#hampudding

The snapping of fingers next to your face jolted you out of your daydreaming, your eyes darting to your friend, Tiffany, in the driver's seat. "How many more miles until the exit? This traffic is so bad I can't even look at my phone." She questioned, squinting to try and see past the utility van in front of her. Construction ahead had brought the six lane highway down to three lanes, with no shoulder on top of that. You two were running late to the 'haunted attraction' you bought tickets for over the phone. The minutes ticked by as your scheduled time slot grew closer and closer, while the scariest part of your night so far was wondering if other people wore their halloween costumes to the place you were going. You'd stick out like a sore thumb in yours if not, especially since it was the night before Halloween. "Oh, um... we only have like eight more miles until the last exit, then its three to the venue." You replied, smoothing out the pink dress bunched in your lap while she hummed in acknowledgment. Ever since the movie came out, Tiffany had been obsessed with being one of Dracula's brides this year, asserting herself as Verona, and even going as far as to have her grandma sew the dresses. Despite being unable to find someone to be your Marishka, it was almost fitting since she died first in the movie anyway.

The rest of the drive was uneventful, except for getting cut off by an exceptionally rude squatted truck driver. Though the middle finger through the window of a sedan wasn't the most mature option, it didn't stop you from sticking your hand out. Tiffany gathered her things, being her keys and lipgloss which sat snugly in her bra, reminding you that there was a no-bag policy. You followed her lead, though all you had was money for food in one cup and a perfume oil roller in the other. Tiffany reached into the backseat, more so just under the driver's seat, and pulled out a thick glass bottle of Tito's. It was about almost empty, hopefully enough for the two of you. You went for the glove compartment, where your two shot glasses were securely tucked away. They were gifts from graduation, decorated with pink cowgirls on each one.

Tiffany poured you both a shot on the center console, letting you have the one that'd accidentally gotten more than the other. It burned going down, but pretty soon, you forgot what you were even scared about. Though it didn't last long as it only took standing up out of the car to see the insanely long line for general admissions, wrapping several times around the queue barriers. "Ah, shit. I knew we should've called ahead, our group probably already went through." Tiffany sighed, rubbing her temples. "It's okay, but the quicker we get in line, the faster we'll meet back up with them in the back." You beamed optimistically, taking her hand as you walked all the way to the back of the line. Lucky for you, plenty of people had shown up in their costumes, though some not as detailed or nearly as exposing as yours. The chill of eyes on you two crept up your spines, her nails digging into your knuckles as nerves addled her.

After thirty good minutes, you were a whole six feet ahead of where you stood earlier when you heard commotion. Loud whistling, almost reminiscent of screaming, the empty line for the fast pass having heavy steps marching down it. You give up your spot in line to shuffle to the barricade, leaning over to see what was going on. A small group of the scare actors were making their way backward, handing out VIP passes and food coupons to get the line from being so crowded. It quickly became chaotic, other patrons packing in like sardines against the barrier to have their shot at getting out of line. The actors waved, some smiling and passing things out seemingly indiscriminately, though your eyes landed on one in particular. A woman dressed as a succubus, with a body that seemed proportionally impossible, and it looked like she noticed you too. Her gaze felt as if she was sizing you up, anxiety thrumming through your veins as this vixen stared at the two of you. The actress produced two backstage passes, humorously titled 'Behind the Screams'. Tiffany gushed, smiling and thanking the woman as is she were a goddess among men. The Actress grinned, fake blood dripping from the corners of her mouth and showing her visibly stained teeth. Although it was a gag, it certainly left an impression.

You vaulted the barrier, while Tiffany took her time, the Succubus assisting her with a hand on her waist. She escorted you both to the front of the line, giving a knowing glance to the two employees at the entrance. You share a look with your friend, surely looking cartoonish as you tensed, staring at Tiffany as if she wasn't in your same shoes right now. The gatekeeper cleared his throat, garnering your attention. "Since you signed the waivers already, I'm just going to give you a quick rundown. Our performers may get up close and personal, if at any point it becomes too much, exits are all around the inside of the attraction." He paused, glaring at the black void who was about three inches away from your face and getting closer. "Anyways, coarser language is used inside, just be mindful since your passes allow you to meet all the actors at around midnight tonight when the shows conclude." The gatekeeper explained, his gentleman-ly demeanor only working to lower your guard for whatever was inside. However, you were royally distracted by the person dressed in black next to you, unable to see whoever it was' eyes, just knowing they were on you. "With that being said—" He stepped to the side, ushering you and Tiffany into the Haunted House. "Have fun!" With the Gatekeeper having spoken too cheerfully, you were cautious to step past. "See you backstage!" The void shouted in your ear, sparking the first of your many, many screams tonight.

The entrance was pretty drab, the attraction set up like a maze with themed rooms. Portraits flew open, actors snarling and screaming just for your reaction, and... you definitely did react. Your throat was raw from how many times the loud gas canisters and jumpscares got you. You were halfway through at this point, coming through the gallery, which was supposedly the best scene in the attraction. You were so terrified already that you forgot everything you'd heard about it. There was an unpleasant smell wafting through the air, stale and cold, but certainly not sterile. It was a scent you couldn't place, and were grateful that this would be the first and last time it graced your nose.

"Oh! I think this is the one where they—" Tiffany's words were muffled by a dainty hand clapping over her mouth, and a much larger one over yours. Icy chills rolled down your body as the groups in front and behind you watched in awe as the two of you became apart of the attraction. Brought up to two stagelike pedestals, the figures strung you both up by your wrists. "How unlucky, Dracula's brides wandering into our den." Tiffany's abductor remarked, the snide tone making your captor chuckle. "Indeed, though this Aleera would be much better suited being mine rather than his." The male voice spoke, stepping into the spotlight that was glaring in your eyes. You stammered, trying to collect your words, your entire body shuddering against your will. "Trembling already, I haven't even touched you. Yet." The actor laughed maniacally, the low octave of what you'd only assume was his stage voice set your nerves alight, anticipation winning over your fear.

"My, my... what a figure." The succubus from earlier commented, admiring your beloved friend like meat. It never took a rocket scientist to read Tiffany, she practically brandished her heart on her sleeve. He cupped your cheeks with a gloved hand, turning you to look at him. "Eyes on me, Sugar." He commanded, everything feeling so much realer than you thought it would. You took the moment to give him a onceover, his bone-white painted face and black leather outfit. Wracking your brain, you tried to think about what movie the character he was dressed as came from. Black trenchcoat, pointed black makeup on his eyes, which made him look like some kind of rock band member.

"Fresh prey... these naughty girls look like they need punishment." The speakers blared, the other attendees taking their time to watch as the show began. You couldn't tear your eyes from the predator-like actor who was circling you, brandishing a very realistic looking knife in your face. He couldn't help himself from admiring you, your nervous gaze trained on the silver blade. "Don't worry, it won't hurt." He leaned into your ear to whisper, his free hand landing on your waist as he dragged the dull side across your bare skin. You could hear the words of the succubus to the side of you, surely lulling your overeager friend into doing whatever she asked. The blade stalled in front of your throat, gloved fingers pulling your chin back to lift your head as if he really was going to do it. He took his time, his face inches away from yours, eyes dropping to your lips and lingering. Before you knew it, you were leaning in, kissing him. It was chaste and quick, traces of your lipgloss on his skin as he smirked.

"That.. certainly wasn't in the script." He hummed, a rumbling chuckle that came from deep in his chest seemingly surrounded you. You were mortified, thinking worst case scenario about it all. His thumb swiped off the sticky residue, before he returned his focus to the knife in his hand. You gasped as his swift movement was only a blur to your vision and your lungs burned as you shrieked, convinced that the end would come at the hands of this attractive man in front of all these people. The lack of pain is what stuck out first, and the torn material of your bindings. Man, if this guy could slit your throat open and you died painlessly? Maybe he really was a trained professional after all. You pried your eyes open, your captor tugging you along by the rope he'd severed to scare you.

"Sl-Slow down." Your voice came weakly as you found yourself nearly tripping over your dress. He stopped abruptly, having turned to face you now, his index finger dug just beneath your chin. Instead of closing the gap himself, he pulled on the rope, forcing you forward. Even in the beginning of winter, this cold haunted house was starting to make you break a sweat. At least, that's what you'd like to think. "Shh... All you gotta do is look pretty and be scared, you've already got half down pat." He jested, his deep brown irises seemingly enamored with your features, though turning away soon after to resume your trek.

He savored every second, unfortunately having a job to do on top of flirting. "You seem to be enjoying yourself." Your captor spoke from ahead of you, the smirk on his face audible from his words alone. Your head was spinning with nothing but the heavy steps of his boots to remind you of where you were. You were still having fun, a giddy grin on your face as the rope tugged you along. It became abundantly clear when at a fork in the corridor, you and Tiffany were taken different directions. "Where are we going?" It was a rhetorical question, even if he did answer it, odds were you wouldn't know what he was talking about. "Outside." He curtly replied, pushing open the door in front of you.

On the other side was behind where the hayride was boarding, the path where the patrons walked separate from the one you were staring at. He pulled you through the exit before cutting off your restraints, intently checking your wrists for any marks. "Is it appropriate to ask for your name? I mean, we've kissed, that permits an introduction at least." "Eddie. You?" You grinned as you gave him your name, noting the hum that left him as he repeated it. "'S cute. Fitting." The offhanded compliment took you by surprise.

Eddie's smile was friendly, looking at you like he's known you all his life. For just a second, you'd forgotten where you were, and just existed in the moment. The chatter of passersby knocked you out of it, and he chuckled. Surely you weren't so easy to read, but maybe he was good at that kind of thing. "You up for a little cat and mouse?" He asked, out of the blue but still piquing your interest. "Hm?" "Gets the crowd psyched for the hayride, y'know?" It sounded more like an excuse than anything, just wanting to convince you to get up to something fun. "Can I get a headstart?" "Of course. Five seconds once you get out of the gate." The both of you agreed, but as soon as you turned to start this chase, Eddie stopped you. He pinched your chin, turning your face in his direction while he pressed his lips to yours. They were soft like you vaguely remembered, his saliva tasting faintly of cigarette smoke. Being the much better kisser that he was, Eddie left you panting, your heart already racing before you'd even started.

"You gotta sell it, make 'em think it's real." He reminded, gesturing for you to be off. Your fingers ghosted over your lips, having one last look at him before walking up to the gate.

You paused, taking a deep breath before letting out the most blood curdling banshee shriek you could muster. The previous chatter went silent as you burst through the gate, purposefully tripping over your feet before scrambling to start your sprint. "Oh God, oh God... fuck. He's coming, somebody please help me!" You wailed, running through the crowd, bumping into people left and right. The five seconds had surely past and you were getting held up, everyone either moving out of the way or completely oblivious to your approach. The truck for the hayride was almost fully boarded, but you had no intention of getting on it. Your throat burned, chest rapidly rising and falling.

The quickest glance behind you had you running faster, as he was gliding through the other patrons so smoothly that he was catching up to you. Too close for comfort. The first instinct you had was to get out of this crowd, hopefully having better luck without any obstacles. Your heart raced, and you were unable to hide the grin that broke out on your face as now there was nothing between you and the ride but a wide dirt path. You felt so alive, the bite of the cold autumn air making everything a lot more vivid. You looked back again, this time not seeing the man who was giving you chase. Relief washed over you as you were about a hundred feet from the trailer, a dozen eyes all on you as you screamed bloody murder. "Please! Don't leave me! Wait!" Those on board stared at you, before they began to laugh and point. Their amusement turned to shock as you fell again, this time not so gracefully with a black boot having hooked around your ankle and tripped you.

"No! No, no... no!" You sounded desperate, as if your life were really at stake. Eddie dragged you backwards, watching as your nails clawed at the dry dirt below you. He was impressed by your performance to say the least, how committed you were to making these people believe he was going to kill you. Your tormented screams sounded painful, music to his ears as it went to show just how far you'd go to please him. Hell if the chase didn't have his dick straining at his pants already, that realization would've. "You did so good for me." He mumbled as he lifted you over his shoulder, the hayride taking off behind you two. His praise sent shivers up your spine, opposite of what you were feeling earlier. Eddie carried you off back towards the attraction, where you found yourself against a wall on the side of the building. His tongue invaded your mouth, drinking in every moan that left you.

It was a temporary moment of privacy, as you were only alone until the next group came through any minute now, in fact, you could already hear them. Your movements were sloppy, tripping over your own feet as you tried to find somewhere else to seclude yourselves. "Shit— You'd think there'd be more places to fuck in a haunted house." Eddie huffed, holding your hand as he looked for somewhere that didn't have either patrons or other actors in it. "My van is parked out back." He offered, trying to sound as little kidnap-y as possible. The options were slim and you were both pent up to high hell. You'd sobered up from shot earlier, but you'd like to think that if you still had that liquid courage, tipsy you would accept. So, you accepted.

You and Eddie ditched the attraction, hurriedly making your way back to his car. You found yourself leaning in much closer than you'd like to admit, taking advantage of his shoulder right next to you. "You cold?" "No." You mumbled a reply, suddenly wary of accepting the affection and attention you craved. Too self aware for your own good, reminding you that this Eddie guy was a complete stranger. He called out your name and you turned to look at him. "Second thoughts?" He asked, squeezing your hand. His charm was disarming, his presence like warm light on your skin. You shook your head and stuck next to him to the back of the parking lot. Eddie opened the door to the van, the smell of the inside hitting you first. You were no stranger to smokers and its distinctive scent, so you already knew what you were getting yourself into. He sat down, reaching under the seat to push it back. Eddie offered you his hand, helping you up to straddle him, and pulled the door closed behind you.

Now that he had you alone, he didn't know where to start. You leaned down, cupping his face and sloppily kissing him. Eddie placed a hand on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks. He pushed his fingers beneath the fabric covering your chest, swiping it out of the way. The sight of you straddling his lap nestled its way into his core memories. The way he looked up at you, his face illuminated by the light above you, his dark brown irises like clover honey admiring you. He palmed at the swell of your breasts, his nose running up your sternum as he leaned into your warmth. He stopped at your nipples, taking one into his mouth and tweaking the other with his fingers. It was a light, yet pleasurable feeling, coupled with the subconscious roll of your hips in search of any kind of friction. He liked watching you squirm more than anything, greedily chasing whatever you could get like he was going to disappear if you didn't. Eddie could tell you to be patient all he wanted, but frankly he was getting to his wits end too.

He reached to adjust his seat, leaning it as far back as it could go. Before he could go for the buttons on his pants, you were already doing it for him. "Wait—" He put his hand out to stop you, but it was already too late. You covered your mouth with your free hand, giggling and grinning behind it. The angry red tip of his cock had precum beading from the slit, the size of it bigger than anything you'd seen. "Commando under leather pants?" Your teasing words did nothing to help the blush on his face, both from arousal and embarassment. "It's more practical, it gets hot under this thing." Eddie explained, his gaze fixed on you as you spat in your hand. Saliva dribbled down the length of his arousal, glistening under the yellow car light. His hips thrusted up into your fist, his lip tucked between his teeth. "Please." He begged, uncaring that he was relenting his control for you. It was too easy to take the reigns, pulling your panties to the side and dragging his tip against your pussy.

He whined, gripping your waist as you seated yourself on him. You hunched over, tucking your face into his shoulder. Inhaling for what felt like the first time in hours, you could feel every twitch of his cock, ready and eager for more. "Fuck— Just, hah... please." He groaned, guiding you up before sliding you back down again. "Please what?" You taunted, withdrawing your cunt until he answered you. He huffed, looking up at you, unsure of if you were being serious or not. "Shit— Use me. Please, use me." Eddie pleaded, his lips drawn up in a smirk as you rode him faster. He filled you like you were made for each other, and he was trying his damndest to let you set the pace. Your cunt was milking him for all his worth, pulling helpless moans out of the two of you.

Eddie's self-control buckled under you, his hand moving to your thighs as he fucked up into you. The pad of his thumb tucked between you, nestling itself making circles against your clit. Every second that passed was one where the two of you barreled closer to cumming. You were on cloud nine, the knot forming in your stomach feeling so surreal. "'M close. Where- Where do you want me to.." He trailed off with a grunt, feverishly rutting into you. "Inside. I'm on the pill." He breathed a sigh of relief, his lips brushing against the skin of your collar bone. With every motion of his thumb, your hips stuttered, burning with their overuse but still you persisted in chasing this high. "Fuck!" You spoke, repeating it over and over again as you reached your peak. Eddie was right behind you, a photo finish as he stuffed his cum as deep as possible. He stilled, trying to catch his breath, laying back in the seat and taking in the sight of you. There was no telling how he'd gotten so lucky, or when the next time you'd see each other was.

Moments passed in silence, before you spoke up. "What are you even supposed to be dressed up as?" His stomach tightened with laughter, the question catching him off guard. "Uhh, hello? Eric Draven... the Crow?" He spoke, like it was common knowledge. "Never heard of it." "Never?!"

—

The two of you walked back to Tiffany's car, the windows all covered in fog. You stopped in your tracks, jaw nearly on the floor as the movement was far from innocent looking. Eddie knocked on the glass, muffled gasps coming from inside before the manual window rolled down. Your friend looked surprised to see you, her lips smeared in what seemed to be some kind of face paint. It was only then that the succubus from earlier leaned over her shoulder, kissing her cheek before looking at you too. "Can't you see we're busy?"

The purest shock on Y/N's face was amusing to the group of men. She couldn't breathe; everything she'd felt collectively became, nothing. Her nose and cheeks were red as she sobbed, mucus leaking from her nostril. Essie began wailing her lungs out until her throat dried.

"You motherfuckers! This is evil; you're all fucking evil! You fucking freaks!" She yelled and thrashed seemingly without end, seething with anger as they watched her like it was dinner and a show. They laughed and cheered, enjoying her moment of anguish, treating it like entertainment. It took Drayton shouting to get them to eat their food. He knew that he wanted it just as much as they did.

Y/N didn't think of herself as on edge until now, when she'd given up on fighting. The exhaust set in from the long car ride or the intense atmosphere; it's not like she could distinguish that for herself. She could really go for a cigarette if she weren't about to fall asleep; part of her hoped she wouldn't wake up. She heavily began to tune out the noise, but it seemed that these men had already noticed her dozing off. As though she was underwater, all she could hear were murmurs while her eyes closed fully.

"You see that, Bubba? I think she just fell asleep." Nubbins gaped, pointing at Y/N. To be fair, she passed out. Essie's head whipped over to discern his words for herself. Bubba meekly glanced up from his food at the lady, beginning to stare. His face was adorned with a mask featuring holes for his eyes, nose, and mouth. It looked as though it was made of thin material, paperlike, with poorly applied makeup caked onto it. "Holy shit, she's out cold."

Bobby waved his hand in her face, snapping his fingers. He dragged his knuckles across her face, daring to nudge her. His hands trailed down her neck, collarbone, and eventually her breasts. "Don't you touch her! Stop.. please stop." Essie pleaded, recalling every joyous moment of their friendship. She truly cared for her best friend, but her desperation was only met with hostility.

"You shut your fucking mouth before I string you up like a side of veal." Nubbins threatened, holding his knife up to her. The whole family watched intently as Bobby used his wire hanger to pull the hem of her tank top outwards, peaking down into the shirt.

"Nubbins, I'll give you two dollars and my wig to get a picture of this." Bobby leered, gesturing for his brother to come and see what he was seeing. Essie looked away, mortified, unable to say anything. Bubba shuffled over, wanting to take a peak too. How gullible Bubba was, oh so curious. Drayton was also inquisitive to the spectacle, but he knew he was far too old to partake in things as juvenile as this.

Nubbins took his pictures, lifting the tank top past her breasts and exposing her nipples to the muggy air in the room. Their dinner lay long forgotten; their male gaze lingered on the piercings silver as second place in her nipples.

"Woahh.. are you guys seeing this?" A childlike curiosity bloomed in Bobby's voice, both of his hands slowly reaching up to grab handfuls of her supple bust, twisting the hardened bud. She jolted, still tightly bound by the dream she was having, nevertheless startling the men watching her every move.

"You lot better eat your goddamn dinner."

Drayton snapped, pointing his broomstick at his brothers. Nubbins disassembled his camera once as it originally was, almost disappointed to do so. He perked up when he had the idea to inspect the piercings, gently touching them. He was tempted to rip it out to get a reaction, but he could read the room better than that.

He and Bobby stood, taking their bounty of photos back to the table for them to peel off the film together. Bubba readjusted her shirt to cover her back up, hurrying back to his seat, oddly giddily. It's hard to see them as anything more than grown little boys.

Drayton had already finished his food, waiting with his arms crossed. He wanted everyone to eat first and then give Grandpa his spotlight, like one of them prim and proper hosts. Essie's weak sobs were drowned out by the sound of the group eating wildly like pigs.

Bubba left the room in a hurry, fetching the bucket he left under the meat hooks. The two twins and their crooked teeth grinned like there was no tomorrow, excited for what was to come. They clapped their hands gleefully, waiting for Bubba's return.

As soon as their large brother stepped into the room, Nubbins jumped up. He practically ran to stand in front of Essie and his grandfather. He used his trusty blade to cut off her restraints, ready for her attempt to escape, which she took and failed. He held her by the neck over the bucket, her screams radiating throughout the room. The flash of adrenaline coursing through Y/N's veins as this noise awakened her was ice cold. She attempted to stand up, only remembering she was bound when her chair fell over.

This stopped no one, not even the pig-like squeals coming from Bubba displaying his own delight. Essie fought with all the strength in her body, no longer finding any respect in her heart for her friend, not anymore. She was angry, seething even, her rage unbridled as she roared:

"Fuck you! Fuck all of you! I hope you all burn in fucking hell, goddamn you!" She screamed and flailed, thrashing around, all to no avail.

"Stupid fucking whore, this is all your fucking fault!" Her shrieks and insults ran thin, only sobbing as Grandpa fumbled, trying to hit her. The more her words sat, the more regrets she had. Her gasps for air became more rapid, and she became desperate and scared.

"No, no, no, wait, wait, please. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it.. please wait!-"

She was cut short by the sledgehammer coming down on her head once. Her speech slurred, slowing down tremendously as her last words were spoken with a garble.

"I'm... sorry.."

Her mouth hung open with an empty gaze on her face as her body slumped over the bucket, and the wound on her head leaked carmine fluid. "Essie!"

While Bubba took Essie's body away to be put in a freezer, Nubbins and Bobby turned their attention to her. Her friend was long gone, but the chair shook violently, with the grief flooding her senses. Her nose burned, and her throat was raw, but it seemed like her torture didn't end there. Two of her closest friends had been killed before her, to be devoured like cattle. If they let her live any longer than tonight, she'll eventually have to start consuming them as well.

The two men were very excited to continue what they'd started before, hurrying to lift her chair off the ground. Bobby pointed at her, wiggling his finger almost to say 'wait right here' to Y/N. The twins shuffled over to their grandfather, picking up his chair quickly and taking him back to his room with Grandma Sawyer.

Bubba lumbered over to her, his hands balled in fists in front of his chest. He was enlivened by the sight of her body and genuinely interested in seeing more of it. He caressed her face eagerly, relishing in how soft her skin was. How drastically different the texture was from his grandpa's wrinkles. His delighted squeals could barely be contained as he lightly squeezed and tugged on the skin of her cheeks. It was almost like he was speaking to her, telling her in detail everything he was feeling at that moment, verbalizing his emotions with his sputtering.

Thumping and thuds down the steps signaled the twins' return. Drayton was long gone, possibly having returned to his room upstairs. The dining room was empty save for the three younger brothers and her. They all admired her disturbed facial expression, listening to her deep broken breaths. Bobby shook his wire hanger's hook in her face, watching her recoil away. So deeply amused by her disgust, he continued to torment her even while Nubbins cut off her bindings.

"Upstairs or downstairs, you pick, Leatherface." Nubbins' teeth shined golden as his inquisitive grin splayed across his face. He nodded as he watched his brother point up with his index finger. This time, Bubba grabbed her arms while Nubbins grabbed her ankles. She struggled here and there, already physically exhausted and dehydrated. All she could feel was an aching pain that felt like there was no end to it, not one she'd ever get to see anyways.

They carried her almost limp body up the stairs, not calling attention to this fact; maybe this was a slight relief. It's not like they minded either way.

Once they entered the empty room, having only a stained mattress on the floor. They carelessly dropped her on it, rushing to remove her clothing. Lifting back up the tank top she had on, Nubbins latched his mouth onto the exposed nipple. He grew to obsess over the metallic taste in his mouth, wrapping his tongue around the wire, sucking like a madman. Bobby saw this and quickly copied his twin to see what the hype was all about. He wasn't disappointed in the slightest, enjoying the flavor of the silver.

Bubba observed, pressing his chewed nails into his palms, running his tongue along the texture of his teeth. His eyes glowed with admiration for his older brothers, wanting to join them but not seeing a way to. He whimpered out his sadness, catching the attention of his brothers, with them looking at him simultaneously.

"Wait your turn, Leatherface." Bobby spat, returning to his previous action. Nubbins sympathized with poor Bubba, feeling bad for Leatherface. Such a good older brother, almost admirable, if he wasn't a sadistic murderer. He moved out of his brute brother's way, allowing him a go at her breast. Judging by his elated squeals, he was more than happy. Bubba sloppily latched onto her nipple, innocently appeased by being included.

Despite having a screw or two loose, Nubbins always kept his eye on the prize, a bounty that he'll enjoy to the fullest. He took her jeans off, the fabric splitting and tearing at the force. Nubbins took this opportunity to sink between her legs, spreading them with a brute's strength. He looked at the wet spot on her thin panties with an almost childlike grin, almost delightedly dragging his fingers across the spot.

"Boys, I think she likes it. Whaddya say? You like this?"

He pressed his thumb into her heat, analyzing every muscle in her face for her reaction.

"Please—" Their attention locked on her weeping face, her eyes dead but the façade cracking at an alarming rate. "Please, please, please, please, kill me. Just fucking kill me already." She thrashed, screaming at them to kill her, all while they held her down and watched. They were like animals, with their sadistic smiles hearing her cries for death.

Their mercy did not extend to her in the slightest.

"Ain't nobody killin' you jus' yet. Just sit there, and look pretty.. we'll take care of ya real nice." Bobby said, using his hanger to push the hair out of her face. Her body recoiled as Nubbins' became more curious about his touch. His sudden shift towards pulling off the cotton underwear that adorned her sent a sharp and unrelenting spark of fear through her veins. Her legs begged to close, being held open by the force of both his younger brothers. Revealing her cunt, the contact with the air being cold against it, despite the room's warmth. Her toes curled, and her eyelids were shut so tightly they ached, all to avoid what his first idea would be. He stared at her labia, bringing his thumb to caress the folds with a raging curiosity. He listened to the sticky noises it made, rubbing it faster to hear more. Somewhere in his head, he enjoyed the sound deeply.

She gasped, tensing her muscles to desperately fight off how her body reacted, and how it craved more. She was reminded swiftly that her mind was a separate entity entirely from her physical state. His version of torturing her was to force her to succumb to her body's vices. He's used all but one of his five senses to accomplish his goal, eager to taste his fill. He lowered his head, sliding his hands under her ass.

His brothers watched closely, being already used to allowing Nubbins to take the lead. As soon as his tongue collided with her cunt, their heads swung to witness her reaction. Taking unsure swipes at first, but eventually came to pull her closer and drag his flat tongue across the entirety of her vulva. He licked and sucked at her heat, feeling every twitch of her legs in his hands. The obscene noises that he made held his siblings' attention with an iron fist, Bubba envying his position the most, with his erection twitching in his pants just from watching.

The eldest brother made it his mission to get her to stop biting her tongue, to get her to stop denying human nature. Breaking her in to continue the Sawyer lineage.

Everyone has to eat something. Is it their fault because money's a little tight?

"Bubba, you gotta try this!" Nubbins said enthusiastically, specifically pointing at her cunt. Bubba, sweet thing, was obviously buzzing with excitement. He'd quickly changed places with Nubbins, squealing as he did so, now nervous as he knew his brothers were watching. Nubbins sloppily kissed her lips and face, his hair fell around her wet eyes. Their gazes locked, her eyes pacing around, searching his for anything at all.

His eyes were blank, but his crooked smile said everything it needed to. Bobby groaned, having already started jerking himself off as soon as her panties had come off. His hand moved swiftly on his length, seemingly as he was about to cum, he sat up on his knees. He cursed his heart out as he finished himself off on her breast, rubbing the tip of his cock across her nipple.

Spent and aged, all he could do now was watch, happily, he might add. Bubba was repeating everything he'd seen Nubbins do, awkwardly licking until he'd felt a pearl-like nub on his tongue. His big hands spread her labia apart to allow himself to focus on this pearl. As he did so, she'd turned to biting her lip, hoping the pain would overshadow just how good it felt to have his mouth on her. Every rapid drag of his tongue tore her out of her disassociations, stretching her endurance to its limits. He latched his mouth onto her labia, dragging his own index finger up her slit. The digit felt every ridge of her vulva, stopping when his forefinger snagged a particularly warm cavern that sucked his fingertip right in.

He looked up to his brothers for guidance, being met with Nubbins' proudest look. "Keep going, Leatherface, seems like she's really enjoyin' it." With his brother's approval, he felt invincible. Bubba pushed his large finger deeper inside her, feeling how her wet walls welcomed him. He didn't know whether to keep his finger perfectly still or move it, opting for the latter in an instant. His finger slowly retracted before pushing back in, feeling her leg muscles stiffen under his other hand. His tongue met her clit once more, pressing the tip right into it.

Her mask cracked, whimpering with a closed mouth. She looked down at him, meeting his gaze as his finger moved torturously slow. His middle finger made itself present in her cunt as well, feeling how her walls convulsed around him. As soon as his fingers curled, her teeth let her bleeding lip go. She panted, looking up, not wanting to see how he was working her cunt. His thumb circled her sensitive clit, entirely able to get off just from this.

The muggy room made her skin sticky with sweat, and her incessant gasping as his fingers fucking into her finally crossed the threshold of audible whimpers. With his fingers impossibly deep inside of her, she found herself teetering on the edge of her climax. She wasn't thinking reasonably.. why on earth would she want these murderous cannibals to fuck her? The whines emanating from her throat exposed this thought process to the brothers. Bubba felt liquid dribbling down his palm, her spasming insides having an iron grip on his fingers.

The guilt she felt for cumming on the fingers and tongue of a murderer ate at the back of her mind, but all that mattered was gone. She knew they weren't finished with her, and that idea alone, the idea of letting them watch her get fucked stupid, wasn't disgusting. It appealed to her, in a sick way. He pulled out his fingers, shying away from her gaze.

"Look at 'er, seems to me that she's just as fuckin' crazy as we are." A world-class whore that could get off on fucking cannibals is what he meant. Nubbins was just itching to bend her over, unzipping his dirty khakis. His cock stood leaking precum, earnestly stroked by his right hand. "'Scuse me, Bubba." His brother shifted to her side. Down the hall, Drayton could be heard shouting for the assistance of one of his brothers, and of course, Bobby had to go. Nubbins roughly slung her around, forcing her to lay on her stomach, straddling her ass. A true sight to behold, his calloused hand running down it. He held her arms together behind her back, still skeptical of her wanting to escape. He guided his shaft along her vulva, seeking out the hole his brother just stretched for him. The tip pressed into her, sinking right in with little resistance. He leaned forward, pushing his length impossibly deeper into her while all she could do was lay there and listen to her greedy pussy to swallow him whole. He moved his hips slowly, fucking away the chokehold her tight cunt had him in.

His hands gripped her waist, pulling her back onto him with every thrust. Bubba sat beside her, unsure of what to do now. Nubbins noticed quickly, knowing just how to help. "I'll let yer hands go if you take care of ol' Bubba here. No bitin’.” She nodded her head, shoulders already sore. He reluctantly released her, moving his other hand to her hip. Bubba now sat in front of her, leaning back and nervous yet again. His cock strained in his pants, only being let out by her hands undoing the zipper. Her small hands didn't even fully wrap around his length, and how it pressed up against her face just sent him into overdrive. Regardless of his aimless incoherent noises, her flat tongue traced his tip, mixing her saliva and his precum together.

He filled her mouth generously, an uncomfortable intrusion in her burning throat. She took as much as she could, savoring the almost repulsive salty taste. Even with their male gaze falling upon her so ruthlessly, she was nothing more than a tool to get off with. Of course, Bubba could have a positive opinion, but it'd only make his family upset with him had he ever developed feelings for her. After all, how many years did they spend desensitizing him to the pleas for life his victims gave him?

Her throat around him tore him from his thoughts, watching carefully at how well she took him. Her tears spilled down the sides of her face, pooling at her chin. It felt good, almost as though there was any semblance of love in this act, almost as though she wasn't being defiled at every waking second she was in this room. How could she abandon her morals so quickly, after all those conversations with her parents about this very act? How many stories did she have to hear to know that this was wrong in every way? It was downright deplorable how easily she gave in and gave up.

She closed her eyes, and let her worries melt away because it'd be over soon. Every thrust of Nubbins' hips pushed her body closer to Bubba. Meanwhile, the poor masked fellow was whimpering his big heart out at just how good she was treating him. At any rate, he was right there, so close he could taste it, running his fingers through her disheveled hair. Bubba was the first to cum, with Nubbins being a photo-finish second, having had Y/N spasming on his cock in the same instant. The latter being more verbal with his pleasure than the former, yet only one of them was on the brink of tears after their orgasm.

After coming down, everyone in their right mind, everything ended how it always does. The men left satisfied, and the woman lay used in a puddle of her own moral decay.

Hope you enjoyed!!

"Look at ye, bonnie girl. Pointin' the iron in me face like yer gonna do somethin' with it." Jimmy hummed in amusement, grinning like a madman. Your eyes narrowed, thumb sliding off the safety and pulling back the hammer. "You broke into my house... put your mouth on me, and worst of all: you're ruinin' my high." You reply, not relenting despite the stark lack of undergarments on your body. In truth, you were still in your bed, sitting on your knees, while he'd made himself comfortable at the edge. He scoffed at your statement, looking at your furrowed eyebrows with feigned confusion. "Yer just goin' ta leave out how ye missed our meetin'? I did ye a favor, ye ought to be grateful. Plenty ah things I coulda did, eatin' yer cunt hardly scratches the surface." He spoke so surely of himself that it pissed you off even more.

"So it's my fault that you couldn't just wake me up? How about, you ought to be grateful I don't wanna paint my ceiling with you." The words came out more venomous than you'd intended, though Jimmy didn't take it as much more than banter. He took it upon himself to kiss you first, catching you off guard enough to remove your weapon and discard it. "Thas what I said, no?" He chuckled, clicking his tongue at you and patting his thigh, the wordless command intending to keep you off balance. Jimmy liked this resistance, a welcome change to the hens he was used to dealing with. It wasn't the challenge you gave him, only the seemingly endless bounds of entertainment your personality provided him. Maybe also your figure, which he'd so gracelessly admired even before things had gotten this intimate.

Jimmy occupied your lips to shut you up, he was selfish like that, but you had to admit the allure he had. Your hand was placed on his chest, savoring the taste of his saliva. Your senses were still operating in hyperdrive, your focus solely on him like nothing else existed at this moment. You'd gotten the tablet custom-made from one of your associates, with no intent to distribute it, something to make you a bit more social. It was only supposed to be a small test, show you the limits before you learned them the hard way. The heat was slow at first, creeping up your body like you were acclimating to the space around you. The empty room had never felt so warm before, and it only got worse as time progressed. In your infinite wisdom, you decided that the best option was to sleep it off, and (unilaterally) that Jimmy would come by at a later date. It was wishful thinking, as the longer he went without product, the more money he was missing out on.

His body on yours felt unnaturally natural, like it belonged there more than you wanted it to. Your heart ached when he pulled away, absentmindedly moving to chase what you'd lost. "Ah ah... sorry Lass. Ye dinnae think I was just goin' to let ye screw me and get off scot-free?" Your mood fell, remembering the precarious situation you'd gotten yourself into. "I have it all... I could throw in some extra or a discount, just— don't leave me like this." You sounded pitiful, and it delighted him to no end. Jimmy coaxed your body to lie over his lap, his hands exploring your form as if he were trying to commit it to memory. Your softness, every swell and dip, stopping at your ass, a sharp exhale leaving him upon contact. "S'alright. Yer gonna pay yer good pal Jimmy back in a different way, make good on the... lost time." He wouldn't dare say the time had been wasted, especially when it was quite the opposite.

The pads of his fingers circled the meat of your ass, agonizingly slow. "Yer not involved in the 'transitional' phase of things, I understand." Jimmy started, his palm firm as a board as he swatted your asscheek. The suddenness forced a gasp from your lips, his arm heavy as his elbow dug into your back to keep you down. "It's a process. Having me Jimmies package and distribute everything takes time." His hand came down again, your body unable to brace for impact due to his unpredictability. You stammered out an apology, your threshold for pain being quite low as is, but you felt it almost exponentially more due to your intoxication. "Missin' out on deals 'cause ah you, but you're gonna make it all right... aren't you, bonnie girl?" He asked, not satisfied with the curt nod of your head. He spanked you again, the interval between them getting shorter and shorter to urge out a verbal response. "Yes, I will... Jimmy." You groaned out, swallowing the saliva that was slurring your speech.

"Thas right, y'take it so good." He cooed, his fingers dipping down where you needed him the most. Jimmy was more than pleasantly surprised with how your inner thighs were sticky with arousal, this he knew was of his own doing. It stroked his ego just right listening to your mewls, his fingertips grazing your clit, circling it until your hips were pushing back against his palm. "Patience, lass. Wouldn't want ye to go and enjoy yer—" He paused, focused on how your cunt eagerly accepted his middle and ring fingers. "Punishment." Jimmy sneered, plunging the digits in and out with a growing fervor, the gold bands around each one disappearing inside of you.

The desire for more ate away at you, the words dying in your throat as his dexterity pulled moan after moan from you. This man was making a proper mess out of you, only getting away with it by narrow luck. On your bedside table, an open makeup compact caught your attention. It faced the bigger mirror on the wall, where you could very easily see Jimmy's head. His ramblings that fell on deaf ears, the smirk on his face, all capturing your focus while he was distracted by your lower half. Jimmy was quick to notice when you stopped reacting to his words, the telltale contraction around his fingers at the end of every sentence having ceased. He followed your attention all the way back to the wall mirror. "Ah... thas what's got ye distracted then?" The question was rhetorical, your heart sinking when he retracted his hands from you. He lifted you off his lap, urging you to your feet while he tugged you in front of the mirror. "This better?"

Jimmy steadied your hips, your bare back to his chest as he dragged his weeping cock up and down your folds. He relished in how you tensed, hypersensitive and needy. His teasing ended when his tip snagged on the warm cavern he'd been prodding at, quickly moving to hold your waist and lower you onto him. The stretch was more than you'd anticipated, delicious and snug. "Thas' good, s'fuckin tight. Squeezin' me like I owe 'er money." He jested, a breathy laugh leaving him as he seated himself fully within you. Jimmy controlled the pace, listening to your moans as he eased into a rhythm. Your head fell back, welcoming his grip on your throat. He fucked into you, dragging his nose along your throat and inhaling. Your sweet scent had him reeling, pride swelling in him as his gaze locked on your blissed out form in the mirror. He relished in how your whole body bounced with every thrust, your furrowed brows drawn up in pleasure. The thought that if you'd been awake none of this would've happened. There wasn't a lucky star in the sky that he hadn't thanked yet.

Jimmies be damned, nothing else mattered right now. You were like a grand prize, so willing and eager to take what he gave you. Surely the sight of your union shouldn't be exclusive only to him. "Ah, Bonnie girl.. look here. Look at yer cunt as she's takin' all of this cock." He leered at your reflection, though his grin dropped ever slightly when you didn't immediately do as he said. Easy fix, he thought, grasping your jaw and forcing you to look. His tracksuit starkly contrasting your bare skin, highlighting how exposed you were to him. It went straight to your head and you felt like you were teetering on your orgasm for a millennium, so close and only needing that little push. "Please—Jimmy, Fuck!" You moaned out, begging for him to touch you. The only reply you got was that demeaning chuckle, entirely too satisfied with himself. Your eyes followed his hand down, parting your thighs just enough to make space for it. He rubbed messy circles at your clit, haphazard and rushed, hoping to catch up with how close he was getting.

Your cunt milking him for all his mortal worth had his thrusts stuttering, becoming erratic as he chased nothing more than his own high. Jimmy's hand kept up its relentless pace despite how overstimulated you were rapidly becoming. Your messy cunt was dripping down your thighs, the remnants of your release coming in spurts. "Christ—!" He grunted, a string of expletives following, buried down to the hilt and shooting his seed as deep as humanly possible inside of you. He was holding you so tightly that it was sure to bruise, making certain that he'd marked you inside and out.

Hope you enjoyed!!

"What did you think, you were just gonna run and snitch?" He spat, eyebrows furrowed as he glared through you. He detested the way you stared back at him, fear and defiance written across your face, like you really thought someone was going to come looking for you. Paige had insisted Brett give you a chance, and instead of trusting his gut, he let you in. None of it mattered now, since it was just the two of you left.

If stabbing that prick from the beach hadn't shaken you up enough, when Brett killed Adam... you couldn't handle it. Watching and smelling as he and the stranger went up in flames, like any normal person, you bolted. You weren't raised so carelessly that you couldn't feel anything hearing his screams, the pain in your chest growing as your feet hurriedly carried you away. That was the last you heard from them until Brett texted you asking to talk.

It was out of character, but after what you'd seen, maybe he'd become remorseful overnight. You stepped up to his porch, knocking twice and listening to the chatter inside hush. Footsteps settled down the stairs, and before you knew it, the door had opened. Brett had a hard look on his face, and while it always looked like that, that knowledge did nothing to soothe your tense nerves. He let you in, walking you up to the second floor.

You waved at his family as you passed, attempting to be cordial despite how you felt. You never intended on telling anyone what happened, fearing Brett and, even worse, the videos on Paige's phone. As soon as the door to his room closed behind you, his hands pushed you backward. Brett grabbed your face, his jaw ticking as he tried to come up with the words to vent his frustration.

"Why'd you run, huh? Do you even know what the fuck happened because you wanted to be a little bitch and leg it? Cooper and Paige, they're both fuckin' dead. In the dirt, because you pussied out." His index finger pointed in your face; your lack of proper response only moved to anger him more. You were in disbelief, you knew he lied like his life depended on it, but this?

He pushed the limit every day and yet this was a new low. "I knew you weren't worth a piss, but Paige is hard to please, and somehow you snuck in. Now you're alive, and they're not. So you're going to make up for the time I wasted, the trust, and-- Hey!" Hot tears were rolling down your face, wetting where Brett grasped you. His palm struck your cheek, readjusting his grip on your face immediately after. "The least you could do is fucking look at me when I'm talking to you." Your lungs heaved with rapid, shallow breaths, and the painful lump in your throat prevented you from saying anything—anything to placate him.

"I'm sorry, Brett. I'm so sorry." He exhaled sharply, as if he found humor in your words. "Yeah, you're fuckin' gonna be." He held you there, digging around in his pocket for Paige's phone. The one thing she never parted with, solidifying that what was happening right now, was real. Your fate was sealed the second you laid eyes on him, and instead of knowing any better, you'd walked right into the maw of the beast. "You stabbed that knobhead just like the rest of us, you think no one's gonna come lookin' for them?"

Brett looked around his room, his eyes landing on Bonnie's old cage. "Get in." You followed his gaze, looking at him in disbelief. "You're joking, you—you can't be serious." Your face dropped, no humor to be found in his expression or words. "Please, Brett, I'm sorry. Please—" "Shut up, and get in the cage now. Or I'll pin all of that shit on you. Especially that little punk Adam." Brett's teeth gritted, only giving you a few seconds before throwing you on the ground towards it.

He was standing in front of the only exit, and you were sure he'd be true to his word if it meant tying up any loose ends that'd implicate him. Whether it have been out of strength or weakness, you crawled across the floor to it. He opened the crate, using the heel of his foot to push you the rest of the way in the second you began to hesitate.

You went through the motions, all trying to understand why your perfectly human reaction ended you up here. The guilt ate you alive all night, even when the sunlight came in a little slit under where the blanket ended, you'd woken up to it being a deep golden color. The sound of Brett's footsteps in around the room, before they stopped to the right of you.

Drawers opened and closed, his breathing getting heavier until he slammed his fist one what you could only assume was the dresser. "Hah—Fucking shit..." He laughed, fabric shuffled before the cover was lifted off the cage and light fell on your face for the first time since you'd come here. The seconds it takes your eyes to adjust, Brett was staring down at you with furrowed eyebrows, angrily fisting his cock. Something about your tear stained face, and the shock that flittered across it at the sight, made him throb.

Your desperation paled in comparison to the magazines he'd used before. Not nearly as perfectly sculpted as those women, but you were real. If he could only ask you to hold that face, to keep looking at him like he could kill you the second you took your eyes off him. "Yeah- just like that. Come here." It took a second to register, both that he was talking to you, and that he was asking you to bring your face closer. "I– Brett.." He watched your eyes dart around, chasing any kind of sign that he was joking. Brett's fingers poked through the wired cage, pushing your head forward as best he could.

His grunts grew quicker in pace, his hand following suit. The slick sounds of him pleasuring himself were maddening. If you'd pulled your head away hard enough, you could easily get out of his grasp. Even dislocate a finger or two, but you didn't. The pink tip of his cock pressed on your face, the hot flesh distinct from the warmth that bloomed across your skin already.

Brett just sounded so desperate, even if it was just to cum. A morbid part of you couldn't look away, much less move. "Open your mouth." He commanded, unable to reach through the wire bars and open it for you. In his mind, you were the lucky one, lucky he didn't kill you, and especially lucky he didn't have to piss right now. With a questionable amount of reluctance, you obeyed. Brett basked in this submission, as if his ego needed any more inflation, it didn't take much at all.

His intent was to cum on your lips, but your cheeks sucked in, and your teary eyes met his. "Fuck—!" Brett didn't last a second, his seed flooding your tastebuds for as long as it took for him to pull away despite the fact that he wasn't quite done yet. The rest of his spend was not so delicately painted across your face as he originally meant to do.

Brett tapped his cock on your tongue, pulling away all at once and swinging the cover back over the cage. The ensuing darkness and the sticky substance on your face should've ruined you, highlighting that you were just a tool to be used by him. Still, you found yourself biting back the semblance of a smirk that pulled at the corners of your lips.

Hope you enjoyed! This fic was inspired by this video on twitter.

The friction was killing you. The incessant drilling of his fingers inside of you, wearing you down at every curl and thrust. He was chipping away at you, slowly but surely. "All ye have to do is say yes." Jimmy remarked, grinning as he looked up at your exhausted form. You were bound by your wrists, your toes just barely scraping the ground, and you hung in the middle of his bedroom.

The irony of him being your only stability whenever you became unbalanced wasn't lost on either of you, only serving to drive you further into madness. You'd think your natural lubricant would've dried up by now, but no... it continued to flow almost as if your body had become content with treason. No way you could be attracted to him of all people, not now, not after everything.

Not when he was stuffing you full of his fingers, or partaking in each of your nipples. His freehand cupped the breast he wasn't attending to, the obnoxious slurping sound doing nothing to tamp the throbbing your poor clit threw at you for just a little bit of attention.

Jimmy brought you to the edge over and over, waves of pleasure rolled up your spine, wringing you of all your willpower. It felt like torture, delightfully agonizing torture. You'd have said something by now, but all of your previous attempts did not have savory results.

Vividly, you remembered watching your saliva drip down his face as he beckoned you before, hungry for your companionship, and how he'd left you dripping to your ankles by the time he decided to sentence you to the dreadful darkness that always came after. That quiet void was worse than this, when you were left alone with the thought of him defiling your body, and the notion that you enjoyed it to any degree.

Jimmy was nothing if not relentless. Your body had no capability of leading him astray; like an open book, he could read your every tense muscle and furrowed eyebrow. "Ye sing for me, lass. Ye always do, ye always will. Cannae deny it." He taunted, and you could hear the crooked grin he donned in the cadence of his words.

"Fuck you." You spat, though it was hopeless to resist. "I wish, but ye've got to say you want it. Sincerely." He added, too candid for what he was doing to you. Jimmy would have you like this day in and day out, regardless of his mood or fatigue.

Hours upon hours until he was either called away or was gracious enough to let you cum. It was a rare occurrence, but it never came without consequences. He treated you like a friend, confiding in you while you dangled from the ceiling, probably relishing in the fact that you had no choice but to listen. Having beaten you down, Jimmy had you exactly where he wanted you. Saying yes to him wasn't a mere means to an end; it meant forever. Yes to Jimmy was synonymous with being bound to him for good.

Hope you enjoyed!

Sweet. Almost too sweet. The sight of you lying in your bed, with your plush thighs rubbing together. He hadn't even meant to find you like this. Thought you were shitting him out of a lot of product, or at least just late to their little meeting. All those brains in yer wee head and yet, you slept through an appointment you made. He didn't want to jump to any conclusions, of course, but that's where his mind went in times like this. Jimmy didn't get here by hanging his head high and hoping for the best, so when he'd gotten to your door and waited maybe ten minutes with no response?

He tried the knob. Shockingly enough, it gave.

He cautiously stepped inside, his ears perked up for any sounds of life. His precious supplier, sweet thing you are. You were agreeable, yet headstrong. Still, the silence of your residence nagged at him. Your insistence upon only having one guest inside at a time had lulled him into a false sense of security. After the first couple of times, he stopped bringing the other Jimmies to keep watch outside, deeming it unnecessary for them to make this trip with him. In truth, he was fascinated by your eccentricity, having never quite met anyone like you. A proper botanist, as some would call you, others would simply say cultivator. A real recluse you were too, living so far out of civilization, perhaps to avoid detection with this operation you'd been running. Your cottage, of sorts, was tastefully decorated, as if your personality had been strewn about every surface. It was pleasant, cozy, and certainly didn't smell like any of the dilapidated buildings he'd had to meet in prior to you. He looked around, as if it were the first time all over again. Yet this time around, you weren't breathing down his neck to hurry up and leave.

Jimmy's interest was more than piqued when he met you, and looking around the place only reminded him of it more. Your skeptical glare, the barrel of the gun you pointed at him and his flock. He couldn't tell if he was reminiscing with fondness, or preparing himself for mourning. It reminded him why he came, so he crept forward. Half of these rooms he'd never seen the inside of, his body tensed with every creaking door he pushed open. The only one that hadn't been left ajar however, was the room at the end of the hall. His footsteps were small, his brain somewhere between curiosity and anticipation. You could only be so cautious if you didn't know what was on the other side, after all. His fist clenched around the doorknob, turning it all the way before pushing it open. Jimmy didn't know what to expect, the tranquil you-sized lump on the bed eased his thumping heart.

"Lass?" He whispered, foolishly thinking that was enough to wake you. Jimmy all but tiptoed to your bedside, looking down at you in your... state. You had left a small metal tin open next to the lamp, colorful looking pills stamped with your initial inside of it. Cheeks drawing up in a smirk, Jimmy turned back to look at you, amused at first. His eyebrows furrowed, your skin an off shade as if you had a nasty fever. He was concerned at first, tapping your shoulder a couple times until you groaned and rolled over. Least you weren't dead.

Jimmy ought to wake you up, jostle you out of your high so he could get his product and leg it. Could toss your house, take everything and leave nothing. He wasn't that impulsive, he'd like to think, though the thought was open to him. Just taking one look at your face, the hot huffs of air leaving your mouth, he had to draw his attention elsewhere. Jimmy rambled something to himself, sounding similar to the religious yammering his father relentlessly spoke, but the words seemed to jumble over themselves. He knew what you took, knew how you were probably feeling, his eyes keenly observing your every symptom. You'd be fine if he let you sleep it off, figure out what to do with yourself after you woke up from whatever you were dreaming about. He could just come back tomorrow, pretend nothing happened. Jimmy had his vices, and as much as he wanted to believe it was only the service exchange, your sleeping body set something else alight in his veins. Something forbidden. He muttered your name, once, then a second time but louder. "Jimmy..." You respond breathily, in that dopey tone of yours.

Everything was fine. He paced the room, biting his hand as if he needed to focus. As if he were trying to talk his brain out of taking advantage of your vulnerable form. Just when he reasoned himself to leave, "Don't go." He'd heard you mumble, enough saliva in his mouth to fill an olympic pool. Fuck. That was all it took, honestly. Lying on your stomach, wearing plain pajama pants, he shouldn't have found any of it attractive. "Ye seem hot, Lass." The words left his lips before he could think about it, the bed behind you dipping beneath his weight as he set his sights on your legs. His fingers curled beneath your waistband, only the cold metal of the rings he wore stirred you. Jimmy dragged down the fabric, just below the crease of your ass, staring at the grey panties you wore. They weren't anything special, only hiding his prize. His movements were measured, his eyes were trained on your face, and his thumb sunk lower and lower. Wedging itself in between the gap of your thighs, he pressed the digit against the wet spot he knew the pill was surely responsible for. When you didn't react enough for his liking, his finger moved barely a centimeter lower, at the apex of your arousal, and pressed down.

He retracted his hand when you jolted, grinning like a madman. "Right prize, this is. Been hidin' it from yer pal, Jimmy." His low voice melted into a dark chuckle, counting his every lucky star that he was able to slip off your pants without rousing you from your sleep just yet. He was salivating, taking in the sight of your weeping arousal like he'd discovered the fountain of youth. Jimmy took ahold of your ankle, hiking your leg up to get a better angle. Sinking to his elbows, he positions himself face to face with your center. "Been linin' me pockets with gold, putting food in all the Jimmies' bellies and mine. Little monetary reward disnae seem fittin' for all you do, how reliable you are." Jimmy rambled, tucking his arm beneath you and hooking it around your hip. He licked an agonizingly slow stripe up your heat, taking a second to savor your taste and commit it to memory. Zeroing in on the bundle of nerves, the tip of his tongue swiped over it. Once, then twice, your thighs moving against his grip as your lucidity returned to you at a snail's pace. You grumbled, wondering why you couldn't move and even more why your dream wasn't ending when your eyes fluttered open.

Maybe it was like one of those inception dreams, your hazy mind thought, not like you wanted this one to end so soon. It was only the sobering touch of his fingers dragging up your thigh, and the biting chill of metal shooting up your spine, that made you try to sit up. Your mouth opened, though the words died quickly on your tongue when his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking as gently as a starved man could. You fell forward, your face reconnecting with the pillow. Whoever was in your room snickered, laughing at you as if they hadn't broken in to... do this. "Ye 'wake now, lass?" They asked, but there was no confusion as to who it was. "Jimmy? What the hell are you doin—" Pleasure tingled up your abdomen in waves, and a moan ripped from your throat. You wanted with every fiber of your being to tell him off, explain that you shouldn't overcomplicate your relationship, but the feverish heat bubbling beneath your skin rendered your brain nearly defenseless. "Hush now.. can't ye see a man's tryin' ta eat." His amused laughter came as a rumble deep from his chest, his grip on you tightening to pull you closer.

Your racing heart was thumping against your sternum, clouding your ears as your protests melted into muffled sounds of euphoria. There was no telling whether it was the pill or him, but you'd like to think it was the former. Jimmy was relentless, his stubbled chin coated in your juices, his groaning sending filthy vibrations through your body. "Taste so good f'me... ought to keep ye around. Cannae leave this gem of a cunt out here by 'erself." He smirked, pressing tender kisses to your labia. You thrashed, the crushed velvet of his track suit dragging across your skin as you turned to lay on your back. Your eyes were narrowed, looking at him as you contemplated kicking him out. You could deal with your symptoms on your own, but it wouldn't be nearly as effective, and he seemed like he was enjoying it. He stared up at you and your crossed arms, his discolored teeth were framed by his lips in a grin. "Aye, I'm caught."

Hope you enjoyed!!! I had fun writing it for what little time I could give to it. Part two!!

All it— she felt was agony, so deeply rooted that it bled from the marrow of her bones. The creature’s fangs ached, so much so that each prickle of pain made her entire head throb. The lines of reality blurred, as every night consisted of the squelch of flesh slashed apart by claws unfamiliar to her. What her body had become was a mystery, having lost control of this form long before tonight. Like a rabid animal, she darted around, soaked in the viscera of whatever poor creatures she could get her feral hands onto, tormented by a bottomless hunger that teetered on starvation. She passed through a tobacco field, and any animal unfortunate enough to cross paths with her was ripped to nothing but a carcass only maggots could pick anything off of.

Her tattered frock was stained crimson, smelling of death and decay. She was caked in dirt, tobacco leaves sticking to the fabric as her feet tracked through the field. Her bones shifted beneath her skin, displacing muscles and cartilage without reason; her joints popped, a sickening feeling of tendons being mangled like razors up her spinal cord, the sound that left the beast being a far cry from anything a human could be capable of. The creature’s form went down heavy, the ungraceful impact creating a thud that echoed into the night. She wailed, rolling around in the field, gutturally screaming like a shot animal, unable to contain the misery her body was inflicting. It was like a withdrawal from an addiction she didn't know she had, figuring this affliction came from the one who sired her. The link between them had long been severed, as signified by the scalding heat that dared to cauterize her from the inside many years prior. Delirious and disoriented, all she could do was lie down and wait for it to pass, as if she were to accept death should the sun rise soon.

The creature’s weary eyes closed, exhaustion setting into her hollowed bones. The earth would reclaim her before she woke, that fact being the most comfort she'd been afforded in centuries past. When her eyes blinked open, her body jolted before her senses came to her. His blood seeped from a deep gash in his arm onto her face, the once disarranged and broken bones that riddled her body regressing to their original places. Excruciating wasn't even the word; the reversion inflaming her nerve endings, regardless of the progression toward normality, searing like her skeletal system was composed of molten silver.

“Dinna fash, lass.” The lone words like lightning down her spine, her frame paralyzed as she struggled. The sanguine liquid was drowning her, burning her lungs as she inhaled more than drank, in her panic. She choked, though no more dead than when she'd been turned. This pain, too, shall pass. The only words that her feeble mind could produce, before she was writhing yet again. Outstretched nails clawed at her throat, as if it were boiling her esophagus. Her body direly rejected his influence; Gagging and retching, trying to expel the fluid that was infiltrating her cells. Her stomach churned, violently, in a way that was nauseating. Furthermore, her heart hammered against her ribs, the sound filling her ears. Then darkness, not the peaceful darkness of sleep, but a jarring void, as if a switch had been flipped and cut her off from the rest of the world.

—

Crackling fire, the sound faint in her ears until her eyes blinked open. Restless, although her limbs were weakened, as if every muscle had atrophied in her comatose state. Looking around, it seemed she was in a cabin, assumed to be a secluded one. Despite no way for the chill to reach her, with her mind returned to her, solitude was a cold thing to bear. Either that or it was the oddly clean cotton-feeling dress she'd woken up in. Her mind drifted back to whoever had saved her, wondering if they'd ever come back. She didn't know what she'd say if they were still here, or if she could say anything. Judging by the dry ache in her throat, not many hopes were held out for speech. Moonlight peeked through the curtains, landing on the ground. Longingly, she stared at it, almost regretting that she hadn't died in that field. Surely, with all her sins, Hell was too lenient a punishment for someone so wicked. Perhaps continuing to live was her penance, withered and in this helpless state, until the end of time.

Her chest tightened; even in her deteriorated state, she could still feel the crushing weight of hate. She'd long come to terms with the fact that the idea of God and predestination was a deluded excuse to absolve man of his guilt. How could an existence, no farther from the path of Christ than any other, be perverted to such a degree? The sanctified, virgin glow of innocence, debauched by creatures of the night. No righteous God would banish her from his light, no righteous God would subject their creation to this depravity. She abhorred the force that'd made her this way, detested how powerless she was in the grand scheme of things, or even just at this moment. Spurred by how the world outside had spurned her, driving her to insanity, plunging her down this dark tunnel in which there was no light at the end. Without reason, without guidance or purpose, her teeth gritted at the idea. Staring up at the ceiling didn't help; the thoughts in her head were so loud, she couldn't allow herself to rest.

The door to the cabin creaked open, her eyes shutting quickly with only the thought of self-preservation at the forefront of her mind. She could only imagine the person's movements, how the floorboards beneath their foot shifted when they moved around the room. The sound of the metal door to the log burner opening was followed by more wood being thrown in and stoked.

“I know you're awake.” The man spoke, breaking the silence. Unsure if it was her stalled breaths, or how her heart was thumping in her chest as if it wanted to escape. She exhaled, her sight now resting upon the man at her bedside. His head tilted at her lack of words, leaning forward as if to listen to her breathing. The ragged and raspy sound provided reason enough for him not to press on. “Can't speak? That's no good.” He tutted before his fingernails began to grow before her eyes. “Must be about that time, hm?” It didn't take a mind reader to discern that he liked to hear himself talk, assuming he knew anything about what was going on in her head. His thumb dragged across the ivory skin of his forearm, fluid dripping onto her face as he held it over her.

“Gotta hurry, wound'll close up ‘fore you get what ya need.” His other hand cradled the back of her head, lifting it so she could drink, careful not to stain the pristine fabric.

If only she'd had the strength to pull away. She wanted nothing more than to suffer on her own, it seemed, her every instinct screaming just to let herself wither. Starvation was just as good a death as any, the release being all the same. His essence flooded her senses once more, metallic and teeming with energy. His blood breathed new life into her lungs, yet only he could enjoy the irony of it. It seemed like a lifetime had gone by, the laceration's supply drying up as it healed. Her face tingled as if she could feel the color returning to her cheeks, yet she couldn't look at him with anything other than distrust. Afraid that she'd have to go through that anguish again should he die, her hands rose before she could think twice. She shoved him away, crawling backwards on the mattress until her back hit the ground with a thump.

“That's what you get.” He chuckled, walking around the bed to the side she'd fallen off. “I saved your life, and this is the thanks I get?” The man crouched down, bringing himself to her eye level. Long ago, the last friend she decided she'd ever make had died without ever saying goodbye. Every logical part of her mind vehemently denied the idea that he could have any good intentions; it refused to believe that someone could find her in the state she was in and save her out of the kindness of their own heart. Her heart? Didn't like the way he was looking at her, as if he was attempting to peer into her soul.

Her arm swung to scratch him, only to be caught in his hand and held against the wall. “Calm down, I ain't tryna’ hurt you.” His words made her cock back, her eyes furrowing as she struggled against his grip. She gritted her teeth, growling at the man like a feral animal. So many thoughts in her head, and yet the notion of speaking escaped her. “Will you stop bein' so hard-headed and listen to me?” He addressed her, his fingers gripping her jaw. Her teeth were quick to sink into his skin, her eyes widening as his most recent memories had played out.

The night was as stale as any, the ugly humidity sticking to the skin like leeches to blood. Remmick had found himself flitting through the woods, trailing behind someone he'd been tracking for a long time. A creature of the night, a vampire just like him, yet too far gone mentally. He wouldn't busy himself with this usually, opting rather to look for his next meal; however, it was the desperate state it was in that sprang about the one thing he cared for. Opportunity. It went town to town, village to village, anywhere there was a living creature that could bleed. Squirrels, opossums, snakes, even ripping into chicken coops and leaving nothing but gore in their wake. It wasn't bloodlust, nor gluttony; it was madness. Unbridled insanity that had possessed whatever poor thing that was hidden beneath the carnage. Remmick's sense of self-preservation wavered, just enough that his feet were approaching the shrieking creature. It was as he suspected, having seen it many a time with fledglings who'd lived too long without a host. This wasn't a light gesture; he knew very few came to this point, and she was on her last. He did the only thing he knew would work, cutting his arm open quite a bit deeper than intended.

Remmick watched it writhe, his heart heavy at its burden, but the pain had to get worse to get better. Strange, he'd seen this happen only a handful of times, and the shock factor still hadn't faded. His eyebrows rose in surprise as the creature's bones shifted, revealing a feminine body that was adorned with loosely connected bits of dirty fabric. Her skin clung to her bones, a truly pitiful sight that he, unfortunately, couldn't turn a blind eye to. He lifted the woman over his shoulder and took her back to the cabin he'd passed while following her earlier. Remmick made a decent meal of the owner, replenishing his energy for the next time she'd need to feed, having also found the time to get her into some proper clothes. A work of beauty she was, yet he had no clue what he'd do with her. For now, he'd start up a fire, give her something nice to wake up to.

“I know how to help you, get yer strength back, and what have you. Just— gotta promise you'll stick around… After y'know.” Her jaw relaxed, releasing his hand. She leaned forward, her head tilting, nudging him to elaborate. “Only thing that'll heal you for good is a bite. Jus' don't want you to skip town on me.” Something in the way her eyes were on him, that look that said she was listening but not buying any of it. How he carried himself didn't give the air of someone lonely, seeming like the kind of person who made friends as easily as taking in a deep breath. He had the charm, friendly enough at first glance, but what was he banking all of this on?

“Well, my name's Remmick. I'll let yer hand go if you tell me yours.” He offered, hoping he hadn't given her any reason not to accept. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, preparing to speak. “Marie.” The young lady rasped, her voice still recovering from the lack of use. “Ah, French girl, won't be too hard for us to get along then, hm?” Remmick followed, releasing her hand. Her eyes were trained on him, reluctant to let down her defenses. Marie couldn't pinpoint it at the time, but there had to be more to him than just some cornball who wanted to do something charitable. “I’ll put you back on the bed and leave you alone, if that’s what you want.” He volunteered, wanting her to warm up to him like a stray animal. What Remmick desired most was companionship; that much she could discern on her own. What she couldn’t understand was why he would want her, in all her ugliness, to fill that void? Eternity was much too long a time to have to remain by her side. Marie had deduced one key thing: he was desperate and wouldn’t give up until he got what he wanted, like a patient predator hiding in the tall grass. She nodded once, his arms already curling under her body, scooping her up and lying her back down on the stiff mattress. It wasn’t the most comfortable, but it’d have to be until she could go out on her own again.

—

Annoyance filled Marie’s body as the cabin’s doorknob turned, the small motion waking her up from her sleep. The dull thump of a headache was drawing in her lucidity, looking for the words to say to tell him off. Her eyes met yet another stranger, a human, unexpected, and standing right in front of her. All of a sudden, she felt more exposed than she had with Remmick. The man was wary of her from the jump, perhaps having as bad a feeling about her as she did him. “Who’re you?” He spat, gaze narrowed as he approached her. Marie could understand his willingness to close the distance, sensing his desire to control the situation. She appeared frail, her skeleton protruding through the skin that clung to it. Her lack of a response did nothing to de-escalate the heightened tension, yet it didn’t seem like he regarded her as much of a threat. “This is Marty’s cabin, s’he off somewhere?” The man questioned her, scrutinizing her time, and, time and again, was unsure of what to expect from her. Marie’s eyes were on the pulse point in his neck, thumping with life, and reminding her of her base instincts. It’d been far too long since she’d fed on a human, his mortality tempting her.

Self-restraint had long departed from the picture when his hand was less than a foot from her face, intending to plant itself on her shoulder. Her canines plunged deep into his knuckles, and the man jerked his hand back as he hollered in pain, aiding her sharp teeth in ripping his fingers off. A closed fist was swung toward her, connecting with her cheekbone. Marie shuffled back, clearly not expecting it to have hurt as badly as it did. Her chin was stained a deep carmine, her eyes mirroring the same color as she spat out the bony digits. She stepped back, her teeth bared at the stranger. Recovering quickly, she lunged at him again, the two of them tumbling to the ground. The man’s eyes seemed to have the fear of God struck in them, as her fingers had elongated into jagged, curled talons. “What are you!?” His voice shook, disgust and terror radiating from him as her claws ripped into his vest. It seemed like every ounce of his strength was put into thrusting her off, her back hitting the wall beneath the window. Sunlight scalded her skin before she ducked away from it. He was trying to scramble away, get out of the cabin, and into the protection of the daylight outside. His boots scraped against the ground, having made it to the door while she was distracted by the festering burn bubbling on her face.

The man sprinted like he’d been given a second chance at life; the only direction he could run was toward a town an hour away on foot. He believed he had gotten far enough that when the sun did go down, she wouldn’t know where he’d gone. His lungs burned, wheezing as he collapsed onto the forest floor. Unsure if he’d be able to get back up with all the blood he’d lost, the last of his strength was used to yell for help. The area was known for being active in controlling the feral hog population; it was likely that someone was out here tonight hunting them. His cries for help bellowed through the trees, echoing into the night. However, in doing so, all the prey animals in the area had been frightened off. The greenery rustled, the sound of night critters scurrying away being the only response he’d gotten to his pleading. God above, devil below, no one would come to save him until he’d met either.

“Shh, shh. Hush before someone hears you.” A male voice spoke too calmly behind him. Haunting and horrifying, because in every fiber of his being, the man knew deep down that this was no helpful stranger. Unlike those creatures from before, he wasn’t truly aware of the danger he was in until it was too late. Maybe he should’ve run like they had, foolishly having believed there was no worse predator in these woods than himself.

Remmick could smell her scent on the man, be it the proximity they shared in the scuffle, or her saliva dry on where his fingers used to be. His fangs protruded, wanting nothing more than to taste the sweetness of the man’s mortality. If he could’ve escaped Marie, there was no telling how Remmick would find her. The vampire grabbed the man by his collar, dragging him back toward the cabin. “No, no, no… please. I have a family, children… Someone will come looking for me.” The stranger explained, his words desperately attempting to sway Remmick’s cold heart. He’d left many widows, widowers, and orphans in his wake, but life would continue to go on; that principle carried weight in him for the many years since he’d learned it. “Don’t worry, we’ll leave somethin’ for them to find. ‘Least they won’t think you up and disappeared on ‘em.” Remmick chuckled, watching as the man’s thrashing limbs went limp as he passed out. He figured this was reason enough to see her again, having only afforded her a short-lived hiatus from his company. A small smirk graced his lips.

The cabin’s door opened again, and Marie was more defensive than he’d ever seen her. Her hands were covering her eye, the edges of the burn showing beneath her fingers. She’d backed herself into a corner of the room, her knees drawn up to her chest. Marie winced, trying to hide herself from him. It was clear that her ability to heal hadn’t yet returned to her in full swing. Something dark overtook his gaze as he threw his captive to the floor. Remmick stepped forward, placing a foot on the man’s thigh. His shoe came down abruptly, a sickening crack following the stomp. His ears were deafened to the blood-curdling scream, his focus on Marie now that he didn’t have to worry about the man running off. “Are you alright, sweet thing? Here, let me see it.” He bent down, getting on one knee to have a look. She was hesitant to show him, his hands having to guide her arms away. Her eyelid was scabbed closed, and clusters of fluid-filled blisters had risen on the skin. She hissed when his fingertips touched her, flinching backward and swiping his hands away. Marie didn’t speak to him much, but that wasn’t what had alarmed him. She was shaking incessantly, her open eye was blown wide as if she’d seen a ghost. “Please– Don’t look!” Marie begged, looking at him as if her disfigurement would make him hate her.

Something in his throat swelled, the sight of its least made him feel pity. Remmick’s hands were cradling her cheeks, feeling the liquid that was leaking from the scab, before realizing her other eye was doing the same. “Ah, sweet girl. Don’t cry.” He soothed, wiping away her tears before starting to unbutton his shirt. Remmick pulled the fabric to the side, exposing his shoulder blade. The freckled skin made Marie’s mouth water, thick saliva dribbling down her chin as she stared. He smirked, seeing her like this, gesturing for her to indulge in his blood. Marie complied, leaning forward and inhaling deeply before her fangs sank into the muscle. Upon his life-force flowing into her mouth, she sighed, and both of her hands were using his body to ground herself. Her nails dug into him as she drank her fill, comforted by not only the warmth of his skin but also the tingling sensation behind her scarred face healing. Remmick felt his stomach flutter, her greedy fangs drinking him dry. He had to force himself to look away, focus on anything other than this woman partaking in him. His eyes landed on the silent man on the floor, passed out from blood loss. It wasn’t much of a distraction, especially when he was straining at his pants already.

“Needy little thing, aren’t you?” He whispered, exhaling to try and regain some control over his thoughts. She was weak and dependent on him; if the power imbalance weren’t so distinct, he’d have had no issue with acting on his lust. In truth, Remmick was feeling the brunt of these desires because he could finally bathe in her proximity. Finally, she’d looked to him for healing, for comfort, and guidance. Maybe he’d be the righteous creator she was seeking, absolve her of her sorrows for the small price of solely belonging to him. Her eyes widened abruptly, pulling away and looking at him. Her lips were stained with his blood, her gaze conflicted yet unreadable. It seemed both of them had forgotten what was shared when she bit him, his most recent memories, his most feelings . The thought that he could receive sexual gratification from something as sacred as conferring his blood to sustain her was flustering in a way she was unfamiliar with. Marie knew she needed more, needed him to bite her for her to be free again. She had to choose between being a prisoner to her nature or his prisoner. He couldn’t make sense of what was going on in her mind, at least not until she spoke up. “How soon can you bite me?” Marie asked, her voice not betraying her growing wariness. The question sobered him up a little, bringing him back to his senses. “Well, I figure I might could now, but it’s a commitment. It’s not as light as me sinkin’ my teeth into ‘ya.”

Marie’s gaze was locked onto him, wanting to know every possible stipulation of receiving this bite. “So?” She pressed on, especially scrutinizing him for any hint of deceit. “I don’t want you to leave, after I bite you. Figured I made it clear before, but the connection is controlled on my end. If you wanna go, you can’t… ‘cause I won’t let you.” The words fell grimly on her ears, his face far too soft to know the gravity of how she was feeling. “All I need is a yes.” He hummed, figuring that if he sweetened his words with that honeyed voice, it’d do all the convincing for him. Marie seemed to be lost in thought, her mind much farther away than this cabin. As if she’d been saved, the man on the ground surprisingly began to stir. Remmick put his hands on her shoulders, forcing her to focus on him. “This could go one of two ways: I eat him, and you take more of my blood till you’re ready, or I bite you right now, and he’s yours. What’ll it be?” He asked, though there wasn’t much of a choice to make. Marie gawked at him, befuddled at the suddenness of it all. He’d unilaterally decided that she was going to make her choice tonight, right now, before the sun came up, and there was nowhere for them to go.

The man will die either way; that’s not what she cares about. Unfortunately, all she was worried about was how her past would affect him. As much as she could object, it wouldn’t change his mind. Remmick got up, paced over to where the man was lying down, and picked him up by his shirt’s collar. He looked pitiful, probably having a wife and a family waiting for him, and now he was reduced to a doomed bargaining chip. Before Marie could even muster any sympathy, Remmick chipped in, as if he could read her thoughts. “Don’t you feel nothin’ for ‘im.” He ordered, lifting the man’s button-up to reveal the tattoo of a flag. “Don’t know if you remember this, ‘bout eighty-some years ago, there was a war. Now, I been here long enough that I can call this coward what he is: a traitor. Fought to keep people in bondage, and damn sure don’t deserve to live a long, happy life with his family. ‘Magine how many he slaughtered for slave labor? That greed is what drove my people out of our land way back when.” Remmick explained, heavily considering just slitting the man’s belly open like the pig he was.

“You’re talkin’ about me? How many people have you killed?” The man spat, despite being unable to feel most of his limbs. Hate knew no rest, greed knew no bounds. “It is my nature, no different than any other carnivore. I don’t kill for pleasure or self-gain; I do it to survive. Despite our mortal connection, I am nothing like you.” Remmick assured, turning back to Marie. He didn’t have to say a word; she just nodded. In a blink, he was at her side, his hands trailing up her waist. As much as Remmick wanted to savor this, oh, how an ancient hunger had been awakened in him. Her blood would be sweeter, more succulent than anything he’d ever had before, simply for the fact that he had wanted this more than another breath in his lungs. He dragged his nose up her throat, a long sniff up her pulsating carotid. “How I’ve lived without you all these years, I’ll never know.” His deep voice rasped, hissing as his canines pressed into her skin. Remmick huffed, holding her steady as he sucked blood he didn’t need. It certainly didn’t have any nutritional value; he just knew there’d be very few times they were joined this closely. Such a raw, carnal feeling of their correspondence had him reeling. Her life flooded his senses; his eyebrows furrowed, such immense solitude and pain, and yet he didn’t pull away.

Marie was leading Amelie towards the passage in the kitchen, which would take them out of the manor and into the woods behind it. The crowd was livid and looking for the Marchioness. “My Lady, please, you have to run faster, take your shoes off if you must. I won’t let them kill you.” Marie pleaded, watching as Amelie struggled to keep up. They rushed down the stairs to the parlor, stopping in their tracks as they came upon another maid. “Grace? What are you doing in here?” Marie interrogated, her eyes narrowed as the younger woman had a guilty look on her face. “I was just—” A man’s voice interrupted her, shouting that they were going to find the Marchioness.

Marie disregarded Grace’s presence entirely, grabbing Amelie’s hand and pulling her away. The kitchen was just a corridor away; as long as no one knew where they were, they’d been in the clear. It was only then that they could hear Grace yell: 'They went that way, they’re going to the kitchen.' Marie’s blood ran cold, chills riddling her skin, but she remained persistent. She would protect her Lady at any means necessary.

When the pair had entered the kitchen, Marie pushed Amelie into the passage first. She figured that when the mob had come, her body would prove to be sufficient to allow for her escape. As the crowd was catching up, Marie looked back once more. “I love you, Amelie.” She declared, her gaze soft on her Lady, as if that was the last time they’d see each other. “I love you too,” Amelie replied before hurriedly venturing ahead. Turning back, Marie was met with the sight of the peasantry entering the room.

“Move. We don’t want to make a casualty out of a working girl.” The leader of the group threatened, pointing his pistol at her. “She has done nothing; you’ve dealt with her keeper, what more could you desire in killing her as well? She knows nothing of his dealings—” Bang. Her eyes were wide like dinner plates, her fingers touching the fresh wound in her abdomen as if it weren’t real. The digits had her ichor on them, sticky and warm. Her knees buckled beneath her. Bang. Another shot. In her shoulder, this time, wedging itself within the bone. Pain radiated through her body in waves, pulsing and piercing, as the crowd stepped around her. She fell to the ground, lying in a warm puddle of what she could only assume was her own blood. Marie couldn’t understand how she could feel so light and yet so numb at the same time.

Her eyes fluttered open, unable to tell how long she’d been out. Leather shoes were directly in front of her, but she couldn’t lift her head to tell who they belonged to.

“Pitiful thing, aren’t you?” A man’s voice washed past her ears as if she were submerged in water. “If you wish to save your Lady, we could make a deal.” He offered, seeming to sense there wasn’t much time left for her to make a decision. “A little bit of your blood in exchange for eternal life. How does that sound?” All these questions had gone in one ear and out the other. She almost couldn’t tell that he’d bitten her, only that her eyes were closing again.

Her bones were given a new vigor, moonlight gracing her gaze. The moment was peaceful until she remembered Amelie was in danger. As if she’d gained air under her wings, she crawled through the tunnel behind the furnace. Her dress was dirtied, but she was sparked on by the tracks in front of hers, possibly belonging to Amelie. She pushed the trapdoor open above her, feverishly following the Marchioness’ footprints. Soon, the trail had turned from one set of tracks to several, and then to little drops of blood soaked into the dirt. Her breath was hard in her throat, the memory of it so vivid that Remmick had no choice but to live in it. A choked-out groan left her at the sight of what’d become of Amelie. Her Lady had been stabbed repeatedly, the grisly idea that she was alive for the majority of it sickened Marie to her core. Time was of the essence, and if there was any chance Amelie was still alive, she needed to turn her. Her humanity wasn’t worth the possibility of being apart. Her solace, her light… Amelie . Her body, and more importantly, her eyes, were cold. Marie pushed the neckline of her dress off her shoulder, sinking her incipient teeth into the stiffening flesh. Amelie’s blood was stale, disgusting in her mouth, but she couldn’t force herself to stop. Marie couldn’t force herself to believe that she was really gone, or face the fact that she’d have to spend eternity without her.

Her stomach churned as the contents of her stomach emptied themselves on the ground.

Remmick gasped, finally returning to his senses. He’d felt her solitude, her hatred, and everything ugly that permeated within her soul for every waking second of her existence until now. Her every insecurity, her every ache, and pain, and it leveled him. Suddenly, his past didn’t seem so horrid, but perhaps that was simply because it had been so long ago. Marie’s suspicions were confirmed, as she experienced in full detail the extent of his desire. They stared at each other, her eyes full of curiosity, and his had something she couldn’t discern despite being connected to him now. Or at least, something she couldn’t think anyone would regard her with. Admiration. Albeit being restored to her full power, she was filled with yet another ache. The moonlight felt so warm through the window, pupils ghosted over with a vibrant red hue. Succulent flesh usurped her consciousness, her ears feeling as if she were underwater, and the only sound she could hear was the stranger’s heartbeat calling to her like a siren.

What felt like hours for them was only a few seconds for the man; he couldn’t feel anything but dread, realizing that their intimate moment had come to an end, and soon his life would follow suit. The pathetic worm couldn’t find it in himself to beg for his life, or maybe it was the total lack of blood circulating in his body, and how the rest would become her dinner. She crawled over him, her nostrils flexing as her meal squirmed away from her touch. Marie’s jaw extended far more than a human’s would, almost like a snake's, as her teeth clamped around his throat. She drank for a few moments before ripping out whatever she’d been able to fit in her mouth. Her molars chewed the cartilage of his Adam’s apple, wringing it dry of its blood before spitting it out. He gurgled, struggling and fighting the inevitability. The stranger’s movements ceased as her nails pressed like butter into the center of his chest and pierced his heart. Retracting her bloodied hand, Marie was without remorse. His suffering had come to an end, fortunately for him, with a nice hellscape awaiting him in the afterlife, at least that’s what she hoped.

On the odd end of the stick, his wound had spewed quite the mess. The act was sick and sadistic, she was pervertedly covered in his blood, in a somewhat ritualistic manner. Her eyes turned back to Remmick, her stomach satisfied, but her hunger wasn’t gone. Marie’s new sire smirked as she rose to her feet, the tips of her claws embedding in his skin as she grasped his chin. He groaned at the taste of the medley that was her saliva and a mix of her and the man’s blood on his tongue. His cock felt like it was behind prison bars every second it was trapped under his zipper. His hands landed on her waist, pulling her in to deepen their kiss. It felt like a breath of fresh air, wind beneath his wings, or whatever he could say to describe how damn good this moment was. A thousand years of memories, and this was the only one he would keep if given the chance to forget it all. Remmick felt hot like a fever with her pressed up on him, wanting nothing more than to please her, to give this woman the happy life she deserves. These thoughts weren’t lost on her; in fact, quite the opposite.

Marie’s nails dragged down the column of his throat, leaving light red trails behind them. She was like a vision, as though an angel had graced him with the closest thing to the sun that someone like him could have. Remmick stared in awe at the woman that his bite had turned her into, as if he’d panned gold from a California river.

“Christ on Earth.” He exhaled, running his fingers through his hair. He was almost panicking internally, wondering on every star above how he’d gotten so lucky. Remmick stopped her eager hands, halting her movements entirely, urging her to let him take the lead. After all, she was the catch in his mind, certainly not the other way around. He pulled her wrist away from her body, pressing the most tender of kisses from her thumb all the way up to her overactive brachial artery. Once he was eye level with her chest, he reached around her body, deft fingers pulling down the dress’s zipper with ease. The frock fell around her feet, and she sighed. The action exposed what would haunt his every waking moment until the next time his eyes were blessed with such a sight. His leer rose from the soft, warm skin of her stomach to her pert breasts, his fingers itching to grasp them. However, he wanted to do this the right way. Remmick guided her to the unmade bed, his palm on the small of her back to lie her down gently. This led her into a false sense of security, thinking this was going to be tender and sappy lovemaking. Remmick leaned over Marie, her legs straddling him as his lips made their way down. He pulled off his suspenders, letting them hang by his waist for a freer range of movement. That delicate smokescreen cleared as his hands hooked around her thighs, pulling her to meet him at the edge, evoking a sharp gasp from her mouth. Like a witness on his knees, praying to the Lord, Remmick met his muse from the floor.

He peppered pecks up the expanse of her inner thigh, coming closer and closer to where she needed him most. His crimson eyes glared up at her, his incessant drooling abundantly clear on his chin as he mentally vowed to savor this for millennia to come. Remmick's tongue dipped against her center, the heady essence of it spreading across his taste buds. He licked another long stripe, hearing her breath pick up with every dexterous movement. The salivating muscle butterflied to capture every bit of her arousal, wrapping his lips around her and sucking the pearl. The action made her thighs clench around his head, though not for long, as his hands were quick to hold them in place. He partook in her, enjoying her every squirm and whimper as if each were a personal stroke to his ego. "I could spend the rest of my days pleasing this sweet cunt o' yers... she hardly even knows me, and yet she is simply soaked, hm?" He chuckled, his voice dark with every carnal impulse possible racing through his mind. She was very keen on how he didn't need any guidance, operating on what she could only assume was her body language alone. Remmick could see distinctly how much of an open book she was willing to be for him and could adapt to it, her form like a sheet of music he needed to play just right.

His middle finger prodded at her core, pressing in and finding very little resistance. His focus was concentrated on her clit, his ring finger joining the first. The digits curled inside of her, pressing into the sensitive spongy flesh. Her back was arched off the bed, her hand having found itself interlacing in his hickory locks. Her moans were like a song in his ears, and how she could sing for him. Whether it was her tensing muscles or her tightening hold on his hair, she was getting close, and he was very gingerly working her towards it. "Oh— Fuck! Remmick!" She groaned as she tipped over the edge, her legs trembling against his bruising grip as each stroke of his tongue became overstimulating. It was only when her fingers lifted his head away that he came back to his senses, looking up at her for praise. Her lungs were working overtime, gasping for air as she plopped back on the mattress. Her hands were covering her face as if she couldn't believe that had just happened. His stubbled chin had her release dripping from it, and he was grinning like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“You alright, baby?” Remmick inquired, receiving only a relieved sigh in response. He stood up, wiping his hand on his shirt before grasping her jaw to look at him. “Ain’t never asked you for much, lass. Just give me this one thing.” Her sire sounded desperate, as if nothing else mattered to him as much as her words did in this very moment. “I’m okay,” Marie responded, sounding just about as spent as she looked. He stood up, using his sleeve to clean off his chin, figuring she’d had enough for tonight. The bed shifted behind him, and a hand was on the back of his shirt. “Are we done already?” She inquired, her voice soft next to his ear. There was an eager edge to her tone, one that made being anywhere else than with her seem like purgatory. “Not if you don’t wanna be.” He returned, radiating a dark lust with every word that left his mouth. His shirt and pants were quickly ditched before he was slotted above her. Remmick held his calloused hand out for her, just under her chin. “Spit.” He instructed, and with her obedience he used her saliva to stroke his erection, hoping it’d help coax him into the tightness that would inevitably meet him.

It was as if her body was buzzing with arousal, anticipating his next touch on her skin as if she’d die if it never came. Now that he’d bitten her, she could experience everything he was feeling in vivid detail, having never known such a true need. The way Remmick was looking at her had her reeling, like she’d found something she didn’t know she needed in her life. Like it completed her existence to be under him, feeling the crown of his cock pressing into her. There was always the initial pain, but the stretch was delicious. She was full much beyond anything she thought possible, gasping for air as she struggled to relax. He gazed upon her like art, and if he wasn’t so steadfast in making this memorable for her, he would’ve blown his load as soon as he felt her around him. Warmth like he couldn’t believe, wet and welcoming him as close as a sin could. He groaned, combing his fingers through his hair to get it out of his face. Remmick’s hands cupped beneath her legs, pushing them up and closer to her chest, with his hips incessantly drilling in and out. Marie’s head was spinning, unable to focus on anything other than his gold chain hanging down in her face, clearly weathered but nonetheless attached to him. His head dipped down, next to her ear, his breath caught in his throat as he was gathering himself to speak.

“You feel so good, darlin’... Don’t know what to do with myself.” The words nearly came out as a whimper, his voice weak and unsteady. “Shit—” Remmick’s forehead rested on her shoulder as he stilled. He wasn’t tired, nothing near it, he was holding himself back. Weighing the give and take, sparing her of being totally ravaged their first time together. He wanted to melt into her skin, become an obscene amalgam of flesh, truly lean into the abomination he’d become in a thousand years. Slowly, his thrusts picked back up, his grip on her waist tightening as his nails had prickled blood beading at the tips. Nothing could ground him, but his fangs extended, finding themselves in the muscle of her shoulder. He was close, feeling as if the room would cave in around them alluded to her being on the brink as well. Marie was clinging so tightly to him, he almost couldn’t feel the stinging scratches etched into his back, the pain spurring him along. Her cunt was gripping him like a vice, her muscles flexing as she met her release, milking him for all his worth. Remmick’s body tensed, his groan sounding more like a growl as he came inside of her, possessively claiming her as his even if the bites weren’t enough. Even if nursing her back to health and bringing her prey wasn’t enough.

He slowed, taking a breather as he lifted himself up just so he could look at her. Before he could get a word out to check on her, she smiled, her arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him back down into her embrace.

—

The sheriff had pulled up in his squad car, gravel crunching under the wheels. He’d received reports of a struggle at the cabin on top of two missing persons reports. John from the local chapter had come out to check on Marty, told his wife he’d be back by sundown and never came home. Vultures circled over the house, the bad omen instantly made him uncomfortable. The first thing the officer noticed was the god awful smell. Flies crawled through a crack under the door as he stepped onto the porch. He slipped off his hat, covering his nose with it as he pushed the ajar door open.

“Holy shit.” He remarked, his gaze trailing up from the puddle of blood that’d pooled in front of his feet. John was bound by his wrists, hanging right in front of the window. A long incision from the bottom of his sternum to just above his pubic bone had split his stomach open. His entrails and gore spilled out in a heap on the floor with maggots and flies feasting away. In this heat, there was no telling how long John had been decomposing in the cabin, or what might’ve happened to Marty. Just about every critter the sheriff was familiar with had nested in the corpse, specifically taking interest in the almost square shaped chunk taken out of his throat.

𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐!!

Jack O'Connell:

James Cook

James Cook x Late Bloomer!Virgin!Reader

"Can't believe I'm the first to ever touch this cunt. Just look at you, look at her, can barely take one finger but wants more. Greedy little thing, aren't you?" Cook taunted, staring intently at your glistening slit in the reflection of the mirror. The two of you kept making eye contact despite what he was trying to draw your attention to. The squelch of your arousal, and the way you clenched around his middle finger had him groaning in your ear. He didn't get any physical pleasure, but listening to your voice while you were damn near whining in his lap? Oh, there was truly nothing better.

James Cook x Bimbo!Reader Imagine

[ANGST] James Cook x Reader (Twoshot)

Sir Jimmy Crystal

Clingy!Sir Jimmy Crystal x Reader

"Ye can't leave me— I am nothin' without ye." Jimmy spoke from his spot on your lap, comforted by the way you stroked his golden hair. It was a far cry from the synthetic wigs his 'disciples' wore, it was soft and real. Real enough to make you forget the man he was, reducing him to a mere head of hair in your lap. In all the time you've known him, it was clear he didn't want your feedback, just needed your attention. The words were nothing but an empty expression, juvenile in the way they clung to the comforts you found yourself unable to provide.

Sir Jimmy Crystal x Bimbo!Reader Imagine

Dealer!Jimmy x Ghost!Reader

Remmick

Door Mats Drabble

Remmick's fist paused before knocking on the door, his gaze fixed on the doormat on the ground: 'WELCOME' in big bolded letters. One would think if you had the sense to paint the ceiling of your porch blue, you'd be more wary of welcoming any and everything into your home. He turned the doorknob, pushing the limits on his vampiric constraints. It gave, the windowed door creaking open into a dark house, nothing but the slow sound of your unconscious pulse upstairs filled the air.

Remmick x Fledgling!Reader