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twisted-fiction-press · 4 months

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No Escape: A Mac (Red Canyon) Fan Fic

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Disclaimer: I only own Emily.

Warning: Rated Mature, for Abuse and Adult Content

Feedback: A little constructive feedback would be nice.

Setting: Before Red Canyon and the Death of Mac

Prologue

There was so much blood. How could there be so much blood? And more, how was she still alive? The last question rang in her head, synchronized with her heartbeat and the ringing that refused to cease. Her head lolled to one side as she stared into the darkness and fought to clear her vision. As her eyes shifted lazily with the slowness of someone who had over-imbibed and how fought to keep their stomach contents, the blurry vision worsened. All knowledge of time and the moments leading up to her possible death, had failed to register. The blood crusted on her clothing, ran off of her flesh and soaked into the fabric beneath her. No mortal person should bleed this much and still survive. Over several portions of her small frame, there were bruises, cuts, and fractures. They screamed at her as she tried to move and pain shot through her ribs as she attempted to inhale. This man was the devil. Not even she could create a character so cruel or evil. He was a sadist and a rapist and he took the utmost pleasure in hurting her. The sound of her screams had to be music to his ears because he loved to cause her pain.

The horrors that had befallen her, could not be described by even the best writers. Even the great Poe would shudder to hear the events of her last few moments, whispered to his grave. This was supposed to be her vacation, her chance to get away from the chaotic orchestra of the city. But everything had gone horribly wrong. She should never have come to this place. There was no peace out here and no hope of ever leaving. She knew that now, but now that she thought about it, she knew it before she ever ended up in the cold darkness. It had drifted softly over her like a blanket of snow, the hopeless feeling, it was subtle at first and now that she was here, it smacked her hard like a baseball bat to the back of her skull. Another thing became evident to her (as she lay in the dark, fighting to stay awake) she should have left when she encountered him. All of that had passed now, there was no going back and undoing anything. Those moments crawled through her memory, tantalizingly slow, as if to mock her. They laughed at her in the darkness, indulging in her pain and breathing in her misery. What cruel gods had decided this would be her fate?

Emily felt her stomach lurch as her body throbbed with never-ending pain and every beat of her heart pumped more blood from her open wounds. It was impossible (at this point) to tell what hurt worse, her body as a whole, or her lower regions where he had violated her over and over again. The pain there spread from her most delicate folds up into her lower womb. She was sure there was blood still trickling there from when he took her without her wanting. That assault had left her with barely anything to cover her lower regions and protect them from any further pain. Her jeans hung around her legs in a tattered, bloody mess and her white cotton panties were long ripped from her body. How many times had he done that to her? Emily was sure she had blacked out at least once from the pain and trauma. If there was a god in the heavens, he had thrown a blind eye to Caineville and the demons that inhabited its lands. As she thought about it, the memory of his hot breath in her ear and the feeling of him pounding into her, hard enough to make her hit her head on the stone wall, came flooding back to her. Little bits and pieces of memory came back to her in fragments. The feel of him, his rough hands on her delicate flesh, his panting as he tore her most feminine parts and the sickening things he said. She shuddered in pain and disgust before she fought to push the memories away.

Emily knew now that she had to get out of this cave and out of Caineville. There would be no one coming to rescue her because no one knew she was here. The only people that even knew about this place, were the locals and they would most likely deny that she had ever been here. Everyone in this area seemed just as twisted and evil. From the young sheriff, to the Mexican bartender at the Luna Mesa, they would cover for him, she was sure of it. The moment she walked into that little shack, she knew there was something wrong with them. To be honest, the moment she had crossed into this place, she could feel her body jolt with fear, it had been trying to tell her something. And now she would pay for not listening to it. No, no one would be looking for her because as far as her publisher knew, she was sitting at a desk in her rental house, working on her next book. Or relaxing in a lawn chair on some large deck. How she wished that was the truth. Unfortunately, the truth was much dirtier and uglier than that. It had a face and a name, it had unruly hands that touched hard and it had a sexual appetite that refused to be sated.

When she had first come here, Emily had not been a survivor or a fighter. At this very moment, she knew that if she did not mold into one, she would not make it out of this place alive. Even though she was weak with blood loss, sick with pain and terrified of him, she knew that she had to get out of here one way or another. If she had to kill him to do so, she needed to take the opportunity when it came her way. To get out of here alive, she could not hesitate. Not even if it meant she would have to kill one of the other two. Right now she was screaming at herself mentally to get up off the dirty mattress and make it out of the cave, before he returned. He would return, that much was absolute. When he would return was the question. However, she did not care just so long as she was long gone when he did. There it was, the thought of him, it brought the memories back. Emily could still smell him on her clothes, even over the powerful smell of chemicals and the sweet smell of something else that permeated the cave. That was it, the last memory motivated her to try and move again.

With weak, trembling muscles, she managed to roll to one side on the blood crusted mattress. It groaned with the sound of springs that were long past their expiration date. The motion of her movement caused more pain to shoot through her body, making her open wounds throb and her lungs jolt. This position put more pressure on them and made breathing even harder than it had before. She knew they had to be fractured from the many steel-toed boot kicks they had received when she was 'disobedient'. Or just because he felt that she needed a reminder of just who she was dealing with. Either way, they were fractured. The movement also caused her vision to blur again and she fought to keep from vomiting. Emily could taste blood in her mouth, which did not surprise her or help her nausea any and it mixed with the bit of bile that had escaped from her stomach and throat. If she knew it would not land on her shoulder, she might have to spit it out but she feared that the sight of it would make her finally lose control of her stomach. In the hope that it would relax her gag muscles, she inhaled slowly through her nose, meaning to exhale through her mouth but she caught the full scent of the chemicals around her and that was it. Emily barely managed to pull her head over the edge of the bed, before blood and bile came rushing out of her mouth on to the mud beside her.

It was a few minutes before the puking stopped and she could breathe again. Emily spit as much of the taste from her mouth as she could before she rolled onto her back again and just lay there. The motion of her diaphragm tightening and her body shuddering as she vomited, caused more pain. She felt her skin flush hot and then cold before her body finally settled back to just throbbing with pain. For a moment her vision blurred again but she closed her eyes tight and forced it to clear. When it did, she pushed herself up with what little strength she had left. Even though she had an idea of how badly injured she was, she still wanted to inspect some of her wounds. So, with shaky hands, she brought her fingers lightly to her lips and touched the broken, chapped, bruised skin that was her bottom lip. Even the light pressure of her fingers on her it made her wince with pain. Then she began to touch the rest of her face, finding nearly all of it to be bruised and tender. On one side of her face, she felt a long crusted trail of dried blood, which trailed all the way up to the side of her head. That was where she had said 'No' to him and he retaliated with a swift smack of his fist. The arm that was supporting her weight, was starting to shake and threatening to collapse. She was so weak that without both limbs for support, she could not even sit upright.

Emily glanced down at her bloody, shredded jeans and finally understood why she was so weak. Now she knew why there was so much blood on the mattress and why the sand around it had turned to mud. On her left thigh was a large gash that was still bleeding, rather profusely. There was nothing in this cave, clean enough for her to tie it off and partially stop the bleeding. She would have to get out of this place and get help or she would probably bleed to death. That gash had to be where he had nicked her with the hunting knife, when he was making mincemeat of her clothes. He was in such a hurry to satisfy himself, that he probably did not realize or care that he had cut here so deep. Without warning, her left arm finally gave out under the pressure of holding her up and she landed hard on the mattress, shooting more pain through her like a bolt of electricity. A single tear slipped down her cheek and dropped onto the mattress beneath her. Every bit of her hurt and her body was so weak from blood loss, she was sure she could not make it out of this cave. She was certain that he would return before she even managed to get to her feet. But she knew that she had no choice. No matter how weak she was or how much blood she had lost, and no matter how hopeless she felt, she had to get up, she had to get out.

With everything she had, she pushed herself back up into a seated position and tried to scoot to the edge of the mattress. This movement caused the large gash in her leg to stretch and soak the denim fabric, hanging off her legs, with more blood. For a moment, her body swayed, her vision blurred and her body threatened to slide back into unconsciousness. The pain in her leg felt as if someone was digging fish hooks into it, trying to rip the muscles from it. Emily gritted her teeth and hissed in pain, fighting against what her body wanted. As quick as her anatomy would allow, she put both hands on the cold cave floor before pulling her knees behind her. In this position, she was vulnerable to attack, but without it, she would have no chance to get to her feet. It also caused more pressure on the already broken parts of her, but if she gave into her agony and her weakness, she would forever be his toy. At least until he decided he was done with her.

Emily felt pain shoot down through her leg as she attempted to stand. Her entire body shook in protest, her muscles were weak with exhaustion and blood loss, so she fell hard onto the cave floor. A yelp escaped her lips as she connected with the cold, stone ground. As she lay there, trying to convince herself to get up, she felt the overwhelming urge to just give in, overtaking her like a strong wave. She was so tired and she hurt so much, maybe if she just let him do whatever he wanted, maybe he would not hurt her. Emily was lying to herself now, in a pathetic attempt to find comfort in the fires of hell. But she knew that no matter what she did, he would hurt her because he indulged in her torture. She knew she would not be blessed with death, not unless he was the one to kill her and that he would return and then...she shuddered. That was not a feeling she wished to relive, but the thought of it was enough to motivate her. The fragments of memory still piercing her mind were enough to force her to find strength, hidden in some part of her and to push her body to obey her.

The bits and pieces of her memory kept flashing in and out of her mind, like bolts of lightning. When she had tried to escape his grasp and he lost his temper and backhanded her across the face. Then when she had kicked him in the groin as he was pulling her from the bed of the truck and he drug her out of it before he threw her on the Utah dirt and kicked her in the ribs several times. Even now she could feel his dirty, steel toed, work boot, slam into her delicate flesh, bruising her skin and fracturing her ribs. Finally, when he had gotten her into the cave and dropped her onto the mattress and the all too vivid events of her rape. How he had slashed at her jeans and ripped at her panties. That feeling of him forcefully penetrating her over and over again as her delicate folds tore from the force. She could still hear herself screaming in pain and feel him arouse even more to the sound of her agony.

As she remembered everything and at the same time, realized that she was too weak to walk, she came to one conclusion. She would do whatever she had to, to get out of this cave. If her body would not cooperate, if it would not obey and allow her to walk, then she would crawl or drag herself out of this hell. Emily turned her body slightly sideways to keep her open wound from touching the ground, even though it caused her lungs to scream in protest and it made it harder to breathe. She pushed the physical sensations from her consciousness so she would not give up halfway through because of the sheer pain she knew this would cause her. Emily dug her nails into the sand coated, rock floor of the cave and began to drag herself along the floor by her already weak and nearly useless arms. Bits of dirt and small pebbles nudged up under her nails, turning them dark brown as she went. Where ever she clawed at the floor, she left little indentations and her wounds leaving a trail of blood as she moved toward her salvation. The small jagged rocks that littered the ground, tore at her body as she pulled herself along. But at this point, they were nothing compared to the rest of her injuries.

For ten agonizing minutes, she grunted, pulled and prayed she would make it out. Then she saw it, a small dot of light in the distance and she knew that it was her escape. She could feel hope creeping into her heart and her body kicked with adrenaline and excitement. That bit of adrenaline was what she would need to keep going. There might be a chance for her to make it out of this alive. Upon seeing the exit, she now realized that she had begun to drag herself along at a bit more aggressive pace. Emily was going to make it, she was going to get out and get help. Then she would be back to take out the monster that had done this to her so that he could no longer do this to anyone. But her hope and excitement was quickly extinguished, as if it had been the glow of a cigarette cherry and someone had stomped it out. Just when she was about to leave the cave, a familiar silhouette passed into the sunlight that was lighting her way. She stopped moving when she realized that the light was partially blocked out. Even before Emily looked up and saw him, she had felt her body spike with fear. She swallowed hard before she finally, slowly looked up at the figure that was almost standing over her. In desperation, even though she knew he was without mercy, she begged and pleaded with him.

"Please...no...please..."

Her voice was barely audible. Every syllable of her words caused her breath to shorten and her body to recoil with fear. Emily knew all too well that he would not spare her, that the punishment for escape, this time might actually kill her. If it would, she would welcome the sweet kiss of death. In its embrace, she knew that she would find comfort and peace. There would be no more pain in death. But it was more likely, that he would spare her and make her beg him to kill her. A man with his degree of masochism, would not let her have the relief of passing on. No, he would keep her from death, just a few minutes away from death and bring her back so that he could do it all over again.

The silhouette in the doorway, did finally answer her. But of course, it was not with words. All she received as a reply, was the blunt pain of a steel-toed boot as it connected with her good temple. For a moment her vision wavered and was colored with black and white spots. The world became one large blur of nothing. Emily reached out desperately for anything, her hand stretching weakly toward the blurring, fading blue Utah sky, as if she was begging whatever got was there, to spare her this torment. From god, there was no answer. Then everything faded to black. Even in her unconscious mind, she knew that if she did regain consciousness, and she knew that she would never leave this place because he would make sure of that.

#Mac #red canyon #fanfic #normanreedus #mature #fan fiction

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inknopewetrust · 7 days

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 [𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮] [𝒔𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒌 𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒌]

summary: the colors of life change with time, but the music that narrates it lives on forever in one, standstill moment of the 1990s where success and passion came tumbling down. Years later, the story is declassified.

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings: minors dni (18+), this is based off of fleetwood mac/daisy jones and the six so imagine mid-80s and 90s rock scene, language, lil bit a spice, a whole lotta angst, enemies to lovers to enemies to…

In a world where words meant so much, it was difficult to find them at a time where they were needed.

The cool wire weaved against your skin. Its path crawling like a snake of retrospection from the bottom of your chair to your chest. There was a pebble of sweat threatening to spill from the top of your hairline in the hot California sun which made you think:

"Why the fuck did I ever move out of Indiana?"

But if you closed your eyes, you could recall why. A sickening, thunderous roar of the crowd–you could still hear it now. Somewhere, thumping in the back of your mind as their chants filled a space that breathed a new life within you as the another was dying.

An echo chamber of the taste of metal against lips; the white knuckle grip that still threatened to slip from your grasp.

The woman who sat across from you had a plastic smile on her lips. For her, it was nothing more than a job. An exploitive adventure where you'd be sticking headlines and messages across platforms for weeks to come because of this tell-all documentary.

"When did you know?"

Against cynicism the inevitable hardness of the culture you had immersed yourself in at one time had risen again and the attitude that rose promised a truthful reflection of your experience.

On the floor beside the mics battery pack, a half smoked carton of cigarettes met a glazed palm and the woman watched as a perfectly rolled stick land between two mauve lips. As the flame sparked, your eyes darted to hers.

"Know what?" you muttered between the smoke.

“When it was finally over?”

You could feel the breath being sucked out of your soul. The shudder radiating like a shutter letting rain inside of the home in the canyon; kissing the very center of a heartbeat that stopped at the sight of a pair of eyes, shoes peaking through a doorway.

The cigarette burned between your fingers. Ticking away like a bomb with scorching red embers fighting its casing.

“The Album was the best and worst thing to ever happen to any of us… that sounds ridiculous,” you scoffed, shaking your head and the woman quirked her head.

“It sounds ridiculous that something so magical, something so brilliant, can make those who built it feel small. It put us in a fishbowl and it took every last drop from our cup before it dried up and cracked under the heat… that's when I knew it was over."

She shifted in her seat, readjusting the papers to organize her thoughts. You imagined there was no sounder way of stating it. It was the truth, frank, and to the point but something the rest of them negated to realize or speak into words.

But she shook her head. “Yes, the band… but what of the relationships?”

“None of us had known about Steve and Nancy, Robin and Vickie had barely interacted until their writing began and by the end… well you can read plenty of articles about the end of it all.”

You drew from the cigarette again. Smoke filling the air around you like a mist; the woman kept digging.

“And Eddie and yourself?”

“Well…”

That heart-skipping beat never left. Laurel Canyon was so far away, the studio was a memory, and the stage was a phantom piece of your imagination yet the simple mention of a name so far removed was enough to make time stand still.

Somewhere, a young woman frozen and left wondering the "what if" of a life not shrouded by fanatics and the thrumming of a guitar. Somewhere, lost in the violence of a summer and the shattered glass of a heart left on a stoop, that girl remained inside.

“It was always complicated.”

“So,” she shrugged at you as if the conversation was nothing more than such. It wasn’t as though she was here to get all the details of every part of a life that had already played out in public if people had only been paying attention.

It wasn’t as though she was cracking open a mountain full of jeweled memories that had crystalized themselves in the past.

“When did it all go wrong?”

Feeling the sting of the camera focus on your face, there were two responses to this question that many had already answered before you:

"When did it all go wrong?" You lamented to yourself.

When did you know it was over? When did it all go wrong?

The woman's eyes glistened in excitement. Her story was unraveling before her. You took a drag again.

Fuck. You thought to yourself.

And the film began to play.

A/n: I'm excited to get back in the writing game - especially with Eddie. Let me know your early thoughts! Yay, nay, slay?

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x fem #eddie munson x female reader #reader x eddie munson #eddie munson x #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #x reader #fanfic #x female reader #joseph quinn #eddie x reader #eddie x you

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thesecretsofthedivine · 6 months

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Zodiac Playlist 🌠

Aries

mars - sleeping at last

ride - lana del rey

bathroom - montell fish

fun - troye sivan

fireball - pitbull

stayin' alive - bee gees

god save our young blood - børns

anti-hero - taylor swift

talk that talk - rihanna

clumsy - fergie

Taurus

venus - sleeping at last

breakfast at tiffany's - henry mancini

chanel - frank ocean

kiss it off me - cigarettes after sex

snooze - SZA

want u around - omar apollo

habit - still woozy

peach - kevin abstract

nonsense - sabrina carpenter

talk - hozier

Gemini

mercury - sleeping at last

pov - ariana grande

mood ring baby - field medic

glittr - aldn

running wild - g eazy

island in the sun - weezer

japanese posters - rebounder

master of none - beach house

faerie soirée - melanie martinez

ways to go - grouplove

Cancer

moon - sleeping at last

where did the time go - lord huron

ho hey - the lumineers

my love mine all mine - mitski

idle town - conan gray

k. - cigarettes after sex

italo disco - last dinosaurs

glue song - beabadoobee

sea of love - cat power

fourth of july - sufjan stevens

Leo

sun - sleeping at last

dancing queen - abba

let me blow ya mind - eve, gwen stefani

money - cardi b

literal legend - ayesha erotica

kitty kat - megan thee stallion

carmen - lana del rey

my kind of woman - mac demarco

amber - 311

chemtrails over the country club - lana del rey

Virgo

mercury - sleeping at last

tell me something i don't know - selena gomez

the boat i row - tame impala

girl next door - copperpot

crying in the chapel - elvis presley

iwillbreatheintoyou - bones

down to earth - umi

bambi - clairo

virgo's groove - beyoncé

are you satisfied - marina

Libra

venus - sleeping at last

sweet talk - saint motel

lover - taylor swift

in my head - ariana grande

pink funeral - beach house

fashion - britney manson

normal girl - sza

sit still, look pretty - daya

comfort crowd - conan gray

we fell in love in october - girl in red

Scorpio

mars/pluto - sleeping at last

private - russ

dirty paws - of monsters and men

borderline - tame impala

dead to me - kali uchis

not dead yet - lord huron

i can't handle change - roar

animal - sir chloe

vigilante shit - taylor swift

death - melanie martinez

Sagittarius

jupiter - sleeping at last

here, there and everywhere - the beatles

canyon moon - harry styles

can't sleep - k. flay

sunset chaser - ragamuffs

only if - steve lacy

the balancer's eye - lord huron

youth - troye sivan

cherry bomb - the runaways

bloom later - jesse

Capricorn

saturn - sleeping at last

living on my own - freddie mercury

princess diana - ice spice

high stakes - bryson tiller

therefore i am - billie eilish

successful - ariana grande

i wouldn't ask you - clairo

radio - lana del rey

vienna - billy joel

mastermind - taylor swift

Aquarius

uranus/saturn - sleeping at last

you don't own me - saygrace

better friends - between friends

night fever - bee gees

mortal projections - djo

transparent soul - willow

she moves in her own way - the kooks

dare - gorillaz

hits different - taylor swift

arabella - arctic monkeys

Pisces

jupiter/neptune - sleeping at last

love my way - the psychedelic furs

technicolor beat - oh wonder

made for love - concorde

ivy - frank ocean

my song - labi siffre

ultimately - khai dreams

bella luna - babe rainbow

ride - wave to earth

fishtail - lana del rey

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darylsgarden · 10 months

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Imagine Daryl making you ride his thigh. It all begins with you give him sweet little kisses and in no time he has pulled you over him, you legs straddling his thigh and he keeps deepens the kiss. His hands grip your hips and he pushes you down into his thigh until your cunt is harshly rubbing against his jeans. He rocks you back and forth until your clit is tugging against his rough denims making you moan in pleasure. You yourself start to move against his thigh faster and faster, creating even more friction at your clit.

"Damn girl, my pants are fuckin soaked" he said, eyeing the huge wet spot that you created.

"Such a filthy little slut riding mah thigh like that"

His disgusting words made you moan and you rub your cunt harder against his thigh .

His one hand left your hips and harshly pulled your tank top down , revealing your bouncing tits to him.

His hands caught them firmly and started fondling them. He squeezed and pulled at your nipples. His calloused fingers abusing your sensitive nipples took away any ability you had of thinking straight. The sensory overload on your clit and your nipples become too much as you came on his thigh, burying your head into his shoulder as you tried to catch your breath.

#daryl dixon #norman reedus #the walking dead #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon x reader #twd daryl #daryldixon #norman reedus smut #daryl dixon fanfiction #mac red canyon #thigh riding

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littlegodzilla · 1 year

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Hi anon!!

Sorry for the wait but like people says "better late than never" I was... I have no excuse, simply I can't find the words to write, sometimes happen to me, I really sorry.

Anyways, I hope you'll like it, I take some liberties, but nothing huge.

Enjoy!

*************

The Bus Stop.

Mac x Reader.

Anon Request. One shot.

Warnings: Dub-Con. Smut. Semi public sex. Rough sex. Mac. Not plot.

Words: 3100

Taglist: @phoenixblack89 @browneyes528 @lilythemadqueen @darylsgarden @thefemininemystiquee @green-eyedladywrites @hail-yourselves @ruinedbythehobbit @xxtinasxxblog @ravenwings73 @spenciepoo338 @b-tchymoon @minervadashwood @darylssluttt @let-love-bleeds-red @ravendixon @livingdeadblondequeen

*********

You are mentally exhausted, it has been a horrible day at work and to top it off you still have a long commute home. Your weary body stops at the bus stop that you have to catch to go home, it's late and the area is barely illuminated by a few street lamps with tinkling lights. You hug your body and rub your arms trying to stay calm. Your gaze sweeps over the place, there is a bar nearby, there doesn't seem to be much noise inside, you would like to have a drink before going home, maybe the alcohol will help you calm your body and fall asleep faster. You check your bus schedule on your phone and knowing you still have 30 minutes, you adjust your bag on your shoulder and walk to the bar ready to relax with a drink.

When you walk in, the atmosphere is quiet, there are more people than you thought, but not too noisy, some are drinking, some are at the pool tables or playing darts, some couples are dancing on the dance floor. It's been a while since you've been out partying, too busy with work, you smile a little disoriented and approach the bar to order a beer. You sit down on one of the stools, your gaze roams the place once again with curiosity, you have to admit you like it, you've seen it every day you leave work and you've never stopped for a drink there. As your eyes roam the place, your gaze connects with that of a man, about your age, ashy blond hair, his blue gaze bites into you like ice floes, he's drinking a beer, but he doesn't look away from you. It's Mac, you've heard of him and you've seen him in his old truck driving back and forth to town, but you've never talked to him. You smile sheepishly and thank the bartender when he brings you your own beer, which you take a long swig of, feeling the alcohol cloud your tired head.

You're finishing your beer, the man's gaze hasn't left you for a moment. You have to admit that he is attractive, that he exudes a mysterious aura, he even looks dangerous with that intense gaze, a shiver runs through your body. He's one of those people that your own sanity screams at you to stay away from, even if you know nothing about him. You check your watch and there are five minutes left for your bus to arrive, you pay the waiter and look at that man again, you smile as a farewell and leave the establishment walking back to the bus stop.

You rub your arms, that night is cold, your body had warmed up with the atmosphere of the bar and now you feel that the cold quickly takes over you, at the bus stop there are more people than when you arrived and you are grateful not to be there alone waiting. Your gaze perceives movement near where you are, you turn your head to discover the man from the bar, to one side, smoking a cigarette, with one hand in his pocket, oblivious to you, or so it seems. You get goose bumps and suddenly your nerves get the better of you. You've been doing that shift for a long time and you don't remember ever seeing him, maybe it's a coincidence. Maybe.

You get into the vehicle, greet the driver, you've known him for a long time and he's almost like a friend, you go to the back of the vehicle and settle into the seat by the window, to escape during the trip. However, you soon feel the man's gaze on you again, you look at him out of the corner of your eye and discover that he is walking straight towards the free seat next to you, for a second you want to place your bag or say that it is reserved for someone, but he has already sat down, he settles into the seat, legs slightly spread, hands clasped on his own stomach, not even looking at you, his eyes now fixed on the seat in front of you. You swallow saliva several times, he gives off a strong smell, gasoline, oil, probably sweat mixed with the tobacco and alcohol he has been consuming, your heart beats nervously in your chest, but you try to relax looking out the window again.

You have almost a 45-minute drive before you get home, but for some reason you feel that the trip is going to be longer than usual that day. You tense up for a second when you think you feel a touch on your knee, you try to ignore it, refocus on getting the ride over soon. You feel it again, a soft, subtle touch, you glance sideways towards your companion and see that his knee is glued to yours, and bumps against yours again. His eyes lift up to look, the hair stands up on the back of your neck discovering that he is staring at you.

"I'm sorry..." You apologize, not quite sure why, pulling your knee away to give him more room.

But his hand is placed on your thigh and your breath gets stuck in your lungs. Your first intention is to push it away, to push him away from you and shift in your seat, but you freeze as his hand moves to the inside of your thigh, squeezing your skin above your jeans. If your heart was beating fast, now it's racing. You look forward, your seats are far enough back that the driver can't see what Mac is doing, you'd like to get the attention of other passengers, but his hand goes much higher and you have to grab his wrist to get him to stop.

"Mac..." You call out to him and for a moment he seems surprised that you know who he is.

He releases from your grip without much trouble, he has more strength than you, his hand reaches your core and squeezes there, a whimper escapes your mouth and you bite your lip, no one has bothered to look back. You see Mac move to your side, turning towards your seat and leaning into you, his hand still pressing your core and now his other hand brushes the contour of your breast. Despite how violent and uncomfortable this situation is being for you, your body reacts by getting excited, his hands move expertly, he knows where and how to touch you, it's a bit rough, but he doesn't give you time to think about it, his tongue goes into your ear and that's too much.

You push him roughly, pushing him away from you, you scowl at him as you wipe the saliva from your ear.

"Let me out..." You tell him authoritatively, he seems to hesitate, but he steps aside and you get up from your seat to walk to another empty one.

For the rest of the trip you feel his gaze on the back of your neck, but you don't dare look until you get home and get off the bus. Mac walks up to the window and bites his lip, making an obscene gesture with his tongue before the bus starts up again and goes away.

That night you can't stop thinking about Mac, what he's done to you, how his hands have touched your body, how he's made you feel, even though you were scared at first, you have to admit you didn't want him to stop.

***************

You are nervous the next night, you feel like you want to see him again, you shamefully put on more suggestive clothes, you want to get his attention again. When you finish your shift, you button up your white blouse and adjust your skirt to your waist, you check your makeup in the mirror of your locker and grab your purse hurrying out of the building to go to the bus stop, on the way you think about whether or not you should go into the bar. If you really wanted him to know you were there, you should go in and let him know, but your sane mind is still debating whether it's a good idea, Mac touched you the night before without your permission, he didn't even care that there were people around you, and he didn't seem bothered that you went to another seat, offended. You sigh with your head in a mess, what could be wrong with wanting to have a little fun, he is attractive and seems to be curious about you, why should you pass up the opportunity? He may have been rough and the ways of touching you were not the most appropriate, but on the other hand you must admit that you liked that dominant side.

You dressed up for him, for God's sake.

Before you can take another step, you then feel a presence behind you. Goosebumps rise on your skin and you quickly turn around to discover him right behind you. Today he is wearing blue overalls, his hair is disheveled and the smell of garage, mixed with his own smell plus tobacco and alcohol hits your nose again. Maybe that's it, maybe it's that overpowering, masculine scent that gets your knees shaking.

Like the day before, he doesn't say anything, he simply stays close to you, waiting for the bus right behind, you dare to look at him sideways, his gaze glued to the back of your neck, his hands in the pockets of his overalls, he bites and licks his lower lip, devouring you with his eyes, however, he doesn't care that you see him, nor that you intuit what is going through his mind, he has a purpose and unless you choose to sit somewhere else, he is going to carry it out. As the bus pulls up to the stop it's your turn to get on, you squeeze the bag tightly to your shoulder, you can only be the one to choose what is going to happen now. Trembling, feeling your knees like jelly and your heart racing, you wave to the driver as you do every night and walk along the aisle, between the seats, to the last row, sit by the window and remove your bag, waiting.

It's not the time to be shy, but you can't help but feel your face take on a reddish color as your eyes detect his movement towards you, out of the corner of your eye you catch the dark blue color of his clothes, as he sits next to you, his body rubs against yours, his knee bumps into your knee again, but he still says absolutely nothing. That is his game, the calm before the storm, the silence, the feigned indifference, camouflage his dominant side, the imposition of his whole presence before you, his scent, his aura, for a second your mind wanders to how his hands will feel on your bare skin and you have to squeeze your legs together as you feel yourself spilling over the seat.

But Mac doesn't miss your gesture, his pupils dilate and his hand, like the night before, falls on your leg, again your whole body trembles, despite the cold outside, his hands are burning, a contrast with your skin that gives you goose bumps. Between your lips a gasp escapes you, but you don't pull his hand away, his fingers, long and thick, crawl up your thigh, his calloused touch, his nails slightly blackened, with traces of car oil on his skin, you should find it unpleasant, but it's quite the opposite. Suddenly everything is semi-dark because of the tunnel you pass. There are several tunnels going home, which gives you more privacy, you spread your legs apart, Mac reaches down to your inner thigh and slyly pinches your skin, you hear him let out a sharp intake of breath through his nose. You are not wearing stockings.

You pass the tunnel, his hand doesn't move anymore, but his fingers brush against the ends of your skirt, he wants to reach inside, you know it, and you wish he would, but maybe even for him it's too much. Another tunnel and you are left in a dim darkness again, you feel Mac's hand move away from you, just a few seconds, he settles down beside you, he slips his arm behind your head and with the other one he returns to your legs, this time he doesn't stay on your thigh, he hides his hand inside your skirt and you jump in your seat when he touches your pussy with his fingertips.

"Put yer leg on top of mines." He orders you and you obey by placing your leg over his, lying wide open for him, giving him greater access.

A moan wants to escape your mouth, but his hand stops you. You close your eyes breathing rapidly through your nose, you are nervous despite feeling aroused, you are afraid that you will be discovered or that Mac might hurt you, you don't even know him. A moan dies against his hand as he pushes aside your panties and his fingers caress your clit.

"Yer so fuckin' wet..." He whispers again against your ear. "Have ya been thinkin' about me all day?" he asks you as his fingers move down your slit and press against your entrance.

You close your eyes again and want to close your legs, but he stops you by pressing his hand a little harder against your mouth.

"No, ain't be ashamed..." His voice sounds an octave deeper. "I've dreamed of ya too, of yer mouth..." His fingers touch your lips. "Suckin' me so fuckin' good, makin' me cum, swallowin' it all." He keeps whispering in your ear as his fingers push inside your mouth and pussy.

Your whole body squirms at his double intrusion, your moan is muffled with his fingers almost reaching your throat, in your pussy they move slowly, inserting themselves almost up to his knuckles, you don't stop shaking and want to close your legs again, but you can't. Mac glues his lips to your ear, hissing to calm you down.

"Easy." He speaks without moving his lips from your skin. "We ain't wanna attract our driver's attention, do we?" His fingers move in and out of you, slowly, you can hear the wet sounds of your pussy muffled by the purr of the bus.

You shake your head and hold your legs as he has asked, fingers inside your mouth slowly moving down to your blouse, unbuttoning a couple of buttons to squeeze your tit, reaching into your bra. You bite your lip hard, his fingers squeeze your nipple, his fingers slip out of you and you whimper at the loss, you can feel him smiling against your skin at your protests, his hand rests back on your thigh and leaves your breast as well, you watch him from the corner of your eye, his eyes darkening, biting his lip several times.

"So needy... so desperate, ain't ya?" his nose brushes your cheek and you close your eyes. "Ya wanna me go with ya and fuck ya like ya deserve?"

You nod your head almost hurting your neck and he laughs through his nose.

"Use yer words."

"Yes, yes, fuck me, Mac, please..." You say between desperate whispers. "Please..."

"Good girl."

************

The bus stops at your stop, your heart is still racing as Mac gets up from his seat to let you pass, you get up too, look at him intently and dare to take his hand as you pass him. Mac doesn't hesitate, doesn't push you away, he holds you tightly and follows you off the bus. You say goodbye to the driver until the next day and the two of you walk out onto the street. Mac doesn't even wait for the vehicle to leave, he holds you by the back of the neck firmly leading you towards the alleyway of the stop.

"Wait, Mac, my house..." You try to reason.

"Shut up." He growls and pushes you against the wall.

"Mac..."

"I said shut up." He repeats against your lips.

You hear him unzip the overalls in a hurry, pulling them down his arms, getting them stuck on his hips. You unbutton your blouse quickly too, but Mac holds you down and turns you around facing the wall. He pulls your skirt roughly up to your hips, pulls down your panties scratching your skin and spanks you hard. A moan escapes you, but you no longer mind being loud, you are now out in the street and the darkness is your companion. Mac spits on his hand before taking his cock and rubbing the tip between your folds. You bite your lip leaning your body further forward, lifting your ass, you gasp as he spanks you again and thrusts inside you in one go.

The scream echoes throughout the alley, but Mac does nothing to stop, his hands clutch at your waist tightly, you're sure he's going to leave a mark and he starts moving hard behind you, hard, intensely, making you scream and moan, your insides stretch and clench each time his cock moves in and out, the knot of pain transforming into pleasure making you shudder against the wall. He holds you tightly by your hair, pulling your body back, arching you painfully, but at the same time, his cock squeezes inside you, stitches making you see stars, tightening you against him, begging for more.

"Mac! Mac more... slowly!" You ask him as you feel your pussy aching from his violent onslaught.

"Is it that hard for ya to shut up, bitch?" He roars, his hand closes on your jaw and grips hard, hurting you.

He lets go of your waist, pausing for a moment, he holds your leg, lifting it off the ground and your back is pressed against his chest, he leans forward, your body is pinned against the wall and the new angle makes Mac thrust much deeper now, without slowing down the speed and intensity of his hips, your bra doesn't stop cushioning your body, your skin scratching against the bare, cold wall, Mac hides his face in your neck, licking your ear again, like the day before, biting your shoulder, the pleasure intensifies and you can't control it as you feel the climax engulf you, shuddering in his rough grip, Mac fucks you through your orgasm and cums inside you with a languid moan against your ear.

Mac pulls away from you, his cock slipping out of you, settles back inside the jumpsuit and buckles it. You need a second to collect yourself, your pussy feels sore, it stings, but you can tell it was the best moment of your life. You smile looking at him, you reach for your panties to get dressed, but Mac grabs your arm forcing you to look at him again.

"Mac? What's wrong?" You look at him hesitantly.

"What yer doin'?"

"I-I'm going home... or d-do you want to come with...?"

"No."

"W-what do you mean?"

"Yer mine." He grins wickedly and holds you by the neck tightly. "And yer ain't goin' anywhere."

**********

The End.

***

Hope you liked it!

See you in the next stories!!

#my stuff #norman reedus #normanreedus #ask me #smut #one shot #mac #mac red canyon #mac x reader #mac x femreader #dubcon #red canyon

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theteasetwrites · 2 years

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Do you write for other Norman reedus characters

Yes! Prepare for another long answer lol

I have written for Murphy from The Boondock Saints and Scud from Blade II (if any of you discord hos bring up the throbbing member or the warm thick load, I will kill you).

I’m open to (and planning on) writing for more Norman Reedus characters, too! These are the ones I’m thinking about writing for:

Van from Floating

Travis from Gossip

Harry from Six Ways to Sunday (slightly off-canon to get the obvious weird shit out of there lmao)

Young Man from Dark Harbor (I mean I will obviously have to give him a name lol)

Sam from Death Stranding (whenever I get around to playing it lol)

POSSIBLY Marco from Deuces Wild ***with a big disclaimer—I won’t write him exactly how he is in the movie. I would write my own VERY non-canon version of Marco without the abuse and SA, and I’d have the same rules as my usual writing (aka no non-con), but tbh I’m still debating that bc obviously his character is literally evil but also… fifties bad boy Norman?? 😩 the fifties vibes???? 🤌🏻🤌🏻 I just want a good 50s Norman character, that’s all I ask. Basically I’d put my own, less problematic spin on the character without taking away his “bad boy” schtick. We’ll see I guess…

There are also a handful of SUPER obscure Norman characters I’ve had ideas for (e.g., Jonathan from Bad Seed, Jack from Sand, Lucien from Beat, dare I say… Nick from Beatnicks… I gotta get my moneys worth from that shitty movie) but if I ever write for those guys, I’m not sure if I will post them since they’re just so random and like idk if anyone wants to read those lol. Plus the movies are not popular so idk but I’ll keep everyone posted.

I think I said at one point I was gonna write for Mac from Red Canyon but there’s no way I can work around the terrible aspects of that character so that’s probably not gonna happen. I had seen other people writing for him, so that’s why I thought maybe I could pull it off but do I even want to write for a Norman character that doesn’t have teeth? Probably not. 🥴

SO BASICALLY I am open to writing pretty much every Norman character within reason and within my own boundaries lol. There are some grey areas and stuff I’m willing to try to take creative liberties with (it’s fanfiction!) but yeah, that’s my list. I might be forgetting some characters, and if there’s one in particular you want to know if I will write for that I haven’t mentioned, feel free to ask.

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rattlerinthewheel · 2 years

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So what’s the uncut version of Red Canyon have? Found out there’s an uncut version and the DVD I have isn’t it.

#red canyon mac #norman reedus #mac red canyon

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aestheticvoyage2022 · 2 years

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Day 266: Friday September 23, 2022 - “700 club″

For the second Friday night in a row, I was fully entrenched in baseball theatrics - history on display. Judge didn’t hit his 60th, as we seem to tune in for every at bat, but our guy Albert came through in a dramatic way. My buddy Chad was at the game with his family and I so enjoyed chatting with him throughout as if we were sitting there together in Cardinal Red. It enhances the experience to be able to fill him in on all the tidbits I can see on my big screen from the Great Room. In his second at bat of the night he took a hung curve way out to left field - a no doubter that left me hooting and hollering. 699 was a beast. Tonight could be the night. And 27 minutes later, he was back up to bat - the Dodgers went to the bullpen, brought in a righty and when another curve got hung, slap - and it was driven out to the first row in left field. Everyone erupted, including myself alone but feeling as if I was there, as he soared around the bases sky high with a huge smile on his face. Crossed homeplate a member of the elite 700 club and I wondered how many of those I had witnessed, heard, and cheered. He hugged Yadi, and high fived Beltre, and took a curtain call in Dodger Stadium, where he tried on this role last year. It gave me chills. This was a really big deal. I was glad that I saw it live.

I first came to St Louis in the summer of 2006 - a young Pujols was the face of the franchise; their star led them to World Series championship that year and again in 2011. Id got to games, and score those $5 grabbag seats that would put me up the third base line where Id use my first “nice camera” to zoom in on him batting, trying to capture that perfect swing as the ball left the bat out to Big Mac Land. He was a machine. This is when I first became a Cardinals fan. And after years of begrudgingly watching Bonds, McGwire, and Sosa swat steroid fueled big-flies, here he was doing it totally clean and never a question - how could you question that beautiful swing? And I’ll always remember how that 2011 Game Six went - but I’ll also remember that it may never had happened if not for Pujols’ 5 for 5 game with three home runs as my Mom and I watched from Arizona after hiking the Grand Canyon - perhaps the best World Series performance of all time (if not, it would only be behind David Freese’s Game 6 show). It was a sad day when our hometown hero, took the money and left town after that year. I had left town too and went out West. But over those ten years, the stats kept stacking, and he kept going, and following the chills in 2019 when he made his first appearance back in Busch, Chad and I would chatter about how cool it would be if he could come back and finish his career with the Redbirds. When the crowd pulled for a curtain call after he hit a Home Run, no one remember the big contract he took - just that he was loved, and he was a hero so many times over. It reminded me of the old Sparky Anderson quote - “The great thing about baseball is when you’re done, you’ll only tell your grandchildren the good things. If they ask me about 1989, I'll tell them I had amnesia.” How cool would it be if we could just forget those 11 years he was gone and get a little bit of St Louis Summer back. And when the DH rule came to the National League this year, it was all the baseball Gods needed to make this a reality. We saw him go 0-fer in Fenway this year, and get a single in Arizona - but after the all star break where he participated in the Home Run Derby as a legacy selection to the team, he got on a fire and a late season power surge in a hot Cardinals first place lineup, he belted 20+ home runs to make history after committing whole heartedly that he was done, no matter what. He had made it - he had gone the distance. With just 10 games to go, he cemented his place in an elite milestone. An inner circle Hall of Famer, with the likes of Aaron and Ruth. And I can say I spent many a summer night, and fall evening, emotionally involved in it. Tonight, over text with my buddy Chad, projecting the game on the big screen, it gave me the little bit of joy I needed at exactly the right time. Just another reason to love this game so much! Baseball immortality. Next stop - jersey retirement, red jackets on opening day, Cooperstown.

Song: Bill Conti - Going The Distance

Quote: “The tragedy in a man’s life is what dies inside of him while he lives.”― Albert Schweitzer

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paleclementine · 4 months

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I did this last year on my other account, so here it is again: these were some of my favorite songs this year, in no particular order.

Style- Taylor Swift. I played this song so ridiculously much but it's so good. Which is why I played it. lol. I kinda played this so much because I wanted to have a 1989 moment (all year) but mostly prep for the summer vibes. Also, somewhat embarrassingly, I listened to this song because it reminds me of soukoku (fic inspo). it's funny how itricately my fanfic-writing and taylor-listening went hand in hand, such as Coney Island, Ivy, I Wish You Would, Clean..... really all of evermore and 1989. I told myself I'd have an evermore year, and I did.

This Comes From Inside- The Living Tombstones. again, this is one of those songs that could also be swapped out for any other fnaf song. This summer, I had a huge internet music phase, and I also had one in winter but it was more subdued. It was nice to let myself be cringe and into Fnaf, Markiplier, Unus Annus, Cosplay, and other things that had to do with being internet trash.

Romantic Homicide- d4vd. I listened to this song so much?? I wouldn't even say it's one of my favorite songs, but it is catchy and I do like the lyrics and concept of it. it's just chill and pretty... and also inspo for my fic.

Alaska- Pingrove. This was during my phase where I was obsessed with van life and getting the fuck out of my room. I felt very free while listening to this song, and I loved the concept of a life falling apart but being brand new at the same time, scraping your knees on cement on your way to a better place. "I asked what I'd been asking you / Like trees repeat, like numerals do" "Through that opalescent open road / And then time spread and expanded / The lines fanned out across the land."

I Think About You All the Time- Field Medic. this song is so calming and contained every ounce of yearning I felt when I was away from Anthony. It felt like a painful summer day and a nectar heart. "When I hear your voice in a whisper / To me it feels like leisure." I really did create a life with Anthony inside my mind whenever I closed my eyes.

Cover Me- Starbenders. This was my song of the summer! it's what ABBA would give if they were all witches. I loved the singers voice. The song reminded me of a modern fleetwood mac. "die for one another / sacrifice my soul." Simple lyrics, and not flowery, but I feel it in my bones.

Oleander- Mother Mother. the TUNE of this song makes me go actually crazy. Also, the live version of this song is a lot better but it's only on youtube. It makes me feel evil, like I'm a bad person and in a relationship that only hurts each other-- like biting people for the intimacy of blood. but loving each other even if it kills.

Wicked Game. This song gives such fall vibes, grey clouds, but warmth. "The world was on fire / And no one could save me but you." I liked this song around the time I played Night in the Woods, and it made me feel so fall. It feels so canyon. It feels dark and red and- the world was on fire, but autumn-chilled.

Headfirst Slide into Cooperstown on a Bad Bet- Fall Out Boy. I LOVE THIS FUCKING SONG. I was obseeeessssed with this album all throughout fall. This song just scratched an itch in my brain that no other song did. there are so many different melodies in this song and they all make me feel achingly angry-in-love. I also loved the tune of tiffany blews. Really just every song.

Mg1- Machine Girl. this song got me through the winter. It's so depressing and I relate to it. it sounds like silent hill. This is an opportunity to talk about the songs on youtube, so big shoutout to Oliver-vocaloid songs and I Deserve to Bleed and-

Blow my Brains Out (sped up version). obligatory addition because holy F this song is so good, makes me want to dance and ofc blow my brains out at the same time. such a fun dancey song, so internetty but normie at the same time. Thanks, song. ily.

#livejournal

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