I hope you accidentally wander too close to an abandoned camp today and stumble across a hot masked murder-man with mommy issues who becomes instantly obsessed with you and will protect you and worship you while you stay in his cabin in the woods living out your cottagecore/rustic farmhouse fantasy far away from the death grip of capitalism. 🫶💕🌲🍂🥧
⦅ Asa Emory (The Collector) x Hypermobile Victim!Reader ⦆
⚠︎ NSFW ahead ⚠︎
❦ READ AT YOUR OWN RISK ❦
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TW: abuse, anxiety, assault, bondage, mentions of death, drugs, mentions of gore, mentions of body horror, mentions of kidnapping (collecting), dislocation, explicit scenes, dub-con/non-con elements, generally disturbing content, fawn response to trauma, Asa is his own warning
☙❧☙❧☙❧☙❧☙❧☙❧☙❧☙❧☙❧☙❧☙❧☙❧☙❧☙❧☙❧☙❧☙❧☙❧☙❧☙❧
The Collector is intrigued by your fascinatingly pliant body. He’s quick to come up with several ideas on how to use it with his deranged imagination.

The first time he notices you’re more flexible than the average person is when he’s in the process of collecting you. You struggle, as most of them do, but he pulls your arm out of socket. Feels the grated click of bone against bone as it slips out of place far to easily. It slips back in just as easily, without your face portraying more than a grimace.
He notices again when your on his table in the hotel for the first time. He’s not oblivious to the way your knees allow your legs to straighten just slightly too far. He picks up on the way you anxiously click and roll your ankles.
He’s especially interested when he’s wrapping you up tight in one of his homemade straight jackets, your anxiety getting out of hand during your first examination. You don’t appear as uncomfortable as most people in the jacket. You don’t immediately cry to be let out, or complain it hurts too much to tolerate.
It’s not long before you climb your way through the “ranks” of his collection. He’s pleased to find your pliant nature isn’t just physical.
It’s not long before he’s taking more advantage of your hyper-flexibility. He’s got you bent in half, posed just right for some special Polaroids. Bondage has a whole new meaning with someone who can stand more uncomfortable positions for longer amounts of time.
Sometimes he just finds it satisfying to see how far he can push your physical limits. He’s well aware continuing to strain or dislocate parts of your body can be harmful to you long-term. He actively enjoys the look on your face when you’re suddenly terrified he might snap a tendon when he’s got you in a skillfully contorted position. The fact that you have no power to stop him if he chose to bend you just the slightest bit more and tear you apart from the inside has him rock hard.
All the positions he’s wanted to try, he’s trying on you now. Positions for sex and art. He’s got you tied into a pretzel, pile driving into you so hard your seeing stars. Afterwards, he’s expertly crafting a Shibari masterpiece to accentuate your natural malleability.
He definitely gets off to just putting you in poses. Even if he doesn’t do anything more than stretch you out for an hour, he’s mesmerized. Watching your expressions change, examining how your muscles twitch when they’re stretched just a centimeter too far. Analyzing how you elegantly fold in ways he yearned to replicate in his macabre art pieces on display in the gallery downstairs.
Sedating you for daily tasks becomes a coveted time in which he can move your body around even more, without your general tension whilst awake. The drugs keep you loopy, or knocked out entirely, while he’s manipulating you in and out of clothes, or cleaning you up.
You’re definitely a prize in his collection. And as long as you behave, there will be no need for him to permanently decommission you to the basement with all his other “dogs”.
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a/n: ♥︎ not really proofread, just unorganized thoughts ♥︎
(It might lean fem at times but I’m going to try my best to keep it neutral for everyone!)
I don’t know how many parts there will be so just hold on for the ride. ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎
Tw: stalking, anxiety, paranoia, jason shenanigans
2,311 words below the cut
You had renovated a little house your father had told you about, one you didn't even know existed two years ago. You spent lots of time fixing it up, lots of money, and tireless days doing the work by hand, and still, you weren't done. Thankfully, most of the difficult, labor-intensive parts were handled with the help of a few hired people.
Supposedly, the house lying on the outskirts of a small town in New Jersey had been abandoned for the past 20 years, belonging to some old couple before they moved into another state and left the place to rot when no one wanted to buy the house because of some superstition about the land. It went up on the market after they died and sold for 50,000. It was a concerningly low price that your house-flipping father had taken advantage of.
He hadn't even visited the property in the years he had owned it, let alone told you about it until you mentioned wanting to set up a little getaway spot on the east coast. He had told you the details, and you decided it was exactly what you needed—a new project to focus your energy on. But you were woefully unprepared for the beast of a job you'd just signed yourself up for.
A year and a half was much longer than you had intended to spend fixing this 1000-square-foot cabin cottage, but it was well worth it. It was a beautiful location, nestled right into a vast landscape of dense, private forest with a breathtaking lake view partially in the kitchen and living room windows- a 10-minute walk away. When the sun hit just right in the mornings, it was like a fairytale. A golden bath of warm, welcoming rays wakes you up better than any cup of coffee could ever.
You'd finally gotten in all of the furniture you wanted, having to space out the hauls between a few months at a time. The house was built for one or a singular couple. There was a small porch, redone with fresh wood and a chair set on the front for guilty pleasure moments outside in the late morning or early evenings. Walking into the cabin, you were put immediately into the living room- two chairs positioned apart and pointing toward a smaller flat-screen television tucked away in the corner of the room on a low shelf for your collection of films.
Even with just you living there, the two different chairs were comforting- one more rough, textured, and firm and the other plush and soft, letting you choose depending on what you'd rather sit on to binge a show or movie for the night. To the other side of the room was the entryway to the kitchen, an open-concept attempt at a cozy space. The bedroom was on the other side of the living room wall, housing your queen-sized mattress and more personal furniture and belongings. There was a short hallway leading to the utility closet with the newer models of washers and dryers, which you could get your hands on for less money, and your newly renovated bathroom.
Lots of the house seemed to have gone with age. Things like the kitchen and bathroom floors had to be pulled up and replaced, everything deep cleaned twice over for good measure, and lots of rounds with exterminators and pest control; the first few months paid off in the long run. Admittedly, you felt bad for killing the tiny creatures. They were just trying to find shelter in the large ecosystem at your doorstep.
You'd managed to get a shower and bathtub combo in the more narrow bathroom; glad to have both options when you felt like it. The house already had surprisingly high ceilings, and you didn't mind that the shower head was a bit out of reach because of its design. A little color coordination here and there and most of the cottage was done up in shades of deep, calming, and comforting greens and blues with lighter accenting greys to keep it not so claustrophobic.
Most of your focus went to the outside of the house now. Finished with most of the inside work, you could now turn your detail-oriented self to the withered outside. With some much-needed love and care, you hoped to fix the paint job into a lovely grey blue and pick up some new windows to replace the old and cracked ones you'd been having trouble with.
Really, it should have occurred to you sooner to repair them, but you'd gotten yourself too busy with too many things at once staring out, and you'd put it off for far too long. Last winter had been a nightmare because of those stupid cracked panes, and you were definitely not about to live through that mistake again.
You'd just gotten the garden sorted out. It was something you'd planned for since the beginning, but you had to put a lot of elbow grease into making it work. You had picked up the bulk of the materials last week, including the young plants and seeds you'd needed, along with the mulch and moist dirt.
Now, you were on your knees, elbow-deep in fresh, damp dirt, making shallow holes for the seeds. You sat back, breathing in and sighing out.
It was a lovely day today despite getting a later start than you wanted. The air was crisp and cool, about 60 degrees out today. It was supposed to get chilly the next few weeks and then warm back up before the end of fall. Then came all the rain and possible snow.
You weren't used to the weather of New Jersey yet, but honestly, it was a nice change from California. It didn't really get cold until January, and summers could get pretty hot, but it rained, and the rain was always welcome, in your opinion. It was nice to get snowy Christmases, too. It reminded you of northern Cali, so tree-populated and the air so intensely fresh, that you had to admit it was nice to get away from the city life for a while.
This little adventure had opened your eyes to many things you were missing- yourself included. You'd never spent so much time alone, at least not since childhood. You'd always had friends, roommates, and a busy college life or cityscape to keep you preoccupied. Out here, it was just you, the weekly check-in from your father, the homely woods, the picturesque lake, and... whoever had been living around here watching you.
You'd seen the shape of someone lingering around a few times. At first, you brushed it off. Working hard every day had its downsides, and you thought you were just way too tired to see it properly. It was probably just a deer or something, you convinced yourself.
But after the first month, you couldn't ignore it anymore—the feeling of eyes on you when you walked past some windows, the other presence as you walked through some of the nearby woods. It was always quiet, though, and truthfully, you'd never seen whoever it was close enough to convince yourself fully.
When you'd mentioned it to your father about six months into living here, he'd told you that you must have been paranoid. There was no way anyone lived that far away from the tight-knit town, which was 30 minutes away. The whole forest, including the old camp he had never mentioned before, had been abandoned for years.
You took it upon yourself the next day to walk to Camp Crystal Lake. It took a while, and again, you felt eyes scanning you, searching you for something, or maybe just dissecting you under its gaze. You tried to shake it off, but it didn't help to ignore it. You often scanned through the trees to find the owner of the eyes, but each time, you found nothing. You began to worry that maybe the isolation had been affecting you differently than you thought. Perhaps you had been paranoid over nothing. Maybe you'd been alone out here too long.
You didn't spend long at the neglected campsite. Honestly, it felt wrong to be trespassing in the first place, especially when you had no reason to be there besides foolish curiosity. Many of the cabins looked incredibly run down, the wood rotting and falling away and the forest taking over much of the paths and steps of the place. You had your fill of satisfied curiosity after just an hour of poking around, finding strange things you didn't expect. Notably, some belongings that were from probable teenagers who'd visited. It wasn't surprising to think kids would dare each other to spend the night since it looked so creepy in the first place.
You should've gone straight home, but you felt drawn to the lake. Admittedly, you hadn't visited as much as you wanted. You went down to the pier of the lake, walking out to the far end and taking in the clearer view of the lake against the beginnings of a sunset. It was beautiful, and you almost thought about watching the sun go down but decided against it when you realized you had no light to try to walk back to the house. That and the idea of walking through those woods with those unwavering eyes still on you the entire way made a chill go up your spine.
You got home soon after that, just before dark, yet even in your own house, it was hard to shake the feeling of being watched. Not just by windows anymore, all the time... The second you stepped outside, the eyes followed your every move. It made it hard to live normally until winter came. The feeling of being observed 24/7 stopped completely for the few weeks it got into the tens and twenties, which was an even more unsettling thought.
Maybe it had been a real person, and it was just too cold for them to linger and creep on you. You hadn't forgotten about the campsite or the eyes that stuck to you for a while afterward. But it still made it unsettling when the feeling started up again in early spring.
Part of you was weirded out that you never felt entirely alone, but as the weeks went on, it was almost more of a... comfort. Whatever it was- whoever it was had never harmed you, and the stare it gave off didn't feel dangerous. It almost felt curious, maybe protective? Something out there in the woods was watching you, yes, but it was also watching over you.
You'd had the odd few occasions of falling asleep in random places and waking up in entirely different places. It only happened twice, and you were careful that it wouldn't happen again. You’d been dreadfully tired that particular week, and the physical labor of building a deck by hand had taken its toll on you. You'd fallen asleep outside on the halfway constructed porch drinking tea the first time, trying to keep yourself awake long enough not to mess up your sleep schedule. It didn’t work. You later awoke in your living room, a thin blanket pulled over your legs.
It freaked you out at first—the idea that someone had moved you and been inside your house. But after a thorough, slightly panicked search through the cottage and realizing no one was around and nothing was touched besides, well, you—and your now cold cup of tea—you calmed down. You mulled over it for the rest of the week, not understanding why whoever it was had decided to take care of you like that.
The second time wasn't as much of an accident; you'd fallen asleep outside again a little more intentionally than before. You simply tested if it were to happen again. It did. You woke up again on the chair with a blanket, the same as before, but this time, you were noticeably less clean than when you’d fallen asleep.
Whoever it was left fingerprints of dirt on your waist and thighs where they had picked you up and carried you. Most of your clothing on one side was significantly grime-coated, and that was enough to make you decide not to try it again.
You wiped your brow with the back of your arm and finished up planting all of the seeds you wanted. You were saving some to plant next spring in case these didn't make it through the winter, just to be safe. You got to your feet, wiping your hands down your dirt-covered jeans and huffed, stretching out your sore back. As you did, a twig snapped, and you froze in place, wondering whether or not to turn around toward the tree line behind you.
In normal circumstances, you would have checked immediately, figuring it might have been an animal. But you felt those eyes on you, those same eyes that had followed your every move for the last year and a half. Your paranoia got the better of you now, and the idea of seeing whoever had been watching you this entire time made your stomach turn to mush.
Your eagerness got the better of you, and you turned around despite the loud thumping in your chest. There was nothing at first as you searched through the closest trees. A figure quickly moved to the side at the edge of your vision- a very large figure. You gulped, scanning the tree line and focusing on a thick tree trunk hiding the person well. Whoever they were, they were most definitely right there, and to your knowledge, this was the closest encounter you'd had with them while awake.
You tried to think of something to say, pondering if you should have said anything at all in this tense moment.
Having ADHD/OCD combo with violent/gross intrusive thoughts really got my brain working over time on shit I don’t like thinking about.
Writing about it has been a way to cope with it, but then I feel bad putting it down on metaphorical paper. Like if I write about it then I like it, or I support it happening, or am interested in it as a fantasy. Which isn’t really true.
I’d like to share that kind of stuff on here, but I’m so nervous of how it’ll be received because it’s violent and often just a reflection of my unprocessed feelings about thoughts I don’t want to have.
Slashers seeing their s/o in a self-made p☆rn (Pt.1)
Characters include:
Jason Voorhees, Thomas Hewitt, Michael Myers,
———————————————————————————
✨im back✨
this is not edited whatsoever
TW: NSFW, descriptions of sexual acts, masturbation, voyeurism, Micheal being Micheal
Jason Voorhees:
Oh boy
His view on sex is so skewed from his childhood, finding out you recorded a video of yourself in any way sexual has him so deeply confused
Honestly, he probably found it on your phone searching for something completely innocent in your camera roll
You only made the one video (he looked for others)
He takes your phone into the woods and privately watches the entire video
He's wounded at first - why would you do something like this? You seemed so innocent, nothing like the type of person he pictured would make this content
He starts to blush when your body straddles a pillow within frame of your poorly propped up phone
The sounds you make while humping the pillow has his free hand clenching tight at his side
He's careful with the volume, holding the phone close to his ear to listen to your whimpers then pulling the device down and rewinding so he can watch the video with the noises still fresh in his mind
Poor guy is so hard by the time the video is done
It would be wrong to touch himself to a dirty video of you, so he resists the heat between his legs and returns your phone, trying his best to play it cool like he didn't just watch you hump a pillow until you orgasmed
He won't mention it at all
Sometimes, he might make up an excuse to borrow your phone to watch it every now and then
Thomas Hewitt:
Similarly to Jason, his view on sex is skewed from childhood
He was taught that sex should be private and sacred and only after marriage
But masturbation? He's more confused about where that stands
Again, he would probably stumble across the video by accident
You left your phone open on your bed while you went to take a shower and he got curious
As soon as he realizes what the video is, he's hurrying to the basement as quick but non-suspiciously as possible
He locks the basement door- not that anyone, yourself included, goes down here often. It's just in case...
He sits down in a creaky wooden chair and pulls out your phone
Still unlocked, he finds the video again
He's exhilarated and oh so nervous as he watches your legs spread and your hands wander
He gets so hard at the sight of you so open and relaxed, touching yourself
Your first loud moan startles him, rushing to turn down the volume only he could hear
He knows it's wrong to touch himself to a video of you, but- oh god- you make it so difficult for him
He can't help it. He caves three minutes and seventeen seconds in when your legs shake and you make a sound that sends him over the edge
By the time he's finished, he's committed the entire video to memory from how much he has rewatched it to be able to finish in his own hand
He will return your phone to the spot on the bed he found it before your shower is done
He finds out your passcode later by looking over your shoulder, filing the information away so he can watch the video anytime he gets the opportunity
Michael Myers:
This guy steals your phone on the regular
It goes missing for days at a time, and you know it's him who takes it, though you can never get him to own up to it (or find where he hides it)
When he's snooping through your phone, he comes across a certain video of you getting intimate with a toy
He watches the entire thing (on repeat)
He doesn't care if your right in front of him, or sitting beside him, or out of the house- he's watching the entire thing shamelessly
Head tilts at the sounds you make
He turns the volume to max so he can hear every hitched breath and soft noise you make
He goes through your stuff, finding that particular toy (if you still have it) or something similar to it
He will bend you over into the same position as the video and use what he found to fuck you until your a mess with the video playing in front of you
Call it his way of getting back at you for using the toy and not him ;p
