#rod ferrell

Motherfucking Jake (Rod Ferrell x Fem!Reader)

I DID MY BEST PLS DONT BE MAD IF IT'S NOT AS DIRTY AS YOU WANTED IT.

Disclaimer: I am in no way, shape, or form sexualizing the true story that VC is LOOSELY based on. I am sexualizing the character that Drew portrayed. There is a difference.

Warnings: murder, smut, masochism, sadism, knifeplay, blood kink, blood consumption, and high possessiveness after sex (he’s a literal psycho, don’t be surprised)

Recommended song: I WANNA BE YOUR SLAVE by Måneskin

"You don't have to do this," he begged, his voice overflowing with fear and regret as he backwards crab walked against the wall. "Think of all the memories we have!"

You chuckled lowly, and he flinched, surprised at how you had reacted to his helpless pleas. He was shaking on the cold, tile floor of his bathroom, tears streaming down his face; his pitiful expression hadn't fazed you one bit, the business end of your silencer still aimed expertly at his forehead.

You took slow steps forward, your heels clicking across the tile until you were directly in front of the teen. You crouched, a cruel smile on your glossy lips as your eyes met each other's for the first time in months; your eyes were blank, devoid of almost all emotion, but only one remained - revenge. The consequences of his actions were on display, vividly obvious to anyone that had the unpleasant experience of knowing him; his hair was disheveled, dark circles tormented his beautiful cobalt eyes, which were now glowing with regret, and stubble started to form around his chin.

"Oh, I'm thinking of the memories, alright." You placed your left hand on his face, gently wiping the tears from his cheek. "Why else would I be here, Joe?" You chuckled, bringing your hand back to your side; the teen released a soft cry, fearful of his fate.

"No, please-"

"Funny," you feigned a thoughtful expression, pressing the end of your silencer against his forehead firmly, "that's exactly what I said to you. . . What goes around really does come around, huh?”

The blond gulped, squeezing his eyes shut, anticipating his dreadful end. When moments of silence passed, he slowly opened them once more, revealing your sadistic gaze; "Go to hell, Y/n."

You smirked, your eyes pouring hatred into his own.

"I'll meet you down there, Babe."

…

Your hair blew from your face as you drove, the crisp wind of the October night trying to creep through your clothes as you drove back to the "Vampire Hotel" with a large smile on your lips; you'd snuck out, knowing that Rod would not have let you leave if he knew why.

Silently, you pulled around the corner of the abandoned building, right underneath the second floor window; you glanced up, thankful to see that no one was looking out through the glass as you placed a black tarp over your 1990 Kawasaki Ninja ZX-11 ( a really cool motorcycle). You took a deep breath, pulling your h/c hair into a high ponytail as you crept up the rusted fire escape, skipping over the steps that you knew would creak under the slightest amount of pressure.

You peaked in through the grimey window, your e/c irises locking onto the party downstairs; you'd honestly never been more thankful for a floor to be almost completely demolished, because then you wouldn't have seen Rod dancing with a couple girls that were obsessed with him - almost every chick in the coven was.

You pushed the door open slightly, the music breeching your ears as the moonlight illuminated your path onto the second floor, where the disposable members of the gang resided. You slid through the small crack, slowly closing the door once more, and placing the cinderblock in front of it to prevent the wind from blowing it open.

You smiled to yourself, releasing a deep breath as your body relaxed; you hadn't been caught.

You took another deep breath, removing your bag from your shoulders and placing it into your safe - one that only you had the code to. You pulled your hair from it's ponytail, allowing your straight/curly/wavy hair to end at your hips as you approached the staircase; you smiled, jumping from the railing. Your hands wrapped around the icy pipe, securing your position as some of your fellow delinquents cheered you on from beneath you. You did a few spins around the pipe, flipping from it and rolling to your feet as you landed.

The teens around you greeted you with high-fives, fox whistles, and welcoming shouts; you smiled, making your way to the twelve drink coolers that they'd tucked into the far right corner of the bottom floor. You needed a few celebratory shots of whiskey after the night you'd had.

"Rod knows you left," Scott whispered, standing next to you as you picked up a sixth bottle of whiskey. "He was looking for you earlier, and saw that your bike wasn't here. Dude, I tried-"

"It's fine, Scott." You sighed, turning to face the jittery teen, "Job's done, anyways. Not much he can do, now."

The chestnut haired boy widened his eyes, making them appear even more bug-like through the thick lenses of his glasses. "N/n, are you being serious? Do you remember what he did to Hailey when she left without asking, or at least, telling Rod?"

"Yeah," you shrugged, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion. "What's that have to do with me? Hailey pissed everyone off, anyways; he knows that this place is nothing without me. . . considering I own the building."

"Shit," Scott muttered, aggressively looking between you and Rod. "Good luck." He nodded, running off into the crowd as the pale boy in a long black trench coat approached you. You rolled your eyes, unscrewing the lid of your whiskey and taking a swig straight from the bottle as you leant against the table.

Rod's eyeliner darkened eyes were locked onto you, a mixture of anger and relief on his face as he approached you. The brunette stopped next to you, grabbing a fresh bottle of beer from the cooler as he spoke, "You're lucky I'm in a good mood."

"Like that matters," she scoffed. "You wouldn't touch me, regardless."

He raised his brows at you, a smirk twisting onto his lips as he took a sip from the dark brown bottle. "Y/n, you're the only person here that no one has touched - ever. Don't tempt me into changing that."

"Awe," you pouted, leaning closer to the boy's ear. "Wouldn't dream of it."

His jaw tensed, and he turned his head so that your noses were touching. "You're a bitch."

"Oh, you love it." You smiled, walking off into the crowd, feeling his jade green eyes on you as you vanished. You found your best friend, Lili, and began dancing with her; two guys joined you two, and neither of you minded dancing with them as the shadows of the misunderstood continued to haunt the walls of the hotel.

The guy you were dancing with, Jake, spun you around in his arms, making you face him. He sent you a smile, contrasting your confused expression as he'd begun to lean toward your neck.

"Jake!" A voice yelled, but they were too late to defend you as you spun and kicked the boy in the dick. Jake fell to the ground, but that didn't stop you; you proceeded to slowly crush his dick with the heel of your shoes.

The music continued to blast, and the teens hadn't ceased dancing; Jake's pleas were drowned in the music, until someone wrapped their arms around you, pulling you off. You almost hit the person in the head with your whiskey bottle, but you cared too much for the drink, so you took another sip as they carried you off, flipping Jake off as Lili knocked him out.

Rod placed you onto your feet, and you spun around with an irritated expression.

"What?"

"Shut up." He snapped, grabbing your wrist and yanking you upstairs, "Why the fuck would you let him get that close to you?"

Jake was convinced that he was a better choice for a leader of the coven, constantly challenging Rod on the choices he'd make - even if it was something simple, like who would run the errands.

"Why the fuck does it matter to you?"

Once you reached the top step, he spun you and slammed your back against the wall, his hands wrapped firmly around your wrist - out of sight from the rest of the coven. His jade green eyes were glowing with anger and lust, and your question had been answered just by meeting his gaze.

"Stop. Talking."

You leaned forward, lips brushing against his ear slightly; you would've walked away, by now, but the whiskey heightened the feelings toward Rod that you'd tried to suppress for three years.

"Make me."

Rod blinked once, slowly leaning toward your ear as you leant your head back against the wall. "You have no idea what you've just done."

Your breath hitched as his warm lips came into contact with your icy neck; the kisses he left were gentle, at first, until he'd begun to bite. You could feel his canines literally sink into your skin, most definitely drawing blood, and causing you to involuntarily release a moan.

Rod smirked, releasing your neck, and nipping your earlobe. He then traced kisses up your jaw, before finally connecting your lips in such a hungry fashion that you released a moan into his mouth. He took that chance to slip his tongue into your mouth, and the two of you fought for dominance as the music below you continued echoing off the concrete walls.

His hands released your shoulders, snaking their way to your thighs, and picking you up witch ease; you wrapped your legs around his waist, the bottle of whiskey still held tightly in your left hand as you wondered how the fuck this emo boy could lift your weight. He'd literally yell in pain if he punched a door in anger.

The thought escaped your mind quickly as you felt your back lift from the wall, the taste of iron filling your mouth as Rod carried you to the attic, where your apartment was located. The fucker made your lip bleed.

Oh, well.

Rod was the only one that knew where you hid your spare apartment key, effortlessly swiping it from the top of the door frame, and slamming the door behind the two of you. You locked it, lips still connected with his as he weaved his way through the apartment, and into your bedroom.

Finally, he released you, allowing you to stand on your own as he backed you against, yet another, wall; he slid off his trench coat, tossing it to the floor, before placing one hand on your waist and the other around your throat. He brought his lips to your ear, causing shivers to run down your spine as he spoke. “No one else in this god damn building is allowed to touch you, got it?”

You nodded, but he tightened his grip and repeated his words. “Got it?”

“Yes.” You whispered, your breath ghosting against his ear, before he moved back to eye level. Rod grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers, before spinning you and pushing you onto the bed.

Without warning, the brunette pulled out a switchblade, swiftly cutting the front of your shirt open; you gasped, just as he dragged the blade down your chest. He could kill you, right now. Hide the body, claim the building as his own, and never speak of you again - but you didn’t care. If he killed you, then oh fucking well, as long as you got dick first.

Rod pressed the blade harder onto your chest, breaking skin, and licking his lips as he watched small streaks of blood creep downward; he glanced up at you, as if asking for permission, and you nodded vigorously, anticipation already having your underwear soaked. He smiled, dipping his head, and licking up the crimson liquid; he drug his blade along your neck, making more and more tiny cuts, and following it’s trail with his tongue.

You released a guttural moan, throwing your head back in pleasure as he cut through your bra and slid it off of you; just as he was about to move his mouth back to your chest, you stopped him, shaking your head with a smirk. “Uh-uh, lose the shirts.”

“Yes, your majesty.” Rod sarcastically replied, before pulling his short sleeve-long sleeve combo over his head, tossing the shirts toward his trench coat. You smiled, causing him to smirk before wrapping his lips around your left nipple, fiddling with the right one with his other hand.

He released it with a pop, moving to the other one; you moaned once more, your hand pulling on his hair as he held the blade against your throat - not pressing hard enough to seriously injure you, but enough to draw some blood.

“Fuck. . .” You breathed, causing him to release your nipple and bring his lips back to yours. The two of you fought for dominance once more, Rod winning as you gasped at the slight bit of pressure he added to the blade; you could practically hear his smirk as his black nails slid down your body, grasping the waistband of your skirt. He separated your lips, lowering himself over you, before removing the blade from your throat and cutting the skirt off.

He was so buying you new clothes after this.

Rod repositioned his head over your chest, kissing down it gently, biting your skin here and there, while making his way toward your hips. He looked into your e/c eyes, biting the waistband of your underwear, and sliding it down your legs; a moan got caught in your throat, and he had never been more satisfied by a sight in his life.

He drug the blade down your stomach, then down your thighs as he eased two fingers into you; he watched as you gasped, squirming at the sudden sensation as he began to pump in and out. His lips then wrapped around your clit, sucking expertly as his tongue danced across your folds; your eyes fluttered shut, your back arching as the blade pressed deeper into your thigh.

He moved his lips to your ear once more, biting your earlobe, before speaking. “For once in our goddamn lives, do as I say.” You nodded, a moan escaping your lips before words even had the chance to form.

Rod removed his fingers from you, causing you to release a frustrated groan, looking at him expectantly; he swiftly removed his jeans and boxers, barely giving you time to react as he swiped a condom from your dresser and flipped the two of you. You were now hovering over him, wide eyes as he rolled the condom on; he held the knife against your throat, lips wrapping around your nipple once more as you slowly lowered yourself onto him.

The two of you released such animalistic sounds that you’d almost believed they weren’t from your lips; he threw his head back, eyes closed as you adjusted to his size, causing your lips to meet his neck, right underneath his jaw.

Rod moaned, his grip on the knife slacking only slightly as you began to bite him, just as he had done to you. His lips grazed your ear, “Bounce.”

You smirked against his neck, “Make me.” You whispered.

He released an annoyed groan, wrapping his free hand around your throat and pulling you from his neck. His grip tightened, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip as he spoke once more, “Bounce.”

You finally did as he requested, eyes rolling back at the sensation, before an idea popped in your mind; you stopped bouncing, causing Rod to look into your eyes with irritation once more, “Y/n, stop being a fucking bitch, and bou-”

You lowered your head, wrapping your lips around the blade, staring into his jade green eyes as his words had gotten caught in his throat for the first time that night; you opened your mouth slightly, watching him as you dragged your tongue against the blade, releasing it with a smirk as a drop of blood dripped from your tongue.

“Fuck. . .” He breathed, throwing the knife to the side, before weaving his fingers through your hair and hungrily connecting your lips. You smiled into the kiss, beginning to bounce again just as your lips met, causing him to moan into your mouth.

Rod wrapped his free hand around your back, flipping the two of you over; you were on your back, now, and he’d begun thrusting so hard and rhythmically, you wouldn’t have been surprised if the entire hotel could hear the moans that escaped both of your lips.

He positioned your legs over his shoulders, never disconnecting your lips as his thrusts began to grow sloppier. Your nails dug into his arms, drawing blood as the knot in your stomach grew stronger and stronger.

“Rod-”

“Stop talking.”

The two of you released inhumanely loud moans as you rode out your highs, Rod pulling out when you both finished; he removed the condom, throwing it into your bedside trashcan, before collapsing next to you on your bed.

He grabbed your face, turning your head so you would be looking at him. His jade green eyes held an emotion that you’d never seen on him before, something you couldn’t place as he spoke. “If I catch someone else touching you, I’m going to fucking kill them. Especially motherfucking Jake.”

“Same goes to you, Dumbass.” You stated, allowing your eyes to close, the exhaustion finally catching up to you; you rolled over, fully facing him. “If Charity touches you, she is dead.”

Rod chuckled, pulling you into him as he closed his eyes, too.

November 25, 1996. 

Everything seemed normal; a quiet night, a quiet home. Jennifer Wendorf, 17, had been out much later than she was supposed to. Hurriedly, but quietly, she made her way home and stepped inside. Her eyes landed on her father, Richard Wendorf, lying on the couch and a wave of relief washed over her. She had made it, she thought. She wasn’t caught. Then she made her way into the kitchen. The relief she just previously felt shot out of her body like a wave of electricity. 

Blood pooled on the tile around the lifeless body of her mother, Naomi Ruth Queen (Wendorf). As she glanced around the room, she noticed blood had not only covered a large portion of the kitchen floor, but also splattered just about everywhere else: on the walls, and even the ceiling. Panicking, she ran back out to check on her father. He was dead too, blood soaking the arm of the couch beneath his bludgeoned head. Jennifer immediately called 9-1-1, explaining to dispatch that both of her parents had been killed and that her 15 year old younger sister, Heather Wendorf, was missing.

The police were stumped. Who could’ve done this? Where was Heather? Had she been kidnapped? Had she been murdered as well?

Heather had always been the black sheep of the family. She had a dark side, and often expressed herself in outlandish, odd ways. One witness account states they had seen Heather attend high school with a Barbie doll attached to her backpack by a noose around its neck. In weeks leading up to the deaths, Naomi had mentioned to her daughter Jennifer that Heather’s behavior had become uncontrollable and unbearable. 

When asked if she had any idea who could’ve been behind the gruesome murder of her parents, Jennifer was quick to answer: Rod Ferrell and Scott Anderson.

Roderrick Justin ‘Rod’ Ferrell, (pictured below) born March 28, 1980, grew up in Murray Kentucky and spent most of his adolescence as an outsider, someone who didn’t fit in and didn’t belong. Before being forced to move to Eustis, Florida, Rod had been introduced to the lifestyle that was referred to as ‘vampirism’ by Jaden Murphy. This was described as the act of consuming human blood as a means to gain immortality, or extra lives. It was believed that once you consumed the blood of a known vampire, you also became one, and was initiated into the family or ‘clan.’ Jaden recalls that just before his move, Rod’s personality had taken a sharp turn, often describing fantasies of killing someone and even throwing a stray cat up against a tree during a hangout between the two. 

In Eustis, Rod came in contact with Heather Wendorf and Scott Anderson through high school and he immediately took a liking to Heather specifically. He saw her as a damsel in distress for him to rescue and save. She often detailed accounts of abuse at the hands of her parents to him in letters and extensive phone calls. Rod was charismatic, mysterious, and thoroughly manipulative. He had a hold on everyone he seemed to come into contact with. Him, Heather, Scott and two other females, Charity Keesee and Dana Cooper, quickly became a small little family. Rod had suckered each of them into his vampiristic fantasy. He claims to have cut himself and shared his blood with others, in hopes of creating a clan that followed and worshiped at his feet. He fed off of feeling invincible and other-worldly. 

Rod had created a brand new vampire persona for himself, going by the name of Vesago (which is presumably a butchery of the name of the demon in Occult literature, Vassago.) This demon was said to be third-in-command of the spirits of Satan’s army of rebel angels, and held special powers such as fortune-telling.

Rod truly believed he was a vampire, convinced he was 500 years old with mystic powers. As he learned of the abuse heather supposedly suffered, he grew angrier and angrier, insistent on rescuing her somehow. 

On the night of November 25, Heather and the two other females headed off on the own while Rod and Scott decided to make their way to the Wendorf residence. Both teenage boys entered the house through the garage, where rod stumbled upon a crowbar and quickly grabbed it. “We walked in as if we owned the place,” Scott recounts. They first came across Richard, who had been asleep on the couch. To Scott’s utter disbelief, Rod approached the father and lifted the crowbar high, swinging it down into his head multiple times and without mercy. 

“I just remember yelling, ‘what the hell are you doing!’ And Rod turned to me and yelled back ‘what are you doing, dude?! Why are you standing there? Find the money, find the car keys!’ “ said Scott. 

After Rod had killed Richard, Naomi had come running from the kitchen. When faced with Rob, she tossed a hot cup of coffee into his face and attempted to run away. But Rob was too fast, knocked her to floor, and proceeded to bash her head in with the crowbar as well. Scott was shocked and terrified, knowing that if he didn’t comply with Rod and his commands, he’d probably get his head bashed as well. 

“When he turned and looked at me, I didn’t recognize him. Probably the most frightening look I’ve ever seen on anyone’s face. It was like...seeing the devil himself.”

Fight or flight kicked in and both of them knew they had to get as far away as possible. The stole the family car, switched licence plates, picked up the girls including Heather, and headed off on the road. Heather initially seemed devastated after learning the news of her parents’ deaths from Rob, but Scott had his suspicions that she knew all along what was going to/what had happened. After a few days on the road, Charity began to run out of money and attempted to call her mother in hopes of her sending some. Her grandmother answered instead, and relayed the location of the payphone back to the police. 

Now in Baton Rouge,  Louisiana, the group had planned to hunker down in a nearby motel. The police convinced Charity’s grandmother to call her back and tell her she would send money in order to get their location. But instead of money, they would be faced with police, investigators, and a SWAT team. All five teenagers surrendered themselves into custody that night. While in court and on trial for first degree murder, burglary and trespassing charges, Rod would make a spectacle of himself, making faces and having wild, unruly long hair. All four members of the ‘vampire clan’ were tried as adults, despite all being 16 years of age. 

The court had tried for the death penalty for Rob, for which he was initially convicted, but after pleading guilty, was sentenced to life imprisonment without the possibility of parole. 

Howard Scott Anderson was also sentenced to life imprisonment without the possibility of parole. He is currently rumored to be released in 2030, at the age of 51. 

Charity Keesee was convicted of two counts of third degree murder, robbery with a gun or deadly weapon, armed burglary with a weapon or deadly explosives, and sentenced to 10.5 years in prison, while Dana Cooper was convicted of the same charges but given 17.5 years in prison. 

Heather Wendorf was not convicted or charged in the murder of her parents, and was set free. 

Some of us actually HAVE been doing research on things since BEFORE the stupid Ted Bundy tapes. Like, Over 10 years before the netflix series was even thought of. 

Some of us, shocker i know, actually put in the hours and time and did our research. Some of us actually KNOW THE PEOPLE involved in this shit. 

Quit assuming shit about people when you know nothing about them. 

Some of us watched every documentary, read every book, and had a personal invitation to interview him at the jail. So you and your little keyboard warrior bullshit can get out of here because you are the ignorant child in this equation. I’m a grown ass adult with again, nearly 10 years on your own age.