Request/idea 4 u <3:: Salesman having other 'toys' but becoming possessive/jealous when reader starts dating a decent man. So he has to punish her by kidnapping him and showing him what a messed up freak she is. (Vouyerism) With lots of shaming and showing the guy her scars asking what guy would be attracted to someone like her. (Dacryphilia from her crying embarrassed and being treated super mean because he is mad at her for making him waste his time like this.)
Retribution - the salesman x fem!reader
Series oneshot - request for @phophoo
“From one man onto the next. You really just can’t help yourself, can you?”
summary - after you nearly lost your life at his hands, you seem to slip away from his control. After a while, you even manage to meet someone new, thinking you may be free from him entirely. But when your new boyfriend goes missing, you’re quickly proven wrong.
tags - age gap, non con, sub!reader, dom!salesman, vouyerism, dacryphilia, no protection, degradation, praise, forced insertion, dead dove do not eat
a/n - I loved this request!! I hope I did it justice.. this one might be the wildest yet. PS to send requests for this series, check the inbox in my bio
Series masterlist (for the ao3 version, click this and scroll to the bottom of the post)
4k words
“Hello.”
Since that phone call, it had taken everything in your power not to go back to him. Just the sound of his voice, low and smooth, was almost enough to convince you.
But you didn’t. Instead, you moved on.
Everywhere you went, you felt like you were being watched. Every night, without fail, you were called by random numbers. Ominous texts popped up on your phone, daring you to reply, to face him again.
You never gave in - and eventually, the calls became less frequent, the texts nonexistent, and you felt something close to peace. You even managed to meet new people. One person, specifically: a boy.
You’d met him at a club. Not the most exciting of places, but he was cute, and he’d sidled over to you with a far less threatening smile than you were used to. He’d bought you a drink, asked for your number, and that was that. It felt nice, being normal.
His name was Alec. It had taken you a while to warm up to the idea, but he was persistent. After a few ‘accidental’ meetups and phone calls, you grew to like him. Even love, if you could muster that feeling. Your past experiences had left you relatively numb, yet whatever spark was left, he had ignited.
He had even accepted your scars, taking the hint after a vague story about an abusive ex. Not too far from the truth, you supposed.
Today, you were supposed to be meeting him after work. He hadn’t shown up, though, so you call his number and let it ring through. After a few more tries, you gather yourself and head home.
An odd feeling had settled in your gut. Had you done something wrong? Something to upset him? You gnaw at your fingernails, wracking your mind for a reason, any reason, why he’d be ignoring you.
You call him again at home, then again later, then again that night. Nothing. You tell yourself it’s fine, he’s probably just busy. But, then again, he’s never missed a call.
You try to sleep, and fail, instead staring at the black box of your phone screen all night. Not a single notification appears. Until 2 AM, on the dot. He’s calling you. His contact name appears on the screen, lighting up the room.
You scramble for your phone, hitting accept and holding it to your ear, breath heavy. There’s silence. You call out, “Alec?”
You hear a muffled yell, strangely distant from the phone. You clap a hand over your mouth as the realisation dawns on you. It’s him - it has to be. How foolish to think you had escaped him at all.
“I know it’s you,” you spit into the phone, teeth gritted.
“Oh, I’m glad,” his voice is a purr through the phone. The sound of it sends chills over your skin.
“I was beginning to think you had forgotten me,” he coos, ignoring Alec’s shouting in the background.
“How could I?” You say, voice acidic.
He ignores this and replies with an address, which you frantically type into your phone.
“I don’t suppose I have to threaten you. I have no desire to keep him alive longer than I need.”
“You wouldn’t,” you reply, tears thick in your throat.
“Oh, sweetheart. I thought you knew me better than that by now.” He hangs up. The line goes dead. It takes less than five minutes for you to be out the door and in a taxi.
He’s right - you do know him. And you know what he is capable of.
The taxi drops you off several streets away. You run through the industrial estate, weaving between dark streets lined with abandoned warehouses and shipping containers. You eventually find the place, guided by directions on your phone.
You knock on the door. It’s too late for you to realise your mistake. It groans open and you step inside, only to be knocked to the floor instantly. You fall onto your stomach, a painful pressure on your back. He straddles your back, one knee holding you to the ground.
“How nice of you to join us,” he says, taking hold of your wrists and binding them with zip ties.
You scream, struggling against the floor. You crane your neck to look at him, but all you can distinguish is a weak light in the centre of the huge room. Sat beneath the bulb is Alec, tied to a chair and screaming your name.
“Get off me,” you warn, “what the fuck is wrong with you?”
“I’m very disappointed in you,” he tuts, tightening the bindings, “very disappointed.”
He pulls your head up by your hair, bending down to see you. For the first time in months, you meet his eyes. His lips curl into a reptilian smile.
He pulls you onto your feet and shoves you forward towards the harsh white light. Alec shouts, voice muffled by a strip of tape over his mouth.
“It’s okay, Alec,” you reassure, tears threatening to break, “it’s fine.”
You’re shoved into a chair opposite Alec. He winds your arms over the back of the chair, and you accept your fate, head hanging. He stands between you, looking down at you with a pained expression.
“You’ve been a bad girl,” he says with mock disappointment.
You watch with wide eyes as his frown melts into that painfully familiar mask. His eyes are black as he jolts forward and grabs a fistful of your hair, thrusting you forward.
“I let you live,” he says, lips curling over gritted teeth, “and this is how you repay me?”
Alec yells, struggling in the chair. You can’t even meet his eyes.
“You really thought you were free? That I’d just let you go like that?” He holds your head, bending down to look at you. You don’t respond, feeling utterly numb.
He smirks. He lets go of you and steps back, turning to Alec. “And him? Really? I thought you had at least some self respect.”
“Shut the fuck up,” you mutter, “you don’t know anything.”
“Oh, but I do,” he smiles, clasping his hands. “I’ve been watching you very carefully. And your little boyfriend here.”
Alec has stopped shouting. He now stares between you, confusion in his eyes. He hasn’t been hurt, not yet - he was clearly saving himself for you.
“I think he’s confused. Why don’t you explain?” He gestures between you.
“It’s fine, Alec. I know him. Just stay calm and it’ll all be okay.” Alec stares at you with wide eyes, nodding frantically. You look up at him, pleading. “Please. Just let him go. I’ll do whatever you want.”
His smile fades. Without breaking eye contact, he moves slowly over to you. Alec protests, but this seems to drive him, eyes growing wider.
He grabs your chin, tipping your head. “Such a fucking whore,” he says, teeth gritted, “from one man onto the next. You just can’t help yourself, can you?”
He walks behind you. He skates his hand over your shoulders, then your breasts, and you close your eyes, not bearing to look at Alec. He brings his lips to your ear. “Does he know how much of a whore you are?”
A whimper escapes your throat. His voice in your ear almost brings you to a different place. “Why don’t we show him?”
He unties your wrists, grabbing hold of your arm with painful pressure so that you can’t escape. He jerks your arm out, wrenching up your sleeve as you yelp in pain.
“Did she ever show you this?” He says to Alec, holding out your scarred arm. You wince in embarrassment. You never told him the true story, too ashamed by the truth.
Alec stares, dumbfounded at your arm. “No, I don’t suppose she did. It’s a phone number. My phone number. I carved it into her whilst she sat on my lap like a fucking whore.”
Alec doesn’t seem to process this. His brows are furrowed as he makes out the numbers.
“Then,” he continues, gripping your wrist with a vice grip, “she came in her panties without me even touching her.”
You can’t help it. Tears begin to stream down your face. To hear it put into words - it’s too much. Even worse, it’s coming from him. He hears you sob and something sparks in his eyes.
“How about these?” He moves forward and wrenches down your pants, leaving your legs bare. He parts your legs forcefully, revealing the myriad of white scars from a previous game, close your panty line. Alec yells, louder than ever.
“Look at you. Who would want a scarred up slut like you?” He spits, moving onto one knee to see your tear stained face. His eyes dart frantically, soaking up your humiliation.
“Please,” you gasp, “just stop. No more. You can do whatever you like to me - just let him go.”
He smirks in that lopsided way, half his face deadpan. “Why should I? He deserves to see the real you.”
A wracking sob leaves your throat. He stares at you for a moment, then runs his fingers over the ridged scars on your thigh. His touch is tender, and it sends shivers over your bare skin.
“After I cut these ones,” he says, loud enough for Alec to hear, “she rode my cock until she was begging for me to let her cum.”
He stands up and runs a thumb over your cheek, flicking away your tears. He traces down to your lips, parting them with his thumb. He watches carefully as you take it into your mouth, pleading in your eyes.
You’ve learnt from experience: sometimes playing his game is the only way to win.
He pulls his thumb out of your mouth with a pop. He leans down to speak in your ear, pushing your hair back with a ghosting touch. With a glance over to Alec, he asks, “Tell me, does he fuck you as well as I did?”
You let out a breathless gasp. You briefly meet Alec’s eyes, but you look away, unable to keep his painfully innocent gaze.
“Answer me,” he demands, taking hold of your face and forcing you to look at him. His fingertips dig into your cheek and you squeeze your eyes shut.
“Look at me,” he grabs your throat, “and tell me: does he fuck you like I did?”
You choke, gasping for air against his hand. His wide palm spreads against the column of your throat, pressing down until fresh tears prick in your eyes. You’re vaguely aware of Alec yelling, but you don’t register it, too focused on the pressure of his hand on your neck.
“No,” you finally gasp, and he lets go, letting your head fall.
“And there it is,” he says with a satisfied look on his face, “what does he do to you?”
Silent tears fall as he runs a hand up your leg. His touch is light, and you bite your lip to keep back a whimper. “Does he touch you like this? Until you’re shivering, begging for it?”
You whisper for him to stop, but he doesn’t, his hand creeping higher. You can see Alec thrashing around behind him, but you’re too far gone to care, desperation fronting in your mind. You buck your hips lightly as he thumbs your clit, rubbing slow, lazy circles over the fabric of your panties.
“Does he rub you over your panties, until you’re begging him to fill you up?” His voice is lower now, as though he doesn’t care if Alec hears or not. It’s just you and him, now.
He draws a low moan out of you. He stares deep into your eyes, and you finally look back. You can see your reflection in his black irises - your face is tear soaked and lips swollen.
He parts your legs and slips his hand down, pushing your panties aside. You’re dripping with desperation. He makes a low noise in his throat, slipping his middle finger inside you, almost experimentally. You whimper as he hooks his finger and draws it lazily inside and out.
He’s interrupted by Alec scraping the chair forward from thrashing around so aggressively. He makes a frustrated noise, pulling his finger out of you and standing to his full height.
“I think it’s time to show him how a slut like you deserves to be fucked.”
You scream and stand up out of the chair, remembering suddenly that your arms are free from their bindings. You stumble backwards, but he pulls you forward by your shirt, throwing you to the ground. You hit the concrete floor hard, and Alec cries out.
You attempt to crawl away but he stands over you, one leg either side of your hips. Before you squirm away, he kneels down, caging you in with his legs. He presses his palms to the ground beside your head, face inches from yours.
Alec screams as he crashes his lips into yours with painful aggression. You fight back, squirming underneath him, lips bruised by the force of the kiss. He traps you with his arms, biting your lip until you’re certain he’s drawn blood.
He pulls back and plants bruising kisses along your jaw and then your neck, sucking at the skin. You whimper in desperation but he moves further down. He pulls your arms above your head, ripping off your shirt completely. Then he traces his lips to the curve of your breasts, reaching beneath you to unclasp your bra.
For a moment, you’re lost, Alec’s cries fading into background noise. You’re brought back to the times when Alec would make love with you, but all you could think about was him. The way he’d touch you, say things that could make you cum without him even putting his hands on you.
Your body goes limp as he pulls off your bra, and you’re completely exposed on the cold concrete floor. He cups your breasts, sucking at your skin as though he is worshipping you. You watch helplessly as he kneels back, shaking off his blazer and loosening his tie.
There’s something oddly statuesque about him. The way the muscles of his chest and shoulders strain against his white shirt, the clear outline of a bulge in his pants. You feel the urge to cry again - months of slow healing after the things he has done to you, all reversed.
You stay silent as he brings a hand to the damp spot on your panties, still kissing your neck. He notices that you have stopped crying, and pauses.
“Come on, beg for it. Show him how much of a desperate little slut you are.” He says in a low voice.
You whimper desperately, too humiliated to comprehend. Naked on a warehouse floor with him on top of you, and a guy you’ve only known for a few months watching. You stare defiantly at him.
“Fine,” he says, leaning back, “we’ll do it your way.”
“What are you—“ you ask as he stands up and walks towards Alec. He pulls out something tucked in the back of his pants, something you hadn’t noticed before.
A gun.
“No, don’t—“
“How hard is it,” he begins, clicking the barrel in place, “to just do what I say?”
He lifts the gun to Alec’s temple with a flat expression. Alec’s eyes go completely wide. You decide to succumb to that part of you that you tried to suppress.
You move onto all fours, looking up at him with a pleading expression. There’s a flicker of curiosity in his eyes as you crawl forward towards him.
“Please,” you beg, “I need you.”
He looks down at you. You reach his leg and move onto your knees, pulling at his shirt in desperation.
“I wanted to call you, I swear. I just thought that— after what you did, you didn’t want me anymore.”
The sincerity in your words makes his expression falter. You palm at the growing bulge in his trousers, eyes dripping with ecstasy.
“I need you,” you repeat, voice breathy, “you fucked me better than he ever did. When I’d sit on your cock, and you’d fill me up so much that it hurt—“
The hand holding the gun twitches. “Please, please,” you repeat.
You’re certain he’s about to rip you apart there and then, the way his eyes are fixed on you, his mouth slightly parted. The tent in his trousers grows, and you rub the hard outline of his cock, biting at your lip. Your pleads grow so desperate that your eyes begin to mist with tears, and it’s when one finally falls that he drops the gun with a clatter and pushes you back to the floor.
Your head hits the concrete as he shoves you down, pouncing on you with an feral look in his eyes. He fumbles at his belt, breath heavy. His cock springs free from his pants, his tip swollen and leaking with precum. A whimper escapes your throat as he pushes your panties aside and forces himself inside you.
You yelp at the intrusion. He plants his palms beside your head as he rocks his hips. He doesn’t meet your eyes, looking down as he pulls in and out of you. With every thrust, your body jolts upward, and you grip his back to keep yourself stable. You can hear Alec’s muffled shouts, but his low grunting in your ear drowns it out.
His tip grazes your g-spot and you gasp, feeling your climax build. “I’m gonna—“
He looks at you then, lip curling over his teeth. “Not yet,” he hisses, dragging himself out of you.
“What—“ you begin to ask, feeling suddenly empty. Your walls clench around nothing, needing him to fill you again.
“I want you to look at him,” he states, voice low. He stands up, shoving himself back inside his pants and turning to the empty chair opposite Alec.
Your body moves seemingly by itself. You stand, shielding your bare chest and step over to him. He watches, a satisfied smirk on his face, before grabbing you by the arm and pulling you over to him so hard you’re certain your arm has dislocated.
He takes a fistful of the hair at the back of your head, pushing it down so that you’re leaning on the back of the chair, ass out for him.
“Such a good fucking girl,” he mutters, “now look at him.” He pulls your hair, forcing your head up. You wince in pain, avoiding Alec’s eyes, who sits opposite, looking sweaty and defeated.
He slides himself back into you, somehow stretching you further than before. He grips your hips, easing in with a hiss. You look down for just a second before he grips your hair again and wrenches your head back.
“Fucking look at him,” he slams into you, making you cry out. You have no choice - you look at Alec, tears brimming in your eyes. He stares back, gaze distant. You feel intense guilt. There must be a part of him that knows you’re enjoying every second of this - in a sick, sick way.
He builds up his pace, rocking his hips into you. The room fills with the sound of skin on skin, his heavy grunting and your whimpers as his cock stretches you impossibly wide, hitting that unreachable spot every time. You feel heat pooling in your gut. You want to move, but he keeps you there, head pulled back and hands gripping the back of the chair.
You can sense that he’s close, the way his hold on your hair loosens and he begins to shudder. He slams into you harder, almost with anger, as if he’s letting go of some pent-up frustrations. You stare at Alec, this time out of choice, your pupils dilated and lips parted.
You can’t imagine how fucked you must look right now.
A stream of curses pass his lips. You clench around him, desperate to cum after all his teasing.
“That’s it,” he grunts, “are you gonna cum for me?“
You whimper, yes, yes, but he doesn’t build up the pace. Instead, he mutters between thrusts, “I want you to look at him when you— when you cum. Let him know that you’re mine.”
You nod frantically, biting down on your lip. Mercifully, he increases the pace, his breath growing heavy in your ear. The hot pressure in your gut finally eases. He rides you through your orgasm, shooting warm ropes of cum inside you with a low groan. His pace slows until he’s dragging out of you lazily, holding your hips in place.
For a moment, you stay there, ass out for him as your head rushes. Your release brings you out of your ecstasy and back into the room. Alec, still sitting across from you, his head hanging now. Scattered clothes are strewn around the floor - your cheeks flush this time with humiliation rather than lust.
You move to pick your discarded shirt from the floor and pull it over yourself. Once decently covered, you turn to look at him. His belt hangs in the belt loops, his shirt is creased and hair mussed in sweaty strings over his forehead. It’s a familiar picture to you.
He smooths his hair and walks towards Alec with purpose.
“Don’t do anything to him! I did what you wanted, didn’t I?” You plead.
He looks at you. “So that’s what this was? Doing what I wanted? Sweetheart, I think you’ll find that’s what you wanted.”
His words make you freeze. It’s the truth. You had begged him, told him you needed him, as if there was no other way. Maybe a small part of you did need him.
“Don’t worry, I’ll deal with him,” he says, pulling Alec’s head up by his hair. He looks a mess, his eyes half closed.
“Don’t hurt him, please,” you step forward, and he eyes you carefully.
“He can never fucking touch you ever again,” he asserts. He yanks back Alec’s head and he yelps, jolting from his daze.
“He won’t, I promise—“ you say quickly, “just don’t do anything to him. Let him go.”
He seems to consider this for a moment. He looks down at Alec’s pathetic face, eyes searching.
“I promise,” you begin, “I’ll never speak to him again. It can be like before— when I called you whenever I needed—“
“Fine,” he says, letting Alec’s head fall. “If that’s what you think is best.”
There’s something about his words that makes you regret what you just said. He pulls the gun out from his pants again, but before you can cry for him to stop, he takes the butt of the revolver and slams it, hard, in the back of Alec’s head. With a weak grunt, his body goes slack. You’re certain he’s blacked out.
“No, why did you—? I said don’t hurt him!”
“He’ll be fine,” he says casually, slipping the gun back in his pants.
He looks at you then. Really looks at you. Slowly, he steps over to you, his once open expression steeling over. He tips your chin with his hand and you blink up at him.
“You were a very good girl tonight,” he says, “I’m very proud of you. For a moment, I thought you had forgotten who you really were. Who I made you to be.”
You don’t reply. You feel your mind grow distant as you slip into the person you were months before. The one you had tried to keep buried without him. Instead of fighting it, you succumb, losing yourself in the deep black pools of his eyes. His lips curve into a small, almost satisfied smile, and he bows his head to kiss you for what feels like the first time.
It’s when his lips meet yours that you think: maybe he’s right - maybe this is the real you.
A/N: SOOOOO I had a bunch of other plans for this but decided to chop it up to make a shorter two chapter thingy. Anyway, it's terrible. BUT I need to practice my writing and just start putting it out there. (This is a continuation of my blurb if you haven't read it yet, I recommend you do first! But not totally required. THANK YOU FOR ALL THE LIKES BTW I APPRECIATE THEM ALL!!)
TW: Obvious toxic obsessive behaviors. Mentions of past self harm and mental issues. Possible PTSD. I'll try my best to write it in the ways I am familiar. SMUT. Reader is drunk the whole time but she wants it ok!! Lossofvirginity. Travis feels entitled to the reader too just so ya know.
You are a 22yr old starving-artist in NYC 1976 barely surviving by living in your friends walk in closet in Manhattan.
You’ve been friends with Travis for almost a year. You’ve developed strong feelings for him but haven’t had the courage to tell him. Instead hoping and waiting for him to notice you.
One day he urgently needs to talk to you. But it’s only for him to confess how he has fallen for a girl named Betsy. And to get your advice about it.
After Travis tells you about Betsy you begin to distance yourself from him heartbroken.
Until one day after a gallery opening that you invited him to, he doesn’t show up. Even though he promised a month ago and told you he asked for the day off work.
You drown your sorrows in alcohol and get the nerve to go over to his place and give him a piece of your mind.
Takes place the night before he has breakfast with Iris. So it may seem a little off but just pretend it’s the night before.
-------------------
“Are you sure this is where you want to be dropped off?” Your friend who offered to drive you home from the party asked puzzled.
You glared up at his apartment building. His light was on.
“Yeah, it’s a really bad area. I thought you lived uptown?” Your other friend said to you with concern in her voice.
“No it’s cool. I’m here all the time.” You hadn’t been there in a month though.
As you got out of the car and thanked them for the ride. You firmly held a bottle of expensive vodka with a little bow in your favorite color. It was meant to be a gift for your first show. But you had a third of it already on top of other drinks that night. They said goodnight to you and to be safe and call them in the morning. But none of it registered as you got in the building ready to start climbing the stairs to his floor.
It’d been days, maybe weeks. Not that he’d care. All he could think of was that prissy bitch. As if her stuck up ass would even think of him like that. You took another swig of the vodka. Trying to forget about seeing them out together.
She was really beautiful. Like those girls in commercials who look too perfect to be real.
That’s probably why he liked her. He’s just like any other man.
And why he didn’t like you. At least not romantically.
“Open the door you lying asshole I know your home.” You banged on his door falling against it.
“Bet your with that skank.” You said leaning against the door.
“Bet she has super nice skin. Not all cut up.”
His apartment building was really not in the best conditions. All you had to do was stick a bobby pin in the keyhole. Not as if any thieves would care to rob anyone in that building. Thieves probably lived there. You stepped in, seeing nothing out of the ordinary other than a bunch of dead flowers all over the place.
It was unsettlingly silent. Empty. He wasn’t there.
The room felt as if it was spinning. You carefully set the bottle down on his small dining table/desk. Your eyes then landed on an open journal. His journal.
If you weren’t drunk you wouldn’t touch it.
But you were so it didn’t matter.
His hand writing was so messy. And his grammar was awful. You flipped through it until finally you were able to find your name.
She asked a lot about ———— .
I wonder if ————- could tell her about me.
Betsy talks about ———- like a celebrity.
———— is really cool. She lets me touch her. Not in a weird way. I just...well I don't know. I wouldn’t say she’s the nicest. But she is not bad at all. She’s different. Complicated. It scares me. She scares me. Like when I was a kid and the electricity in the house would go out during a storm and it'd be dark all night.
——— has never given me the look I’ve seen in others when they talk to me. I like that. I like when she’s around. Even if she scares me.
I’m sure she’d like Betsy too.
You threw the journal across the room then made your way to his bed. Well, more of a cot. It never looked comfortable. The booths at the diner had better cushioning.
But it did smell like him. The nausea you were feeling went down as you closed your eyes laying your head on his pillow that was a sleeping bag.
--------------------
It may have been an hour or two. Or even just a few minutes. You were awaken by the door opening. Suddenly a headache hit you and you just buried your face into the pillow wanting it to stop. Barely remembering you were in Travis' apartment. So it must've been him opening his door. You were still too afraid to face him. What would he say or do finding you here? Probably nothing.
You then heard a click and a small gasp.
“What are you doing here?” Travis said, there was a sternness to his voice. You didn’t look at him. Just continued hiding your face in his pillow. Unbeknownst to you that he’d pointed his gun at you.
“I got lost on the way home.” You lied.
“You shouldn’t do that. I could’ve mistaken you for an intruder.” He sounded shook up.
“I am. So now what? You going to shoot me?” You joked. Unaware how upset you made Travis just then.
“I mean a stranger.”
It’d been a month since you’d seen him. He still gave you that floating feeling even now while you were drunk. Maybe you were just really drunk.
“What’s so bad about me?” You finally lifted your head to look over at him. He was wearing his cab jacket. He looked paler than usual.
“What?” He responded smiling. Confused at your question.
“I bought this new dress and new boots for you and you didn’t even notice. I even had my roommate do my hair. She’s a professional hair dresser.” You began rambling feeling dizzy.
“What? Why? Here get up, I’ll drive you home. I gotta work.” He pulled at your arm attempting to lift you, at the same time you felt his other hand on your hip before you shoved him away.
“Fuck you. I’m fine right here. Why don’t you just go stay at Betsy’s?” You said annoyed covering your head with his pillow. The room got quiet again.
“Oh, she…wasn’t who I thought she’d be.” Travis said with some frustration in his tone at you bringing her up.
“Hmph. You both have that in common.” You mumbled into the pillow.
“What? What do you mean?” He sits himself down next to you, not sure if he heard you correctly. You ignore him.
“How much did you drink?” He places his hand on your calf and squeezes. His hand felt cold and calloused, not soft or warm like usual.
“Too much.” You said into the pillow as you scooted your leg away from him causing the cot to creek more.
“You shouldn’t be doing that. You’re too young to be ruining your health.” You felt his eyes on you. You wondered what he was thinking. What part of you he was staring at.
“Well, you can stay while I go to work. You won’t be comfortable. I’d feel better if you were in your penthouse in Manhattan.” He sighed.
“I live in a closet Travy.”
“Still nicer than this. And your roommates are good to have. For safety. Safety in numbers sorta thing.” Why does he care about your safety?
"You didn't come to my show today." You sat up fast finally face to face with him.
"Your show?" Travis was confused. He really did forget. That just made you mad and you let your drunk thoughts out.
"I was waiting for you! That’s all I thought about! I didn’t even care when one of those rich pricks bought one of my biggest paintings for $1000. I’d rather you’ve been there! I almost didn’t want to give it to her. You know how I feel about certain people buying my work. But I owed my manager and the gallery their cut for letting me rent space there." You were yelling, then quickly wiped at your face feeling something wet on your cheeks.
"I'm sorry. I had some appointments. I've been sleeping more, I must've forgotten." He grabbed your wrist rubbing his thumb over your wrist bone but you pulled away harshly. His face became confused, you never pulled away from him. It was starting to frustrate him. He hadn't seen you in a month. Meaning he hadn't touched you in a month. He had gotten so used to you letting him.
"I'm easy to forget huh?" You sniffed, unsure what you were doing there now. Wanting to go.
"Well, you haven't gone to the theatre either! You just left me at the diner all those weeks ago without a word!" He raised his voice at you for the first time. It scared you a little.
"I don't like going alone. Plus the magazine was asking me to write more pervy stuff instead of just reviews of the films. And I was getting ready for my show all month anyway." You pulled your legs up hugging them. Feeling scared and anxious now.
"Why did you want me there?"
"Because I wanted to impress you." You stared at the floor.
"Impress me?" Now he was really confused. Why would you want to impress him?
"You work late. And you'd never gone to the gallery. You've only seen my sketches. And people always tell me how much they like them and how they want to see more. I was hoping you'd do that. It would've meant something."
It finally clicked for Travis. It was too much. How was he so blind this entire time? When he first met you at the theatre, you stuck out to him. You looked so out of place amongst the usual crowd. He sat next to you and you didn't get up to get away from him like others before you had.
He'd ask what you were doing there with a notebook. And you told him you had a freelance writing job for an adult magazine. Just to review the films from a woman's perspective. He would watch you write, you had really nice handwriting. You also always smelled good. Too good. Like you had a bath just before you got there.
One day he got too excited during a film, he thought the girl on the screen resembled you. He quickly grabbed at your forearm and it calmed him down. You didn't move. You didn't pull away. It made him feel better. Normal.
"You don’t know what you’re saying. Your…you shouldn’t want me." Travis' heart began to race at the realization you had feelings for him this entire time and he was completely oblivious to it all.
"Why? What am I to you? Why do you always touch me?" You felt like you were about to puke.
"Why do you let me touch you?! Do you let any guy do that!?" The thought suddenly made him sick. He really didn't know what you did away from him. You were an artist. You told him you slept late and painted all day or typed out your writing for the magazine. You complained about your manager sometimes, a man. All your roommates are women. Right?
You quickly got up to leave but he then grabbed your arm and pulled you back down so roughly that it hurt your elbow. He started to get close to you, going in for a kiss. You pushed him back. Now he was starting to get mad. You weren't supposed to push him away.
“I don’t want to be your second choice.” You quietly said looking away from him.
His eyes widen at your words. He grabs your jaw to turn your head back towards him.
“No! You're not my second choice! Because you aren’t some...thing for me to pick from…You…your so…”
“What?”
He grabs your head. Studying your face.
“Not real. Why would someone like you be here?”
He’s gripping your head tight and staring at you, intensely, his dark eyes burrowing into your glossy drunk ones. As if he was attempting to read your mind.
It also felt like he’s going to crush your head like nut.
You grabbed his wrist and he loosens his grip, right before he crashes his mouth onto yours. It hurt, his nose hitting yours and his teeth bump your top lip.
You then felt him pushing you back down on his creaky bed as he started pulling your dress off you from the shouldrers. Not slow or careful at all. If you weren’t so drunk you’d be afraid of him ripping it, but right now that didn’t matter.
Your heart began to race. Travis kept kissing you messily and with a ferocious hunger. As if he hadn’t kissed anyone in so long. He was being too rough. But you were enjoying the discomfort because it was from him.
You managed to kick off your boots even though he was still fully clothed. His small and uncomfortable bed creaked loudly with the two of you on it.
Travis then went for your bra, attempting to slide it off of you like your dress. It stopped bellow your now exposed breast, the wiring tight against your ribs. He gave up and just started grabbing you all over roughly.
“Wait.” You managed to breathe out while he continued to ravage your mouth with his. You wanted him to take off his clothes too. Attempting to pull off his jacket.
“No. I can’t." He panted out still kissing at your mouth and face. He was sweating now.
He roughly groped at your breast while also fumbling with his belt. You were about to have sex for the first time. With Travis. Should you tell him it's your first time? No, that would ruin the mood right? You still felt drunk. But you didn't want this to stop. All you could do now was hope you remembered your first time in the morning.
You then felt it. His erection against your thigh, that's what it was right? But before being able to say or see anything Travis shoved himself in. Without any warning or prep, not even taking off your underwear just moving them out of his way.
You gasped throwing your head back, allowing Travis to suck and bite at your neck.
You were wet enough but it was still overwhelming especially it being your first time. Travis buried himself in your neck loudly moaning as he roughly fucked you. It hurt but you loved being so close to him all you could do was wrap your arms around him tight. It all lasted maybe for a few minutes. He then stopped and bit into your neck as he came causing you to scream.
That was fast.
You felt his racing heart through his clothes against your exposed chest. You also felt the huge load he left in you. He heavily panted against you. Catching his breath like he just sprinted.
It was then you thought of how funny you both looked. Your breast exposed while your dress was halfway down against your torso and him fully clothed on top of you.
“You’re bleeding.”
You heard him say as he looked down.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” He panted. Still catching his breath.
“You didn’t let me” You laughed. Drunk off him now. Your whole body feeling sore. Thinking how funny he looked so flustered and worn out after a quickie.
"Don’t laugh at me." He smiled and said before kissing you again. This time gently like a normal person. You felt dizzy. And sleepy. Everything felt good too. Way too good and you finally passed out.
If you write for Travis again could you do one were the reader is more blunt or takes charge in a way especially when Travis and the reader are with other people curious on your take on that
Oh yes I hope to make my reader insert character more patient with him and slightly more “no nonsense” if that makes sense. Letting Travis know how he acts and how it comes off, not really trying to control or change him just have him be more aware of himself as an adult in the world. Because honestly my reader insert character isn’t going to be totally normal themselves, which is why they’re attracted to Travis.
Since Travis is obviously mentally unstable he doesn’t need a partner who will baby him or go along with his self destructive habits or antics. In my opinion, he just really needs someone to help him stay grounded in reality.
Still working on my Travis fic. It's nearly done but I am stuck on the smut part. But I am thinking of writing dead dove Max Cady stuff too so here have some of this:
TW: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT I AM WARNING YOU NOW MINORS DO NOT INTERACT YOU WILL BE BLOCKED. I am writing super dark stuff because that's just my thing and I understand not everyone will be into it. I am not responsible for the media you consume.
Non-con. Older man younger woman (reader is 20 but is mistaken for a teenager at times). Violence. Injury. Creepy stuff duh if you've seen the movie. This is just a blurb I will delete when I write the full fic. I have written a good amount already but like I said, I get stuck so have a free sample:
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“That sure is a lot of blood.”
You didn’t say anything to the man above you. Just kept your head to the side and stared at the dirty car floor and whatever liquid you gagged up.
“Here, lemme clean you up.”
He stuck his fingers inside you. You couldn’t feel anything. You could hear the disgusting squelching noise of him stirring your insides. He chuckled.
“Well, I sure had fun missy, but I really need to get goin'.” He tucked himself back in.
He lifted your legs then and you felt him slide your shorts back on, even buckling your belt back onto you tight. Then he took out your switchblade and cut off the zip tie that held your arms behind you and placing it back into your shorts pocket where he originally took it from you back at the bar.
The sound of the car door opening woke you up but you just kept staring at anything but him. You didn't want to remember this freak. He lifted you up effortlessly like a rag doll and pushed you out onto the side of the road. Causing you to fall flat on your back into the dirt staring up at the night sky. Finally he tossed your boots and rucksack at you before driving away fast.
You laid there in the dirt not moving. Scared that if you did he’d come back. It wasnt too dark. The area was rural enough you could see the stars. All you knew was that you were near some farmers fields. Hearing some crickets chirp.
Your insides started to hurt. Thats when you felt safe to slowly sit up.
Putting your boots back on you shakily got up picking up your rucksack. Both your wrist were raw and bloody, your thighs felt sticky and your butt felt like you sat on something wet. Which is when you realized, he had taken your underwear. You took off your jacket and wrapped it around your waist. Nobody was around to see you, but you just wanted to cover up and disappear.
Without another thought, you began walking the opposite direction of where he drove away. You didn’t know where you were. But as long as you were away from him anywhere was better.
By the time you reached a motel the sun had started to rise.
I don’t know who needs to hear this but there is always a way to turn your fav character into a more disgusting immoral predatory version of themselves <3 never give up
Original message: “hi! i’m so glad i found your blog, you’re doing a great service to us all lmaooo may i request a dating travis hc? could be sfw or nsfw, that’s up to you 😊”
AAAA absolutely! I’m glad you enjoy it ahaha y’all make me love writing aaaa! Ok so I’ll do SFW and NSFW headcannons, but I’ll make them into separate posts so everyone who wants to read can enjoy :) I hope that is okay~
Warnings: Toxic relationships, manipulative behavior from Travis. But in character for who he is.
• Starting off, your relationship with Travis is a bit rocky. Not getting much attention from anyone, as well as being incredibly touch starved has done damage on his ability to reciprocate physical and emotional affection with a partner.
• He will become obsessive, we already have seen this with his past relationships. He will conform his entire personality to suit whatever your needs are. He pretends to be interested in all the same things you are, and it can be a bit creepy. Especially when you know he’s lying just to impress you, or make you like him more.
• You’ll have to try and coax the “real” Travis out of him, telling him he doesn’t have to pretend to be anyone but himself - you love him for him. Whatever… “he” really is underneath that hard exterior.
• Odd dates at odd hours because of his work, and the long hours he puts in as a result of it. Sometimes he’ll ask you to go out for coffee and pie with him at 2AM after he gets out of work. I mean, NYC is the city that never sleeps, there is always something to do. He’ll pick you up, of course. Or just, go for a drive with him as well. He’s a sightseer, so he’s always game for an unplanned trip, especially if it takes the two of you out of the city.
• He’s a bit uncomfortable in public, always asking you to order for him, or to buy the tickets at the movie theatre. He’s got some odd social anxiety issues, but only when it comes to certain activities.
• One of his favorite places to go is the aquarium. There is something so peacefully serene about the ocean creatures and the blue lights surrounding the enclosures that he just. He’s obsessed. He could stand and watch all day if you’d let him.
• Travis will always reach or grab for your hand in public too, messing with your hand and fingers. He’ll often pull each individual digit, counting them over and over again in a barely audible whisper. He has a couple of these little impulses, which sometimes seem bizarre, but you know he does it to calm down.
• You practically never meet up at his apartment, he doesn’t want you to see how he lives. It’s always at an outside place or at your apartment. Which you don’t mind at all. Travis will often sleep over when he’s off work at your place, he always feels safer there anyways. And with you.
• Tends to be a bit of a stalker. He’ll have to know what you are doing, when you are doing it everyday or else he will lose his mind. He is incredibly self conscious and scared you will be hurt, kidnapped, or are sneaking behind his back to see another lover. Travis has horrible paranoia that goes oftentimes unchecked, so you’ll have to reign him in.
• Will be like “I drove by your apartment today, wanted to check in on you. You didn’t answer the door, where were you?” Travis can get set off very easily, even if you explain to him that you just needed to run to the store for a item you forgot for tonight’s dinner. He can be a bit scary, he has a hard time determining what is socially acceptable or appropriate in a relationship.
• Your friends are now Travis’s friends. He needs to know what kind of people you are hanging around, and if they are good for you. He’ll be quite vocal if he thinks you are hanging around with the wrong crowd, trying to get you as far away from them as possible. You cannot fall to the same corruption he’s seen so many others fall to.
• Hold him. He practically is begging to be held and feel your soft touch. He finds the entirety of society to be nothing but filth - nothing but disgusting creatures who prowl the streets at night in search of sex, booze, and drugs. But in your arms, all of that melts away, and for all he cares he could be on a different planet than Earth.
• He doesn’t talk too much when he doesn’t have anything important to say. So there are silent nights where the two of you just go about your activities in front of the Television set, or while the record player plays in the background.
• Travis will always be staring you down, it can kind of be unnerving. He just loves watching your every move, how you carry yourself, your specific mannerism that are just so uniquely you. Travis will commit every single one of these to memory. He might pick up on some of them himself, like copying the way you sit, or certain catchphrases you just can’t seem to shake.
[ ᴍɪɴɪ ᴍᴜsɪɴɢs ] be the worst i ever had ❛ noodles aaronson
fandom: robert de niro / once upon a time in america
featuring: david “noodles” aaronson x fem!reader
rating: nsfw for smut (minors dni) and triggering content including drug use, murder mention, suggested canon-typical violence, choking (mutual) and masturbation (mutual). proceed with caution.
summary: our reader stumbles into an opium den after committing a truly heinous crime, and meets a man with the same rot in his heart that she suffers from.
attention: do not repost my works or claim them as yours. feedback and reblogs are essential to me, so please consider letting me know what you think!
through the haze, you see him.
smoke surrounds you, and you are oh-so willing to choke on it. how long had you been here? hours? days? no, hours. time seemed to stand still in here, as you drift in and out of consciousness, but it had to have been only hours since you’d arrived. glancing down at your hands, you can tell. while blood no longer paints your flesh as it had when you first arrived, there’s dark remnants under your fingernails; you can still smell it, all the blood.
who knew someone could bleed so much?
when you’re conscious, you smoke yourself back to sleep, it’s what this establishment was made for. however, for you, the two worlds intermingle, becoming one, and so when you see him, it’s hard to tell if you’re dreaming.
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