"Fear suits you a lot better than that act you were playing before."
Summary: He noticed it. The boredom. The numbness in your face lately. No matter what he threatened you with, nothing seemed to instigate a reaction from you—a genuine one. Until he found something a bit more.. unexpected.
Content warning! Potentially sexual content, just a but a kissing honestly (lol), mentions of abuse, plus gun play. Viewer discretion advised.
For months, he's had you trapped in this shit hole he called home.
Forcing you to live unwillingly, inside crumbling drywall, and blood splattered floors and boring monologues. All because you made the mistake of ever entering—for every wandering in. So now? No matter what you tried, nothing worked in your favour.
Ever fucking window in the house never budged, and doors never cracked even if the latch was unlocked.
You were completely and utterly fucked.
But now? At this point in time you felt nothing.
You'd been living in this house for maybe three months now, and despite what you'd seen, and expected. This guy was nothing more than a broken record to you. You meorized him like a script in a play.
Knew just what to say to distract him. To shift his focus to avoid getting beat too hard or from him manipulating you some other way.
If he was pissed with you? Ask about the Northstar, or his goals, his plans, his damn weapons even.
Try to leave, but he catches you? Talk yourself out of it. Fight just enough until you "give in" and apologize. Make it genuine even with a blade to your throat, sob a little too for bonus points.
Want something? Food, privilege. Any of it. Just find him something he wants. Reese's, or some information.. some bullshit off the internet. What's he gonna do? Check the internet? The guy is a complete boomer for technology.
Until the moment he tries—which isn't in this iteration or your lifetime. You can get away with it.
Whatever—the fact was that you knew the game and played it well...or that's at least what you originally thought.
At some point, something started to click for him. Not quick—just moments.
Like how your fear never reached your eyes each time he threatened to kill you. How you gave in too quickly.
To him? A man who'd been killing an tourting people for fucking ever, it didnt make sense. What was the point of trying to escape if you were going to apologize so.. quick. Even when he held a blade to your throat. Nothing.
None of it was adding up.
He thought about it.. God, he really did. Planned, tested, and studied you. Before he finally realized he had become what he hated the most. Expected.
Repetive.
God—you were so much smarter than he gave you credit for. You played him. He used his own game against him, and he never realized. Sure—maybe he should treat you, should praise you.
But, you were too good with that.
So in that same week, he left the house, just for a couple hours to get something new, different. Threatening. Something he never bothered with before. Because to him, he much perfered a sharp blade then some bulky cold steel. But as long as it proved a point, that's all that mattered.
So when he finally came home with his new...toy, hidden away out of view in the back pocket of his jeans. He just had to wait for you to take his bait. Wait for you to notice the door he left cracked open so he could catch you.
Because instead of you being in control.
It was going to be him.
And, just as expected—like bloody clockwork, he heard you. Your footsteps creak down the steps and into the living room, wandering around.. before stopping. Seeing what he'd left for you.
Sure, you weren't stupid. He knew that. But everyone gets desperate and evenually and not even you could pass up such an opportunity.
And he was right. He watched. Waited, and listened to you step closer, close enought to reach and nudge the door further. Before, he stepped out. Appearing just out from the side and in front of you, already smirking.
"Really, (name)?" He clicked his tongue. Shaking his head in disapproval as his own arms crossed in front of his chest. "I thought you were done with this." He contuined as he he stepped in through the now open doorway, forcing you to step back. Your body stiff, eyes panicked.
But he knew it was all fake.
"Habit- hey, i-..uhm.. I was just going to close the door..that's all,"
But he only stepped in further, forcing you to sink deeper into the house before he reached and closed the door with a heavy thump. "Mhm? Really?" He questioned, "You sure? Cause for someone so good at lying, you're not exactly meeting your mark for 'convincing'.."
In an instant. He saw it
The flicker in your eyes. The look of 'oh crap' written all over your face. It was almost humorous. But it wasnt as delicious as was the way you froze—caught off guard by his statment. Struggling pathetically to find the words to say.
But he didn't plan on waiting for a response. No. Instead, he raised his leg to kick you down onto the ground. Harshly right in your stomach which tore a sharp gasp fighting past your lips. Before your body started to scrambling to sit up.
"What are you even talking about??" You shook questioning him, but he didn't answer, just came closer. Erasing the distance between you both.
His body crawling over yours until his face hovered inches above yours. The heat of his breath heavy agasint your face, which only made you sink further away from him. Your elbows digging, nearly pinching between the uneven wooden floor pannels on either side of your waist.
Your leg bunching up to press a knee to his hip.
"Don't play stupid," He smirked, his eyes glaring down at you. "This thing you're doing is all an act,"
Then he paused. Letting the silence just..sit.
"But I know why, I've been too easy. You're not stupid like the others, no- that's why I need you." He muttered.
"But if you that head of yours is ever going to be useful to me, I need to be scared."
You brows pinched, confused onto what he was getting at. Listening to the rustling of denim before you finally heard it.
The metallic click as something cold, steel, pressed under your chin. Your head forced to tilt up at him. Terrified. He could tell. The difference was night and day. The way your body got all tense, and your breath became still.
Perfect.
“...W-what is that?”
But of course, he doesn’t answer. He just watched you instead. Watched the realization creep in for a couple of moments.
“Oh,” He hums, almost soft, “this little thing?"
His thumb shifts slightly against the metal in his hand—not enough to explain it or confirm anything. Just enough to let your imagination do the work.
"Use your head, sweetheart," He teases almost..fondly, as your head tilted farther back from the cold pressure of the pistol under your chin.
Your own breath shifting as if scared that breathing too loudly—to heavily would result in a pulled trigger.
“Go on,” He whispers, just a hairsbreath in front of your lips. “guess—tell me what it is,"
But as he spoke, the deafening sound of him cocking the gun forced you silent. Leaving you to only to guess whether he'd even pull the trigger. Or if he even had any bullets in the chamber at all.
"A..gun.." You muttered, shaking, your eyes purply focused on him.
"Mhm..thats right,"
And in that moment, as your breaths mingled between the fearful thumping in your ears, his mouth crashed into yours.
Not gently. But like there’s something sharper under it—something satisfied. Like he finally found the right switch to flip.
His free hand griping your jaw, holding you in place as he kissed you deeper, rougher.
"H-hey- hey, whoa- what are you doing??" You struggled fighting against his lips. Your words muffled.
THERE ARE A LOT OF PERVERTS IN THE EMH FANDOM, IM STARTING TO LEARN. AND A LOT OF THEM HAVE DADDY KINKS. WHATS UP WITH THAT? AND PRIMAL PLAY. BUT THATS JUST SLENDERVERSE AND CREEPYPASTA IN GENERAL. I MEAN, HEY, I LIVE FOR IT! IF YOU WANNA GET CHASED IN THE WOODS AND BRED WHEN YOURE CAUGHT, WHY THE FUCK NOT? HAHAHAHAHHA
