out of breath from your orgasm.

“And we haven't even started yet,” he stood up, taking his belt off and unzipping his pants.

He gave his dick a quick pump before stroking your slit with it. You jumped at the feeling of it, your clit still sensitive. He rubbed his dick against your clit a few times before slowly inserting just the tip, both of you taking in a sharp inhale at the feeling.

“Fuck…” He purred lowly.

He wasn’t particularly big but he wasn't small either, he was the perfect size for someone who knew what he was doing. You put your arms on his broad shoulders as his arms held your lower thighs. He placed them on each of his sides, leaving marks on them from how tight he was gripping you. He took it slow— inch by agonizing inch— watching with his mouth agape at your cunt stretching itself out for him. The tightness forced him to stuff himself fully inside you. He took this time to find your hand and interlace his with yours, wanting you to feel more connected with him.

“You’re really tight baby, you holding up all good?” he whispers in your ear, kissing your cheek followed by your lips.

“y-yea just getting used to you I guess,” you mumbled, avoiding eye contact; you’d rather not look at him as he’s stuffing you like a thanksgiving turkey.

“Good,” he started to slowly move, making sure you could get used to him.

His hand slipped away from yours, finding its way to your clit again and rubbing circles on it. You let out a muffled whimper as he kept touching you but you quickly covered your mouth.

“It's okay, let me hear ya pretty moans now,” he said looking down at you, trying to speed up his pace now that you were comfortable under him.

You let yourself be heard but kept your hand over your mouth, hiding your face from your boyfriend.

“Why are you hiding now, you’re so pretty,” he moved your hair out of the way.

Instead of pulling your hand away you kept it there, not wanting him to see your face.

“What are you doing that for?” He said with an eyebrow quirked, his hands moved to grip your wrists, pulling them to your sides making you be seen by him, “there you are…” you had no choice but to be seen struggling under his grip.

“yea I wanna see you, wanna see your face,” he was inches away from your face, just watching the way you moaned and how your eyebrows moved.

“stop looking so hard-” you playfully push him away, using the hand that was covering your mouth to cup your tits again.

“But you look so pretty baby,” he said while pulling you by the legs so he could close any distance between you, needing to feel you as much as humanly possible.

You felt your stomach tighten and put one of your hands on his shoulder, looking for something to grab onto. You were ready to feel your orgasm again, remembering how good it felt the last time.

“uh-uh baby. I need to get some pleasure too,” he said, removing his hand from your clit and increasing the speed at which he was pumping into you.

You pulled him in and switched positions so that now you were on top, “then let me make you feel good,” you had been waiting to say that, smiling hard at him seeing his shocked face.

“Okay then make me feel good my little cowgirl.”

You weren’t a cowgirl but you were gonna ride him like one.

“What feels good to you?” At first you were just dragging yourself on him. It felt good to you but does he feel the same?

“Give it a little bounce princess,” he looked up at you with a smirk on his lips, enjoying the view of you rubbing yourself on him and finding it pleasurable.

“Like this?” you were clueless on what made him feel good but you were trying.

You bounce on him trying to give him any pleasure you could. You kept bouncing, feeling his dick hit that tender spot inside you. You were messy and that's exactly how he liked it.

“Mhm keep going,” he let out a low moan, encouraging you to keep bouncing on his dick, but as you do it, it slips out all of a sudden.

“oh sorry…” you were a bit awkward but you redeemed yourself when you wrapped your hand around his throbbing cock, moving your hand from base to tip then back and finally slipping it back inside with a yelp.

He didn’t say it but that was pretty hot, he wished you would take his dick more often in the future, wrapping your small hands around him and pumping him before entering you.

“Talk to me johnny I wanna know how you feel,” you pleaded with your eyes, genuinely just wanting to know if he was enjoying this.

“Shhh,” he hushed you as one of his hands moved to your left boob, giving it a squeeze and the other hand squeezed your ass.

He was definitely enjoying himself having you on top of him; titties bouncing, a flushed look on your face, and your eyes almost closed.

“Mmm fuck I’m close,” he said moving his hands to your hips now gripping them with force, making you bounce at the speed that he commanded. He was thrusting up into you now with a sloppy rhythm, longing for that feeling of release.

“Me too,” you moaned, taking one of your hands that were supporting you down to your clit and rubbing and scissoring rapidly trying to chase your own orgasm.

“You’re so greedy,” he chuckled, seeing you so desperately trying to play with yourself, he slapped your hand away and rubbed your clit for you.

You both began moaning loudly as your orgasms were rapidly approaching. He came first, thrusting himself deep into you trying to pump you full of his load. He watched intently as you kept riding him, rubbing your clit and making you come undone on top of him, mixing your fluids together.

“So this was your first time, right?” he said, pulling your limp body close to his and rubbing your back with him still inside you.

“yea…” you said, kinda embarrassed he knew immediately.

He had now touched you in places only he knew.

“It’s alright, you did really well. It doesn't matter to me if it was your first time or not. I’ll always prioritize you first. Always, my little cowgirl,” he said, using his hand to lift your face and give your lips— which were glossy from all the biting and licking— a kiss.

You felt so tired you didn't even notice him pushing you down on the bed and bringing some wipes to clean you up.

You began to grow sleepy, rolling to your side as you yearned for the perfect sleeping position. He watched you roll around before eventually settling in and falling asleep, and decided to give you one final kiss on the forehead to let you know that he was there for you while you slept.

#johnny slaughter #johnny slaughter x reader #johnny slaughter x you #johnny slaughter tcm #tcm #johnny tcm #texas chainsaw massacre #texas chainsaw fic #fluff #eventual smut

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dreamties · 8 months

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Okay okay hear me out

Johnny with like a much shorter (I’m talking like 5’3) gf who’s also chubby

Just like a really soft sweet chubby gal, maybe she’s a lil insecure about her body type and it confuses him because he thought she was pretty either way if that makes sense??? Like he doesn’t get why she’s insecure he thinks she’s the prettiest person ever 😭

Okay so . . . I'm hearing you out on this SO HARD !!!! Ughhh I can totes imagine this !! ((also you sent in another ask like this?? sorry if i had originally interpreted this as a request and it wasn't?? 😭😭 idk hope you enjoy <3333))

Also also also... i would love to explore this prompt more in the future, if anyone has additional thoughts to spare <333 👉👈 apologies for any spelling errors

taglist: @friedwormeater @0ddmia @lambofjudgement @lizve @urfavsuh @rainbowcake1212 @sadsimp @marriedtoeddie @strawberry-moonpies

Johnny cares about his own appearance . . . In the sense if he doesn't upkeep his beauty, how else is he gonna pick up prey at the bar?

One of the other talented fic writers on this site, I don’t remember who <:O said he would have learned a lot about "how to act" through television. Now, I don't think he had much access to television, except when he was much younger and the slaughterhouse was still running. The one at the bar will also play old films or news stations that come in all funny. . . Anyways !! All of that absolutely applies to this too!! He's seen pretty boys on magazines that Drayton always glares at him for staring at them too long. He knows what girls are "supposed" to like and he feels confident in pulling it off. That's sort of where that desire begins and ends though. While I think the Slaughter family can care about looks- they each have personal, preferred taste- it's not high on their list of wants. It's always a delightful bonus when their partner is a cutie <3333

Johnny is such a little trickster !! Like what a little greaseball he's so annoying sometimes *sob emoji*

At the beginning of the relationship, he's gonna tease ya about your height. Not your body weight though, it's never polite to comment on a lady's weight.

He tends to pick on everyone though. It's like some demented love language, it seems.

Anytime you make a face or a disgruntled noise about it, he seems so confused??? Like what's up with you??? You never get like this. Why are you being weird around him . . .

Basically- gets annoyed that you're annoyed at him for "no reason"

If Johnny has had other partners before this, his handling of the situation would be different. I am in the camp of strongly believing you are his first partner tho <33333

So you're gonna have to spell it out for this mean ol guy cause he doesn't understand these "social cues" cause he's never quite seen it with his folks, and you can't really interpret gestures like yours in magazines and novellas and stuff. He's just a lil lost, why don’t ya give him a hand, huh?

You tell him your worries: that you feel inadequate to be his girlfriend. That you're small and chubby and he deserves someone who is just . . . more than that.

He's lookin at ya all bug eyed and funny the whole time Ya scared him half-to-death, darlin! He thought something was seriously wrong (side note: just because Johnny doesn't take it real seriously- at first- does not mean that it doesn't matter or isn't serious irl at all <333 stay safe out there folks)

She pouts, turning her head at her shoulders and swiveling her body- hands clenching her arms in a crisscross- away from him.

Johnny pulls a face. What had he done this time? He approaches her cautiously, as to not spook her- she had argued for him to leave her outside for right then. He wasn't having much of that.

"Darlin'?" His hand lands on her shoulder, not quite as gentle as he should be with his love. She turns her head the other way, hoping this will somehow make her able to evade any heated arguments. "Darlin', no no- c'mon."

He's not one to give up, though. Which- in this moment- she hates that was one of the qualities she fell in love with him over. The drive, compassion; the awful persistence he had.

She sniffles, not wanting to cry over some- dumb comment he made. A stupid inference of her body to something else. She had half the mind to be angry, instead. She couldn't be angry at Johnny, though. At least not so . . . forthright.

"S'just, you're always teasin me for my height, Johnny. And- and I know you're just holdin' your tongue about my body."

Johnny looks at her with an incredulous squint. "What?"

"I get it, Johnny. But it's no need to tease me for it." He's slow on the uptake. The gears finally turn and whirr into life. He sets his palm, steady and firm, to her shoulder. His fingers curling against her clothed body gently.

"Ah, sweet-cheeks. I think you're stunning. I haven't been teasin' ya." His lover interrupts him with a look. She returns her head strictly to its position.

"Yeah, yeah, I have been. I know. I love you, though. You're sweet, darlin. Hottest girl I've ever laid my eyes on. Now stop pouting." She's feeling much better already. She wants to pout more just to spite him, which makes her giggle audibly. "C'mon. Let me kiss you," he smiles when he hears her laugh. It's toothy, it's sharp. It's inviting, though. "Look at you, sweet thing. Smilin' already. C'mere."

She turns around, letting Johnny pull her into a tight embrace. Kissing the top of her head, her cheek, her pretty lips. Lips he hopes she'll let him kiss a dozen times over.

She still weeps in his arms, less from the residual sad feelings and more from just how sweet her man could be.

"Love you too, John."

(Is calling him john sacrilege . . . it nearly feels like it should be. but i couldnt help write this bit like that hehe <3333)

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abundance-of-fic-reblogs · 8 months

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I need someone to write a fic where Johnny kidnaps reader and wants to keep her, but Nancy is highly against it. After reading her description that says taking in Johnny when he was a toddler finally fulfilled a void in her that none of her 4 husbands could, I definitely get the vibe that Nancy would be one of those possessive moms that feel threatened by their son's partner and believe that the partner is trying to take their son from them. So yeah reader is over here just trying to survive and Nancy is all like "this whore needs to die, she's not good enough for you Johnny!!! 😡😡" lol.

Edit: So I think Nancy being like this is actually canon because she has voicelines about Maria where she says:

"You ever hear the saying 'Murder starts in the heart'? I think my Johnny liked that girl"

"Your little friend had it coming, looking at my Johnny that way. He's a sweet boy!"

Also worth mentioning is that from videos I've watched about the future map we'll be getting of Nancy's house, I'm pretty sure we find Maria's body in Nancy's room, implying that Nancy was the one who killed her.

#johnny slaughter x reader #johnny slaughter x you #johnny slaughter x oc

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small-sinclair · 4 months

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Flower Kisses

@sup-im-blue…some more Johnny fluff to satisfy you.

You where in the kitchen pealing potatoes when he came into the room. You heard Johnny’s boots click on the wood coming behind you. Before you knew it, he wrapped an arm around you and kisses your neck gently. In the other hand, he held up a small thing of flowers.

“For you, bunny,” he says sweetly, kissing your cheek. “Figured ya might like ‘em in our room.” You felt his smile press against your skin as he kisses you again. “Like them?”

You turned to face him, placing your hands on his shoulders. He leaned down and pressed his forehead against yours and looked into your eyes. Whenever you two are alone, he allowed his guard to drop and let himself be, well, human for a while. Before you, he was sharper than a knife and hard around the edges. Now, he melts like wax by your touch and wants nothing more than to fill that emptiness inside him.

“You always know how to make me smile,” you said, playing with the little curls. “I like them, thank you.” Leaning up, you placed a kiss on his scar. “Such a sweet little guy.”

“‘M not a lil’ guy,” he scoffs, but he has a smile on his face. He pressed a sweet kiss against your forehead, earning a giggle from you. “But I guess ‘ll be your lil’ guy.”

He brushes your hair away and held your cheek. He admires you like an untouched marble block. “My, my, lil’ bunny… you sure look lovely today.”

You rolled your eyes. “You say that everyday, Johnny.”

“And I mean it everyday.” He placed his hand on your cheek. “You’ll always look beautiful.”

You rested against his hand and closed your eyes. He holds you a bit closer as he littered your face with little kisses and praises. When his lips kisses yours, quick and fast, he came back for another, kissing you passionately. “I love you,” he whispers, kissing you again. “‘M the luckiest man alive.”

You picked up a flower held it close to the side of his face. “Sunflowers look good on you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said, nodding. “I guess that’s why I didn’t see you in the fields when you caught me.”

He shrugs. “Well, you were easy to catch, y/n.” He placed his hands on your hips and came closer to you. He wasn’t firm when his thumbs made circles on your skin. He looked at you as if he was admiring a piece of art. “Best catch ever, actually.”

You placed the flower on the counter and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Am I, Johnny Sawyer?” There was a bit of dried blood in his hair and shirt, but it didn’t mind you. It used to, but not anymore.

He kisses your lips gently then your forehead. “Never lie to ya, darling.”

As much as you wanted to be in his arms longer, the front door opened and Cook shouted, “Johnny! Get out here! Got another round!”

Johnny clinched his jaw and he was about to snap back, but her hand on his chest calmed him. He take your hand and kisses the knuckles. “Be back soon, y/n. Get to the safe room, okay? Don’t want ya hurt.”

You nod and stood on your toes to kiss him then caressed his cheek. “Be careful, Johnny. I mean it.”

“I will—“

“Johnny! Ass out here, now!” Sissy shouted from the door. “Com’on!”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m comin’!” He snapped over his shoulder. “I swear, I gotta do everythin’ ‘round here.” He kisses you one last time. “Be home soon. Get ta’hiding.” He steps away from you and started towards the door.

You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself as you turned and brought down a vase for the flowers.

#johnny slaughter x you #johnny slaughter x reader #tcm johnny #johnny slaughter #johnny sawyer x reader #johnny tcm #johnny sawyer #tcm fanfic #slasher imagines #slasher x y/n #slasher x you #slasher x reader

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clarks-letterman · 2 months

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DADDYS HOME

#johnny slaughter #johnny sawyer #johnny tcm #johnny slaughter x reader #johnny slaughter x you #johnny slaughter x male reader

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violettelune · 6 months

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mdni

cockwarming johnny as you cry into his shoulder while he comforts you and holds you tight to him, his bare torso pressed against you wearing one of his shirts

thrusts his hips up every now and then but after some begging on your end, he lays you back while still holding you the same. sets a rough pace with his thrusts until you cum at least once and so does he

your climax breaking that dam as you fully break down and johnny just whispers sweet nothings, reminding you you’re safe with him

#johnny slaughter #johnny slaughter x reader #johnny slaughter x you #texas chainsaw massacre game #tcm game #johnny sawyer #tcm johnny #johnny tcm #johnny sawyer x reader

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whatitshouldvebeen · 3 months

Note

Hi 💜 Can I request Johnny x fem reader? Johnny is a very handsome boy and some girls can look at him, blow him kisses and say nice things to him. Then her s / o feels upset and she decides to make Johnny jealous so that he feels the same way she feels when someone flirts with her boyfriend?

This kind of took a turn, I hope you like it!

Dumb Jealous Bitch

Pairing: Johnny Slaughter x Reader

Contains: Blood, murder, rape

The music was loud, but your thoughts were louder. Johnny was flirting with a pretty girl just across the bar. He wrapped an arm around the girl's waist, then looked over at you with a coy smirk. Your hand tightened around your drink, jealousy swirling in your eyes.

He always did this. You were just so easy to toy with. Ever since you'd joined him on his hunts, he relished in the envy you would show when girls inevitably approached him.

At first, you tried to act like you didn't care. But he could tell by the way you fucked him so desperately once he was with you again that you were trying to prove something.

And it only got worse from there.

Now, it seems like he seeks girls out just to make you seethe. Or maybe because he loves the way you try to reclaim him; your needy pussy squeezing as you desperately try to fuck the memory of the last girl off his cock.

You were so fucking tired of being toyed with. Of being an audience to his self-absorbed narcissistic show of his power over your emotions. No. Tonight, you were going to be the star of the show.

You tore your attention from Johnny, scouring the room. A set of blue eyes met yours just as he entered the bar. He was fit, brown-haired, and the moment you locked eyes he was confident enough to approach you.

"Hey," he said as he reached the spot beside you and ordered from the bartender. "You alone tonight, hon?"

You had to force yourself not to seek Johnny in the crowd, instead holding the man's eye. He was handsome, and his smile was a good cross between alluring and friendly. Yeah, he was the perfect target.

"I am. And I'm feeling a little lonely right now," you responded, smiling back. The bartender brought his drink over, and when he reached for the glass, you set your hand on his arm. His smile grew.

"Well hon, I'd love to keep you company tonight. The name's Tim." His eyes drifted to the nearly empty glass in front of you. "Need another?"

You nodded, stroking his arm, and he asked the bartender to refill your glass. God, you wanted to see if Johnny was watching. But this wouldn't work unless you kept your attention solely on your target.

So, you batted your eyelashes and leaned closer, letting your hand drop to his knee and tantalizingly slide up toward his groin.

Tim's smile grew, and he chuckled. "You seem mighty needy tonight, darlin’. How's about we take care of that for ya?”

You bit your lip and smiled, nodding shyly though you were anything but. Johnny always said how easy it was to get women to come home with him, but you also made it look like a piece of cake reeling in a man. You felt the burn of Johnny's eyes on you now as you stood and Tim's hand pressed into the small of your back, leading you to the bathroom where you slipped inside and waited for him to join you moments later.

Within moments of the door closing, Tim's lips met yours. He pressed you against the wall as his hands traveled down your body. You couldn't help recoiling some; you were doing this for Johnny's attention but Johnny couldn't see you now, so your earlier enthusiasm waned.

Tim didn't seem to notice as he ran his hands under your top and gripped your breasts in his firm hands. You whimpered against his lips, wondering when Johnny would come. You knew he would, he would have to, right? He couldn't just let this happen right under his nose, right?

But things kept progressing, and you gradually got more anxious. You squirmed and broke the kiss, panting.

“Stop,” you said under your breath, and when he didn't act like he heard you, you pushed his chest back. “Stop, Tim. I'm drunk, I don't know what I'm doing,” you said, panic flooding your system as his hands continued pursuing your body, getting lower and lower.

“Don't go yellin’ now, or I'll haveta stuff your mouth sugar,” he said, his hand moving to his crotch and unzipping his pants.

Your skin was on fire now, and you began to hyperventilate. When his roaming hand met your shorts, you were too afraid to stop him. You weren't ready for this, you were supposed to have the upper hand, and now you had lost all control.

Johnny, please! You thought desperately. Please help me! Tim was relentless, stripping you of your shorts in a hurry and stroking himself, using one hand to pin you against the wall.

You couldn't help whimpering, to which Tim didn't take kindly. He stripped your panties off then shoved them in your mouth, muffling your sounds. You tried to take them out but he was holding you so closely there was no space for your arms to move. Tears flowed freely now and you felt his fingers dip into you.

The doorknob jiggled, but you didn't see it. But you couldn't miss the splintering of cheap wood as Johnny barreled into it with his shoulder, busting the door off its hinges.

Johnny was possessed; his eyes were aflame and he yanked Tim off you in a single smooth motion, throwing him into the sink which shattered into big shards of porcelain. Tim screamed, gripping his limp right hand that had been cut deeply when he impacted with the sink.

You ripped the panties from your lips and pulled on your shorts as Tim tried to scramble to his feet, but his pants around his ankles sabotaged him, making him look pathetic as he slipped and slid in the porcelain shards, his own blood, and water spurting from the broken faucet.

Johnny turned the handle of his Bowie knife toward you. “Wanna do the honors?”

“No! No, please!” Tim screamed. Though the bar was sparsely populated, people were watching, and the bar owner was heading toward you. You only had a few seconds.

You took the knife from Johnny and approached your would-be rapist, who looked like a pathetic cornered animal.

“Stop! What the hell is going on?!” The bar owner screamed, but it was too late.

You gripped his hair in one hand, and Johnny stepped on Tim's unharmed hand to keep him from fighting back. You brought the blade to his throat and stabbed straight through, only feeling resistance as your knife met the back of his spine through his flimsy neck. Tim slumped to the ground, the light fading from his eyes.

The bar owner made it to you and Johnny holding a shotgun, but he couldn't bring himself to look at the dead man. Johnny took your hand and shoved past the man, rushing to his truck. No one followed, everyone seemed completely struck, but Johnny still peeled out of the parking lot.

“What the hell were you thinking?” He growled, gripping your cheeks in one hand with a tense hold on the steering wheel with the other, his angry brown eyes flicking between you and the road.

“I was just jealous,” you whimpered, wincing at the harshness of his tone and the harsh hold he had on your face.

“You were a reckless dumb slut. If you were jealous, come hang all over me. We can let dinner go if you really need the attention. Maybe I should just stop letting you out at all, hm?”

“I'm sorry Johnny, I'm sorry,” you cried, shaking your head. “I'll never try it again!”

“That's right you won't. You're mine,” he hissed, then pulled your face to his, mashing his lips against yours while he barreled down the road. When he broke the kiss he pushed you back into your seat, his lip twisting upward. “Dumb jealous bitch.”

Your heart was racing a million miles a minute, and all you could think was that you'd been lucky. Thank God for Johnny.

#johnny slaughter #johnny sawyer #johnny slaughter x reader #johnny slaughter x you #texas chainsaw massacre game #tcm game #tcm #texas chainsaw game #texas chainsaw massacre #tcm smut #fanfiction

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melodrama-ticcc · 3 months

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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

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