5sos Preferences and Imagines

I need to hear you say it (Psychotic luke)

TW: Dark Luke is very dark. Plus, mentions of graphic violence.

Hand wrapped around your throat as your neck was titled back, resting on his broad shoulder. Two of his fingers had hooked under your chin as they pulled down your jaw. His lips skimmed your ear and your knees shook as you heard the deep inhale of breath he took in through his nose.

"So innocent, so pure." He whispered as his other hand wrapped around your waist, pulling your back flush against him as he continued to run his nose along your skin seemingly breathing you in, making a perfect imprint of your body in his mind just by remembering your smell. You struggled, attempting to leave his hold but he just chuckled even deeper and more sinister than you had grown accustomed to in the past few months. You closed your eyes as his arm around your waist loosened and he slid it along the outside of your thigh.

"You know, I figured you were more of a fighter. I figured you wouldn't give up so soon." He chuckled, "But I've never been one to like having to assert my dominance." Your eyes fluttered open as you could just make out the city line through the sheer curtains of the cheap motel room. The air around you was tense as you waited for the cool press of metal on your neck. You received just that but in a different way this time. You were used to his knife, the shiny metal blade laying against your throat in a warning that was just enough to terrify you but the feeling of his lips, the soft press of his piercing pressing to your jugular might have been even more terrifying. "You, you, you." He muttered, the word leaving his mouth like a sigh. "What am I going to do with you my love?" He bit at your neck and you squirmed in his hold because frightening.

When he had first taken you, the illustrious Mr. Hemmings, one of the world's most renowned psychopaths, his goal was simple. Kill you to assuage the blood lust building inside of him so he could plan his next big hit. But then there was something in your eyes as he held the knife to your throat that night. You had struggled relentlessly at first before he had you in the exact position he had you in now. And you... resigned? You went limp in his hold but there was no shaking in fear, no eyes pleading and lips begging and he didn't like that. He didn't like how willing you were. He wanted fear and sadness, maybe a little anger mixed in with it. But you were just there.

"You could let me go." You mumbled, forcing your jaw to move against his tight hold and he chuckled as he placed a hand over your warm, soft stomach. He did like your stomach, touching it, rubbing it. It was odd but so was he.

"Now doll. Where would be the fun in that?" He grinned devilishly and you gasped lightly as he turned you from the view and dragged you to stand in front of the dirty, floor length mirror. You wanted to vomit. Your hair was a tangled mess and your eyes were big, wide and wild from the atrocities you had witnessed for the last few months. You knew he was pretty far gone but the things he'd done, the way he would treat other people as he had you sit on the couch or the bed. He loved to watch the blood splatter over your face in a rainbow of red before dragging his tongue through the dark liquid. You had vomited moments later.

Your clothes were tattered but you'd long since gotten over your fear of him attempting to tear them off of you because I may be crazy love, but I'm not disrespectful of a woman's body. No, he wasn't. He didn't need sex. He got off on killing.

"Look how pretty you are. Look how vulnerable, raw." And you looked at him. His pale blue eyes were lit up with excitement like they had that night he handed you the knife and said kill him or I kill all of them. He had pointed out the window to a large shopping center. You had made it quick.

His clothes were immaculate. A black suit, pressed white shirt, a tie. Even his shoes were a shiny black. His hair was down on his forehead and a bit of scruff graced what could have once been very beautiful features had it not been for the manic grin across his face.