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angled-blade · 1 year

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How the Slashers met you

Slashers; Billy Lenz, Bubba Sawyer, Ghostface (Billy Loomis + Stu Macher), Jason Voorhees, Michael Myers (OG + RZ), Thomas Hewitt

To be fair, you’d never have expected this to happen.

• Billy Lenz

So long as you are associated with the sorority—be it that you frequent their home or live in it, Billy would have already known all about you. He’s even started adding you as an additional detail to his calls, unnerving the girls even more the longer they were occupying the house.

“Shh! It’s the Moaner!” One of the sorority girls exclaimed, attempting to hush the bustling Christmas party. The chattering came to an abrupt pause, as multiple footsteps neared the rotary phone that sat atop the table. His voice rang through, surprising them with the new addition animosity. The disembodied voice began chanting your name, similar to a mantra before crudely cackling once more. Barb steps in, feeling quite irritated that the man changed his sights from the sorority to you—someone who isn’t even a resident of the home.

“Why are you— ___’s got nothing to do with this, you fucking creep!”

“Naughty, naughty piggy.. Billy knows.. Billy wants ___! Tell Billy, bitch piggy—tell Billy now!” The man screamed many more expletives toward the girls, Barb having held the phone at an arm’s length as she waited for his response. The girls clung onto eachother, worry appearing on their faces the more they listened. One of the girls took matters into her own hands, snatching the phone and hanging up—cutting off the Moaner’s rage-filled screaming from reaching them. Silence returned in the house, with the girls looking at each other knowing now that you were involved in their mess.

They knew they had to let you know as soon as possible.

• Bubba Sawyer

Multiple factors were in place in which you would be spared by both Bubba and Drayton, it’s possible that you knew the Texan family when they were still active in the slaughterhouse. There was also the offchance that Drayton held a soft spot for you, which guaranteed your survival.

“Woah, woah, woah! Ain’t that someone familiar, Bubba?” Drayton’s voice seemed to hold a tone of surprise, as if he was not expecting a victim. The younger Sawyer tilted his head in confusion, multiple questions forming in his head as he wondered what it was that seemed to bewilder the ever so uptight Drayton. He remembered bringing back two people, both were knocked out by the blunt force of slamming the back of the chainsaw against their heads.

“Ya’ don’t look at ’em, don’t ya’... Look at ’em real close up.” He ordered, Bubba following his line of sight as he focuses on you. He squints through the mask, drinking in the image of you. As if lightning struck his own—he now realised who it was he struck himself. A shocked squeal erupted from his throat, his legs now on autopilot as he stumbled toward your unconscious body, babbling apologies as he held you. The excessive movement had you waking up soon after.

You found yourself face to face with Bubba, who seemed sheepish.

• Ghostface

• Billy Loomis

You might have met either through Stu or at the VHS store while you asked the closest person—that being him—for recommendations, resulting in an engaging discussion of horror films before quickly devolving into you exchanging numbers to each other before heading home.

“Good talk, I totally get your enthusiasm. It was nice talking to you… Uh..”

“Billy. Billy Loomis. It was nice talking to you too.. Wanna talk later? We can exchange numbers.”

You nodded, passing him your number before leaving the VHS store. Sure, it wasn’t every day that you met a diehard fan of horror movies, even going so far as to get into the details of the production itself and quoting directly from the actors—you were in no place to judge a person for their interests. You had your own interests and you’re sure you’d be passionate too if someone asked you about it.

It was already night by the time you were at home looking over the new movies rented for the time being. Feeling indecisive, you kept shuffling through the choices you had. By a stroke of luck, you were greeted with a familiar voice. A smile appeared on your features as you began talking to Billy. It was as if he were providing you with his own reassurance through simply talking to you. With all pleasantries aside, down came the questions.

“Hey, Billy.” His response was strangely quiet, a soft yeah as his reply. He’s probably busy with something.

“Remember those movies you saw me pick out?” A hum in agreement now.

“Which one’s your favourite?”

• Stu Macher

You are associated with Stu in school, often acting as his cover whenever he was up to his shenanigans. How were you upgraded to such a role? It was because you were seated closest toward the door to the classroom. You even stalled the teacher whenever he snuck back in.

“Did you see the look on her face? Did you see!?” Stu nudged you, a wide grin over his features.

You chuckled with him. No matter how many times you promised to not entertain Stu’s antics—it was pretty damn funny at how easily he got under the skin of those he pranked. In your eyes, it was merely harmless fun, there wasn’t any reason to get angry about it seeing how the pranks were juvenile. Even then, the only one jeopardising his time was him, really. Though you supposed that there were changes. One thing that was different was that Stu began approaching you outside of class.

“Hey, uh.. ___? How about we head out for lunch and.. y’know, hang out then?” He asked, scratching the back of his head nervously as he waited for your response. He lit up once he saw you perk up.

“Oh, sure. Where do you think we should go?” You asked, interested to know, much to Stu’s delight. He clapped his hands as if he struck gold after a moment of thinking. He smiled at you, his eyes scanning the hallway that was now empty.

“I know just the place! Hmm.. think you can handle skipping the day?” He asked, seeing your face quickly contort into one of concern. He laughed in amusement, patting your back assuringly.

“Don’t worry, I’ll cover for you this time!”

• Jason Voorhees

He assumed that he had seen every type of person who trekked along his home, but never would he expect to see someone who came alone and blended in with the environment. Jason watched you, waiting in silence for you to do something that would allow him to strike. You never did.

Jason’s hands were tightly balled into fists, his gaze boring into your back as he followed you around quietly. He waited for you to commit a discrepancy, a mistake that would lead to your death and yet here you were, taking photos. You avoided the trail that led into his territory—meaning you followed the signs to not trespass. Your orderliness initially irritated him, as he presumed it wouldn’t take long before you broke it—so he kept watching you, waiting.

The more time passed, his frustrations with you turned into one of simple respect. You kept to yourself and made sure to keep away from the sectioned off areas. Jason returned to his routine, from where he began to watch you less. What he didn’t realise was that he would be sighted in those very photos you took, which didn’t go unnoticed by you. You were alarmed, though you kept that concern aside in case it were a fault of the camera. Despite that, you attempted to entertain yourself by getting flowers by one of the many spots he was sighted.

When you returned to that spot, the flowers were not rotting as you expected.

They were gone.

Instead, a fresh pink rose laid under the ‘Welcome to Camp Crystal Lake’ sign.

• Michael Myers

• ’78/OG

Crossing paths with someone during his downtime was something that was strange, but never unexpected. OG found himself intrigued with you—just what were you doing, walking the streets of Haddonfield at three in the morning? He was curious, deciding to watch you after that encounter.

Michael watched you move about on your nights once more, seeing how you weaved through the streets as you held onto the groceries. You seemed to be well established in Haddonfield, though not many of the residents were anything but mere acquaintances that you were coincidentally on good terms with. You never knew them personally, but you knew them enough to be something that can remain in their memories for a good week or two.

Michael watched you move closer toward him, appearing distracted before bumping shoulders with him. Your head quickly faced him, apologising. Before you could leave, however, Michael grabbed a few of the bags that you had dropped when you had bumped into him, head tilting slightly. This was considered heavy? You couldn’t tell him by his face, though you asked him to help with the bags if he didn’t mind. He began to move, in which you took it was his way of saying, ‘yes’. You thanked him either way. The residents of Haddonfield were nice.

You made your way home, taking out your keys before you heard the sound of bags hitting onto the front porch. You turned around to thank the helpful man once more, but he was gone.

• RZ

It was difficult to catch his attention with how he resorts to living inside his mind majority of the time, if there happened to not be any goal present to drive him. You happened to intercept it right before he was to transition into it. Your disturbance now led to you right on his radar.

Not once had you felt unsafe in your home with all the doors and windows locked and shut tight—ensuring any break-in attempts to be close to null. That was until now, long after you had passed that man who had been standing near that old, abandoned Myers home. He seemed lost in though, though you couldn’t know for sure. You chalked it up as him being one of those young adults who had felt like they needed to prove something by entering a scrutinised place.

“What’s the point? Let them rest in peace..” You grumbled under your breath, quickening your pace as you headed home, unaware of the fact that the man by the home was now looking in your direction.

Michael followed you into your home, absorbing the layout in its entirety before he hid himself out of sight as you continued your routine at home. Michael took note of the fact that you were glancing around a lot more, your face holding one of discomfort. He inferred that you felt him watching you—meaning that you were more aware than the others. He made sure to commit it to memory to replay as you resigned for the night and head to bed. You woke up later at night, feeling an urge to survey your room before slumber could return to you.

You couldn’t help but feel a shiver down your spine once you saw your bedroom window open.

• Thomas Hewitt

You had to know of him without the influence of Sheriff Hoyt in the way. You might accidentally cross paths at an abandoned area of Texas, one that was Thomas’ personal retreat whenever he feels overwhelmed by his family. With no chainsaw and you simply passing by, he let you go.

“I didn’t know that there were still people living here—Sorry, sorry. I’m just passing through, really.” You stammered, staring at the man who stood before you. He donned a mask that covered his mouth and nose, the material appeared to be one out of leather, which intrigued you.

“That’s a really nice mask you have. Did you make it yourself?” You asked, genuine curiosity ever so present in your voice as you did so. His gaze was otherworldly, as if they were staring right through you, despite the fact that he bore human eyes.

All it took was a grunt and a nod to have you letting up slowly. Thomas continued to stare, taking in your features as you stood there, similar to a deer in headlights. You didn’t insult his appearance or made comparison of him with an animal. He thought through possibilities, before he ultimately decided that you weren’t worth the chase—especially with him simply wanting time alone by himself. It took Thomas all he had to speak, the words seeming to escape from him when he did.

“..Go home.” His voice was softer than he recalled, though he chalked it up to him not finding a need to do so at this point, but you got the message. You made sure to say goodbye before leaving him be.

It felt almost fortuitous that you managed to escape the way you did.

I hope you enjoyed these headcanons and have had a wonderful New Year! I have a lot more headcanons and stories to post for you guys!

I am also extremely happy to see positive responses regarding those two fics including OG Michael and Bubba respectively.. I really appreciate it!! There will be another story, more specifically a Jason Voorhees/Reader fic. Be on the lookout for that sometime soon. (:

Once again, please reblog this post!

Thank you for reading this, have a great day/night!! (:

#billy lenz x reader #bubba sawyer x reader #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #jason voorhees x reader #michael myers x reader #og michael myers x reader #rz michael myers x reader #thomas hewitt x reader #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #black christmas x reader #texas chainsaw massacre x reader #ghostface x reader

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prettykittycastle · 7 months

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The Drive-In

Summary: You should have known Stu and Billy would not behave.

(The reader is AFAB and uses they/them pronouns. The ethnicity/race is preferably black.)

(Content Warning: Voyeurism, Car sex, Poly-relationship, threesome, P in V, multiple orgasms, crying, overstimulation, slight dirty talk, creampie)

It was such a cliche thing to do. To fuck your boyfriend (or boyfriends) in the car while watching a drive-in movie, but they're the ones who started it. You knew that it was a bad idea to watch a horror movie with both of them in a small space, but they had promised that they would behave themselves. You had barely made it to the middle of the movie before feeling Billy's hand creeping up your thigh, and the smirk that grew on his face at the moment told you all you needed to know.

"Come on, baby," Billy grunted in your ear, his hands tightening on your ass cheeks as you continued to bounce up and down on him harder, your walls hugging his thick cock tightly. Your head was laying on his shoulder, strength completely gone at the feel of his dick stretching you open. Despite you taking him plenty of times before, Billy's thickness always caught you off guard and almost knocked the wind out of you. "You can do better than that." He lifted his hips and thrusted up into you, making you let out a loud whine that filled the small space of the car.

The chuckle he let out already made you embarrassed and wetter around him, but the sound of Stu's giggle from the backseat made the warmth in your cheeks and between your legs grow.

"How wet are they this time?" He asked, his breathing heavy. You didn't have to look over Billy's shoulder to know that Stu was jerking off. You could just feel his giddiness of wanting to fuck you radiating from him. Besides the sounds you and Billy were making, you could hear Stu's hand vigorously going up and down his dick and the small moans he was trying to muffle. The feel of Billy inside you and the sound of Stu's moans only made your wetness worse.

"Fucking soaked," Billy answered, holding tightly onto you and fucking you faster.

"Oh God," you whimpered into his shoulder, the little strength you did have to bounce on his dick was gone, and you just laid there and let him fuck into you, his dick stretching you more and more with each thrust.

"You gonna cum for me," he asked, keeping one of his hands on you while he wrapped his arm around your middle, practically pressing you against him.

"Yes, yes, yes," you chanted into his shoulder, your mind so far gone in pleasure that the word 'yes' was all you could think of besides his name. You brought your hands up to the headrest of the seat and held onto it. You could feel the warmth inside yourself get hotter and hotter, and suddenly the strength that he fucked out of you was suddenly back, and you began bouncing up and down his cock again, desperate to feel your release.

"You're such a good slut for me," he whispered into your ear, his thighs meeting yours with each bounce you made, the sound of your skins slapping against each other loud in the car, almost drowning the sounds Stu was making. "Cum around my dick like the desperate slut you are."

His words made you grip the headrest harder and like the good slut that he called you, you follow his command and came hard around him, your walls squeezing him, wanting him to cum inside you as well.

"Fuck," he suddenly yelled, cumming hard as well. Just like how his thickness took your breath away, your tightness always seemed to make him and Stu lose theirs. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he muttered over and over, still thrusting up into you, fucking his cum deeper inside you. He did this for only a few more seconds, before laying his head back against the car seat, his face sweaty and his whole body tired.

"Pass them to me," you heard Stu tell Billy. You could barely lift your head up from his shoulder and next thing you knew, Billy was carefully lifting you up from his lap, hissing lightly at the feel of him slipping out of you, and helping you move to the backseat to Stu.

When you got back there, Stu, in his usual sweet, but weird way, quickly placed a loving kiss on your lips, before gently laying you back till you were completely flat on your back on the seat, and he lifted his tall body over you, placing one of his arms by your head and used the other to place one of your legs on his shoulder to make more room.

"How ya feeling, baby," he asked you, looking down at you with barely restrained lust. "You ready for me?"

You hummed, nodding your head to him. Even though your mind was still hazy, your pussy was still throbbing, getting wetter by the second, desperate for your other boyfriend's cock inside of it.

"Say it," Billy reminded you, his tired voice showing how much your pussy took out of him.

"Yeah, Stu," you said.

He didn't need to hear much after that, and he quickly pushed inside you, not needing much preparation as you were still wet from your first orgasm and Billy's cum. "Oh Fuck, man," he moaned loudly, not wasting anytime and continuing to push himself deeper and deeper into you until his whole length was inside.

"Oh God, Stu," you cried out, his whole length being too much for your already overstimulated cunt, and suddenly you were cumming around him. Wave after wave of pleasure was washing over you and while this happened Stu began fucking you through it, his dick plunging in and out fast to the feel of your walls sucking him in eagerly.

"(Y/N), you feel amazing," Stu moaned, closing his eyes in bliss. He knew that pushing his whole length into you would likely be too much, but he didn't know it would feel this good. Suddenly he wanted to know how many times he could make you cum by the time the movie ends, and started fucking you faster.

"Fuck, Stu, Stu," you reached up to try to warn him to slow down, but it was already too late and you came around him again, and like last time, he kept fucking you through it. Your moans were even louder and you could feel tears running down your face from the pleasure you were feeling.

"Keep it down," you heard Billy say from the front seat, his voice sounding almost a mile away through your hazed mind. "I'm tryna watch the movie."

Billy boy already gave you one, Stu thought, squeezing the leg resting on his shoulder at the feel of you twitching around him. Let's see how much I can give you.

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letssimptogether · 1 year

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“Never Have I Ever…”

Scream Group 4 x Reader

Summary/Warnings: The group of 4 is having a house party at Stu’s, drinking alcohol and playing “Never Have I Ever” — suggestive language and mentioning of alcohol in the fic below!

A/N: Sorry I took so long Anon! Had some things going on LOL

Requested: Yep!

Taglist: @kazuubaby @tulipsatmidnight @belaballs

It was a Friday night at Stu’s house, and so far, Stu, Randy, and Y/N were all sitting on the couch, the three of them deciding on which horror movies to watch and which were too campy. Billy was in the kitchen trying not to struggle with the popcorn.

On her way with Sidney, Tatum was bringing some jell-o shots and a few regular shots.

“What’s up, bitches!” Tatum chants sticking her tongue out, sauntering into the house with bags of what seems to be alcohol in the air.

Sidney shook her head smiling slightly, and quickly made her way next to Y/N, Tatum finding a spot near as well.

“You guys ready?” Randy wiggled his eyebrows, pointing the remote at the TV.

He didn’t wait for anyone to respond before turning on Halloween II; Sid rolled her eyes while Y/N and Tatum downed a shot before reaching for a handful of popcorn.

Billy took a shot and mumbled something to Randy and Stu.

“Let’s make this more interesting,” Stu stood up, a cheshire cat smile forming, “We should play ‘Never Have I Ever’!”

“I’m gonna need more alcohol, then.” Sidney half joked,

Sid’s response had Stu practically throwing a jell-o shot at her. Then Tatum, and finally Y/N. The boys grabbed their own, and Stu poured everyone a cup half full. The group all took the shot, and looked around at each other, silently quizzing who’s going first until Tatum finally broke the small silence.

“Never have I ever,” she paused for a moment, but then wiggled her shoulders and joked suggestively, “gone skinny dipping!”

Everyone looked around as Stu, Billy, Tatum, and Randy take a sip of their glass. Sidney and Y/N looked at each other quizzically, but laughed.

“Never have I ever,” Sidney spoke up, “never have I ever snuck into a building.”

Billy, Randy, and Stu all took a shot, while Y/N, Tatum, and Sidney sat there looking around at each other, whisper-joking.

“You think they had a threesome in there?” Tatum giggles.

“Oh definitely.” Y/N snorted, reaching for their glass.

“Oh my,” Sidney chokes taking a small sip from her glass.

Everyone turned their stare to Y/N, who just put their cup down. By this time, the alcohol was kicking in, and everyone was feeling a little giggly and witty. Stu started extending his arms, as if he were presenting Y/N.

“Never have I ever,” Y/N started, “been choked or choked myself during sex.”

The group shot their drinks practically through their noses as they watched Y/N take a shot.

“I beg your pardon, Y/N?!” Tatum gasped, “and you didn’t tell me?”

Sidney’s eyes widened, ‘with who?’ she mouthed to them. Y/N just winked at the pair in response.

“I don’t kiss and tell.” They joked, the liquor making them a bit flirty as Y/N set the cup down, touching fingers with Tatum in the process.

☆ ☆ ☆

By this time, Randy, Sidney, and Tatum all went home. Sid and Tatum spending the night together, and dropping Randy off at his house in the process. The only ones left were Y/N, Billy, and Stu.

The drunken triplet laid cuddled up on the floor and watched horror movies till around 3AM.

Stu’s voice slurred happily, “D’ya hear about the Woodsboro Murders-”

Billy’s intoxicated laugh rang through Y/N’s ears as they nodded their head.

“You know that’s us right?” Billy finished Stu’s sentence, and the both of them busted out laughing, before realizing what they admitted and going dead silent.

“I don’t give a flying fuck if you’re the Easter Bunny and friends, if you stop cuddling me I’m gonna be pissed!” Y/N remarked, much emphasis on the word ‘pissed’.

The trio ended up cuddling the entire night, Billy to Y/N’s left and Stu to their right—their head rested in the crook of Billy’s neck as Stu’s arm draped around their waist.

#slashers x reader #ghostface x reader #stu matcher x reader #billy loomis x reader #randy meeks x reader #sidney prescott x reader #tatum riley x reader #requested

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jokeringcutio · 2 months

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Choking & Resolve - (Stepbrother!) Stu Macher x (f) Reader (Mature, Dirty Talk)

You want to seduce your Stepbrother, so when you nearly choke and he makes a remark about choking... well...

Rating: Mature (mature themes: talk about choking, choking, talk about sexual exploits, Sexual words used, Stu talking about choking his girlfriends during the s, explicit bj talk, hard-on, sexual allusions, stepbrother x stepsister situation, mutual attraction)

AN: These drabbles are in no particular order and not necessarily related. Inspired by some direct quotes by Matthew Lillard that have been incorporated into this story.

The page of your schoolbook blurred as you heard Stu's footsteps approaching, your lunch momentarily forgotten in your hand. Not that you could eat when he was around. You knew he always showed up when he was hungry. You also knew that he liked to abuse every opportunity he had to tease you until you were all flustered.

His footsteps came to a halt and the quiet that followed became increasingly uncomfortable. You could feel him hovering over you, heard his quiet breaths, and just knew that he was waiting for you to acknowledge him.

And you tried to ignore him, you really did. But you couldn’t eat or learn like this. And so, when the silence became so oppressive, it felt as if you could no longer breathe, you finally gave in and glanced up from your book. A choked sound escaped you at the sight of his leering grin which was much closer than you would have expected him to be.

Stu leaned over the table, smelling like sweat and sun lotion, and his breath was hot on your face.

“Don’t stand so close,” you yelped, even though you didn’t mind him being this close to you at all. Your pussy already pulsed at the thought of pulling him closer to you. How easy it would be to close the gap.

"Studying hard or hardly studying?" His voice slithered into your ear, a teasing lilt that sent involuntary shivers down your spine. There was something about the way he spoke that made your cheeks heat.

“Stu,” you whimpered, knowing he loved it when you made a soft noise like that. It instantly worked for Stu’s eyes seemed to darken slightly, his pupils widening.

"Just trying to be helpful," he said, his grin twisting into a smirk. You could see the way his eyes took in every inch of your exposed skin. It was still warm enough outside to wear flimsy dresses and cropped tops with shorts, and so you did. If only because you knew it would drive your stepbrother insane.

Oh yeah, you enjoyed seeing him get hard by merely looking at you.

His fingers grazed your arm as he pretended to brush crumbs off the table, sending shivers down your spine. You swallowed thickly, trying to ignore the way his touch made your stomach flip-flop.

He leaned in closer, the scent of sun lotion and sweat mingling with something more primal. It wrapped around you, a heady blend of musk and mischief. His breath danced along your neck, and for a moment, it felt as though the world narrowed down to just the two of you, to just this sensation.

"Can't concentrate, can you?" He hovered behind you, a ghostly figure whose proximity whispered promises of forbidden things.

Before you could muster a retort, his hand slipped onto your thigh, a bold move that was all Stu. Heat pooled in your belly while you tried to swallow the lump forming in your throat, your pulse quickening beneath his fingertips.

The way he gently stroked your flesh, the calloused fingertips gliding over your warm skin, it was driving you wild. You had to bite your lip and force yourself to remain calm. But your pussy was pulsing while your inner voice kept chanting for Stu’s hand to go a little higher, higher, please, slip inside.

"How 'bout I help you with that?" his words broke you out of your trance. Stu’s hand slid from your thigh, now gesturing to your sandwich. You shook your head in a definite ‘no’.

“You’re a big boy, Stu,” and you meant the innuendo. You also knew he must have caught it, wordsmith that he was. “I’m sure you can find something tasty to put in your mouth all by yourself.”

As if to prove your point, you took a defiant bite, the bread rough against your tongue. But you'd underestimated its size, or perhaps it was the sudden dryness of your mouth. The morsel lodged in your throat, and you coughed, eyes watering.

So far for your impressively charming performance.

"Easy there," Stu chuckled, patting your back with a firmness that left no room for misunderstanding. Soon enough, the bread was coughed up and you could breathe again, gasping for air while Stu chortled.

"If you like being choked, sis, that's all right by me."

You glared at him and his response was to wink at you, the motion sharp and full of dark humor.

"Nothing to be ashamed of," he continued, tone jocular. "Everyone likes to be choked a little. Just don't go too far," a fake pause. "Blue is a warning sign."

The sing-song voice in which he ended was a clear indication that it was all intended to sound like one big joke. But to you, it wasn’t. The moment he started talking, images filled your mind. Your tall handsome stepbrother, on top of you, forcefully thrusting into your narrow cunt. His hands around your neck, taking your breath away.

Stu remained silent while he studied you. Had he noticed the quickening of your pulse? Or the way your pupils dilated and you unconsciously pressed your thighs together?

Then, finally, he spoke.

"Is that how it is?" So he had noticed. His voice was a low hum in the charged silence, his eyes locking onto yours, a dark storm brewing in their blue depths. You didn't laugh at his joke; instead, you found yourself caught in a whirlwind of what-ifs, each more thrilling and terrifying than the last. You couldn’t deny them, could not unsee them in the depths of your mind. His hands were long and slender. Strong. How would it feel?

He leaned in closer, the heat from his body mingling with yours. “All my girlfriends had to choke when they gave me a blowjob.”

Your eyes went wide, your chest rising and falling even more rapidly now. Stu’s breath landed like warm puffs against your cheek while he murmured the words against your skin. “You’re right, sis. I am a big boy. So big I choked all of my girlfriends and I didn’t feel regret. In fact, I sometimes grabbed their hair.” His hand reached for your head, fingers gently tapping down the back of your skull. “Guiding them. Making them take me a little deeper.”

The noise that escaped you was so guttural, so primal, it should have embarrassed you. But it earned you a hitched sound from Stu and his grip tightened on you, so you held no regrets.

“Like that, sis. And wanna know a secret?”

It was as if he had already fucked you dumb. Without doing more than just telling and touching, he had you envisioning something so private, so perverse, that all you could do was nod. Your lips dry, pussy clenching around nothing. Your stepbrother was a menace – he should not exist, should not be allowed to tease you the way he did.

You felt how Stu traced his lips from your cheek to your ear before his answer came as a breathy whisper. “I loved it.”

And you moaned. You actually moaned. Sandwich forgotten, book forgotten, you fisted the tablecloth while you clenched your thighs. A low laughter rumbled in your ear as Stu enjoyed your physical reaction to his tale.

“I enjoyed it when they struggled to take my cock,” Stu’s voice was smooth like silk, dripping with sin as he finally increased the distance between the two of you again, even if it was only by a little.

Your heart hammered against your ribcage as you imagined being one of them, those girlfriends lost in the throes of intimacy with Stu, feeling the pressure, gasping for breath yet never wanting to surface. To be so claimed, so thoroughly dominated by him.

“Did you sometimes use your hands?” The words fell from your lips before you could catch them, a plea wrapped in curiosity. You looked up at him with earnest eyes, seeking, challenging.

“On their necks,” you clarified, “even if they weren’t, you know, sucking your cock. But riding you instead, or lying underneath you.”

His gaze darkened further, a shadow passing over his face as if he were battling inner demons. "I love to use my hands," he admitted, a rasp in his voice betraying the arousal that mirrored your own.

You stood up, the chair scraping past the wooden floorboards. Without hesitation, you bared your throat to him, tilting your head, offering, a silent siren call. Your skin prickled with anticipation, every nerve ending screaming for his touch. "Show me," you whispered, an invitation laced with danger.

Stu hesitated, his hands twitching at his sides, the longing etched in every line of his body. He was torn, you could see it -the desire to possess, to dominate, warring with a conscience that seemed out of place in a man like him. So he had grown to care about you? More than he seemed to care about any girl before? It was flattering, but in this moment, you wanted him to show his dark side to you, to own you completely, to dominate and make you feel his strong hands on your supple skin.

"Please," you said again, the word barely a breath, yet it held all the weight of your burgeoning need.

His hands lifted, trembling with the effort of restraint, aching to comply, aching to claim. And then his fingers grazed your skin, feather-light and tentative. The air charged between you, thick with unsaid words and unspent desires. You swallowed hard, the act drawing his attention to the pulse hammering at your throat.

"Like this," he murmured, the timbre of his voice lowering, thrumming with a sensuality that made your knees weak. His touch firmed, encircling your neck with a promise of control, of possession. "Would feel even better..."

His voice trailed off, the pressure on your neck slightly increasing.

"Tell me," you breathed, leaning into his hold, silently begging for more.

A groan escaped him, low and guttural. "Would feel even better when I’m inside of you, sis. Wanna feel your tight pussy milk my cock. Wanna see you unravel beneath me. Hear your gasps and moans as I take you to the edge... again and again."

His confession sent a shiver down your spine. The air grew hot, heavy, filled with the scent of want and the sound of your combined breathing. You tilted your head back further, an offering, an acceptance.

His grip increased even more, cutting off your oxygen nearly completely. Your hands flew up to his, holding them lightly, an instinctual move. But you didn’t try to pull them away. You just rested them there as an anchor, to feel his muscles bulge underneath your fingertips, to feel the veins on the back of his hands while his fingers worked around your throat, his dark pupils growing wider while his chest rose and fell rapidly as he tried to keep some restraint.

A soft choking noise escaped your lips. Moist collected between your folds. Stu’s grip was delicious. But suddenly, his hands fell away, leaving your skin cold in their absence.

Stu stepped back, his chest heaving, eyes tormented. Conflict played across his features – desire warred with something darker, something deeper.

"Is that all you have?" You knew you were bold to challenge him this way, especially while you could still feel the imprint of his fingers on your neck. Your challenge hung in the air, tinged with disappointment and a dare.

Stu’s eyes darted to the sore spot and something about his look changed, almost as if it became tinged with sadness. Marks, you realized. The strangling could cause marks. Had he left them on you now? What would your mom and stepdad say if they caught sight of the finger-shaped bruises?

Shit, had you taken things too far? “Stu,” you realized how weak your voice sounded while you took a step toward your stepbrother. You wanted to tell him it was all right. You wanted this and enjoyed it too. But you did not have the chance to tell him. He had already turned away and made a rush for the door, only pausing in the doorway to give you a look-over, his eyes pausing on your bruised neck.

"Be careful," he rasped, one hand on the doorpost. The same hand that had touched your neck only moments ago. You could see the veins and muscles, remembered the strength he held in it. "Guys who like it... sometimes they don't know when to stop."

He turned on his heel, fleeing the room, leaving you in silence.

You slowly turned back to your plate, your lunch no longer appetizing. Your eyes slid over your textbook, unable to focus on anything else but the memory of what had just occurred. Stu had choked you, had whispered about his love life to you. He had even confessed he wanted to do all of that with you.

And you wanted him to do it.

As you brought your plate into the kitchen, you passed the hallway, the door still open. Behind the walls of Stu’s bedroom, you heard the muffled sounds of moans and curses. A distant but distinctive sound of flesh as Stu was moving his hand up and down his shaft until he found his release, your name a prayer or a curse on his lips.

For a moment you stood in silence. Then, a smirk slipped on your lips.

One of these days, Stu’s resolve was going to break.

AN: For more, follow me (:

~~ Support me on Ko-Fi - Masterlist - Request Box ~~

#stu macher x reader #stepbrother au #stepbrother stu macher #Stu Macher #Reader insert

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loverforfanfiction · 1 year

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Oh-Billy loomis and Stu Matcher pt.2

Summary-they weren’t going to kill you , why would they ?

warnings-cussing,blood,mention of death, cheating,toxic,mentions of sex but is no smut the reader is fem but it can be whatever you want it to be

The look of revenge sat on your face as you were the talk of the town y/n l/n is what you heard as you walked down the halls

you had caught the attention of Stu and Billy as you were what they have heard this whole day “what’s so good about her everyone keeps talking about her like she’s the best news anyone has heard about , maybe since Ghostface they needed something new”. Stu said slightly joking hoping Billy would tell him plans on the new killings as he has had his eyes sat on her for the whole day.”well good thing they have thought about someone else so they don’t have any idea of who the next victim is going to be we can catch them off guard if they are focused on useless things” Billy whispers as they walk down the hallway trying to find ways to interact with people to find out things about her.

“Why couldn’t we have asked Sidney things about her instead of doing this” Stu said not wanting his night to be wasted .”we don’t want to look suspicious dumbass”Billy said smacking stu on the head now that their alone.well not really alone they had followed y/n home to her house all the way from school not taking their eyes off of her.

they were tired of the back and forth of who was going to call her as Ghostface until Billy just lets Stu have his way as he chants that he got his way putting on the voice changer and the mask and in hiding “ring ring” is what they heard outside of your window”hello?,you said picking up the phone”.”hello sweetheart wha-“ see no just stop right there you said laughing “now your a stranger and by your voice I’m guessing your a man now you are not going to call my phone late at night calling me sweetheart you don’t know who I am I can be a crazy person waiting to cut off your balls as soon as you fall asleep goodbye stranger” you said slamming down the phone crawling in the bed not staying up to deal with this bullshit you didn’t really mean to be that rude but you were sleepy and things get bad when you don’t sleep

pissed you had hanged up stu had kicked something but he didn’t know what he kicked was going to be that hard”oh shit” you heard a problem outside your window looking down you had saw a blonde boy that had looked like someone you know and he had seem to leave something…

part 3 coming soon

#billy loomis x stu macher x reader #stu x reader #stu matcher x reader #stu x reader x billy #stu x billy #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis fluff #billy loomis x female reader #sidney prescott x reader #scream x reader #scream x yn #scream x you

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static-scribblez · 6 months

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The following shitpost is a parody of Will Wood’s infamous Wednesday rant, I made this for shits and giggles only (also tumblr seems to like it when I post abt Will and bitch (/j) abt these random ass indie animation series about hell) - HH/HB fans and HH/HB critics are both allowed to interact with this, as long as the fans are aware that Vivienne Medrano is a piece of shit and the critics and fans don’t get into arguments with eachother

Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss are not only the greatest betrayals in Indie Animation history but the most maddeningly trite, disturbingly vapid, and internally confused ideological train wrecks I've ever had the deeply sorrowful displeasure of allowing to pass through my corneas may god have mercy on all of us who are fated to live in a world where something so culturally, socially, politically, and artistically noxious as these Mary-sue-lead and Gary-stu-lead, transparently Tumblr-targeted, vaguely bigoted, backfired virtue-signaling, fake leftist capitalist "my immortal"-esque fanfics both earn second seasons through what can only be explained as manufactured consent. Something must be done about Vivziepop’s/Spindle Horse’s Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss. These things are a condescending insult, especially to young people, the socially conscious, and members of marginalized and "'"outcast"'" groups (LiKe DeMoNs & ppL who dON’t wAnt To wAtCH tHEir CItiZens DIE EVERY YEARRRRR) who genuinely suffer from what these things hollowly masturbates to while looking us dead in the eyes and saying "yeah, you like that, don't you?" They are Gatling guns of random buzzwords and empty references to social issues, grotesquely and impotently disguised and screaming "I'm commentary!" before pissing its pants and squealing like a pig. I am shitting. I am pissing. I am standing over a warm bubble bath cradling a toaster and sobbing, chanting g-d's secret name and praying that there is indeed a hell so I can be eternally punished for having given this moral abomination one fraction of a fraction of a cent also they’re not good interpretations of hell anyway

#charlie stfu #shitpost #shitposting #hazbin hotel #helluva boss #hazbin hotel critical #helluva boss critical #hb critical #vivziepop critical #spindlehorse critical #will wood

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muzaktomyears · 7 months

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Only one happening – there is no other word for it – ever slowed the long procession of girls to our den of iniquity: it was ‘The Thing’, and it was George Harrison’s fault. One night, after some excessive drinking along with the rest of us, he was sick on the floor at the side of his bed. This was nothing terribly unusual after a skinful; it was typical of us all. What was different was that next morning he left the mess for the cleaning lady to deal with. She protested that it was not part of her daily duties and it could stay where it was. The trouble was, George decided it wasn’t his duty either and she stormed off in the direction of Herr Weissleder in a Teutonic rage. It wasn’t the first time she had complained about the untidy Beatles, whose sweaty socks, discarded clothing, bottles and other items usually littered the place. This fresh contribution from George was the last straw. In an effort to placate the old lady, Weissleder despatched Horst Fascher to our quarters with an order to George to remove the offending vomit himself. But George became really shirty. It wasn’t his job, it could stay where it was for all he cared, even though he had to climb over it to get into bed. None of this was really typical of George. He rarely involved himself in any sort of argument and was always much quieter than the rest of us in those formative days and, because he was the youngest Beatle, we all tended to look on him as the baby. We never let him forget, for instance, that he had been kicked out of Germany for being too young and taunted him with such gibes as “Still in nappies, weren’t you?” Even some of the fans treated him as a baby. German girls would shout Liebschen Kind! (lovely child) at him and he wouldn’t mind at all. He always wore a sly grin and had a twinkle in his eyes, perhaps because many of the birds wanted to mother him, which he let them do. Not that he was any kind of ‘softie’, despite his stature (only Stu had been smaller). He would have a go in a rumpus. And he had a streak of obstinacy which came to the fore now, as he categorically refused to clear up the mess at his bedside. So the pile of vomit remained. And it began to grow, and grow, mushrooming and taking on a life of its own. Cigarettes were crushed in it, bits of food fed to it, until it assumed the look of a hedgehog; we christened it The Thing. When members of other groups visited us in the flat they took to giving it the occasional drink. Its fame spread and people wanted to come and see it. For a time food and drink seemed to beautify The Thing and it blossomed like a miniature flower garden. It measured something like six inches in diameter. But its beauty was short-lived, and it began to grow hideous. “I’m frightened to sleep,” George remarked one night, “in case it eats me”. The Thing began to pong as well, but it was George’s baby and somehow we had grown to love it as a pet, despite its wretched origins. After its fame spread Horst arrived one morning to inspect it. He thought it was a disgusting sight: he was right, of course. He left, returning with a shovel; the end, we knew, was nigh. “Hey! Don’t do that! That’s our pet,” we chorused. Horst was not the sort of man to be put off by mere cries of affection for the squalid Thing. He scooped it up on his shovel and led the way with it out on to the Grosse Freiheit while we followed behind him, solemnly chanting the Dead March. The beloved Thing was given a swift burial in a street bin and, only after it had gone to its eternal reward did the cleaner reappear to try to make the flat look fit for human habitation once more. And in the end, it had been something of a minor victory for George: someone else had had to do the dirty work after all.

Beatle! The Pete Best Story, Pete Best and Patrick Doncaster (1985)

#when i first learned of The Thing i assumed it had happened during the first hamburg trip #BUT NO #this was in april/may '62 on the third trip😭#the thing #george harrison #pete best #the beatles

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house-of-slayterr · 2 years

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Slashers with a Little:

Cw: AFAB reader

Micheal:

Micheal had just come home from a rather large killing spree. It was Hallows eve after all, and he was gearing up for his favorite night of the year. Halloween would be a blood bath come this time tomorrow. He was in a fairly good mood and excited to see his baby. Of course, he never called you that to your face. But what he wasn’t expecting was to be met with a literal baby when he came home.

He looked all over the house for you. You weren’t in the kitchen, watching tv in the living room, asleep in your bed? Micheal was growing annoyed, thinking you went out and forgot to leave a note again. You tried to convince him to get a cell phone, but he refused. He decided to check one more place, just in case, and there you were.

Micheal found you, curled up in a ball at the bottom of the closet. You were surrounded by all the spare blankets you kept in there for the winter, and all your stuffed animals. He tilted his head at you. Normally he wouldn’t care, but he knew sleeping like this wasn’t good for you. And unlike what Samuel Loomis thought, he wasn’t heartless. He could turn his emotions off for everyone besides you. So he gently shook you awake. But was caught off guard by your actions.

“Mikey!!!” You squealed softly.

You tackled him, catching him off guard and the two of you toppled to the floor.

“Mikey’s home! Mikey’s home!” You chanted excited.

Now, Micheal would have been confused by this sudden change of behaviour. But he witnessed it from afar, back when he used to watch you. Before he snatched you two Halloween’s ago. You’d been really stressed lately and he could tell it was getting to you, but he didn’t know how to help. And now you sat on top of him, age regressed to who knows what age? Micheal wasn’t very good with children, so he panicked a little.

He carefully moved so you were no longer on top of him, which caused you to frown. He then picked you up and carried you to your room silently. You kicked and screamed the whole way, and began crying when he put you down and left the room. But a moment, he came back with a hand full of your stuffies. Which caused you to stop crying.

He was going to leave you to be little on your own. He figured he wasn’t the best influence to be around a child. Micheal wasn’t concerned about corrupting adult you, in fact he took great joy and pride in it. But from his guess you were somewhere around 5 or 6 right now. So you could be self sufficient right? I mean, there were children back at the asylum. But as he went to leave he stopped in his tracks.

“Mikey, sleep?“ you asked.

Your hands were outstretched to him. He thought it over for a second. He really shouldn’t, he was still covered in blood and hadn’t cleaned up from earlier. But you looked so damn cute in his eyes, so he gave in. He laid down on the bed, and lifted you to lay on top of him. He handed you one of the stuffies and watched you giggle slightly. You gave the stuffie a kiss, then placed a kiss on Micheal’s chest.

“Night, Mikey!”

You fell asleep on his chest, and he stayed awake to protect you.

Billy and Stu:

Stu was always better with you than Billy was. Billy wasn’t exactly the most enthusiastic lover. Of course he adored you, you could feel it, Stu could feel it, but he was emotionally constipated. Ever since what happened with his mom, he wasn’t fond of more feminine company. He knew you weren’t a woman, but he had to remind the part of himself that hated them, that you were so much better.

They’d been hanging out at Stu’s house recently. After Ghostface killed his parents, there was no need to hide anymore. Both his relationship with Billy, another boy, and his love for killing. His parents already didn’t approve of him liking men, but being in a poly relationship was also a no. So you were originally introduced as a friend.

And his parents hated you. You weren’t worth much in their eyes, and they made it known. Especially after you cried in front of them, which Stu figured out later was the start of you regressing. You weren’t the most talkative when you were little. You were an older little, about the age of 8, so Stu loved that he could play games with you. He also loved to tell you outlandish stories, and watch you get excited about the pizza delivery boy showing up. He found it cute how excited you got at things.

But Billy thought it was weird. He’d never encountered anyone like you before. He internalised his trauma, but you showed yours outwardly. At first, he thought it was a joke. Until Stu put on his serious voice and explained it to Billy. It also helped when you explained in more detail the next time you were big. But Billy was scared of you. He was not good with kids, and he thought he might hurt you. So he watched you and Stu play from afar.

Stu was playing a more graphic video game today because you had started off big. But Billy was the first to notice you slipping. Stu didn’t notice until you began to cry, hiding in his chest. You weren’t a fan of violence, as it was one of your triggers when you were younger. Older you had the coping tools to calm yourself, little you did not.

“Billy!” You called to him.

He didn’t hesitate upon hearing his name. You’d never called for him before. He knelt down beside you and stroked your hair.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t like this game.”

He chuckled lightly, and Stu looked down at you worried.

“Switching to Mario now.” Stu told Billy.

“Mario?” You asked, sniffling.

“Does our favourite kiddo still like Mario Kart?”

You nodded.

“I want Billy to play!” You said.

Stu glanced at his partner, as if to dare him to try to say no to you.

“I’m not very good at it” Billy tried to get out of it.

He was better at doing things like picking out your clothes, bandaging up scrapes, making you dinner. Stu was better at the quality time, and fun activities.

“Then I can win” you said with a devious smile on your face.

It was Stu’s favorite thing about little you. You were less worried about what others thought, and had fun pranking and saying what’s on your mind. Billy rolled his eyes and sat beside you and Stu. He let you win each round that night, and he’d never felt closer to you before.

Jason:

Jason was confused the first time you dissociated in front of him. You had been reading a book across the cabin from him. When he started to hear you groan in frustration. You had started to become fidgety and restless. You stared at you from behind his mask. You’d turned off the section of your brain that had patients for reading. And non of the words were making sense to you.

He looked to his mother for help. Trying to figure out what was wrong?

“Jason, my child, I think they’re a little.” She said softly.

Jason didn’t know what this meant and it distressed him. Pam was quick to calm her son.

“It just means that they’re really small right now Jay. Like a little kid. It’s not your fault, and it’s not completely a bad thing. It helps them feel better.”

This made him a little less worried.

“Why don’t you go see what they need?” She ushered her son towards you.

“What’s wrong?” Jason signed to you.

Luckily, you still remembered the signs you learned. At least basic ones.

“Can’t read.” You pouted.

Jason chuckled slightly. You were the most avid reader he’d knew, if was odd to see you like this.

“Read me?”

He sighed yes to you. He would read to you any time. Only you were allowed to hear his voice. Cause you never made fun of him. Although, Jason was worried if little you would like him. He sat you on his lap and began slowly reading the book to you. You didn’t mind that he wasn’t as fast at reading as adult you. You snuggle into him and played with the bottom of his mask.

Jason felt at peace with you. Maybe taking care of little you wouldn’t be so hard. He always had his mother for help. Grandma Pam was great with children!

Bo:

Bo wasn’t the most emotionally available of boyfriends. He spent more time with his cars then he did with you. Normally you didn’t mind, but it had been a hard week at work. And on top of that, you grew frustrated with Lester and Jonesy always reaching dirt into the house, and Vincent with his wax. It was impossible to kept the house clean.

Bo came inside, looking for you, and couldn’t find you anywhere. He checked the house up and down and grew a little angry, thinking you just left him. Until he decided to check one more spot. He never expected to find you crying on the floor of the broom closet. At first he was panicked thinking you got hurt. You flinched away from him, not quite recognising him for a second.

“Baby, what happened?”

You couldn’t find the words to explain you were so stressed that you were now on the edge of little space. You felt vulnerable right now and it made you even more shy. You held your hand up at Bo, just wanted to be held. But he wasn’t understanding.

“You have to use your words sweetheart, I don’t understand.”

You shook you head and pointed again. Bo recognised this method now, something Lester used to do when he wanted to be held. So he made an educated guess and helped you off the floor of the closet. Bo had no trouble picking you up, he was just less rough then he usually was with you. He walked you over to the kitchen and sat you down on the counter.

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to understand what was going on right now. Why were you crying, why couldn’t you talk? Why was you whole posture and way of moving different?

“Baby, can you try to explain to me what’s going on right now?” His voice was calm and stable, but a little bit of worry was laced in it. “Did you hit your head or something?”

You shook your head.

“S-small.” Was all you could say.

He frowned. He didn’t know what that meant.

“What’s small?”

You pointed at yourself.

“Ok. So how small are you?” He asked slowly. Trying to figure out what he was asking you.

You held up 4 fingers.

“You’re 4?” He asked bewildered.

You nodded again, fidgeting with your hoodie. He was still a little confused, but Lester had been a 4 year old at some point. And he’d helped take care of his brother. How hard could this be?

“Are you hungry?”

You nodded vigorously and he chuckled.

“Alright baby, you stay right there and I’ll make you some food. How about some chicken nuggets?”

You squealed happily and kicked your feet. Bo thought you were cute like this. But he was a little worried deep down. He’d have to ask big you what was up, but for now he’d just enjoy the moment.

Vincent:

You’d been with Vincent a while now. You knew everything about him and he knew everything about you. So on this cold fall night, Vinnie could tell you were slipping. He’d had you on his lap all night as you silently watched him work on his art. A position you were both often found in. You were more than happy to spent silent time with your loving boyfriend.

But you’re eyes were less focused, and you began to fidget more in his lap. He could tell you were becoming restless. You played with his hair and nuzzled into his neck. He set down his tool and lightly tapped your shoulder. You looked up at him.

“Baby tired?” He asked.

You nodded.

His mask was off, so you could see him smile down at you.

“I finish?”

He wanted to continue working, but he’d ditch his project no problem if you asked him too.

You nodded once more, snuggling back into him. As he worked, he began to rock back and forth slightly, rocking you to sleep. Most people thought this only worked in babies, but it was every kids weakness. He learned you were about six when you became small. You’d had many important conversations about trauma and boundaries when you were big. And he respected every one without hesitation, you were his top priority.

After about an hour, he finally gave up on working, turning his full attention to you. He decided to start sketching you as his other hand played with your hair. You always loved his art and he knew you’d like it when you woke up. When he was finished, he gently picked you up and carried you to the bed. He cuddled around you as big spoon and kissed the top of your head. He’d keep you warm and safe until you were big again.

Lester:

Lester was the best with kids. He acted like one himself many times. He noticed you were little right away. When Bo and Vincent were off killing your friends, something seemed different about you. He was the one who caught you and he was going to help his brothers. But then you opened your mouth and he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“Who are you?”

He realised you weren’t awake last time he introduced himself to the others. You’d been asleep in the back of the van before they woke you up to walk to town.

“My names Lester.”

“I’m Y/N!” You said enthusiastically.

He raised an eyebrow at you. Didn’t you know he was about to kill you? Why were you so cheerful right now? Surely you knew most of your friends were dead right now.

“I like your hat Mr.”

Now he recognised this as the way a child would talk, not a grown woman.

“Oh yeah?” He asked, still slightly confused.

“Mhmm, wish I had a hat!” You frowned.

He chuckled lightly at this. Perhaps you weren’t so bad. You weren’t like those vulgar, mean kids you came to town with. He took off his hat and came closer to you kneeling down to where you sat on the floor and put the hat on you head. You smiled brightly, giggling.

That was a noise that made his ears flush bright red, and his heart swell. He was quickly finding you adorable.

“How old are you?” He asked, curiously.

“I’m six.”

Now he knew something was up. Certainly your body wasn’t six, but you seemed quite certain you were. But now he knew he couldn’t let his brothers hurt you. You were just a scared little kid, like they all once were. He decided then and there to rote that you.

“I have a dog you know. Would you want to meet them?” He asked.

Probably not your smartest moment. And he wasn’t trying to trick you in anyway, he just wanted to get you somewhere safe, not out in the open where Vincent or Bo could find you. They wouldn’t be so kind. Not without a good word from Lester first.

“If you get in the truck, I can take you there.”

You hesitated. At least you were smart. He could tell you were thinking it over.

“Not stranger, I know your name.” You concluded.

This statement both worried and fascinated him. He’d have to teach you later that despite him being safe, other strangers wouldn’t be. He wouldn’t want you getting hurt.

“Jonsey is gonna love you” he said as he drove toward his house.

The rest of the evening you stayed small and played with his dog. Lester had never been happier in his whole life. He’d have to ask if you wanted to stay in the morning. And beg his brothers not to hurt you.

Rusty:

Rusty didn’t come across many people working on the road. But he’d found you about three states ago. You were headed anywhere, just wanted some company. And he was more than happy to obliged. He’d never been around someone as pretty as you before. You made him nervous.

But as time went on on this road trip, and you both talked more. You learned a lot about each other trauma. He told you all about the other truckers made fun of him. So he liked to be alone. But you could tell that last part wasn’t true and we’re glad to offer him company. You revealed secrets about your own abuse. You explained to him what age regression was and that you really only did it in times of intense stress of when you felt calm and relaxed.

So Rusty was quiet surprised a week later when he witnessed you regress for the first time. It wasn’t obvious at first, you just began to answer his questions a little differently. Less logical and calculated and more emotion driven. He eventually got a sneaking suspicion you where dissociating. At first he was worried, had you been growing stressed. You’d not been around anyone other than him all day. He decided to ask you flat at.

“You ok?”

“Yeah.” You said simply.

“Y/N…” you turned your attention to him.

“How old are you right now?”

You were caught off guard by the question. You thought you hid it well. You didn’t regress to a really young age often so it was much easier to pretend to be your adult self. You didn’t have to fight obnoxious childhood emotions.

“Fifteen.” You said.

This made Rusty a little uneasy. A trucker driving with a “fifteen year old” never looked good. But he reminded himself you were really an adult and consented, no, wanted to be there. He’d pull over if you ever grew uncomfortable.

“It’s ok Rusty, I’m still me.” You stated.

You noticed him getting clammy.

“I’m just a little younger. Teen me didn’t have much responsibilities, it was nice. This is nice.” You said.

He smiled at that. So you’d regressed because you were comfortable around him.

“You wanna be in charge of the radio?” He asked.

He watched your eyes light up. The rest do the road trip would be fun now that he knew you felt safe with him. You could both just be yourselves, which was something he could only previously do alone.

An: this was fun to write. Writings a little slow right now cause I’m still a little sick. But I wanted to write a comfort piece.

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la-principessa-della-squadra · 9 months

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Serial Killer!Ghiaccio X Fem!reader (Part 1/?)

TW: NSFW content, Yandere, sexual harassment, kidnapping, violence, blood, gore

PLEASE NOTE: The reader of this story is not going to have much control on her surroundings.

SUMMARY: Fem!reader is invited to a laurea (graduation party) and finds Formaggio, Illuso and finally Ghiaccio. After a flashback explaining how fem!reader and Ghiaccio met, She decides to head to her dormitory with him. That was a poor choice.

Il Santo Bevitore bar, 00:31

“DOTTOOOOREEEEE…DOTTOOOOREEEEE!!!!”

October, Graduation month.

This was the third time you heard that chant.

“...Dottore nel buco del cul! VAFFANCUL!VAFFANCUL!”

The chanting was followed by the popping of a Prosecco bottle and a flying cork rolling at the feet of some random students, who probably weren’t even invited to the party.

However, that was never a problem from the start. After all, having gatecrashers at your graduation party is so common that it is now a tradition.

The foamy neck of the bottle, still steaming from its own coolness, slips into your plastic cup supported by Giorno’s quivering hands, who is once again in charge of pouring the alcohol for every single guest. From his rosy cheeks and shaky steps, it was clear that Giorno would not be able to keep himself upright much longer.

“Grazie Gioà, sei sicuro di non dover vomitare?”

(Thanks Giorno, Are you sure you’re not feeling sick?)

You ask him sheepshly and with a slight note of worry, but before the blondie could answer you’re interrupted by a loud voice.

"UAGLIU!"

Your head quickly turns back. It’s Guido Mista, Giorno’s best friend. He's also kinda drunk...Guido doesn't waste no time and after catching a big breath he starts shouting at the top of his lungs to give an additional toast.

“AIZ AIZ AIZ, ACAL ACAL ACAL, ACOOST ACCOST ACCOST, A SALUTA NOST!!!”

The rhythmic chant ignites a roaring wave of excitement throughout the bar, fueling Giorno's enthusiasm to the point where he eagerly presses his lips against the giant bottle. The poor guy started drinking since early in the afternoon, and the blame undoubtedly fell on Guido.

As a matter of fact, Guido kept filling up his friend’s glass with whatever alcoholic concoction was within arm's reach. Giorno had finished his graduation speech at 3:30 p.m. By 3:37 p.m. Guido had already made him chug half a bottle of shoddy Tavernello, all complemented by the bursting of confetti and colorful streamers.

Since you knew what a dangerous mix of cheap alcohol was broiling in Giorno’s stomach, you swiftly step back as an anonymous blonde boy decides to intervene by firmly confiscating the bottle of Prosecco. He looked a little concerned. However, you’re pretty sure you’ve seen him before, what was his name again?

“UEEEE PANNAAAA’ààà!!A’Pannacotta!! Ué fra, pcchè nu staj bvenn?"

(PANNACOTTA! Why aren’t you drinkin’, brah??)

You hear Guido shouting, while Giorno’s perfectly bowed laurel wreath had already fallen on his delicate, red face, messing up his golden locks.

“Mannagg a miserij Guido, ma t'e sciumunut? se m mett a bev pur ij, aropp chi a guid a machin?! comm v port a cas? Nun me facc' ritirare la patente n'altra volta."

(For fuck's sake Guido, have you gone nuts??If I start pounding drinks too, then who the hell's gonna get your ass home? I ain't letting those bastards revoke my damn license... again.)

Replies the friend in annoyance while adjusting the laurel wreath of a drunk and smiling Giorno.

“E ij che n sacc, stu bar è chin r ingegner autoveicolo, fatt costruì na mongolfiera. vann a naft no?”

(That sounds like a you problem, this bar is full of automotive engineers, ask them if they can build you an air baloon .They run on gasoline don't they?)

“Tu staj proprij a for.”

(You can’t be that stupid.)

At least Guido isn’t wrong, the bar is swarming with engineers looking for one thing and one thing only.

“...Aò, ma’ndò sta la figa??”

(...Yo, Where the bitches at?)

A strong smell of Menabrea invades your nostrils before an anonymous arm swiftly sorrounds your shoulders and traps your body against a men’s chest.

You quickly recognize the man’s voice.

“Formi…”

It’s Formaggio, your favourite drop-out engineer.

A legend among your faculty for being the ultimate judge of the nightlife, Formaggio lags two years behind you. Throughout the entire semester of you two chilling together, you've taken an oath that you've never laid eyes on him cracking open a book or even getting close to one.

Formaggio's library visits are solely reserved for bugging his buddies, making quick pit stops at the restroom, exploiting his student discount on vending machine goodies, or diving into his favourite pursuit: charming the ladies.

Since it was common knowledge that Formaggio had a preference for freshmen, he very often did not hesitate to physically show you his affection in front of other people.

“Zì. Questa festa è per i laureati in biologia, non scienze della formazione.”

(Dude. This party is for biology majors, not education majors).

That saccharine yet disinterested tone could only belong to Illuso. You don’t know much about him except that he lives with Formaggio somewhere in the centro storico and that he's majoring in architecture.

It is common knowledge that architects and engineers are natural enemies, like engineers and mathematicians, engineers and physicists, and engineers and other engineers…Damn engineers! They ruined STEM...

Despite all that, these two seem to get along perfectly.

“Mecojoni...”

(DAMN.)

While immersed in your own thoughts, your left check is refreshed by the condensation of Formaggio’s Menabrea as he tries to hold you closer to his chest. He drank too much, and therefore he’s getting even more touchy.

“Ti vedo accaldata chicca, ti prendo qualcosa da bere?Lulù perchè nun vai dall’oste e ce piji quarcosa? Tiè, prendite ‘no scudo e facce fa’ due gintonic.”

(I see you're sizzlin' up, babe. Need a drink to cool those flames? Lulu, hit up the bar, grab some stuff for us. Get a couple of gintons in the mix)

“Oh no no…sto apposto!”

(UH,Nah…I’m fine!)

Panicked, you encounter Illuso’s sight, who immediately gives you an almost disgusted look, as if it was your fault if his friend is drooling all over you. His eyes narrow above a tight and twist smile, and Formaggio gives him a flickering smile back.

"Facciamo che ci vai tu fino al bancone dato che stai preso bene."

( Why don't YOU go to the bar and get us something?)

"Sei propio da' a Lazio, Lulù."

(You're a fucking cunt, Lulu, you know that?)

“ Immaginavo di trovarti qui.”

(I knew you were here.)

Your body is shaken by a sudden shiver. At first glance, you connected that chill to the Menabrea freezing damp glass, but you soon catch on that the bottle is no longer grazing against your cheek.

It’s his voice that made you shiver.

It’s too familiar.

“Oh, Ghiaccio,ce stai anche tu.”

(Oh Ghiaccio, you’re here too.)

Formaggio turns his head behind his shoulders while still keeping his hands on you. His smile fades and his friendly tone vanishes, now resembling Illuso’s.

Regrettably, you know exactly the reason behind Formaggio’s sudden change. It’s no secret that Ghiaccio is an expert in ruining the mood with his bad attitude. In the past, Formaggio tried to warn you many times about Ghiaccio's sudden violent outbursts.

You found it hard to believe since Formaggio never looked really concerned for his friend but rather preoccupied about his 'party pooper’ attitude.

According to him:

If sober, Ghiaccio would kill the buzz.

When drunk, Ghiaccio would kill people.

Even if you seriously doubted about the 'killing' part, everyone on the faculty thought that Ghiaccio was a bit of a weirdo.

Not that engineers in general aren’t labeled as ‘weirdos’. However, Ghiaccio was giving all those signs of someone you shouldn't approach. After all: ‘ quale persona sana di mente si iscriverebbe a ingegneria, per di più a ingegneria chimica?’

Every time someone actually took the courage to come up to his desk and try to have a word with him, his responses were always dry and blunt. Hunched over his computer and with a MATLAB tab permanently open, not once had he raised his head to engage in conversation with his interlocutor.

As a matter of fact, it was only his eyes that tried to move.

The gaze behind those thick glasses became suddenly glacial and sinister, accompanied by a tone so saccharine and dismissive that it would have put anyone off.

Ghiaccio sat stiff and still like a taxidermy animal, looking more dog than human.

Ghiaccio sat there, rigid and lifeless, more canine than human. In fact, he often stood as alone as a rabid dog.

Right now, his friends felt his gaze - that of a rabid dog.

“Qualche problema Maggio? Non hai qualche matricola da seviziare?”

(Any problems Maggio? Couldn’t find any freshman to harass?)

Ghiaccio’s sharp tongue brings you back to reality. The blue-haired boy appeared out of thin hair behind Illuso’s back, startling him. He stands there with his glasses slightly fogged up from the air humidity. His right hand clutches a plastic cup that filled with ice, just ice. Weird.

“Cristo Ghiaccio mi hai quasi fatto prendere un infarto. Sembri un morto che cammina.”

(Jesus Christ Ghiaccio,you almost gave me a heart attack. You look like a walking corpse.)

Comments Illuso, glancing in Formaggio’s directions as he lifts his arm from your shoulders and starts loudly chugging the rest of the Menabrea. This visibly annoys Ghiaccio who instinctively shows his teeth, clenching them in a crooked and forced smile.

“Ciao Ghia, come ti vanno le cose?”

(Hello Ghia, How is it going?)

The smile fades. Ghiaccio starts purposely ignoring the two men, and instead he focuses on you:

“Secondo te, tosa? Domani ho Analisi 2.”

(What you think, tosa? Tomorrow I got the Analysis 2 exam.)

“Non sei preparato-”

(Did you stu-)

“Che domanda der cazzo fai chicca, dove pensi che è stato fin ora, se non chiuso in biblioteca?”

(What a damn dumb question, babe. "Did you study?" Like, where the hell do you think he were just a sec? In a freakin' library, duh.)

Formaggio cuts you, mocking your girly voice.

You cautiously raise your hands, waiting for Ghiaccio to burst out for being interrupted, but that doesn't happen. The blue-haired man just shoots Formaggio a death stare, head slightly cocked, eyes piercing through those thin brows. You notice him instinctively baring his teeth and gums at the man like he's about to bite his neck.

It's a warning.

Formaggio takes the hint and casually peers into the bottle, scrounging for any last drops. Meanwhile, Illuso's ego is so massive that he flat out brushes off Ghiaccio's response and jumps right into schooling his buddy.

“Dove pensi che sia. SIA. Il congiuntivo l’hai lasciato al Quadraro?”

(Where do you think He was. He WAS.)

“Lulù stai cercando una capocciata o una bottigliata? Posso dartele entrambe. Te lascio scegliere l’ordine.”

(Listen Lulu. Do you want to catch these hand or the bottle? I can give you both. Just say a word.)

Formaggio's tone takes on a slurred edge, like he's got a bit too much booze in his system for fooling around. Illuso catches wind of this and takes it as the perfect chance to blow off some steam. Weirdly enough, Ghiaccio stays dead quiet, sitting this convo out.

Now that's a twist.

Still, you catch a little something. Even though the guy's zipped his lip, you spy the plastic cup in his grip utterly squashed.

Why's he holding back? You can read it in his expression, he's just itching to unleash his piece.

“Ziofà facciamo che se sei ignorante non è colpa mia.”

(It’s not my fault you’re ignorant)

Replies the tall man while stiffing up and crossing his arm to feel superior. Now Illuso is not even glaring at Formaggio anymore, and he's perfectly aware this is going to drive him mad.

“Ma chi credi de cojonà a' Pariolino?Ignorante lo dici a tua sorella.”

(You did not just call me ignorant.)

“Ignorante nel senso che ignori la grammatica italiana.”

(Don’t take it personally. I said Ignorant because you're ignoring the Italian grammar)

“Allora tu sei un imbecille perchè Imbelle”

(Then you’re an imbecile because you're imbecilin')

“BOJA FAUSS QUELLO CHE HAI DETTO NON HA UN CAZZO DI SENSO, ZI.”

(That doesn’t even make any sense! You just MADE UP. A FUCKING WORD.)

Finally, Illuso comes down from his pedestal and starts hatefully staring at his friend.

"CHICCA!"

(BABE!)

Formaggio turns towards you for half a second and hands you the empty Menabrea before turning his gaze back to Illuso.

"PIJATE STA MENABREA. MO' TE PARTO DE CAPOCCIA!"

(HOLD THIS FOR ME. THIS FAG IS ABOUT TO CATCH THESE HANDS!)

Formaggio's voice blares like a damn siren, catching the attention of everyone in the joint. A bunch of folks, wreaths atop their heads, swivel around, and others in the joint follow suit. In the midst of the mob, you spot Guido secretively trying on Giorno's laurel wreath while the dude's occupied with some pink-haired girl, fussing over his fancy-ass braid.

"Ragazzi non fate gli stupidi. Non potete fare a botte qui- Ci stano guardando tutti..."

(Guys. Stop this nonsense. You can't fight here. Everyone is looking-)

You make a move to put a stop to their antics, when a chilling voice sneaks into your ear...

“Vieni.”

(Let's go.)

Freddo.

This sensation is familiar, it’s like being in one of those deep, paralyzing sleeps where the weight of the bed covers feels like a boulder. But this time your body seems as if covered by a light sheet. A cold sheet, as if it had never dried. It’s wet and icy, a cold so sharp that starts biting into your skin.

Your head starts spinning, even though you are sure you haven't moved.

You remain motionless, unable to do anything but inhale icy air.

You feel as if my whole skin is covered with frost.

Your memories are confused and jumbled...you cannot make sense of them. Under your clenched eyelids, lights, sounds and colors from llast night mix in a continuous spiral, causing you to feel nauseous. After taking a few breaths, your head finally stops throbbing like the speakers of a disco. Your back hurts as it's lying on a hard surface that is even colder than the surrounding air. The unpleasant sensation given by your skin attached to the icy surface challenges you to move your muscles.... But something is wrong.

They won't move. They can't move.

You sense your hands resting next to your body, the tips of your fingers numb with cold... However, when you flex them in order to warm them, they do not respond to your thoughts. Panic suddenly makes you lucid. you open your eyes.

Your eyes snap open, only to be assaulted by a blinding white radiance. It's intoxicating, that brilliance. A sea of white stretching to every horizon.

A single source of light reigns, the ceiling lamp above you. You lie atop a slab of metal, nothing but gravity pressing you into its unforgiving surface.

“ah...ah…”

Your breath begins to shorten.

White smoke lazily rises from your lips, disappearing into the neon. The light illuminates your figure yet denies you any heat. You look around, trying to figure out where you are. Your neck slowly begins to loosen, allowing you to get a better look around the room...

Beyond, darkness reigns, a domain devoid of form or presence. Yet, something sinister looms along the walls, whether furniture or pillars, they crawl from floor to ceiling.

Your vision drifts downward, over your frozen feet, past the table's edge, until a glimmer dances at the periphery.

A door?

“C-C-C’è…c’è q-qualcuno?”

(is-is anybody there?)

Your voice is hoarse, cracking when you try to speak. The icy air scratches your throat, your skin quivers.

The tips of your fingers have now lost sensibility, as if they have become one with the table. You cough... then you try to speak again, louder.

“Pe-Per favore!!COFF! AIUTO!! Sono qui!! Non cè nessuno?!”

(Anyone! Anybody!!Please, some-Cough-SOMEONE HELP!!)

After shouting, you wait panting for an answer... a sign...any sign.

Suddenly you hear footsteps approaching, slow and measured. A shadow obscures the narrow glimmer coming from the door. The sound of several locks being opened echoes in the room.

The door slowly opens, letting a much stronger light invade the room, revealing an unknown figure. A man is watching you from the threshold but the light beyond him prevents you from recognize him.

Your eyes flicker as the light sound of your chattering teeth signals you've just regained control of your jaw muscles.

The expression you’re making seems to amuse the man. A soft chuckle escapes him as he strides into the room, sealing the door in his wake. He drags in a cart, and upon its enigmatic cargo, your gaze falters, unable to discern the details.

“Non ti conviene sforzarti così tanto…rischi di farti male.”

(Oh dear, you shouldn't push yourself too hard...you'll end up hurting yourself.)

His voice slices through the air, sharper than the chill. Dread claws at you, its grip tightening as his teeth catch your attention more than his eyes do. A grin stretches across his face, a gruesome expanse that reveals his gums. His gaze remains unaltered, a predator's stare, unrelenting and piercing.

Behind those glasses, his eyes undress you, baring your vulnerability as if you weren't already stripped bare.

“G-Ghiaccio?”

“Shhh..ti fa male da qualche parte?Come va il respiro?”

(Shhh. Does it hurt anywhere? is your breathing okay?)

All of a sudden, the man puts on a genuinely concerned face, and seems to be focused on your face.

"C-Che è successo??...Ci siamo schiantati?”

(what.... what happened...where am I? did we crash?)

Your voice tremble, it’s stuttering. You gasp as you notice his hand resting on the table, beside your ankle.

" Non c'è niente di cui avere paura...concentrati e rispondi alla domanda: ti fa male da qualche parte?"

(don't worry about it now.... take a breath, stay focused and answer me: does it hurt anywhere?)

The situation is surreal.... what happened? Perhaps you're in a hospital? Did you have an accident? Are you paralyzed because of that?

"n-no. Non c'è niente che mi fa male...ma non riesco a muovermi...h-ho così tanto freddo..."

(n..no.... nothing hurts.... but I can't move..p..I might have something d- to put on...I'm so f-ing cold...)

You murmur, your voice trembling from both cold and unease. Shivers run through you, the icy fingers of anxiety now accompanying the chill. The man's lips curve at your hushed words, his face inches from yours. Your cheeks burn, tainted red by a mix of emotions.

"In un attimo, chicca."

(In a moment, babe.)

He purrs, his tone velvety. However, that ' babe' part is filled with venom and resentment. You quickly notice he's making a sloppy imitation of Formaggio's accent.

His face inches closer, his gaze locked onto yours.

"Sto controllando che sia tutto apposto...dimmi..."

(I must make sure everything's alright... tell me...)

His hand touches the sole of your right foot, a warmth you haven't felt since you woke.

"Senti le mie dita?"

(Can you sense my fingers?)

"Sì..."

(Yes...)

You're aware of his index finger trailing over your skin, a sensation that sends ripples through your body. Past your knee, ascending your thigh, the warmth causes both your form and fear to tremble. His other fingers join the index, like sinister accomplices, tracing your flesh. With a creeping exploration, his hand moves until it firmly presses against your inner thigh.

"Dimmi quando non le senti più."

(Let me know when you can't feel them anymore.)

"a-ah!F-fermo!"

(a-ah! Stop!)

You attempt to resist, but your defiance only manifests in the frustrated shake of your head...

"Rilassati..."

(Relax...)

He coos, his voice a syrupy assurance.

"Non ti farò niente...per ora. Non sei contenta di ricevere un check up gratuito?"

(I won't do anything... yet. Isn't a complimentary check-up something to be glad about?)

His hand still lingers on your inner thigh, its touch a languid caress that ignites a warmth, craving coursing through your body. You relinquish the sensation, only to be met once again with the unforgiving cold of the table.

"C-Che cosa è successo?"

(What... What's happened to me?)

Breathless, you gasp, your chest heaving. The man's features retain an eerie calm as you sense his touch upon you once more. His fingers slip under your right hand's palm, lifting it, while his other hand blankets your back.

"Solo un attimo chicca, devo finire il chek-up...Poverina, le tue mani sono congelate."

(Just a moment, babe. I need to finish the check-up... Poor thing, your hands are freezing....)

He smiles as his warm hands rub against yours, giving you such relief that a sigh of pleasure escapes you.

"oh-"

This time, his 'babe' doesn't feel as a mockery.

You catch the sight of his tongue darting across his lips, a prelude to him exhaling gently onto your fingers. His warm breath works its magic, coaxing sensitivity back into your once-numb digits.

"Ti piace, non è vero?...lascia che ti faccia stare meglio..."

(Feels good, doesn't it? let me do something special...)

Before you can say anything, his mouth is pressed on your fingers as he starts to kiss them, slowly.... how can those lips be so warm.... the gesture is so unexpected that leaves you speechless. You feel your head dipping into a fog-you are still dreaming. You are definitely dreaming. There is no other explanation,

-ah-

Your index finger slides into his mouth, encountering the sensation of his warm, wet tongue caressing your nail, descending to its very base. It's a repulsive, slimy sensation, made eerier by the expression he wears—a perverse delight akin to a child sucking their favorite treat.

"M-ma che fai? S-Smettila..."

(N-no... no, stop...)

You stammer, horror clenching at your chest, urging him to cease.

Your gaze locks onto the dreadful scene unfolding before you. Slowly, he extracts your index finger, his lips gripping its tip. Behind the thick lenses of his glasses, Ghiaccio gazes at you, his eyes holding an unsettling glint. As terror courses through you, his teeth begin to close deliberately, his molars biting down, the pressure intensifying with every passing second.

"No-C-Che cosa-AHI. AHIA!! MI FAI MALE! L-Lasciami!! SMETTILA!!"

(No—what are you doing? Ah!AHH! YOU'RE HURTING ME!! It hurts! NO!)

Recognition dawns as you comprehend his sinister intent. The sound that echoes from him—a chilling crunch—is oddly familiar, like the memory of your grandmother offering freshly harvested, crisp carrots from her garden when you were a child.

*CRUNCH*

A scream rips from your throat, pain blurring your sight. His jaw locks around the bone with an aggressive grip.

In a split second that catches you off guard, Ghiaccio tears two of your phalanges away, wrenching your finger free in a swift, brutal motion. The forceful snap of his head results in a gruesome sight—a gushing surge of blood spraying forth.

Your hand remains locked in his.

The vile squelching of his chewing churns your stomach. He's like a rabid dog ravaging his prey.

"Mmh... sapevo ne sarebbe valsa la pena"

(Mhh... delicious... just as I'd imagined.)

Your shrieks of torment transform into violent retches. You twist your face aside, desperate to avoid vomiting, yet there's nothing left to expel. The sound of his swallowing grates on your ears. More convulsions wrack your frame, forcing your eyes to shut.

You can hear him dragging the cart closer, your gaze drawn to the crimson smears that now stain his scrubs. You can't muster the strength to confront your mangled hand.

"Ci vuole calma e sangue freddo, tosa."

(Baby, it's cold outside.)

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babybeewrites · 1 year

Text

Movie Night

Cg! Billy Loomis x Little! GN! Reader x CG! Stu Macher

Warnings: Mentions of murders // stress from school // Stressed reader // Billy & Stu scare the reader // paci usage // sippy cup usage // fluff!

Summary: Y/N is having a hard time with school, plus the murders that have been happening don’t help with how stressed they feel. So one night while they’re trying to study for yet another test, their boyfriends sneak in one night with the plan for a little movie night. They cuddle the rest of the night watching Y/N’s favorite movies.

A/N: I tried adding some baby-ish talk when the Reader had regressed, just because sometimes it's hard to write an immersive agere fic in first person. it's not much though

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I groan & rub my tired eyes while leaning back in my seat. The last few weeks have been so stressful. State testing had begun about a week ago & to add to the stress, about a week or two before that murders had started happening. I’m so worried about loosing my friends at any moment. I get up to get another cup of coffee, I’m going to need it if I’m going to stay up any longer. With all this stress I haven’t been able to sleep much, & with the testing, I’ve been staying up even later to study. That paired with not feeling safe enough to regress recently is really taking a toll on me. I feel horrible, but what can I do? Nothing really. I walk down stairs & into my kitchen, being thankful my parents are out of state during all of this. I definitely don’t want them around during all of this. Blindly reaching for the coffee pot, I jump when it moves so easily. Finally I look at what I’m reaching for & see that it’s empty. Amazing. With a groan, I grab another pod of coffee & start another pot. While it’s brewing I realize that I had forgotten my mug upstairs, all the way in my room. I huff & jog back up to get it, upon entering my room, I head straight for my desk & grab the mug. Before I can head back down stairs I hear the noise of my coffee machine stop. That’s odd, the pot shouldn’t be done yet. I wait a few moments, listening for any noise. Then I hear it, the sound of heavy-ish foot steps. Oh no. I begin to panic & look around my room, where is somewhere easy to hide!? Quickly setting my cup down, I head for my closet & hide in there.

The foot steps begin to slowly climb the stairs. However, there’s another pair of foot steps, these ones much lighter than the first. The second pair of foot steps is still downstairs though. I can hear my heartbeat quicken as the foot steps draw closer to my room, heading straight for my room I realize. With all this going on, I start to feel my brain go fuzzy. I’m not surprised that of course this is the time my brains calls a quits. This is the worst time to be feeling small! The door to my room creaks open & I do my best to stay quiet, I even cover my mouth with my hands to hide my now labored breathing. I start mentally chanting for Billy or Stu to magically appear & save me from the scary people in my house. The foot steps pause in the middle of my room before I hear a voice.

“Y/N? Sweetheart?” It’s Billy, him & Stu must have snuck in through the back door again. I feel so relieved that I audibly sigh from my hiding place. Daddy must have heard it since he makes how way towards the closet & opens the door carefully. I look up to see my pretty daddy, he seems unhappy though. Probably because I hid though. While looking at him I notice that the fuzzuness has taken over, but its ok. Daddy & Papa are here which means I’m safe. Without thinking I reach up. “Oh my poor sweet angel, did we scare you?” He asks sweetly while reaching down, sliding his hands around me & pulling me from my spot on the closet ground. I immediately wrap my arms around his neck as he picks me up.

“Daddy! Yous spook me!” I whine while burying my head into where his shoulder meets his neck. He smells kinda funny, like a penny! I start giggling at that one. My comment gets a chuckle from him as he walks over to my bed. Daddy sits down on my head with me in his lap, still facing him. He adjusts his arms around me & holds me closer to him. Daddy is so warm. I let out a sigh of content. The sound of foot steps coming up the stairs tells us that Papa is coming up now. With a big big smile, Papa opens the door & looks at me & Daddy.

“Hows our sweet angel?” He asks almost dramatically. Papa walks over & wraps his arms around me & Daddy, joining us on the bed. I start giggling & reach a hand out to grip his shirt. Papa unwraps one of his arms & gently places a big hand over mine, keeping my hand there. Being able to touch both of them brings me so much comfort. Daddy looks towards my desk & sees an open book next to my notebook & an empty mug. He pulls away enough to look me in the eyes & furrows his brows at me.

“Little one were you staying up late to study? Again?” He nearly scolds, making me lower my head & pout. Of course Daddy would notice why I’m still up so late. I nod slowly, knowing it won’t help to lie. Lying is against the rules. I can feel tears welling up in my eyes tuz I don’t like making Daddy disappointed. Papa must have noticed my teary eyes tuz he steps in to save me. Like a knight!

“Billy leave them alone, the little one has been stressed lately, why do you think we’re here unannounced.” He battles the shorter male & promptly pulls me from Daddy’s arms. Letting me snuggle into his chest. Huh, Papa doesn’t smell like pennies, unlike Daddy. That's ok though. Daddy & Papa must have been having a very quiet talk tuz Papa suddenly pulls away from me & gives a goofy smile.

“Come on little one! Lets get you into some comfy clothes & your paci.” He says sweetly before getting off the bed with me in his arms. Papa is so strong! He walks over to my closet & sets me down. I pout but turn to my closet when he starts going through my onesies. There’s a lot of funny little hums he does while looking through my closet. Papa moves my dino onesie to reveal my Winnie the pooh onesie. I squeal & reach for it. Pooh bear! Pooh bear! I mentally chant in excitement. With a light hearted laugh, Papa grabs the onesie & steps away from me.

“Arms up little one! We gotta get your boring jammies off first.” He waits for me to do as I’m told. Which I do! Duuh! I want my Pooh bear onesie. With my arms raised, Papa Takes my shirt & then helps me slip out of my comfy pants. Once undressed, he helps me put on the pooh bear onesie. Papa even lets me balance myself using his shoulders! With my Pohh Bear onesie on, Papa picks me up again & reaches into my little box, pulling out a honey themed paci that matches with my onesie. He clips it to the collar of my onesie & pops the paci into my mouth. With me all set for a little night, Papa turns back to Daddy. Daddy seems to have calmed down in the time it took for Papa to help me get ready for whatever they have planned tonight. Daddy gets up from his spot on the bed & walks over to us. Daddy wraps an arm around Me & Papa & leans in close enough to give me a kiss on the head. It’s Daddy’s way of saying he’s not mad anymore.

“Lets get in bed & watch some winnie the pooh, how does that sound little one?” Daddy asks me once he pulls away. I smile brightly & start nodding quickly.

“Ya! Winnie da pooh!” I cheer. My excitement gets a smile from both Papa & Daddy. They love seeing their little one so happy & care free. Papa hands me to Daddy, letting him take me to bed while Papa walks towards my desk. He bends down & opens one of the big drawers at the bottom of my desk. It’s the regression movie drawer. Papa pops in the movie & turns to me & Daddy. In the time Papa was getting the movie, Daddy had brought me to the bed & had layed down with me. Holding me close while we wait for Papa. Papa smiles at us but doesn’t come to the bed, instead he goes back to my closet. Reaching into my little box, he pulls out my favorite sippy cup.

“What type of juice do you want little one?” He asks sweetly, being calmer than usual. I think really hard, its a very hard choice ya know! But honestly I know right before leaving my parents had made sure to get me snacks & drinks & I know I have some of my favorite juice left. So i do the obvious thing & cheer for my favorite juice, getting a huff from Daddy since he doesn’t like when I yell while so close to his ear. I remember that I’m super duper close to Daddy’s ear & quickly turn to him while Papa goes to get some juice.

“Sorry Daddy.” I whisper, making sure I don’t talk too loud for Daddy’s ears. Daddy rolls his eyes but still gives me a loving smile.

“It’s ok Angel, I know you were just excited.” He reassures & even gives me another kiss on the head. Daddy grabs my stuffy that’s behind him & hands Mr. Cuddles to me. He’s a teddy bear I’ve had since I really young. I cuddle Mr Cuddles really close to my chest & smile up at Daddy. Daddy smiles back before turning to the tv in my room & starting the movie. Daddy can be a meanie butt sometimes.

Papa comes back & basically bolts over to the bed, joining me & Daddy quickly while being careful not to spill my juice. Papa laughs behind me & hands Daddy my drink so he can wrap his arms around the two of us. Daddy nods to Papa & holds my sippy out for me to take. I take i with a quiet thank you & start sipping at my oh so delicious juice. Papa gives me a kiss on the head before finally settling down so he can also watch the movie. Some time later I finish my juice & snuggle into Daddy. ’m so seepyyy. Daddy notices my sleepiness & takes my empty sippy before lowering the volume on my tv so we can all go to sleep. Papa smiles at Daddy & gives him a kiss before snuggling into us more so he can also go to sleep. I fall asleep so after, getting better sleep than I have in weeks.

#agere #x little!reader #little reader #Caregiver Billy Loomis #Caregiver Stu Macher #Caregiver!Billy #Caregiver!Stu #Cg!Billy #Cg!Stu #Agere fic #x little!GN!reader #Gender neutral little #little space #Daddy!Billy #Papa!Stu

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prismaticpichu · 5 months

Note

25 for Seph and 6 for Zack <3

Heck yeah! You got it! ❤️ (I actually just answered #6 with Zack so i’ma skip that one if that’s all good! Though main takeaway is that I associate with his unwavering faith in others <3)

~~~

What was your first impression of this character? How about now? ~ ohhhhh YES YES YES i love this question xDD I always hoped for an opportunity to talk about my first discovery of Sephiroth shshdhhd. So! What was my first impression of Sephiroth..? Did I faint? Did I melt? Did I combust into flames at the sheer majesty?

Oh, no. My first impression of him was complete and utter HATRED…

….

For about 2 minutes.

Okie doke so this isn’t as much as a “first impression” as it is my emotions under the circumstance in which I was introduced to him, but I wanna tell the unasked for story anyway lol. So, basically, imagine this: it’s winter or 2020. Little Pichu is stuck inside alongside the rest of the world. There wasn’t much to do, not much to look forward to. But ofc, I always had video games to entertain me. Specifically, Smash Ultimate—a game I played obsessively during lockdown, day after day. Anywho, like I said, it’s winter of 2020. December. And what was coming up in just a few days…? The Game Awards.

Normally, I really wouldn’t care all too much. I never really gave a poo before lol. But this year??? This year, it was different. It was almost guaranteed that a new smash fighter was gonna revealed. And as someone who’s heart and soul was tethered to the game at the time, this was everything to me xD

So! There I am, sitting on the couch in front of the TV. It’s the 10th of December. The Game Awards would be on any moment. Already I’m sitting there and letting my brain trip over all the potential fighters that can be revealed. The anticipation is REAL, man. SO REAL.

The Game Awards start.

The first thing to appear on the screen is a Smash Bros trailer.

Little Pichu is PSYCHED. Heart tenses. Breath hitches. All the characters are there on the cliff. No indication as to who it can be. All options are valid. Every single hope has a chance. They’re about to fight Galeem. The thing prepares to unleash an attack. The music escalates and the god gets sliced in half and—

And…

Whomst.

The F*ck.

Is that.

So, yeah, um, I was very uncultured and had no idea who one of the most iconic villains to exist was x,D It’s actually REALLY embarrassing lol. Anyways, as Sephiroth descended from the sky and that random choir began chanting in the background, all I could feel was RAGE. I’m tell you. It was cold, bitter FURY. How could they add another swordfighter??? We have ENOUGH. Who is this woman??? What??? WHY??? WHY HER?????? WHY NOT SOMEONE I KNOW AND WANTED—!

You know how I said the anger lasted for 2 minutes.

It was prolly more like 55 seconds.

As almost as quickly as I wanted to chuck my remote at the screen, I had turned into, like, a mesmerized sheep. The trailer was (as my vocab would say at the time) freaking EPIC, man! The dude was UNSTOPPABLE. He plowed through anything and everything and holy SHIT DID HE JUST KILL MARIO?—

Yeaaaaah so that’s how it started tor me xD It wasn’t long until I was binge watching memes of Sephiroth’s entrance to smash, scarfing down comics of him and Pichu, and coming to the realization that I actually wanted to know a lot more about this character. I still remember the moment I opened up Google and typed in “Who is Sephiroth?” That’s how engraved this man is into my essence xD Pichu get help. I was brought to a wiki page, and there was literally no turning back lol. I learned that he used to be a hero—a good guy—which absolutely plunged me into wanting to hunt down the Nibelheim Incident and see his downfall. I became so invested in what I didn’t see from his good side that I hunted down an 8 hour playthrough of Crisis Core, as that’s what I discovered was the prequel to it all. Next came devouring fanfic and headcanoning- and, well, here we are today xDD Needless to say I love this stupid psycho to death, and i don’t think that’s changing anytime soon!

…..This has no right to be this long dhdhdhhd.

#sephiroth #ffvii #smash ultimate #ff7 #asks #ty!!#life of pi #chu

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jimothystu · 6 months

Text

Talk Hockey To Me

Tagged by @david-reinbacher - thank you Alek!!

1. The thing that got you hooked on hockey

So I was kind of assimilated into the hockey world through Blue Jays moots (ty <3), and it was a slow progression for me to 1) start watching 2) pick teams I liked and 3) regularly watch. BUT what really made me be like holy fuck was the final game for the Habs in the 2021/2022 season where they had 10 goals and Cole got his first hattie and people chanted Guy's name. That was insane and just gave me chills the entire time.

2. Your first ever fandom friend

Like I said, I was assimilated through Blue Jays moots, so all of them!! But probably specifically @donttelltheelff <3

3. The jersey you would most like to own

I'd love any jersey tbh. They're so expensive and I have none - so any for my favourite players would be great.

4. YOUR player (you only get ONE so choose wisely)

Jimmy Stu. James. Timmy. The wettest rag in the league. My beloved floppy piece of bread.

5. A pairing that deserves more fic

There are a lot in my humble opinion. Juraj Slafkovsky/Arber Xhekaj, Cole Caufield/Nick Suzuki, Thomas Chabot/Josh Norris (though Jeh and I have been going a lil crazy with them lately...), Quinn Hughes/Josh Norris.

6. Your favourite on-ice moment

When G got his 1000th career point and the entire Sens bench went onto the ice to hug him mid game!!!!!! Vibes per 60 were through the roof!

THEN

link someone else's art/fic/etc that you love & think everyone should check out

Anything @canadian-as-puck writes for Chabs and Josh! These fics keep me sane.

AND

link something you made & are proud of & want people to see

Honestly 99% of the fics I've written the last sixish months have been ones I'm really proud of and loved writing and rereading. But here are my top 5:

Intoxicated: Tim Stutzle/Brady Tkachuk; silly fic where Timmy's high and drunk and can only speak German

Don't break the dam or you might drown in the current: Tim Stutzle/Brady Tkachuk; my longest single chapter fic in which the weight of being the Sens captain finally gets to Brady

You don't go to parties anymore: Thomas Chabot/Josh Norris; Josh stops going to Thomas's house parties and Thomas is desperate to know why

Desperate times call for desperate measures: Tim Stutzle/Brady Tkachuk; Brady's an idiot and has to win Timmy back after not realizing they were dating

Do's and Don't's: Tim Stutzle/Brady Tkachuk and Thomas Chabot/Josh Norris; G is sick of their pda

Tagging @donttelltheelff @canadian-as-puck @gordiemeow @graves-makar @may-the-puck-be-with-you @kylesdubas @lam-ila - no pressure + sorry if you don't wanna do it!!

#tag games #about me

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necromaniackat · 8 months

Text

Cherry Cola

There were three things you were most certain about. First, you were unquestionably in love with Billy Loomis. Second, Billy and Stu Macher were the Woodsborro murderers. And finally, you were willing to keep it a secret.

Chapter 1: Carefully Selected

Woodsboro – a quiet little town in Northern California. Nothing happens here. That’s why your mom picked this place. It’s safe.

It’s boring, nothing exciting has happened in the four days you’ve been here. There was no traffic or sirens blaring constantly, or even the sound of colourful people out in the street. This made you a little upset with your mom – you didn’t want to move but you were seventeen so you had to go with her otherwise the law would be on your tails. You missed Calabasas but your mom kept chanting that this was a good fresh start.

“This’ll be good for you. A fresh start away from all that noise back in L.A,” your mom reiterated for the millionth time. The golden morning sun hung low in the sky, melting the coolness on the grass. The aroma of freshly cut grass filled the chilled but warming air. You had your window rolled down, the breeze flowing through your hair.

“I liked it better in L.A,” you pouted.

“What was better in L.A? Hmm?” Your mom snapped finally.

“My dad,” you replied bitterly.

“If your dad wanted to be apart of your life then he’d be here, not with his new family,” she snarled at you coldly. You were too stunned to speak. It doesn’t matter how many times your mom throws that in your face it still renders you speechless. She knew your dad was a tender spot for you. You haven’t seen him since the summer but you haven’t talked to him in a few weeks. Not since….

You mentally shook your head to rid yourself of the thoughts of what happened a few weeks ago. You didn’t even look at your mom – you merely sank lower in the font seat with your arms tied over your small chest. This was your form of mild rebellion, that and your newest taste for fashion. Today you sported a black mini pencil skirt with black tights on underneath and a baggy, black, bleach stained tee shirt under a black hoodie you’d sewn red horns onto the hood.

“Couldn’t you have worn something a little more appropriate?” Your mom questioned with disgust in her voice. “–I just don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be wearing such a revealing outfit,” she added her opinion.

“What’s wrong with my clothes? I’m literally covered from head to toe,” you defended, looking out the window. Your brows had drawn together. You were curious as to what she can find to dislike about you today. Because this is an every day kind of thing. Your mom has a problem with every move you make. You can never win so you say fuck it and deal.

“The skirt, it’s too short. You’re seventeen, you don’t need to be wearing things like that,” she claimed.

“It’s not even that short, mom. It only looks it because I’m sitting.” You rolled your eyes as you looked over at her with disapproving written all over your face Your mom stole a few quick glances between keeping an eye on the road. She frowned and let out a sigh.

“Also with the makeup, Riley?” she complained. You glowered at her, narrowing your icy blue eyes. A twinge of rage knotted in your lower abdomen. You wanted so badly to go off on her – seventeen years of rage just building and building inside you.

“What’s wrong with my makeup?” You growled, turning your attention to out the windshield.

“What’s wrong with it? It’s too dark. You’re a pretty girl, Riley. Maybe ask some girls at this new school for some tips on how to look lively and youthful. Y’know, like you used to.” We’re your mom’s criticisms about your appearance. She had every right to be shocked because in the matter of a day you went from a preppy schoolgirl cheerleader with beautiful long blonde hair to choppy shoulder length dyed hair, nose piercing, new dark academia/grunge aesthetic wardrobe and new taste in music in a day. Of course this was the day you rebelled against society and mainly your mom. And no, it wasn’t because a boy broke up with you and you had a “mental breakdown”. No, it was far worse.

You frowned, sitting up. You grabbed your bag, opening the car door and climbing out as quickly as possible. You heard your mom trying to make the situation better but was cut off when you closed the car door. You slung your bag over your shoulder and walked the last block to the school. Bitterness puckered at your lips – you wanted so badly to rip into her the same way she rips into you all the time. Your mom has always been extremely critical of you, the same way she was with your dad. The only difference is, you’re stuck with your mom meanwhile your dad pays child support and gets unsupervised visits with you once in a while. You doubted that’d happen now; your dad was still in Los Angeles while you were here in this butt-fuck-nowhere town in Northern California mid first semester. Your mom couldn’t have moved you guys to a city? In cities being the new kid isn’t that big of a deal. But in small towns new kids aren’t really a thing. And these kids, your peers, they’ve grown up together. No amount of time or quality of relationships will ever top that kind of bond.

You didn’t mean to but you glanced over your shoulder to see your mom and gone. You were stopped dead in your tracks. Your heart broke a bit inside your chest. You didn’t think she’d just leave you like that without trying to get you back into the car, or making sure you got to school alright.

You exhaled heavily, turning on your heel and heading back towards the school. You wished you brought your Walkman so you could listen to music but alas, you were left with your thoughts. You were left with the knowing that everything changed so fast. Two weeks ago you were planning a sleepover with your friends in a school you’d been attending since ninth grade with people you’ve known the majority of your life and now you were the new kid in town with no friends, no family and no reputation you’ve worked so hard to create.

Students were gathered in groups outside the school – you felt eyes on you the moment you started walking up the path to the front doors. Anxiety filled your stomach as you wandered through the crowd. You preyed they didn’t know anything about you or what happened at your last school.

You went directly to the office once you were inside.

“Hello dear,” the administrator greeted. You sauntered to the desk, adjusting your bag on you shoulder.

“Hi, um, my name is Riley Devins. I’m the new girl. I’m supposed to come to the office to get my time table,” you explained honestly. The admin, a woman in her mid to late forties with snowy white hair and coke bottle glasses, hummed in response before turning her attention to the stack of files on the desk to her right.

“Oh here it is!” She cheered happily, turning back towards you with a friendly smile. “–Here’s your time table and a map of the school just in case you get lost. As well as your locker number and combination, and other info you may need,” she listed, handing you the small stack of papers that were neatly held together with a paper clip. You took the papers from her with a mental sigh. You knew you were going to be the new student soon, when you go off to college but you never thought you’d be the new student mid first semester.

You went to turn around when your body collided with what felt like a brick wall, but really it was just another student. You dropped the papers and your bag slipped off your shoulder; everything went tumbling to the ground.

“Hey watch it!” You cried in defence. You looked up at the person who bumped into you. It was a guy – he was average height with boy band hair and sparkling brown eyes. He had dropped his bag as well.

“My apologies your Highness,” he responded. Your blood boiled at the pet name he gave you. You disliked it when people would call you princess, or anything like that. It made you feel guilty. You were spoiled by both your parents growing up – it was their way of making up for divorcing shortly after you were born. If you wanted to learn ballet then your parents would make it happen. If you wanted the newest electronic your parents would buy you two, one from each of them. You were very blessed growing up and you hated to admit it but you used your parents’ guilt to your advantage. That’s why you felt so guilty. Then everything was ruined a few weeks ago.

“Asshole,” you sneered under your breath. You went to bend down to pick up your belongings when you felt something hard strike your temple causing you to jump upright in surprise. The guy was rubbing a spot on his forehead as he looked you up and down.

You did the same, noting he was wearing a blue checkered button up with blue jeans that were baggy on his muscular but slender frame. His dirty blond hair was parted down the middle – making the way his hair sat look a bit like devil horns. He had obvious California sun kissed skin. This made his endless brown eyes seem deeper and darker. You swore you were drowning in them.

“Mr. Loomis, is there a reason you’re in the office?” The admin asked from behind you. The guy, Mr. Loomis, didn’t break away his eyes – he had you in his sights and you felt so small under his stare. But also something else; it was a familiar feeling but you couldn’t quite place it.

“No,” he uttered, throwing his bag over his shoulder. Finally, his stare broke when he left the office. Leaving you completely stunned and confused. All this happened in the space of perhaps two minutes.

You frowned disapprovingly before kneeling down to pick up your papers and bag. The bell rang to bring the students in for home room. You took a deep breath, leaving the office and going to your locker to drop off your bag and grab the supplies you’d need for the morning.

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endreal · 7 months

Text

I was tagged by @rustbeltjessie. Thank you!

Last song listened to: December (Collective Soul) on loop to try and convince me to get up from my computer and make lunch

Favorite color: honestly your answer to this question was so good I'm going to just flagrantly steal most of it for myself I hope you don't mind - probably really dark blues, greens, and purples, and gold-y saffron-y yellows.

Currently watching: I'm not very good at TV but me and my nesting partner have been following the new series of Bake-Off as new episodes go live.

Last movie: Book of Life, I think, or maybe it was The Lost Boys

Currently reading: I'm in between readings at the moment (finished my last book last week and have been waiting for the right circumstances to start whatever's next) but it will most likely be one of either LOTE (Shola von Reinhold), Reckless Chants #27 (thanks Jessie!), Sideways Stories from Wayside School (Louis Sachar), or the poem The Highwayman (bc of a very silly conversation the other day about the difference between yesno and noyes (and the author's name is Alfred Noyes)).

sweet/spicy/savory: yes.

relationship status: Married for 5 years, with my girlfriend for 4 as of this winter, another handful of sprouts that have had shorter durations, and an apparently completely unavoidable habit of getting crushes on friends at least once every 6 weeks...

current obsessions: Fairy tales (but in the genre sense rather than specifically about stories from actual real-world traditions) is the first one that came to mind. But also yesterday I was at the frame shop picking up some art they'd framed for me and I saw one of the ready-for-purchase display pieces on the wall caddy-corner to the register out of the corner of my eye and promptly blurted out "oh that's a carolina chickadee" and I'm genuinely trying so so hard not to let birding take over my life bc lets face it I'm not even particularly good at it but it's currently stu c k i n m y b r a i n a l l t h e t i m e a l l t h e t i m e.

last thing i googled: “Marco's Pizza vegan options”

currently working on: no specific projects, but recent times have been unusually fruitful for quick rhymes and mini-songs. A "care package" that's been on hold since early summer bc it's taken forever to find a good-sized box for it. An ongoing collaborative character-building exercise with my friend Jossy.

I’ll tag @quannaix, @belovedgoofball, @theinsidiousdice, @wildhaunt, @windblownsand, @vinegartree, @fumblrina, and @vaguelyethereal - but don’t feel obligated. And if I didn’t tag you and you want to play, consider yourself shadow-tagged!

#reblog game

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yourlocalwhumpdealer · 4 months

Text

One step in darkness

Nanami Kento × Reader (not specified)

Reader (grade 1 sorcerer) is sent on a mission with a student and gets badly injured. Kento Nanami runs in to save the day and takes the reader to Shoko before it's too late.

Tw: fight, blood, graphic description of injury, bloodloss, character death, talk of civilian's death, angst, the usual

Prompt: "I'm sorry I can't take the pain away."

Disclamer: I don't own any of the JJK characters mentioned. Sori is an OC only for this story. English is not my native language so sorry for any mistakes.

(Following pictures and page sectionings are mine. Do not steal!)

School seemed quiet, windows looked like they were blacked out and cursed energy radiated from the building. A curse was here, you were sure. "Sori, what do you think?"you turned to your student.

"Grade one or higher,"she almost whispered back. Akira Sori was a good kid. Her hair was always in tight braids and her uniform was without a spot or a wrinkle. She was a rising star in jujutsu society. Sori never backed down in danger but today you could hear a hint of worry in her voice. After all, this was her second misson by your side after becoming a first grade nominee.

You patted her shoulder. "That's right. Remember to stay close,"you then took a step forward and with a deep breath you started chanting. "Emerge from the darkness, blacker than darkness. Purify that which is impure."

A veil started falling above you like a thick black ink, concealing you from an unwanted view of any people around. "Okay, let's get the job done."

You didn't mention an unsettling feeling to your student when you stepped into a building. It would be useless to cause panic. Your steps echoed in the place like it was empty. It wasn't. Chairs and tables lined the walls, stacked up as if students made barricades.

"It's cold," Sori whisppered. Her voice echoed many times and got louder "It's cold, it's cold, it's cold...."

You turned around but your eyes didn't meet with the student as you expected "Sori?"

Your voice only echoed back.

How does it do it? You didn't hear a thing. Maybe it controls sound? That may be a reason for the echo.

Your thoughts were cut short. A dark mass formed in front of you. It was hard to make out a shape at first. It's inside a mist. No, a black fog. Then an eye opened and another, another ... there was way too many and all of them blinked at you.

You were prepared and stricked with your cursed technique. Dark curse flew and hit the opposite wall."I believe you have my student,"you said with clenched teeth.

"Stu-dentsss..."a voice like hot iron said "Their blood...is on my hands..."it licked it's fingers and moved foreward impossibly fast. You tried to shield yourself but you were too slow.

Drip, drip..your hand immediately flew up. It struck side of your throat, you were sure. Hands turned red from your own blood. You couldn't stop it, blood stained your uniform and seeped through the material.

"Eh,"you raspped. How did this happen? You are a capable sorcerer. Whenever you were sent out Kento Nanami was worried, of course. You both were familiar with dangers of this work but he knew you are an exeptional sorcerer. Where did this go wrong?

Suddenly the curse was attacked from another direction. Blades filled with cursed energy were lodged into it's body. You knew this technique well. Akira Sori. She's alive! "Here I am, you bastard!"

Her blonde braids had dripplets of blood but otherwise she looked unharmed. Now all the attention was on your student. All eyes of the curse blinked at her.

You had to help, maybe it was too late for you but at least you had to help your student. You attacked and with each step your mind was growing dizzy. Oh, Kento will be livid. If only I could see his face again. Those gentle eyes and tender lips. Just to hear his voice...

You didn't even get to kiss him goodbye this morning.

Please. Your knees hit white tiles of the hallway. You tasted blood.

Kento.

"Oi, Nanami!" Gojo Satoru waved in front his co-worker's face "Heeere, your phone is ringing...!" With a sigh Nanami picked his pocket.

Unknown number

"Hello. Na-"

Voice on the other end was faster. "We need help. I-..."

The line went dead. Nanami Kento recognized that voice, it was your student. You said you had given her his number, just in case but he hoped it would never be needed. Cetrainly not today.

"I need to get to Kawazu Junior High, immediately,"he turned to Gojo.

"She's dead," white-haired sorcerer lift his fingers that did not find the puls. There, on side of a hallway layed the lifeless body of a hopefull student.

At the first sight he could tell many of her bones were broken and her face was beaten and frozen in a state of terror. It was hard to image now that she was smiling most of her life. Thin stripe od deep red blood, that didn't flow in her body anymore, was drying on her chin. She fought bravely.

Nanami's heart started racing. It was barely a minute since he picked up the call. What about you? What if it was too late for you as well?

Was the curse exorcised or still lingering?

Then his worst nightmares became true. "No!" Nanami Kento wasted no time to be by your side. Knees now soked in your own blood. Wound on a side of your neck was horrific. Without thinking he pressed on the injury. You didn't even flinch. Nanami feared the worst, nevertheless he reached for your puls...

Nanami Kento let out a shaky breath. You were still with him. "We need a help of miss Ieiri."

Your body felt like filled with lead and it was hard to open your eyes. Why does every inch of your body hurt so much?

Right next to your bed was the greatest man you know. He was hunched over, blond hair contrasted with blue of his shirt. Kento. But all that escaped your mouth was "En". His head flew up.

"It's alright, you're safe. You shouldn't speak yet, love," his voice was warming like a cup of tea. You wanted to close your eyes again and just listen to his voice until you fall asleep but the look in his eyes worried you. Your eyebrows knitted in confusion.

"Ieiri did her best to save you but it will take some time. I'm sorry I can't take the pain away. Akira Sori called me and that saved your life. Any minute later..."he faced away.

You reached for his hand and Kento gently held it. That made him turn back to you.

"I'm sorry but when we arrived Sori already passed,"he added. News of your student's death struck you like a knife. No. You were supposed to protect her! You stuggled to blink tears away. Kento brushed his thumb on your hand in comforting motion.

The nightmare was over. You were here.

Together.

---

読むこれてありがとう！(人´∀`*)

--------------------------------------

A/N: I'm currently obsessed with Jujutsu Kaisen but I'm in so many fandoms it's not even funny. Feel free to send me a request. Thanks for reading, it means a lot ♡!

#jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento #fanfic #angst #nanami x reader #hurt/comfort

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