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after-witch · 2 months

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Damn Your Eyes [Chapter One] [Yandere Ren Hana x Reader]

Title: Damn Your Eyes [Chapter One: The Last Day] [Yandere Ren Hana x Reader]

Synopsis: Years ago, you were the captive of a serial killer named Strade. And you weren't the only one he kept. After Strade was killed by one of his victims, you ran away--and now your past is finally catching up with you. Chapter one is set during Boyfriend to Death.

Word count: 6352

Chapter notes: Yandere, kidnapped reader, past noncon, graphic violence, descriptions of blood, violence and gore, descriptions of death (not reader)

AO3 LINK

She was crying again. Well, no wonder. There were holes in her feet, dotting the top of her thighs. Blood had dribbled down from the gored holes in her flesh like little streams, then dried out.

The thin, wavy dried out trickles made you think, abruptly, of unfettered period blood, then of Carrie by Stephen King. The scene in the shower, where she gets her period and freaks out. The other girls threw tampons and sticky pads at her and shrieked, chanting, bonded by a morbid commiseration of the entrance to so-called womanhood: Plug it up! Plug it up! Plug it up!

Plug it up, you thought.

But she couldn’t, even if she wanted to. Her hands were bound behind her. Did he tie them back like that so that she couldn’t try to hurt him, or because it gave him easier access to her flesh? Maybe a bit of both.

She looked uglier when she cried. Snot bubbled out of her nose and joined a dried streak of blood that went from her nose down to her chin. Her nose was probably broken, hence the blood; the flesh of it was black and blue and an awful shade of green.

One part of you longed to retrieve an ice pack from the freezer and hold it to the bruised, swollen flesh. Hush her cries. Give her an ounce of humanity that might carry her for another few hours, the way Ren once did to you.

Another part of you, the new you forged under Strade’s knife (and boots and hammers and power drill) wished she’d just die already, so you wouldn’t have to hear her cry or be standing here obediently, waiting for Strade to come back down. You were probably going to have to participate in this next stream–why else would he call you down in the middle of one of his “projects”?

Unless he was lonely. But even so, he could always kill two birds with one stone. You, here to give him company; and you, here to entertain his horrid audience. And himself, above all. Himself, always.

The basement door at the top of the stairs creaked open and you heard his heavy bootsteps–thump, thump, thump–before he called out jovially.

“Are you still there, Liebling? You didn’t run off, did you?”

As if you were stupid enough to do that. You were many things now. Stressed. Afraid. Desperate. Tired. More selfish. Maybe a little bit masochistic, a trick of your brain to keep you from totally losing your mind as you were tortured. All these things and more besides, but stupid was not one of them.

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” You called back, lightening your tone. It was important not to sound too scared. Strade wanted you scared, yes, but he didn’t want you to be some obedient, squeaky little mouse. That was too boring. It was best to act as normally as you could, considering the circumstances. That seemed to please him more, at least on most days. Some days nothing you did was right and you went to bed with a swollen eye and broken fingers, eased by frozen peas that Ren snuck you from the kitchen before he went to sleep.

You’re not the only one who noticed him coming down. The woman in front of you began to tremble and sob more violently, pulling at her bound wrists. It wouldn’t do any good. It never did. How long did she have to live? How long did any of you in this house have to live?

By the time Strade made it down the stairs, her cries were practically at a fever-pitch. You didn’t want to look to see what he’d run off to fetch, but he didn’t give you a choice.

He called your name. “Come here, darling, I need your help with this.” And oh, you kept your eyes downcast until all you could see was his boots. But then it was time to look up, and you did, and no matter how many times you witnessed him preparing to torture another person, it still made your stomach roil.

He’d brought down a p[ot of boiling water, which he carefully held by the handle with both hands. Tucked underneath his armpit was the bag of frozen peas. The bag, you thought, because for as long as you’d been here, no one ever cooked them. They got passed around between you and Ren under cover of night.

Here they were, in the light of day. You suspect you wouldn’t want to re-use them after this.

“Be my Lamm and take the peas, won’t you?” The sensible part of you eyed him warily; it wouldn’t be below him to toss the pot of boiling water at you while you reached for them, just to fuck with you. But you didn’t disobey him, either. You carefully leaned over and slid the bag from underneath his armpit, and held it in your hand.

He smiled. Grinned, really, which was a bad sign for the sobbing woman tied to the pole. His good moods and bad moods were both equally shitty, but in your unfortunately well-experienced opinion, it was his good moods that produced the most painful scenarios.

“Now!” He crouched down in front of the crying woman and grabbed her chin. She shrieked and tried to jerk her face away, but he held her tight. “I’m sure your wounds are sore, aren’t they?” She sobbed out something–meaningless pleading that you’d long since lost the ability to discern–and he tsked.

“Oh, poor thing. I know just what might help!” He snapped his fingers and looked back at you. “My lovely friend here will give you some ice to help you feel better. Won’t you?” He grinned wider and you nodded, feeling both scared and numb in a confusingly equal measure, as you crouched down next to him.

She yelped when you placed the frozen bag on a group of puncture wounds on her thigh, but you held it fast. It probably hurt more than it soothed. An icy bag right up against wounded skin didn’t sound pleasant. But maybe it would numb it a little. That might be better than nothing.

“Perfect! Now…” He reached over and picked up the steaming pot of water, still bubbling from its boil on the stove. “Hold still, my Lamm… wouldn’t want to splash you.”

It was so strange, the way that your time with Strade had made it possible for you to actually keep your hand there, despite the fact that you knew he was about to pour boiling water on the skin of this poor woman. Pour it right where it would surely splash on you a little, if not a lot. Probably a lot. Two birds, one stone, and all that.

It didn’t matter if it was strange. Your fingers flexed and your muscles tensed as you saw him turn the pot over slowly, and steaming water came flying down, pouring over the woman’s wounds.

She screamed. It was loud. It hurt your ears. The irritation of it distracted you from seeing Strade move the pot around so that the water trailed over the frozen peas–and your hand keeping it pressed against her–as he covered her thigh in the water.

“Fuck!” You said, biting your cheek hard. Your fingers danced on the bag but you didn’t dare pull away. You could see your own skin turning a shade of red. Her thighs had taken the brunt of it, though. There were even blisters forming on her skin already as she sobbed and cried and begged for someone, anyone, to help her.

You were someone. You were anyone.

You couldn’t help her.

“Language, liebchen,” Strade said, teasingly. You mumbled out an apology, although you doubt he actually cared.

He sighed when the pot was emptied, and tossed it on the floor.

“I don’t know… I just don’t think it’s enough. Do you?” He grasped your burned hand and you couldn’t stifle the sound of yelping pain as he gripped it hard. Your skin would blister too–it was already peeling a little.

“What…whatever you think is best,” you stammered.

“That’s right,” he said, grinning. He gave your hand a squeeze and you groaned. “I think I’ll work a little more on this project myself before dinner.” He let your fingers go, and you cradled your hand against your chest. “Have Ren take care of that. Come back down when it’s wrapped up.” his free hand grabbed the chin of the sobbing, bleeding, blistered woman again. “I think we’ll make a movie, and I need my prettiest co-star to help me out.”

“Of course.” You gave her one half-pitiful glance–the way her frightened, bloodshot eyes darted to you with a mixture of anger and pity made you want to hurl–and went up the stairs.

By the time you’d made it to the top, you already heard Strade pulling out his video equipment.

—

“It… doesn’t look too bad,” Ren said quietly. He held your hand underneath the sink, letting the cold water soothe your burn. But every time your hand trembled and the stream went just out of reach, it burned again, and you winced.

“Most of it hit her thigh,” you whispered. Though you didn’t need to, since both of you were well aware that Strade was busy in the basement. Old habits die hard, however. “She got it worse.”

Ren hummed. “They usually do.” He told you to keep your hand in place while he fumbled in the cabinet under the sink, looking for supplies. “I don’t know if he has–oh!” His ears twitched and perked up as he found what he’d been looking for.

It was a tube of burn relief ointment. He flipped it over and read the back, mumbling all the while. “It’s expired but…”

You smiled, just a little, and finished his sentence for him.

“Better than nothing, right?”

Ren smiled, and you caught sight of his tail curling behind him as he turned off the sink and told you to sit down on the toilet so she could wrap you up.

Was it wrong that some of the most pleasant moments in this house, if you could call them pleasant, were with Ren? Especially quiet moments like this, where he took care of you, or you took care of him. You were both well acquainted with fixing up the results of your time with Strade by now.

He’d cleaned out deep cuts on your back, and you’d iced and splinted his broken toes. He let you curl up in his nest of a bed after a particularly awful night of torture, and you let him slide under your covers when he’d had an nightmare about the last time Strade made him kill someone.

It was transactional in some ways, you supposed. But when you saw his ears perk up or his tail swoosh or the way his eyes seemed to light with something genuine behind them while you talked with him, you realized it wasn’t all practical. It couldn’t be. Not when you were in this together.

Ren made quick work of bandaging your hand. The cream was smoothed over the reddened, flaking parts of your skin and he wrapped your hand up with a bandage. It hurt, still, but nothing to write home about. Hah! As if you’d ever be allowed to write home.

Hell, if by some miracle you could write home, how would you even word the letter?

“Dear mom and dad, last night my captor-who-also-fucks me made me keep my hand on a table while he hammered nails underneath my fingernails and asked me which one hurt the most. P.S. The milk in the fridge is expired and he’s threatening to make me or Ren drink it because of the waste.”

The thought made you snort. Ren looked up from his spot on the floor, where he’d taken to impromptu digging through the cabinet to look for some undisclosed item.

“What’s funny?”

You mulled it over. Sometimes, you didn’t like to tell Ren what you were thinking. You trusted him, to an extent. You liked him, to an extent. You were friends, to an extent. How far did that extent go? It depended.

He was here first, and sometimes, the tension between the two of you was too taut and fraught to ignore. There was always that underlying worry, an electric buzz you couldn’t turn off all the way: what if Strade decided he didn’t want two captives? Or what if he felt two was his limit, and he wanted to bring someone new in?

Which one of you would get the ax–literally?

But this was maybe not the type of thing that Ren might murmur to Strade in a moment of weakness. It was harmless, wasn’t it, to make a joke about writing home?

“I was just imagining what I might write home in a letter to my parents.” You flexed your bandaged hand. “I mean, if we were allowed to write home.”

“Like from a summer camp?” Ren asked. He pulled his knees up and rested his chin on them.

“I guess,” you replied, smiling a little. “Although this would be one…” Fucked up, disgusting, hellish– “Specialty summer camp.”

Ren snorted a little. “Definitely not like the ones in movies.”

“Maybe horror movies,” you added with a grin. One of your front teeth–not from the center two, thank hell–was missing now, so you rarely grinned. But it felt different when it was just you and Ren alone. It was okay to let him see those imperfections, because he had them too. Maybe not missing teeth, but…

“Sleepaway Camp!” He blurted. “Or Friday the 13th…”

You started to open your mouth, ready to tell him that you once saw a screening of the first Friday the 13th at a summer camp, when an all-too-familiar sound came wafting up from the cracked open basement door.

“Liebling! It doesn’t take that long to bandage a little burn! I hope I don't have to come get you.”

Ren’s tail went straight up at the sound of Strade’s voice. The sing-song nature of his words did not hide the danger in them. If you had a tail, yours would be standing stock straight too. But your body had to make do with your muscles tensing and your bowels clenching hard.

“I have to go,” you murmured, hopping off the toilet seat.

You paused in the doorway. Ren had his knees hugged to his chest, his ears flat against his head. No doubt he was wondering if Strade would call him down, too. Or if he’d be pissed off about something and take it out on Ren later.

“Thanks for patching me up, Ren.” His ears twitched, and he glanced up at you. “Really, I mean it.” You smiled–grinned, showing off one of your missing teeth. “I’m glad you’re here with me.”

His tail relaxed a little and he smiled back, an almost puppy-like grin crossing his expression for a moment, and it was enough to give you some vague emotional relief as you left the bathroom before Strade was forced to come up the stairs and retrieve you.

–

She wouldn’t last another day. That much was clear. Her blood was everywhere now. On the floor. Smeared on her skin. On Strade’s hands–on yours.

Of course he’d made you participate. You were his lovely assistant, after all. Although he always said Ren was better at the work, when it came down to it. You were too prone to trembling and hesitation. To say nothing of your occasional habit of vomiting at the sight of anything more than blood–guts, in particular, were your weakness.

Hers, too, by the way she quivered at the sight of the large hunting knife Strade twirled in his hands.

“I think this has gone on long enough. Don’t you, Schatz?” He looked back at you with a thoughtful smile. “Shall we end it?”

Without thinking much, you nodded. Yes, it had gone on long enough. Yes, you wanted her to just die already. Yes, you wanted to go over to the sink and scrub your hands until they were pruney and wrinkled and there was no trace of her visceral fluids on your skin.

“Go on,” he told you, gesturing at the trembling woman. Covered in cuts and gouges and burns. Where there had been dried blood earlier today, there were now smears of fresh gore. From Strade’s boots and the knife. Strade had even taken a blow torch to the burns caused by the boiling water, making them go from peeling and red to a series of gouged, pus-like craters in her flesh.

Cold seeped into your socks from the floor as you walked over to her. She regarded you with dull, dying eyes. She opened her mouth, maybe to say something, but whatever word she might have come up with wouldn’t come. Her swollen, bruised lip trembled as blood dribbled out of it.

One of the handcuff keys was taped to the back of the poll. Strade always liked to keep extras around, in case he lost the original but still wanted to uncuff someone. He usually didn’t uncuff people unless they were being bound in some other way (usually not a good sign) or he was just about finished with them (definitely a bad sign); and in this case, you knew she was being released only to make killing her a little more fun.

Her hands flopped forward as soon as the cuffs were undone. There was a brief moment where you saw her regard her wrists, all reddened and cut from where the metal handcuffs dug into them.

But the moment was over as soon as Strade stepped forward and pulled her close with a decisive yank of her hair. She yelped–you were surprised she had the yelp in her, her voice should have been shot from all the screaming–and he twisted her hair tight to keep her still.

“It’s been fun, but it’s time to go now. Don’t take this personally, hm? Or do, actually, it might make you feel better.”

She didn’t have time to respond. He rarely wanted them to say anything, you thought. It was just part of his internal script, a set of syllables that gave him extra pleasure as he snuffed out someone’s internal light.

He stuck the hunting knife into her gut and twisted. She didn’t scream. She barely shouted. The sound, instead, was one of strangled horror. Like she couldn’t believe what was happening to her. He twisted again, and she grunted and gasped, a sound that was almost like a deep, gaping hiccup.

“Shh,” he murmured, a sick grin splitting his face. His eyes darted over her face, and you got a front-row view of how his expression was gleefully illuminated by the sight of her own life fading away. He enjoyed it so much, he even let go of the knife handle so that he could grasp her face with both hands and keep her dying gaze in his sights.

Who was she? What had she been, before the basement? Was she thinking about her friends, her family? Did she have children that were going to be left behind? Maybe she was in college, maybe she’d been studying for exams that would never happen. There would be uneaten prepared lunches in her fridge, a bookmark that would never move past a certain page.

Her hands went tremblingly to the handle of the knife sticking out of her. She held the handle tenderly with bruised, bloody hands. Didn’t Strade see it? No, he was too focused on her face. But he didn’t even see the way her expression shifted.

No, he saw it. But maybe he didn’t know what it meant, because he’d never been on the other end. The way she went from looking confused and horrified to determined.

She didn’t act right away.

You could have said something. You could have called out a warning.

But instead you watched as the dying woman yanked the knife out of her gut, viscera and blood coming out with it, and stabbed it right into Strade’s neck.

He gasped now. A gaping, strangled sound. His hands went instinctively to his neck and it took him a few slow, trembling tries to pull it out. You saw the blood arch and spurt–an artery–and he fell to his knees.

The woman stepped away with what must have been her last ounce of energy. She had only enough life left in her to turn to you and smile–she was missing teeth, too–before she collapsed on the ground. She was still alive, but her shock would come soon after.

It wasn’t her you were watching, anyway. It was Strade.

His eyes darted to and fro until they landed on you. He had his hand pressed against the wound now, but it wasn’t doing much good. He would need a proper compress… an ambulance… surgery of some kind.

You don’t know why you called him. To help Strade? To help you?

“Ren.”

Not loud enough.

“Ren.”

Still not loud enough.

“Ren!”

Before you knew it, you were simply screaming his name, filling the basement with a different pitch of scream than it was used to. Your own voice was barely recognizable.

The basement door slammed open and you heard frantic footsteps pounding down the stairs. You saw Ren, only a blur of orange in your shock, take in the scene. His own mouth slowly gaped open, but unlike Strade and the unfortunate woman on the floor and your own panting lips, no sound came out.

Ren said your name. You think it was Ren, because Strade was surely in no position to talk. It shook you out of your stupor and you ran to him, clinging to his arm, crying fitfully. He wrapped one arm around you and the two of you stood, together, watching Strade bleed.

“What do we do?” The inside of your elbow pressed hard against Ren’s back as you held him. You wanted to snuggle, like the way you did on good nights. You wanted him to make it all go away.

Maybe he sensed this. Because while the two of you had clung together in so many occasions, this time, he stood up taller. He held you tighter. And then he assessed the situation.

Ren watched Strade quietly for a long moment. Strade gazed up at him–at you, too, but mostly Ren–with wide-eyed helplessness. The look didn’t suit him at all. He seemed to know it.

“Help me,” Strade managed. It almost didn’t feel like speech. Maybe the knife had grazed his vocal chords.

Neither of you moved at first. There was a long moment in which either of you could have sprung into action; could have ran to the supply cabinet and grabbed thick gauze to press against the wound, while the other could have bounded up the stairs to call an ambulance.

But you didn’t. And Ren didn’t.

And then Ren looked at you, and took a step backward. He pulled you with him, and you went willingly, taking another step, and another, until the two of you were standing at the bottom of the stairs.

“You…” Strade gurgled out the word, and blood came bubbling out in between the fingers pressed against his neck with it. “You…”

He didn’t get to finish. His eyes widened and you saw the light leave them before he collapsed on the floor.

For the first time since you’d been brought here, the basement was truly silent.

Strade was dead.

Neither of you moved for a while. And then you felt a hoarse sob coming on. Relief, terror, and shock coursed through you, fighting for the surface in a way that could only result in tears.

Ren regarded you with an unreadable expression and slowly removed his arm from your shoulder. You whimpered–don’t leave me, you wanted to say–and he smiled, a soft, little thing.

“Don’t worry. I’m just going to make sure he’s dead.”

Oh. That was a good idea. But what if he wasn’t? What if Strade got to his feet and oh, the two of you would be in for it. He’d probably kill both of you–or at least you–and it would be slow and awful and you’d beg, beg, for death.

“Ren,” you said, almost stammering, swallowing a thick lump in your throat.

He turned back towards you, curious.

You pointed to the table of tools at Strade’s disposal. “Take something. Just in case.”

Ren stared at the weapons that had been used to kill countless people. At the blades and torches and nails that had been used to hurt him, and you. Then he grabbed a heavy hammer and slowly approached the bleeding corpse (please let it be a corpse) of Strade.

Strade didn’t move as Ren approached him. Or when Ren knelt down, hammer at the ready. Or when Ren’s fingers slowly reached out and pressed against his neck, his wrist.

“No pulse,” said Ren.

Ren set the hammer down and used both hands to shove Strade’s body until it was fully on his back. His eyes, dull and dead, stared up at the ceiling without seeing anything.

He was dead. Truly dead.

Really most sincerely dead, your thoughts echoed in a half-mimic of the Munchkins in The Wizard of Oz.

You barely registered Ren digging around in Strade’s pocket before he returned to you, wrapping his arm around your waist as he began to lead you upstairs.

“Let’s not stay down here,” he said. He gave Strade’s corpse one last look before staring ahead at the basement door. How many times had the two of you gone up and down these stairs at Strade’s whim? It always meant you would get hurt, or you would help Strade hurt others. It was never willing, going up these stairs. Never a choice.

And now the two of you were going up them together, Ren leading you, of your own free will.

Free will! What a concept. One you thought you’d lost forever. And yet here it is, given by the hands of a woman whose last days were filled with unnecessary, unfair agony. You wish you knew her name, so you could thank her properly.

Ren shut the basement door. It sounded louder than it ever had before. Or was it because the house was so quiet now?

“Come here,” Ren said. And you didn’t know why he said it–shock, confusion, uncertainty still reigned–until you saw what was in his hand.

His collar. It was… off. But how and–

Ren held up the key he’d taken from Strade’s pocket and shook it back and forth, like a well-earned prize. That’s what it was, in some ways.

You stepped towards Ren and turned around, breathing heavily at the thought of being truly free from the collar. Strade only took them off the pair of you when you were showering and, once you had learned to behave well enough, when you slept. But they always went back on first thing in the morning, and their threat was an ever-constant presence in your mind, just like the metal was ever-constant around your neck.

Ren’s fingers brushed the back of your shoulder. You heard him breathing just as heavily. For a moment, he didn’t do anything. Wasn’t he going to…?

“Ren?” You asked, voice quivering. The air felt suddenly too heavy, your collar weighing you down more than normal. There was an awful thought, then: What if he doesn’t take your collar off? What if Ren is… what if, what if…

But then you felt the pressure from him sticking the key into the back of the metal contraption, heard it twist, and felt cool relief on your neck as Ren lifted the collar away from your neck and set it down on the coffee table.

Both hands went to your neck. The skin was sensitive, bruised. A few days ago, Strade had come into your room at night for a session of “fun,” which ended with you being choked into unconsciousness. You’d woken up to Ren splashing cold water on your face. “Thought I’d lost you,” he’d said.

The bruises Strade gave you would fade away in time. At least the ones on the outside.

And Ren…

You turned around and gave him a fractured smile. You leaned in, and Ren leaned in, and you hugged each other tenderly. Not just because it was the nicest way to hug, but because Ren’s rib fracture was still healing, and your back hurt, and both of you were littered with scars and cuts and bumps and bruises.

After a while, Ren pulled away. “Let’s… sit down.”

He sat down on the sofa, which was dotted with sprinkles of Ren’s orange fur; no matter how much you lint-rolled the furniture, you could never quite get all of it out.

Well, that didn’t matter now. You’d never have to clean up this living room, or the kitchen, or the brain matter and blood stains in the basement, again. You could go home.

And Ren could go home.

And the nightmare would be over.

For now, you sat, side by side, on a sofa that had never seemed more ordinary. The house had never seemed more ordinary. Its secrets were primarily down in the basement. The rest of the house was bland and boring by comparison. Unless you counted upstairs, as it was not unheard of for Strade to take his particular brand of “fun” into your respective rooms.

And now? It was quiet. Still. There was no chance that Strade would come walking up the stairs. No chance that you’d be called down them to torture someone.

Certainly no chance that he’d call both of you down, which never ended well. He liked to see Ren hurt you, because it seemed to hurt Ren. But sometimes, sometimes, you thought… there was a glimmer of something in Ren’s eyes in those moments.

Something that reminded you too much of pleasure to ignore. Just a spark of it, but that was enough, when you were bound to a table and he was clawing open your thighs at Strade’s behest.

“Ren?” You forced yourself to stop thinking like that. That was the past. This was now. No, more than that: this was the future. A future without Strade, without this house, without pain.

Ren looked over at you, slowly. The realization of what had just happened, and what it meant, seemed to be catching up to him, too. “... Yeah?”

Your fingers scratched at some of Ren’s stray fur on the couch. Some of the orange fur had already started clinging to your bandage.

“What do we do now?” A simple question for you to ask. Several plans rushed through your head but it was hard to make sense of them. What was the best course to take; which authorities did you appeal to, when there was a dead serial killer and one of his victims in the basement, but your hands were on the torture tools, yet the same tools had been used to hurt you?

You swallowed hard, shaking your head, willing the dizzying thoughts to quiet down. “Do we call the police first? Or… an ambulance? Or–or–”

Ren gripped the hand that idly scratched the couch. He intertwined his fingers in yours, and when you looked up at him, his eyes were wide. And just a bit wild.

“We could stay here.”

Your heart thudded. Once, twice. A third time.

“What?” You shifted on the couch, facing Ren more clearly. “We… we can’t, it’s–”

Ren squeezed your hand, a little too hard–the burn–and you winced. He didn’t let up, but he didn’t know you were hurting, did he? It was all just a rush right now, confusing, scary.

“We can,” he said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. His mouth broke into an almost childish grin as he continued. “Strade’s got a lot of money, we can use that to keep up the bills. Buy whatever we want. We won’t have to worry about anything!” His tail swished behind him, thumping into your side.

When you didn’t respond–words weren’t coming–his grin deflated a little. “I’m… I’m a good roommate,” he said, ears flattening. “I’ll take care of you.” He squeezed even tighter now. “We’ll do everything together, and we don’t have to worry about Strade getting mad about it. We’ll watch movies or-or play games or whatever you want.” He swallowed and you watched his throat bob. “And I promise I won’t leave fur everywhere.”

“Ren–” It was your turn to give his hand a squeeze, and you took his other in your free hand and clasped them both. “I’m not worried about your fur.”

His ears perked up and his smile came back.

“It’s… we can’t stay here,” you said, voice wobbling but gaining more firmness as you went on. “We need to leave. We need to call the police.”

Ren’s ears twitched. He looked thoughtful, opening his mouth, and shutting it. He was just confused, that’s all. Like you were. He needed to be reminded that if Strade was gone, the both of you were free. You’d go home, and he’d go home, and you could call or text or email or something but…

“Don’t be stupid.”

The firmness in Ren’s voice shook you a little. More than that, it made you worry. He frowned at the sight of your tense shoulders, the quirk in your mouth. “Think about it,” he said, gently saying your name. “Remember all the people who watch his videos? Don’t you know who’s in those chats?”

The reminder of the chatrooms came hurtling straight into your guts. The chat… the people there paid money to watch people suffer. Watch them die. How many times had they encouraged Strade to indulge in some fucked up torture? Hell, they’d asked him countless times to string you up, cut you open, pull out your guts while you were still alive. Strade had danced away the requests with a teasing lilt, but the threat was never gone.

Ren let go of your bandaged hand and gently cupped your cheek. He spoke slowly, almost sweetly. “They’re rich. Important. Mayors. Politicians. Doctors. Police.”

The anguish your stomach began to stretch. Ren didn’t stop talking.

“They know both our faces. Do you know what they’ll do to us, if they find us?”

Tears pricked, unwanted and unbidden, at your eyes. He was right. You couldn’t go to the police. You couldn’t go to the media. This could never get out. But that didn’t mean you had to stay here. More than that: you couldn’t stay here.

It would be another type of collar, to find yourself stuck here with Ren. And the collar might not be electric, but it would be just as dangerous.

“Okay,” you said slowly. “No police.”

Ren grinned hopefully.

“But,” you continued. “We can’t stay here. I want to go home. And you–you get to go home now, too.” Ren had never talked much about his life before Strade, but surely he had friends. A family. An apartment or a house. A life. Just like you.

“You want to leave–” His voice was thin and there was a fissure in it, ready to crack.

The hand on your cheek pressed harder, and you felt the thin press of his claws against your skin. Your eyes must have widened or perhaps you flinched, you don’t know, but Ren saw–and yanked away.

“S-Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to.”

No, he didn’t. He wouldn’t. He was upset, he was scared, hell, you didn’t know whether you wanted to laugh or cry or start belting out show tunes right now.

Freedom was confusing as hell.

“I know,” you said, slowly. “It’s okay.”

Ren stared down at the ground. Then he stood up and fished Strade’s keyring out of his pocket and set it down on the coffee table with a jingling rattle.

“I’m going to get us some water. And maybe a snack. We’ll… we’ll talk about this more. We can talk about it, and not make a decision right away. Okay?” He fumbled with both his hands in front of him, looking like the meek young man you’d met that first night, when he cleaned your wounds and gave you water to drink.

You stared at him, perhaps for too long.

“Okay, Ren, we’ll talk about it,” you lied.

You watched him walk into the kitchen, where Strade would never saunter in for a case of beer again. You heard him open the cabinet for an empty glass, none of which would ever again find themselves dashed into tiny shards that could be ground into your skin for fun.

And then you leaned forward, grabbed the keyring off the countertop, pulled out the key to the front door, and softly padded your way to the threshold that neither of you had been able to cross in ages.

Your heart thudded. Your stomach heaved. But you unlocked the door and bolted, socked feet aching on the concrete sidewalk.

Ren said your name after the third step you took beyond the door of Strade’s house of horrors.

You could have kept running. Maybe you should have.

But instead, you turned around, to look at Ren standing in the doorway. There were no glasses of water in his hand–you don’t remember registering the sound of the sink at all, in fact. It was just Ren, with his hands at his sides, looking at you with an expression that was equally pitiful, agonizing, and worrying.

He said your name again.

You felt hot tears squeeze out of your eyes as you shook your head, turned around, and ran for your life.

#yandere #boyfriend to death #the price of flesh #ren hana #ren hana x reader #afterwitch writes #/pets prologue done! dunno how many chapters this one will end up being.

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matchadobo · 3 months

Note

Hey! If it’s okay, can I request Kidd going absolutely feral because his s/o got hurt?

KIDD; avenging you

wc: 771 warning/s: gn reader, violence, mentions of blood and scars, super short ><

"where are they? let me fucking see them." kidd tried shimmying through the crowd that stood before the doors of the ship's clinic. they were stopping him and he wasn't gonna stand idly and follow.

"captain, they're in a critical state. they shouldn't see any visitors yet." said the ship doctor, shivering under the frigid gaze of the pirate. "it'll be until tomorrow before we allow visitors, their wounds are still too fresh."

kidd gave everyone one last glare, before finally surrendering and turning his back. stomping away with one objective in mind.

"and where do you plan to go, kidd?" killer called out, following after the redhead.

"don't follow me." he firmly replied, not looking back. his tone was sharp and no one planned on disobeying him. "i'll beat his ass and leave no fucking trace of that marine."

so he descended his ship and off he goes to the port nearby, using his devil fruit to pin those who stand on his way. throwing heaps of metal that gathered above him, bolts of lightning sending the navy flying. he was seeing red, he wanted to see red.

remorseless as he is, kidd lived up to his name as one of the most ruthless and vicious pirate befitting the title as one of the worst generation. he bullied each that blocked his path with his power, ignoring the pleads and screams with no regard whether those are civilians or navy.

"where's the shithead who hurt one of us?" he growled, brusque as he fisted the collar of one of the marines. "start talkin' less crying, aye?!" he gruffly added, nostrils flaring.

killer and the others were behind him, cleaning up his mess and watching his back. they kept an eye out for the marines. instead of stopping him, they opted that supporting him would atleast get them somewhere. going against their captain only applies at certain circumstances and this isn't one of them. besides, they also wanted to get back at the pack of idiots who dare to hurt you.

once the marine had shivered enough to tell him where the bastard is, kidd wasted no time and propeled himself with piles of metals to the highest place in the building.

"found you." he grinned maniacally, listing down the things he plans to do with this dumbass vice captain. he had a devil fruit and he caught you off guard. once he had you on his grasp, he pinned you down and mercilessly scarred you. killer and the others were too busy fending other marines off while kidd dealt with the captain. "you've got some goddamn nerve laying a hand on what's mine."

it took the entire evening until dawn before kidd was finished with the poor marine. kidd pummeled the bastard to a pit underground that he created from the top. he bled the vice captain dry, and the captain had no chance of calling for back up because of killer. last thing kidd knew was the guy wasn't breathing before he was satisfied with his bloody creation.

you soon found kidd sleeping on his seat that was positioned next to you. dried blood littered his pale skin. he had a few scratches but it's obvious that the blood was not his. he had his arms crossed, head almost falling to the side as he dozed off. you figured he waited for you to wake up, it was already evening.

you shuffled a little, but it only took one whimper from you for him to shot up from his seat. "w-why are you bloody?" you weakly uttered. your voice was hoarse and your lips were dry.

"you shoulda seen the other guy." he laughed, he reached over to brush your hair at the top of your head with his palm. he looked at you with the softest gaze; well, he always looked at you like that, no one else. you could see how he pained to see you like this from the way his eyes softened.

"sorry." you covered your face, ashamed in front of your lover and captain. "that was shameful as a kidd pirate-"

"aaah fuck off with that." kidd cut you off, prying your hands away from your face and holding them together. his thumb rubbing circles at the back of your hand. "they outnumbered us and i was careless. don't worry your little head because i gave it to 'em back tenfold."

you smiled a little, if it weren't for the pain you would've laughed. "i'll be stronger." you pledged, looking deeply into his eyes.

"get fuckin' better first and i'll see you through it."

hello >< tysm for the requesttt <3

i've been gone for a while i'm sorry. i wanted to draw a lot and i just realized how much i made u guys wait TT, i hope i can come up with something to make it up to those who're waiting <3 i haven't been feeling my best lately so let's pray that this subsides wkwkwkwkwk

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mattslolita · 27 days

Text

psycho killer - c. sturniolo ( 004. )

in which ... a killer is terrorizing the town of boston and charmaine soon realizes she's the final girl in his twisted game.

ghostface!chris x black!fem oc

warnings ; blood , gore , death , eventual smut , angst , ghostface!chris , final girl! oc

"𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒕𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒎𝒆, 𝒊'𝒎 𝒂 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒓𝒆!"

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰

the entirety of charmaine's morning was spent with her trying to battle against numerous students who thought it was a good idea to give her dirty or pitiful looks throughout her morning classes — she shared her second period with madison, and both girls had to excuse themselves to the bathroom, as madison was on the verge of breaking down.

all charmaine felt was numbness — the only time her mother even called or texted her was to tell her that she wouldn't be home until late in the evening. it was almost as if she didn't care that her daughter was almost brutally murdered ( never mind the fact that one of her best friends was... ). and no calls from her dad, of course — charmaine didn't even know any of his contact information even if she was to try and look for it. besides, how would she even talk to him under these circumstances. hi dad, i'm calling you because i almost got murdered, what've you been doing all these years?

the evans girl felt like she lost a part of her that night.

it was lunchtime thankfully, and charmaine and her friends were scattered about on the fountain, mindlessly conversating about random things — matt was sat next to madison and nick was on the other side of them, whilst alahna sat next to nick and charmaine sat in between her and chris. madison was leaning on nick's shoulder, whilst matt had a bag of grapes, passing it around to everyone.

alahna was in charmaine's lap basically, as the evans girl stroked her hair affectionately. charmaine's love language with alahna had always been physical touch, so this was something quite normal to see between the pair. chris sat with one leg propped up behind charmaine, whilst the other swung idly and his hands stayed on either side of him to prop him up.

"hunt?" madison asked, scrunching her eyebrows together and looking at matt, "why'd they ask you if you like to hunt?"

"dunno, they just did," matt shrugged.

"it's cause morgan's body was gutted," nick spoke up with a deadpan expression, causing charmaine to wince, and chris to let out a breath behind her.

"nick!" alahna warned, slapping his leg causing him to glare at her, "not tryna have any type of sensibility, right?"

nick rolled his eyes, and charmaine blinked at him, surprised — she was well aware he didn't favor morgan too much ( none of them really did, they only dealt with her because of chris ), but she didn't expect him to be so insensitive. you know, since his brother dated her.

charmaine wouldn't ever admit this out loud, though; he understood why nick wasn't as sensible about it, being that everyone except chris knew how much she constantly cheated on the boy — and they all called matt the loverboy, when chris was clearly so blind that he couldn't even see what morgan was doing — never mind the fact that it affected the friend group, too.

"thanks alot, nick," chris said sarcastically, and charmaine's stomach fluttered when she felt chris lean in towards her, rubbing the side of her arm affectionately.

"well, they didn't ask me if i like to hunt," madison mumbled with a shrug, and both alahna and charmaine nodded in agreement.

"that's cause there's no way a girl could've done it," nick stated with a shrug, and charmaine raised her eyebrows at the oldest triplet.

"nuh uh nick, the killer could easily be a female," charmaine tutted, and matt pointed to her in agreement, "basic instinct?"

"wait, char, i just remembered something," madison said, gaining the attention of the whole group, causing the evans girl to look at her expectantly, "remember how he basically dragged me away from you, when we saw...morgan..."

"right," charmaine said, looking up at the sky with her eyes shut, letting out a sigh, "it was definitely a guy, especially with what he said to me."

"what'd he say to you?" matt asked curiously, and charmaine felt the hairs on her neck rise at the thought.

"doesn't matter," she mumbled, waving matt off. the second oldest triplet looked at her worriedly, sharing the same expression with alahna.

"how do you...gut someone?" madison whispered, but it was loud enough for the group to hear.

charmaine eyes downcasted and she bit her lip, and chris rubbed her shoulder again affectionately, and she leaned into his touch. with a single hand chris cupped the side of charmaine's chin gently and turned her head to face him, causing her eyes to water slightly. he wiped away at the single tear that escaped her eye, and she gave him a weak smile in return.

"you take a knife madi, and you slit em from the groin to the sternum," nick answered nonchalantly, acting the action out with his hands.

"seriously nick, come on, bro," chris said with an eyeroll, throwing the oldest triplet a glare.

"m'sorry," nick sighed, pulling madison in for a hug, before looking over at charmaine with an apologetic smile.

"guess i can't be too mad since i'm just as obsessed with horror movies as you are," charmaine laughed humorlessly, looking up at the oldest triplet.

"even still, you could be a little more...sensitive, nick," matt cringed, shaking his head.

"you know, no one's asked chris how he's taking this, either," alahna pointed out, everyone turning to the boy in question, "i mean, you dated her."

the tension in the air was quite thick now, at this point — charmaine got up from leaning on chris and turned to face the boy, causing a small frown to overtake his face. his jaw clenched slightly when he saw the way that alahna had pulled the girl to lean in her lap, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. jealousy filled him at the way charmaine looked up at her in admiration as alahna stroked her hair.

"i mean, i'm alright," chris shrugged, running a hand through his hair, "i miss her, though. i can't believe i lost my girl..."

the words were like a knife to charmaine's chest — but she hid with a sympathetic smile as she interlaced her fingers with alahna, the curtis girl resting her head atop of charmaine's.

"are the police aware you dated her, chris?" matt asked with a raised eyebrow, causing a shocked expression to cross the girls' faces.

"wow, what are you saying, matt?" nick asked in disbelief, "you're own brother, dude?"

"he's been acting weird lately..." matt shrugged, and charmaine shot matt a warning glare.

"matt, don't even try it!" alahna said, throwing a grape at him, "this is chris we're talking about."

"what're you saying, matt?" chris asked carefully, his eyes filled with betrayal, "that i killed her?"

"okay, that's enough of that," madison said, shaking her head and looking back and forth between them. "you guys are brothers. and for the record, nick and chris were at home and i know cause they face timed me when i first got to char's house."

"yeah, where were you, since you have so much to say?" nick sneered.

"working," matt shrugged, popping a grape into his mouth.

charmaine tuned out of the conversation then, leaning back on alahna's lap. she drew little circles around the girl's arm, furrowing her eyebrows in concentration as she did so — chris's eyes narrowed at the way alahna looked down at her from time to time, knowing exactly what she was feeling.

it was no secret that everyone thought alahna had feelings for charmaine — chris especially started to notice the change in their sophomore year, too. it was as if everyone knew except charmaine herself, despite the fact that she herself liked girls too; but chris knew charmaine only liked alahna as a friend.

at least, he was hoping she did. because from the way they had been acting with each other recently, he couldn't tell whether or not charmaine felt the same way alahna did.

"hey love, you wanna walk to class?" alahna asked charmaine, seeing the girl beginning to doze off slightly, "or we can skip in the bathroom or the library if you want."

"nah, we should probably go to class," charmaine sighed, sitting up. the bell hand rang just then, signaling the ending of the lunch period. "i don't need my teachers thinking that i think i have some free pass because of what happened."

"fair enough," alahna shrugged, both girls grabbing their tote bags with their stuff inside of it.

"i'll see you in sixth period, chris," charmaine smiled softly at the youngest triplet, giving him a quick side hug.

"yeah, i'll see you then," chris said, when charmaine pulled away from him. he ran his hand along her jawline, his eyes flicking down to her lips momentarily before bringing them back up to her eyes.

charmaine felt her cheeks heat up at the action — see, she didn't know what stuff like that meant. this wasn't the first time chris had done something like, where he looked at her in a not so friendly way — she wasn't sure if they had something there or not, or if he was just doing that because he was a naturally flirty person; however, it made her so angry that she didn't know know what it meant. she wanted to scream because he was messing with her head.

as she and alahna headed to their class with their fingers interlaced, chris watched both girls ( mostly charmaine ) — he hated the way that alahna could hold her hand like that, and the fact that charmaine seemed to like it. his jaw ticked at the fact that only he was supposed to be able to do that.

and soon enough, it'd only be him.

lil💌

i giggled, i need a man to be jealous for me like that.

@luverboychris @e1ias3 @muwapsturniolo @thenickgirl @guccifrog @junnniiieee07 @astrowh0r3 @breeloveschris @summerssover @prettiest-poision @mrssturnioloo @mattsturniolosleftnut @l0akkzz @555linaa @riasturns @xoxo4chrisss @stasiesturn @hysteria-things @sturn777 @ilovechrissturniolo1 @prettypinkprincess15 @eyeliketoeatpoosay @mayhem-72 @v33angel

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rinbowaman · 22 days

Text

₵Ⱨ₳₱₮ɆⱤ ₴ɆVɆ₦ : The Cannibal

Series: The Otherside

Warnings: gore, mentions of butchering human bodies, hints of cannibalism, survive and escape vibes, blood, dub-con vibes, this is not for the light hearted.

“Fuck this shit I’m out!”

Like clockwork, each member fleds; they spread out, ditching their pitiful gardening tools. You hear the commotion as you wiggle within the chained restraint, how odd that a whole group would rather flee than to gain up and tackle one man; surely they would win if they did.

The chains remain unbreakable as you attempt to feed your hands out of the metal cuffs, only able to free one hand in the process. You managed to lean your body over as the chained belt pinches your waistline. You finger the other cuff, desperately trying to pry it open so you could have both hands to work on the elongated piece that belted you to the stone platform. Suddenly a small poke causes you to yelp as the sharp sensation is pressed against your throat. You lay wide eyed as you stare Jessica dead in the eye. Her measly weapon of opportunity was hardly to be afraid of, yet with you forced into a stagnant position, you feared for your life as you saw desperation in her expression. “Don’t you dare move, I swear—“

Blood splatters across your face and you fall into a moment of shock. For about three seconds, your mind was an optical illusion until you snapped back into the reality of the situation—which was your co-worker stumbling to pieces as a large machete blade was fed through her stomach. The projection of the throw, along with the precision, was strong enough to slash through bone and cartilage. Your lips quiver out of fear as you watch her eyes roll back. Down she goes.

You couldn’t stop shaking. The amount of horror within you was enough to shrivel your spine, yet somehow you had enough courage—or curiosity, to turn your head. What you feared most was the expectation of this gifted killer to come at you next, now that everyone was gone. Your peripherals caught sight of numerous bodies laying lifeless by his feet, no wonder the remaining members chose to escape. The man was silent in his actions, you weren’t aware that he chopped down more than the leader of the group.

He stalks his way over in your direction. You shook more vigorously as you made out his body type. He was tall, with a boxy frame; mostly slender with subtle bulky muscle that graced his arms. The veins travel along them like rivers in the Amazon. He comes closer, and closer.

“Well shit.”

His voice was as deep as his brows. He tilts his head as he sighed, it was one that expressed the burden of a heavy weight—you.

“P-please…d-don’t—“ it was all you could stutter as you refused to take your eye off him. It was a defensive trait as you feared turning away would place you in a vulnerable spot, until you realized that you were without a weapon and chained up.

He squints his eyes and licks the top row of his offensive teeth. What was he going to do? The others had it coming, even with the intention of leaving this grave sight without killing anyone, that moral compass went south the moment he was spotted digging up fresh graves. He never liked hurting people, but became so good at it due to the amount of times he’s been forced to. Not to mention, all the times he’s had to hunt for food with Heeseung. Under normal circumstances, it was usually his sadistic friend who would do the deed. All his victims were ones who collected victims themselves; the sick and demented that were gifted in return by society due to their families expanded wealth. But ever since a pretty dainty thing named h/n inadvertently caught his eye, Heeseung had been more preoccupied in taming his new pet, leaving for Sunghoon to resort to this old nightly trend. A trend that was meant to end peacefully and inconspicuously, has now produced a conundrum.

‘What the hell do I do now? Do I call Heeseung and Jake?’

He was certain that his friends would come to aid him, there was no question about it. It was the sense of burdening them to do so, especially when Heeseung had recently claimed how much more work than he expected to clip his little birdies' wings. As for Jake, it had been a solid week since either one of them had heard from the Aussie stud.

The silence early killed you itself. You couldn’t bear it anymore as you anticipated the worst of the man’s actions. With his grip tightening on the remaining blade, his pupils shift from side to side as he ponders on what exactly the best course of action to take. Finishing you off was out of the question. You weren’t presenting a threat—at least not yet. While the others provided reasons to die by his hand, it was obvious by your current condition that you were dragged into this matter against your own will. A frail little thing, presented as an offering for their false belief. In a way, he felt sorry for you.

He notices your free hand, which then triggers him to make his next move. Tossing you a black sash, he directs the aim of it to your face. “Cover your eyes.”

His voice was low. You hysterically sob as you come to the conclusion that the man was going to execute you blindfolded. As if he read your mind, he sits on the stone platform beside you and leans in. “I’m not going to hurt you. Okay? Just put it on and we’ll get out of here. No screaming or crying, otherwise I will have to shut you up.”

His words sounded sincere. Maybe that was due to how his fingers came up to sweep the stands away from your cheek. You had no choice, so you obliged. Seeing you struggle to place the tie the sash nearly made him chuckle. It was somewhat cute with the way you were trying to obey, so much that you did everything you could to hold it in place when you weren’t able to tie it properly. He raises his hands and with a gentle, feathered touch, he ties the dash for you. Your breath paused during the entire time as you felt the long fingernails gently feeding through your hair. “Don’t move.”

You barely process his words when suddenly you felt the weight of metal shambles relieve you. You couldn’t see how he did it, but from what you could gather helping your ears, the man was skilled with those blades of his and managed to cut the chains at an angle, immediately snapping it and breaking the length of it. “I’ll remove this later.” His voice calmly states as you felt his finger hook under the cuff, between your skin and the metal. Breaking the other chains, you felt the lightweight of freedom. It felt like you were floating.

He drags you for God knows how long. Finally the car stabilizes to park mode as you feel the riddling engine shut off and the seat beneath you stops vibrating. The door closest to you opens and you feel his hands lift you from the back seating row. He was gentle, but so strong. You hindered each breath as you try to guess where he has taken you, but the blindfold proves to be an adequate obstruction in blocking your vision. He sits you down in what you guessed was a couch, after bringing you in and aiding you up a series of stairs after sitting in an elevator for a lengthy ride. At least you think it was an elevator. Your ankles binder by rope as are your wrists. He broke the chains but kept you bonded to ensure his cover and identity was not released through your venturous escape. When all was said and done, you feel him gently untying the blindfold and lifting it from your eyes. You looked around and was amazed to find yourself at the center of a well furnished bedroom. Seated on the edge of the large bed, you looked around to see the modern art pieces and the small sculptures that decorated the space. He stood before you with blood staining his hands and flight suit.

“Make yourself comfortable. You’ll be staying here for a while.”

You slightly shook your head. “I-I can’t—“

“It’s either you stay, or you die.” He cuts you off while still keeping a calm demeanor. “You saw what I did. I can’t risk you going out and getting the police involved. For now on, you stay here.”

At first you couldn’t lie, a piece of you didn’t seem to have any objections considering his rather luxurious apartment, the man obviously came from money and luck. However, you couldn’t possibly stay with a strange man, especially when a significant factor that had slipped your mind back at the grave sight, it came back up as if to specifically impede in your decision…except you didn’t really have one.

Your eyes widened in absolute horror as you watched from up the staircase. Through the front door, he brought in one body bag after another. Oh God…

Now you remember why he was there in the first place. Overhearing the confused gasps of the cult allowed you to piece together the sickness this man was infected with. You panicked. You had to figure out how to get out of these ropes, there’s no way you could stay here. This man—this monster, was he intending to keep you so he could butcher you for his future meals? It becomes harder to breathe as you wiggled and squirmed, doing your best to break free. You hear him dragging one of the bodies into the bathroom, no doubt getting ready to section it off, piece by piece.

Finally, shifting your wrists loosened up the rope. You were able to use your teeth to pull it completely out of place, undoing the knot completely. You freed your ankles and removed your shoes to avoid making any noise against the magnificently marbled tile. Tip toeing through the hall, you took each step down the staircase as gently and carefully as possible. You heard him working the corpse from the crack in the door, it was the most sickening sound you ever heard. You weren’t sure what was worse, nearly being killed for a sickening ritual or being saved by a man who was the sickest.

The knob is within your grasp, you hold on and gently turn it. The door clicks open, which fortunately occurred during a large chop through what you guessed was a limb or joint. Opening the front door allowed you to view the entire private corridor, leading to a dead end. There, you saw it. A single elevator stationed off to the side. Freedom.

You quickly make your way over, but despair hits you in finding out that the keypad to the side required a passcode in order to operate it. It would so appear the entire floor was a private residence, as well as this elevator. How you wished you had peeled from beneath the blind fold to see the code entered. How were you supposed to get out of here now?

Taking the chance to guess the code, you start puncturing numbers at random. The keypad flashes red and makes a subtle beep to reflect the error. You continued to enter a compilation of numbers when a sudden sight caused you to scream. A bloodied hand reaching over your shoulder, plastered over the keypad. You jolt back and lea against the wall, the man was coated with more blood than before. It was a hellish sight, one that you could never forget.

“Running?” His voice came off almost facetiously as he taunts you with a small toothy grin. His look was somewhat different from before. It was a look of bold hunger, a contrast from the seemingly shy-quiet boy appeal he had before. It was almost as if the smell and sight of blood triggered him, the same way it happens with a lone shark in deep waters.

“Please…I-i won’t tell anyone. Just let me leave. I didn’t ask to be here…I didn’t ask for any of this. I just want to forget about all of this. I promise I won’t—“

He takes a step towards your direction, inadvertently shutting you up. Seeing you in this light, this specific version of you, it was eye opening to him. He’s never seen someone so wide eyed and pure, so clean and sheltered from the toxicity of evil and gore. To him, you were Persephone, in need of her Hades. He raises a hand with the intention of caressing your cheek, but the glistening shine of the red stain causes you to squint and yelp in fear. Of course it would. How clumsy of him to forget that the essence of your purity shouldn’t be stained. He lowers his hand, flicking his two fingers, bidding you to come hither his way. “Come here. Come and stay with me.”

You shook your head vigorously. There was no way. Not after knowing his darkest secret. “I can’t! Please let me go!”

He smiles and gives a small chuckle. “Go upstairs, and clean up. Top drawer to the right, you’ll find my collared button shirts. Put one on and get some sleep.” It was almost as if he didn’t even hear you. Maybe he did, he just refused to listen or honor your words. You shook your head in gloom as you found yourself trapped and forced to abide by his command. You sob silently as you start to walk back to the front door, his arm shelters your shoulders as he cradles you under the strength of his limb.

“Shh…good little girl.”

Taglist: @nshmrarki , @lprww , @baekxo07 , @m7omo@nikstrange@heeshees@moonmoongi@heesitation@heeseung-min @nctsslut @heeseung-min @addictedtohobi @strxwbloody

#sunghoon enhypen #enhypen sunghoon #park sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon smut #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon smut #sunghoon scenarios #sunghoon hard hours #yandere sunghoon

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woeswrites · 26 days

Text

Yandere Will Graham

Warnings: Yandere themes, Obsessive behaviors, Brief mention of rape/rapist, Dubious consent (mention of sex while under the influence), etc.

Notes: I am trying to be active again (fingers crossed). Headcannons are a really easy way for me to get the creative juices flowing. Don't be surprised if a few more come out after this one lol.

You were a recent survivor of an attack

No, it wasn't the Chesapeake Ripper

It was just some other wannabe serial killer trying to get his rocks off

He had a dumb, stereotypical name too

The midnight slasher? midnight butcher?

Something like that

The media wasn't very creative with it

Whatever his name was, he'd clearly had a type

Young men

All of a similar stature

With the same hair and eye color

All known to known be up at all hours of the day

It was a pretty open and shut case in Will's eyes

He was a plain and simple lust killer

Most likely white and in his 30s-40s

Classic closet case turned homicidal

He hadn't seen why the FBI was so stumped on the whole thing

The only real trouble was the lack of DNA evidence

He'd been real good at cleaning up after himself

Will knew he'd slip up eventually

This wasn't the type of guy to be so well organized for long

Well--

Does being murdered by your most recent victim count as a slip up?

Because that's exactly what happened

He was called to the scene with the rest of the team

The sight of you trembling, covered in blood, and standing over top of that creep was his first impression

You met his eyes and he was unable to pull away

Something about your tear blotched face held him captive

Jack tasked him with asking you questions about the events at hand

Normally this would have annoyed Will

He wasn't the talking type

Let alone someone sensitive enough to make such a traumatized person feel comfortable

But something in him didn't mind so much

Maybe it was the way you looked so vulnerable

Or the fact that no matter how much he pushed the idea away, he saw himself in you

An innocent man turned murderer under the right circumstances

"I'm Will Graham and I'll be asking you some questions."

"God, okay. I'm Y/n. Can't really say it's nice to meet you."

Will tried to start off slow

Ask the basics before moving onto the more pertinent information

You'd answer to the best of your abilities (considering the circumstances)

It took Will a second to jot down your responses

He'd get a little too caught up in your features to notice you'd stop talking

"Sorry, what was that? You got off work at 9?"

There was something admirable about your attempts to infuse your story with a bit of dry humor

Likely a coping mechanism

But Will found himself smiling a bit at your quips

By the time he'd finish up with you he'd felt a little attachment form

Sure the case was over on his end

But it didn't stop him from asking Jack about you

At least a couple times a week

"How's things going with that self defense case? Y/n's...?"

Will showed up the next day with your case fill on his desk

The sticky note stuck to it warned about annoying Jack with too many questions

He'd spend all night re-reading the details

Without noticing he began slipping in and out of re-enactment mode

Imagining you on top of him

Knife in hand

Crazed look in your eyes

He tried to shake the image away

He shouldn't be doing this

It wasn't right

You could've died that night

His guilt ridden thoughts did nothing to lessen the tent that had formed in his pajama pants

He tried to push the idea of you out of his head

Usually he'd have more control over himself than this

His resolve was strong at first

He'd hidden the manila folder away in the depths of his lower drawer

Telling himself he'd drop it

That worked for a couple of days

That was before he started dreaming of you

Events that he hadn't preformed himself took ahold of him

He became your attacker that night

He chased you

He ripped apart your clothes

He was the one who you fought off

He's the one who you thrust that knife into

And he loved every second of it

Wait--

No, he couldn't

This was just his empathy disorder

Yeah!

He was just in character

This definitely wasn't him

He would never want to do any of that stuff

And he'd prove it

He had memorized that file from front to back at this point

It wouldn't be weird that he'd known your address

He was an FBI consultant

It was basically warranted

Will found himself picking out his best clothes that night

His newest jeans, tailored shirt, the works

Not for any particular reason

And his bed was definitely not littered with rejected articles of clothing

This was just going to be a simple checkup, it's not like it really mattered what he looked like

He showed up on your doorstep with the nicest bottle of wine he could find

"Will? Is that you?"

"Uh, yeah it is. Would I be able to come in?"

You welcomed him in, albeit a little confused

"I thought my case was cleared..."

"That's not what I'm here for. I just wanted to check in on you."

You smiled at this

And Will felt his heart ache

You'd invite him to join in on your sorry excuse for a dinner

He'd never accepted anything so fast before in his life

It didn't take long before the two of you got into the wine he'd brought

It was innocent enough at first

Just drinking and talking

You'd mention how life was after the attack

Will shared a little about his experience with GJH

Its the first time he had ever felt so utterly connected with another person before

But then the two of you got a little more than tipsy

And Will found himself leaning in

One kiss turned into another and another

Will felt a sense of static overtake him

Every touch between the two of you sent shivers up his spine

He felt the strong urge to consume

Before either of you knew it your clothes were now in a heap on the kitchen floor

You woke up the next morning with a splitting headache

Oh-- and an FBI agent in your bed

Shock was an understatement

That was when the memories of the previous night flooded back

Will woke up at the loss of warmth

Last night was the best he had slept in years

You wrapped tight in his arms, bodies perfectly intertwined

His heart sank at the look of regret on your face

"We definitely shouldn't have done that. I think you should leave Will..."

He couldn't just leave now

Not knowing what he did

That you two were made for one another

He'd try to calm you down

"Y/n let's talk about this."

You weren't having it

Mentioning how inappropriate this all was

You'd shove his clothes into his arms

Will tried to console you

Not realizing why you were so worked up

You both did just have the best night of your life after all

You'd back away but he'd continue approaching

"C'mon I know you don't really want me to go. Let's just take a second before we make any rash decisions"

"We aren't doing anything. I want you to go. Now."

Something about him coming over while you were still recovering from your distress and it all leading to this...

It just didn't feel right

Will tried to approach once more but you pushed him away

He couldn't help the smile that made its way onto his face

"Push me. Go on, make it hurt."

You were absolutely bewildered

He reached out and grabbed ahold of you

His grip was almost crushing

Like he was holding on for dear life

"I won't leave you alone that easily. Fate brought us together for a reason. You feel it too right? We're one in the same. We're each other's destiny."

He looked crazed, sweat slipping from his brow

It felt just like that night all over again

The knife in your hand as your attacker bled out

Only now Will took his place underneath you

#he/him #male reader #will graham x male reader #will graham x reader #yandere will graham #yandere will #possessive love #NBC hannibal #hannibal #yandere hannibal #yandere NBC hannibal #will #will graham #yandere william graham #william graham

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chaotic-tired-fox · 8 months

Text

Resident Evil obscure facts PART 3

Since y’all like these so much

(Probably the last part since I really scraped the bottom of my brain here)

Part 1 Part 2

☠️ Hunk telling Nighthawk to go and leave him during RE2 4th Survivor is the first time we see him respond with any emotion or concern for anyone else other than his mission.

☠️ Nikolai and Sergei Vladimir were friends and fought together in the soviet war.

☠️ Sergei Vladimir and Ozwell E Spencer were also old friends which is how Sergei came to rule over the UBCS in the first place. He was completely loyal to Spencer.

☠️ Chris bulking up between Code Veronica and RE5 was a direct response to Wesker being able to beat him so easily. He wanted to get stronger despite Wesker possessing superhuman strength.

☠️ Claire and Leon have a really shaky relationship thanks to Leon’s loyalty to the US Government. He doesn’t deviate from this until RE6 when he decides to defend Helena Harper and sympathises with her actions.

☠️ The knife Leon carries in the RE4 remake is the same knife Marvin gives him in the RE2 remake

☠️ Jake Muller said he was trained by an unnamed mercenary, some speculate this could have been Hunk as he became a mercenary after the Umbrella trials in 2003

☠️ The metal band Ice Nine Kills made a song based on the Resident Evil franchise called ‘Rainy Day’ (and its very good I recommend)

☠️ For Hunk to snap necks the way he does would require a hell of a lot of strength

☠️ Umbrella Corps (which is canon) set after Resident Evil 5 has voice lines from Wesker in it which implies he may be still alive.

Quote: “The circumstances of my death were greatly exaggerated.”

☠️ In Resident Evil 4 The Merchant’s eyes are blue but glow yellow in the dark/at night. In the Remake he doesn’t do this.

☠️ Luis Sera was Catholic which was the original religion of the village before Saddler moved in.

☠️ In Operation Raccoon City Nikolai has a scar on the side of his face but in the Resident Evil 3 Remake he doesn’t

☠️ Chris’s height was changed from 5’11” to 6’2” in later games

☠️ In Resident Evil 7, Ethan loses his left hand, in RE8 he loses his right.

☠️ ‘Master of Unlocking’ is perhaps the most well known ongoing Resident Evil reference not only in the series but many other games as well including most recently as an achievement in the game ‘Killer Frequency.’ You’ll find it most commonly as the name of trophies.

☠️ In Resident Evil 3 Remake RPD, Carlos makes a quote about cameras being used to kill monsters which is a reference to the Fatal Frame series.

☠️ Also in the RE3 Remake, we never truly find out who Nikolai’s client was and Jill never does the ‘detective work’ on it either. It’s theorised that it was Sergei Vladimir as he is the only person Nikolai had any kind of contact and relationship with.

☠️ There is an unofficial Resident Evil 4 inspired puzzle game on the Switch called Safe Room where you organise items into differently shaped grid boxes. Perfect for those that enjoy the satisfaction of good inventory management.

☠️ Crimson head zombies are a mutated variant of regular T-Virus zombies that can happen sometimes if you ‘kill’ them. But they are actually the midway point between a regular zombie and a Licker. (Note the sharp claws)

☠️ Rebecca’s coffee order is an iced caramel macchiato

☠️ Extra fact: I write Hunk related short stories on AO3! I’d love if you checked em out! The link to my fics is HERE

Death Island spoilers below!

☠️ In Death Island, Chris and Leon have matching watches

☠️ As of Death Island, all five of the main characters have been infected with something and cured.

☠️ Chris mentioning Piers in Death Island is the first we’ve heard of him since RE6 (and it hurtttt)

☠️ It’s implied that Chris finding Leon in Vendetta and bringing him back saved his life. We see his mood has greatly improved since then

☠️ We don’t actually have an answer for when Leon and Jill first met but it could have been around the same time he met Chris in 2010

☠️ Once again the trend of Leon crashing every vehicle he touches continues!

#resident evil #resident evil facts #chris redfield #leon s kennedy #jill valentine #claire redfield #rebecca chambers #resident evil hunk #piers nivans #resident evil operation raccoon city #nikolai ginovaef #sergei vladimir #albert wesker #resident evil death island #leon kennedy #ethan winters #resident evil 4 #jake muller

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respectthepetty · 2 months

Note

seems like non has to have survived somehow because why are they seeing the masked figure with a crutch? and why did the masked figure grope tee? keng seems legit dead and sold for organs so who else could it be if not non?

Anon, I've stated this multiple times before but telenovelas and Romeo & Juliet have taught me it ain't over until it's over. I have thought that Tan was going to fake his death with the inhaler, and knowing he has been experimenting with drugs made me more excited for the possibility. But now, I'm staring at a dead body that I don't want to believe is dead, and Shakespeare's Juliet, Pit Babe's Charlie, and Sammon's Tan and Bun are looking me right in the face saying "the best way to get someone out is by killing them!"

DO YOU SEE THE VISION?!

Yes, the guys are hallucinating. Yes, the smoke is causing it. But why do they keep seeing crutches?! That's odd!

Phi and Jin heard a car starting when they were at the temple, yet everyone was accounted for, so SOMEONE ELSE IS OUT THERE!

We still have that missing second driver who knows his way around the woods at night and who got held up by the tree in the way but was that a lie?!

The axe just conveniently laying in the temple is strange.

The trees being cut up differently when Jin and Phi were roaming around the woods is weird.

Phi assumed Tan did several of these things, but we know Tan couldn't have done everything Phi accused him of.

And why would we see Perth take this call?

Nothing in this show has been unimportant. Everything we have seen has a reason, so to waste precious time on Perth telling Tee he was leaving after taking this call has to mean something, right? Was it just to show us how much Perth cares about his off-time, so when he stays an extra hour for Tee, it's meaningful?

NO!

The uncle died under mysterious circumstances, and even though I don't need to know how, it's still important that the death wasn't natural.

Because the plot is plotting and someone else is out there killing these people!

And I want it to be Non!

I know believing Non is still alive is a stretch, but even if it isn't Non, someone else is out there, and we've already met all the players, so it's someone we know. There are only so many players left on the board, so who is that hidden character?

Keng is dead. Amen.

As much as I totally and completely ship Fluke x Tan (shut up! leave me alone! it makes sense in my head), I know the doctor isn't helping the biochemist with this.

So if Non really is dead, that leaves White or Perth, and neither one of them would need crutches, and White seems to be having his own little crisis in the finale. The only person who would need crutches is the person who was already limping!

NON IS ALIVE!

He was limping from exhaustion and getting beat for over two weeks, so it would only take a little belladonna in his system for him to die or at least appear to die.

I've always believed there were two killers since the first episode, and I thought they were Tan and Phi, but Phi has ethics or whatever bullshit high horse he is on, yet that doesn't change my mind - There are two killers!

So, once again, Non is either alive or Tan is really the A+ student he has proven to be and got another partner.

LET'S GO, FINALE!

#Non is alive #Tan will walk out of this alive #dead friend forever #and let Tan get a guy!#putting the slash in slasher #Keng better be dead!

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roadkillremi · 1 year

Text

Randy Meeks x Ghostface!Fem!Reader and TOXIC!Poly!Ghostface x Ghostface!Fem!Reader

Part 1 Part 3 MasterList

Warnings : MINORS DNI Mentions Killing, Mentions plans on Killing, Language, Mentions Family Problems, Non consented kiss, Smut, Blow Job, Switch!Reader, Sub!Randy, fingering, Toxic Relationship. (If I missed any let me know please!)

I do NOT support toxic relationships like the one displayed or murdering. If this is happening to you or a loved one reach help ASAP!

Summary : Being childhood friends with Billy Loomis wasn't always easy. As you got older he demanded revenge and that you helped him. (He may have manipulated you along the way). After helping kill Sydney's mother you refused to help anymore. Billy and Stu forced you to stay due to blackmail causing you to be in a toxic secret relationship.

You put your duffle bag in the corner of Tatum's room. Dewey had brought you a sleeping bag and pillow which was curled up near Sydney's temporary bed.

"Isn't this fun!" Tatum smiled.

"I mean under bad circumstances but super fun!" She sat on her bed watching you put your stuff aside. You smiled at her, "Yeah we should do this more often!". Sydney walked in holding a book bag one for school and one for clothes. She sat on the bed and smiled softly.

"We don't have to go to Stus dumb party, Tomorrow do we?" You asked looking at the two girls.

"Uh, of course we do! It'll be fun! Plus maybe you'll finally take Randy's virginity!" Tatum joked. You rolled your eyes and smiled, "there's nothing wrong with waiting, Tatum". Sydney looked over at you, "why are you waiting?". You sighed and sat on the floor between the girls.

"I never told him I'm not a virgin. I think that'll upset him..it's stupid." You lied.

You've gotten pretty good at that lately.

"Wait you'd you lose your virginity to?!" Tatum bounced on the mattress. You smirked, "Some guy. It's when I was visiting my dad. He was cool I guess.".

Another lie. It was Billy.

Dewey came into the room, "hey uh, we gotta go to the station." Tatum rolled her eyes before getting up.

You sat on the cold metal chair next to Tatum.

"I was with Randy the night of Casey's death. He closed up around 9:30 he was my ride home." You stared into the sheriff's eyes. Your dad had a bad reputation in the past and it seemed the cops believe it carried down.

"We have to ask it's nothing personal." Dewey said with a small smile. You nodded, "is that all?!" Tatum said staring at the two officers. You both left to go sit by Sydney.

"I'm gonna call Randy real quick" you said as you got up. You asked to use a phone and they lead you to a desk where there wasn't much people. You dialed the video stores number hoping Randy would answer.

"Bradley Video, this is Randy speaking"

"Randy.." your voice came out tired and weak.

"Baby? What's up?" He sounded concerned.

"I'm at the police station and I got questioned. They mentioned my dad since y'know.."

"Those asshats.. Do I need to get you?"

"No, I'm staying at Tatum's. I just wanted to update you. How's work? Any new suspects?" You asked trying to lighten the mood.

"No, but don't you think it's weird it's near Sydney's Moms death anniversary..". Your stomach dropped, you noticed and it wasn't an accident.

"Yeah, you think it's like a Requal or Franchise?" You asked twirling the cord with your fingers.

"No, clue. Anyway I gotta get back to work before they try to fire me again. Bye, love youuu"

"Love you too, Geek." You hung up the phone and walked back to the girls. Tatum was explaining how the cops assumed the worse of you due to your father.

"The nerve. Her dad just had a habit of stealing and the town goes wild." Tatum complained. You smiled interrupting the conversation, "don't worry about it. I'm used to it." You sat by Sydney, "need anything?". She shook her head no, you looked at her.

"I really think we shouldn't go to that party."

"What?! Why?! You think Stu's the killer!!" Tatum practically yelled.

"No! I'm just saying a big group of teenagers its bound to draw attention." You said trying to ease Tatum. She bit her bottom lip, "Come on, it'll be fun".

"Tatum's right. It'll be fun." Sydney said softly. You sighed, Billy was escorted into the integration room.

"Sydney!" He yelled. You rolled your eyes and flipped him off as he walked by. Tatum sighed checking the clock on the wall.

"Can we go, Dewey!" She yelled. Dewey sighed looking around before nodding. You all squeezed past the mob of news reporters and cameras. Gale somehow pushed her way to Sydney and held a microphone to her mouth. It was too loud to catch what Gale was saying. You were busying panicking and looking for an escape. Then Gale was practically on the sidewalk, Sydney put her fist down. All four of you ran to Dewey's car before heading back to Tatum's house.

You laid in your sleeping bag worrying about Randy. All Stu had to do was get the idea and kill him. You sat up, "Can I use your phone?".

"Randy's fine, honey. I promise." Tatum smiled before tossing one of her stuffed bears in the air. You sighed before laying back down. He'd call you if anything went wrong. His sister would tell you if he got home late and would ask if he was with you, right? You tried to close your eyes ignore the girls conversation.

"Sydney there's someone on the phone for you." Tatum's mom stood in the doorway. You looked over and watched Sydney walk away moments before her scream. You stumbled out of the sleeping bag.

Sydney was in tears clinging to the phone, Tatum's mom was telling trying to get Dewey's attention. Once he came out from his room the caller hung up. You looked at Sydney before she went into the room hiding under her covers. You sighed looking at the ground. Tatum went to comfort Sydney, "may I use your phone?" You looked at Tatum's mom. She nodded following Dewey downstairs. You dialed Randy's house phone, it continued to ring.

"come on jackass." You whispered. His mom picked up in a bit of a tired tone.

"Mrs.Meeks hi! It's uh... It's Randy's Girlfriend. I need to speak to him it's important."

She mumbled an okay, moments later Randy was on the phone.

"What's up?" He grumbled softly.

"Sydney just got a call from the killer.." you kept your voice low. You heard shuffling, "Do I need to get you? Are you safe?". You bit your bottom lip, "I feel bad if I leave.".

"It doesn't matter. Are you safe or not?" You went silent again. Tears pooled in your eyes, not from fear from guilt.

"Can you get me?" You asked sheepishly.

"Yeah give me a minute." His cranky voice left the phone leaving you in the hall. You looked in Tatum's room, "Um, my Aunt's gonna get me, she's worried.". Another lie, your Aunt was probably hooking up with some guy. The girls nodded before continuing the conversation. You packed up your things and said goodbye and waiting by the front door looking out the window.

Once Randy's car appear you quickly walked outside. The cold breeze making your legs feel numb. You were in pajama shorts and a giant Carrie Tee Randy gifted you. You put your stuff in the back seat before hoping in the passenger seat.

"Thank you." You smiled softly. He smiled lazily, his eyes coated with sleep. He was in his pajamas too, his hands lazily grasping the wheel.

"Sorry I woke you and your mom up.." you whispered.

"It's fine. Shes too old to remember that it happened."

You gently placed your hand on his thigh. You observed him while he drove to his place.

"Darling, you gotta stop starin' " he joked in that damn British accent. You smiled, "but you're so pretty..". Randys face turned a soft pink, you smiled at him.

Pretty wasn't a normal word for men. But Randy loved it, he loved being called your pretty boy. You treasured him a bit too much Tatum would tell you. Now you're just afraid of losing him.

"Randy, I need to tell you something.."

"What is it?"

"You can't freak out.. or tell anyone."

"okay..." He parked into the driveway turning the car off.

"Sydney's mom slept with my dad. My parents spilt obviously. That's why I live with my aunt." Randy just stared at you.

"I'm not a suspect." You add in a harsh tone.

"Says any suspect." He smiled. He didn't look weirded out just confused.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Because Billy made you feel like a freak.

"I was ashamed."

"I mean, I wouldn't mention it to Sydney she might freak out. But I'm not gonna humiliate you and pour pigs blood all over you." He smiled referencing your T-shirt.

He gently kissed you before getting out the car. You grabbed your bags quietly walking into the house. You placed your stuff by the left side of his bed before climbing in. Randy flopped on the bed groaning.

This could be the last time you see him. You moved closer to him fiddling with the waist band of his pajama pants. He groaned looking over at you.

"Randy... can I?.." you bit your lip before finishing the sentence. You were scared it was your only chance before tomorrow. He just stared at you, drowsiness taking over, "I wanna.. blow you.." you whispered. Both of your faces covered in pinks and reds. He nodded watching you gently pull down his pants.

You knew you had to do this before he died. You needed to show him how much you love him. You cupped his member which was held back in his boxers. He whined softly fluttering his eyes closed. A gentle squeeze before pulling his boxers down. His member sprung up, precum already leaking from the tip.

"Baby.." you cooed at him. He just whined waiting for you to do what you asked. He was bigger than you expected, you spat in your hand before stroking him. He breathed heavily, his virgin body trying to take it all. He gripped the sheets fucking himself into your hand.

"Randy... You're so cute like this.. all pathetic and needy.." you whispered. He moaned in response, you licked a stripe up his needy cock before taking him in your mouth.

His moans grew a bit louder, his hand touched your hair before leaving it. He wasn't sure what to do but he liked it. Your head bobbing up and down on him. He knew this would be great but not heavenly. Your tongue did wonders around him while your hand caressed his balls. He bit his lip trying not to come undone so quickly.

"I'm... I'm.." he tried to speak but breathy moans would escape.

"I'm gonna cum.." he whined. You lifted your head up replacing your mouth with your hand.

"Do you wanna come in my mouth?" You asked softly. He nodded quickly trying to hold back. You out your mouth back to work downing him faster as he fucked into your mouth. Randy arched his back a bit before letting out a soft cry. His seed was inside your mouth, you swallowed taking rushed breaths.

"I'm gonna die now.." He whispersd with a goofy smile on his face. You smiled at him before crawling back up to him. You took his clammy hand and slid it up your shirt. Randy watched in disbelief, you lead his hand to your breast. He gently squeezed it smiling at you.

"Can I hold them when I try to sleep?"

You smiled nodding, his thumb went over your nipple releasing a breathy moan from you. You laid down beside him letting his spoon you so he had access. He held onto your chest gently squeezing them. Your core was uncomfortable due to the lack of attention. You softly humped the blanket searching for a release. Randy dug his face into your neck letting out a smirk.

"We're breaking the rules.." he whispered. You whined knowing he was watching you try to find a release. Your hand softly rubbing through your shorts.

"Randy..." You whined, his hand slide down in between your legs. He wasn't sure he was doing but he tried. He put his hand through your underwear softly touching your soaked folds. You softly moaned, "Randy please...". He prayed he was doing the correct thing puting his finger in your hole. You back softly arched, he smiled knowing he was right. He left sloppy kisses on your neck. His thumb gently rubbed your clit as he fingered you.

"H-how... Do.. you know.. how to.." you moaned and whined in between words. He continued gaining another boner which was pressed against your ass.

"Porn tapes" he whispered, you went silent with your moaning. He got scared you were mad, "I wanted to pleasure you correctly..". You smiled to yourself, "keep going, Randy..". He smiled and continued to finger you, he learned to use two fingers and curl them up. He listened to your moans, they got more frequent when you were close. You bit your lip, his fingers pumped in and out of you quickly. Randy softly moaned as you tightened around him. Your framed stiffened and body arched as you came. Randy watched in amazement of the scene. He slowly took his fingers out licking them off. He groaned at the taste, you smiled and curled up to him.

"Did you like it?" You asked. Randy nodded aggressively, "Yes!". He gave you a giant sloppy kiss before passing out on the bed.

School was painful to get through knowing the party was soon. You tried to talk Randy out of going but he insisted on going also. Billy was back in class and eyed you every chance he got. When he got the chance he pulled you into a janitors closet pinning you against the wall.

"Thought your stunt was funny last night, huh?" He tilted his head.

"Billy grow up-" you glared trying to escape him. His grip was too strong and he didn't move a muscle.

"tonights the night." He whispered.

"you know the plan?" He added watching you avoid him. You nodded, he grabbed your chin making you look at him.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing."

"Scared about your little boy toy?" He smiled.

"He fucked me last night. And it felt great. Better than you actually." He chuckled in response.

"Randy? You've gotta be joking! Guy couldn't find the clit if he tried."

"Oh but he did." Your eyes narrowed. Billy's demeanor darken, he aggressively kissed you trying to reclaim you. You squirmed pushing him back, "You asshole." You whispered.

"Watch it. All I have to do is tell Randy how much of a bad girl you are and it's over." He said with a sly smile. Your eyes drooped before you nodded.

"Watch your damn tone too. Before I fuck it out of you." He left the closet slamming the door. You stood in the dark waiting to leave.

Once you felt confident enough to leave you walked into the hall. You went to your history class a couple minutes late.

"Glad you could join us." Your teacher sighed before continuing. You sat behind Randy, he turned around.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah, Billy's being a dick so watch out."

He nodded turning his attention towards the board.you would sometimes mess with his hair or shirt. You tried to distract yourself from the growing guilt in your stomach.

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nessinborderland · 1 year

Text

Broken Promises

Pairing: Banda Sunato x Reader

Genre: Angst, Smut

Words: 2,9k

Summary: You never expected to find your ex-husband in the Borderlands, of all places. Especially not when he was supposed to be on death row.

Warnings ⚠️ Established Relationship, Mentions of Murder, Serial Killers, is Banda after all

Notes: This was requested by the lovely @ch-xr that loves fictional unhinged men as much as I do <3 hope you enjoy it! (Also, I know Banda supposedely only murdered 4 women, but for dramatics sake I made him more... prolific.)

Masterlist | AO3

His eyes on you made you more nervous than anything you had experienced in this retched place until then. It was both a familiar and unfamiliar feeling, filled with the promise of pain and suffering if you did as much as attempt to look in his direction, which you quickly realized you didn’t want to do.

Coward, a tiny voice in your head accused as you made yourself even smaller in your seat. But you couldn’t help the emotions that being under his predatory gaze evoked within you; primal fear, the uncontrollable need to freeze or flight. You knew that fighting was out of the question where he was concerned. You couldn’t even gather the courage to try it.

Unfortunately, there was no place for you to run or hide in this prison. Not until you left the game a winner.

Or died. One of the two.

You could feel your shoulders tense up as the next round approached minute by minute, and so you hurried to finish your meal, barely tasting the chocolate crumbs on your tongue.

The Jack of Hearts was an easier game than most in your humble opinion, and you were lucky enough to trust your game partner (for now at least) – still, the very real possibility of your demise was always hovering over your head like the dark cloud that it was. However, given your current circumstances, dying didn’t seem like the worse fate you could have.

“You know him, don’t you?”

You jumped in your seat as a man sat beside you, almost choking on your cookie as you tried to hide the grimace that took over your expression as your partner’s eyes sharply looked into yours. You coughed as you shook your head, already denying it despite not even asking whom he was referring to.

“You do.”

“What?” you tried, faking ignorance, only making him roll his eyes.

“Him,” Chishiya said as he nodded in the direction of the man still watching you. “Banda. You know him, don’t you?”

You knew that Chishiya was smarter than most, but you were still impressed by how observant he could be. Or were you that obvious in your state of fear?

“What makes you say that?”

“He hasn’t taken his eyes off of you while you’ve been doing the exact opposite.”

“So what?” you shrugged, trying to act nonchalant but knowing you failed when Chishiya raised a brow. “He just makes me uncomfortable, that’s all. You know as well as I do that he’s a serial killer.”

That would be the understatement of the century.

Banda Sunato didn’t just make you uncomfortable; you feared him to a degree that made you almost incapable of functioning, all your senses focused on him 24/7, waiting for the moment he would strike. Because it wasn’t a matter of if – you knew him too well to ever believe that – but a matter of when; when he would catch you alone.

Because he wasn’t just a serial killer and – to you – he wasn’t just some man, some criminal. He was one of Japan’s most infamous serial killers, with 24 victims confirmed, and who knew how many were still left to admit. Banda Sunato was a man destined to live the rest of his days on death row, until the day he would be executed for his crimes and finally go back to the hell he had spawned from.

You so happened to be the woman that had called him your husband.

“Chishiya.” His voice made a shiver run down your spine, and you could feel your heart start racing against your chest as Banda sat right in front of you, his hands in your field of vision as you stared down at the tabletop. You hadn’t even noticed him approach. “I would like to speak with her alone…”

You gulped as you side-eyed the man beside you, imploring him with your eyes to please not leave you alone with him. However, either by ignorance or cruelty, your pleas fell on deaf ears, and Chishiya stood up and left the table with nothing else but a nod and a wordless hum.

A moment went by where neither you nor Banda said a word, his fingers tip-tapping on the table’s surface in a familiar rhythm; one one two, one one two. Tap tap tap, tap tap tap. He used to tap that same rhythm against your naked skin, and you could always tell if something was bothering him by how fast his movements were. And right now, his fingers were drumming against the tabletop like a nervous tick.

You could feel his eyes on you, observing you, pressuring you into doing or saying something, to give him a reason to act. So, you stayed still, controlling your shaky breathing as your hands trembled. You knew this moment was coming the moment you entered this game arena and your eyes locked.

Then his movements suddenly stopped, and you held your breath.

“You’re scared of me,” he said in a low tone, matter of factly.

“C-Can you blame me?” you whispered back, hiding your hands under the table with a gasp when he attempted to graze his fingers against yours. “Don’t touch me!” you added when his hand followed your movements, grabbing your sleeve.

“I don’t like it.”

You said nothing, eyes still cast down. How could he expect you not to fear him after everything he had done?

“You know better than to be scared,” he continued, a faint hint of annoyance in his tone. You forced yourself to whisper a retort, gathering the courage to say it aloud when he asked, “What did you say?”

“Maybe you should’ve thought of that before you murdered all those women,” you let out, eyes locking on his. He was not angry as you thought he would be, but you could see he wasn’t happy by the small crease in between his brows. He looked at you like you were a child throwing a tantrum and he was the adult that had to make you see reason. For the first time since you saw him again, you started to feel something else than just fear.

“You know I would never hurt you,” he said, fingers gripping your sleeve as he pulled your arm to him.

“I don’t know you, Sunato.” You shook your arm out of his grasp, suddenly aware that others were watching you. Good. “I never really did.”

You gasped when he said your name, looking into his eyes; it was the first time you were hearing it from his lips since he had been ruled guilty of all those murders. You hadn’t dared to read his letters or accept any of his calls since then.

“You know that’s not true,” he said. You averted your eyes again, looking back at him as he repeated your name. “I treated you well, didn’t I?”

He did treat you well. That was why it hurt even more. Because the man that dried your tears after your mother’s passing, took you on random trips and made you laugh with his dark sense of humor couldn’t possibly be the same man that dumped women’s maimed bodies in shallow graves. That was why part of you still mourned the husband you had lost even though more than three years had gone by. The other part simply acted as if he had never existed in the first place.

“You didn’t visit,” he added after a moment of silence. “You promised you would.”

“That was a promise I had to break.”

His face and his name had been everywhere. Every news channel, every newspaper, every time you logged on to social media, there he was; Banda Sunato, 25 years old, The Tokyo Ripper, accused of the horrible murder of 24 women. You hadn’t believed it at first, not even when his only survivor identified him, not even when they matched his DNA, not even when more evidence was found connecting him to the crime scenes. You only believed it when you saw the truth in his eyes, crude and black as coal as the judge declared him guilty and he had no reaction but to smirk.

It was like a mask falling, and underneath it was a monster that you swore you had no idea existed.

You couldn’t lie to yourself after that. Not when everyone could see him for who he really was. Not when he didn’t even bother to hide it anymore. Not even from you.

“Do you still love me?”

The question made you gasp in surprise before you felt a frown distort your features.

“Don’t talk to me about love when you don’t even know what the word means,” you spat in his direction as you made a move to stand up; how dare he ask such a thing after what he had done to you?

You gasped as you felt his long fingers curl around your wrist in a tight grip, forcing you to sit back down at the table with visible commotion. You felt your face heat up as you tried to ignore everyone’s looks and whispers. He wouldn’t dare to hurt you in front of others, would he?

His hand let go of your wrist to grip your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. His face was so close to yours that you could smell him, that scent that made him him, fresh and misty with a hint of ginger. It made you want to take a deep breath and tears pool in your eyes. You missed him.

“That was not what I asked,” he corrected with a dangerous look in his gaze. He was upset, you could see that, but you also knew him better than anyone. “Do you still love me?”

Your breath got caught in your lungs, and you couldn’t look away from his dark brown eyes, the ones you used to love so much. The ones you still loved, you realized with a tightness in your chest.

“Do you?” you asked in a whisper. “Did you ever love me?”

Something shifted in his eyes, and for a moment you just stared at each other. Then he opened his mouth, but before he could talk a computer voice snapped both of you out of your bubble.

“It is time to give your answer. Please enter a solitary confinement cell of your choosing.”

You took that chance to flee, legs shaking as you made your way to the cells on the upper level. You didn’t hesitate as you closed yourself in one, pressing your hands against the sink on the furthest wall and closing your eyes as you let out a shaky breath, followed by a low sob.

This game was not what was going to kill you; he was. You had seen it in the way he had looked at you, the way his eyes had darkened when you asked if he had ever truly loved you. You doubt he could ever love anyone, but whatever he felt for you was strong enough to make a chill run down your spine when you thought about it.

It was possessive, primal, like a need. You used to love it when he looked at you like that, mistaking it for passion and devotion. But not now, when you knew that he wouldn’t hesitate to kill you if he couldn’t have you.

He had told you that himself, in the first and only letter you had accepted from him. You had ignored every phone call, and had thrown in the trash every note and every other letter; but not that one. Not the one he wrote for your birthday, your second one after he had been sentenced. You felt so lonely, still crying over the husband you had lost, tricking yourself into believing he was dead. Rather dead than a murderer.

And then there was that letter, written in his neat handwriting, spelling out your name, and that was when you realized you couldn’t deny the truth anymore.

You filed for divorce after that, praying to every god that was listening that Banda Sunato never got the chance to be free and chase you down.

Gods – if they even existed – clearly had a twisted sense of humor.

“You know you can’t run from me.”

You tensed as his voice sounded behind you, not exactly surprised to find him stepping in and closing the door before the familiar click of a lock echoed in your ears. You were now locked in a cell with him; you were going to die.

You couldn’t utter a word as a moment passed, eyes focused on him as he calmly walked to stop right in front of you, hands behind his back and a light smirk on his lips. He looked smug, like a fox that had caught the rabbit, but you knew that his emotions were more complex than that. You could see it in the arch of his brow, how tense his jaw was; a small part of him was as nervous as you were.

“Please, give your answer,” the game demanded.

“Spades,” he said, eyes locked on yours. You said nothing, too transfixed by him, waiting for a sign of what he was about to do next. “Say your deck, baby,” he told you after a moment. “C’mon, use your words.”

“H-Hearts,” you forced yourself to utter in a whisper. You almost wished for your answer to be wrong; that way you wouldn’t have to face him anymore. He couldn’t hurt you if you were dead.

You jumped in place as a bang somewhere down the hall announced someone’s mistake, and the doors unlocked soon after. You let out a shaky breath; you were still alive. The game hadn’t killed you yet.

“Aren’t you happy to be alive,” he whispered in your ear, fingers combing through your hair just on the verge of too roughly. “Alive and with me, together again as we were meant to be?”

You shook your head, hands on his chest weakly pushing him away.

“Let me go,” you breathed out in a shaky tone, whimpering as he pushed you against the sink. “Please. I can’t do this…”

“Do what? Be with your husband?”

“Sunato, please, stop-”

“Shh, calm down,” he cooed against your head, arms hugging you closer despite your attempts to push him away. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

You gave up then, falling into his embrace. You sobbed against his chest like he had come back from the dead, hugging him like you were afraid he would disappear. The last three years weren’t real; you were still happily married, and he hadn’t killed anyone. You could almost forget where you were and what he had done. Everything would be so much easier if you did.

He was caught by surprise when you kissed him – you could hear it in his gasp and the way he suddenly tensed before relaxing and cupping your cheeks in his hands, urging you to deepen the kiss. You didn’t stop him there, letting his hands roam over your body as he made you sit up on the sink, lips only leaving yours to suck and nibble at the skin available on your neck and chest.

You closed your eyes as the man that had destroyed your life all those years ago ravished you with abandon. He had blood on his hands and he had betrayed you beyond forgiveness. But did any of that matter now?

You refused to believe it did.

Not when his kisses felt like fire on your skin, the cold ceramic of the sink under you barely noticeable as he stripped you naked from the waist down, fingers at your burning core the moment your panties were discarded aside. You were dripping wet before he even touched you, legs shaking as you worked him free of his belt. You wanted him inside you. You would die without him.

“You have no idea how much I missed you,” he whispered against your cheek as he rutted into you, slender fingers gripping your hip and raising a knee up as he fucked you at a rapid pace, hips snapping against the back of your thighs.

Your core burned in pleasure and pain, your whines and moans muffled by his mouth as he made you feel every inch of him. You had missed his body against yours, his cock inside you, hard and hot and maddening. He fucked you like it was the last time, forcing you to take every inch of him again and again until you were hoarse from screaming and your neck and chest were marked with his teeth. It reminded you of your life from before, when he would come home and fuck you like you were nothing but a whore, leaving you crying, bruised, and dripping with his cum before kissing you senseless and taking care of you for the rest of the night.

Only after did you realize he fucked you like that after a successful killing.

It was madness. All of this. But why would you care when the world itself had become mad?

“Promise you’ll stay with me?” you hesitantly asked as you regained your breath, his forehead pressed against yours and his cum dripping down your leg.

The way he looked at you – full of desire and contentment – made you gift him a smile of your own. He smiled back, a genuine smile, and, for the first time since he was gone, you felt at peace.

“I do. And I never break a promise. I’m not letting you go.”

#alice in borderland #sunato banda x reader #banda sunato #banda x reader #ima wa no kuni no alice #aib fanfic #aib banda

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eyesxxyou · 10 months

Text

Peeved (Hobie Brown (Spider-Punk) x transmasc!reader

Hobie Brown x transmasc!reader

Rating: mature

Word count: 2k

synopsis: Hobart Brown gets or your last nerve, with his "fuck all" attitude and disregard for your practice times. But you have to admit, you love his hands

warnings: fingering, some second hand embarrassment, hobie praising/teasing reader, hobie being a little shit as always, humping, kinda rushed but I did my best

Enjoy!

“He’s late…again.” You deadpan, checking the time for the third time in just under 20 minutes. “He always does this. Remind me why we haven’t kicked him out of the band yet?” You look to your drummer, who lays upside down off the side of your couch because she knew Hobie would be about an hour or so late like he always is. You could always count on him to never show up on time.

"Because," your drummer says, "no one can play the guitar like he can. You know he's killer at it." It's true and it annoys you that it is. You can't replace him, definitely not at a time like this. You have a gig a week away and even that won't whip him into shape and force him to get his act together, at least for this.

"I can play the guitar…good enough to do his part at least." You cross your arms, kicking a loose shirt you had on the floor under the couch before sitting down. Frustrated at your guitarist, you slouch into the mangy couch.

"You can sing, play the bass, and the lead at the same time." She glances at you from behind messy streaks of eyeliner and long lashes. "Why didn't you enlighten us with this information before? Who knew you were such a talent, Y/N?"

You rolled your eyes at her. "Oh, fuck you."

It was then that Hobie decided he would grace you with his presence, coming barreling through the window with his guitar swinging behind his back. "Yo." The nonchalant in his voice pisses you off. You stand up and once again, like you are every time, reminded by how much shorter you are than him. He's tall, thin, lean, lanky. Overall pretty but he'd probably knock someone's head off if they called him that. It was a shame, in different circumstances, he'd be just your type.

"And where the hell have you been?"

Hobie looks you right in the eyes with a smirk playing across his pierced lips. "Places." You know he's being vague on purpose to get a rise out of you and for a moment it works. "I told you what time to be here."

"I don't believe in consistency, love." He shrugged and for a moment you thought you might jump on him and try to tear his face off. "Well you better find your belief in it before I make you test your belief in whether God exists or not."

"Could you two get a room already. You're this–" she punched her fingers together, " close to vigorously making out with each other." You glare at her and she just smiles and blows you a kiss from her darkly lined lips.

"Let's not waste time then since you're so determined to get through practice." Hobie slips past you, his hands on your waist to put to the side before he swings his guitar to the front. You can't believe there was a time where you had a crush on him. A time where you would lavish over a touch like that, think about it late into the night, trace over where this skin touched yours.

Your drummer insists that you still have a crush on him, it just presents itself differently. "No, no, you definitely still want to fuck him, you just want to angry fuck him now." You'd brush her off, roll your eyes, but never deny. Because maybe a small part of you knows you still want him.

Of course, he plays his part perfectly but refuses to admit he practiced on his own time. "I don't need to practice, just natural talent is all." So cocky, but at least he could back it up you supposed.

His fingers played skillfully over the strings, long and slender, chipped black nail polish, nails always bitten short. Maybe you were staring at his fingers for too long because before you knew it, the music had stopped.

"You missed the queue."

You blink and the moment your eyes come up, they connect with Hobie's. He's got that look in his eyes you don't like. The ones where he knows something you don't. Or rather, he knows something that you don't want anyone else to know. It's mischievous, chaotic, and terrifying.

The rest of practice goes by without much of a hitch. Hobie liked being needlessly complicated but he knew you were seconds away from bashing his head in with his own guitar so he kept his antics to a minimum. But he could see it, the way your anger was burning with something else to fuel it, the way you glared at him that looked something more like longing than anything else, the way you moved away from him when he was close, not because you didn't want to be near him, but it you were close to him any longer, you might melt into him.

"I gotta head out early today." Your drummer was already packing up when she let you know.

"What? Why didn't you let me know sooner?" You're more upset that you'll be left alone with Hobie than anything else. She only shrugged and offered a teasing little smile. Liar. She had nowhere to be. The bastard.

"Why ain't you get on her like you got on me then?" Hobie was suddenly right beside you, nudging you with his elbow until you jumped away from him. You can't remember the last time you were left alone with him. Why was he looking at you like that?

"Because I like her more than you." Your murmur as you hang your guitar up on its stand and sigh. "I'm gonna make some tea, you can get the hell out."

Hobie doubled over in laughter. "No you're not. You and I both know you can't make tea for shit, love. It's gonna be water with milk. Get over here." He grabbed your hand, and brought you closer but you were already pulling away. "Stop, Hobie. You play too much."

"What's your deal? What's your problem with me? Because you've never been so aggressive until this past year." For the first time he seemed frustrated. His jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed at you as he grew closer. Why did he seem even taller now? Why was he backing you into a corner? And why hasn't he caught on yet? You thought he had for a moment.

"You know why." You insist because there's no way he doesn't. He's too smart for that, too observant. And he confirms that with what he says next. "Then say it. Not a mind reader, love, tell me what's so wrong with me that you can't stand my very presence."

"Because you're so you, Hobie!" You didn't want to get into an argument today. The stress was already too much for you and now you had to confront all of this. "You don't care about anything at all, nothing bothers you and you definitely never bother with anything! You just let things go so easily and it pisses me off because I like that about you so fucking much!" Your finger was nearly jabbing holes through his chest. "You make me sick because I just want my lips on yours and to feel your fingers inside of me."

You didn't mean to say so much, especially not that last part. The worst part is that Hobie seemed completely and utterly unfazed by what you had said. His lips pinched to the side as he nodded and hummed softly. "Well then, if you're so sick of me–" he grabbed your waist and pulled you close. His lips were pressed against yours. He bit your lip and you let him, you moaned for him, you opened up for him, let him slip his tongue between your lips, only to find that it was pierced as well.

He placed his tongue directly against yours with all the intent to swap saliva, leave a bit of him in you. You tugged at his vest, a signal for him to remove it. Hobie slid it off his narrow shoulders and let it drop to the floor in a clatter of leather and metal.

When you pulled away, much your dismay, Hobie sat down on the couch, legs spread a comfortable amount. "Come show me how much. I'll be your punching bag for a little bit, love." He motioned you over and like he was pulling on invisible strings, you came over and straddled his lap.

Your lips connected again, sticky and sloppy with passion as you but his lip piercing once more as traced the angle of his jaw with your hand. You could feel his calloused fingertips against the waist of your shorts. They skillfully unbuttoned them before slipping his hand into your underwear. “You said you wanted my fingers, right?” Hobie murmured against your lips as the pads of two of his digits glide against your clit. You shudder softly, your fingers fisting at his shirt.

“Go ahead. Use them.” Hobie leaned back against the couch and simply watched, let you have your way with him since you’re so frustrated. You immediately began to rock against his hand, easing his fingers against your entrance. Inch by inch entered you knuckle deep. You bit your lip, staring at Hobie behind hooded eyes.

“Pretty boy. Take what you need.” Your hands are on his neck, fingers slipping beneath his choker while you rut against his hand. You let out the softest whimpers and moans, mewling with pleasure while you rubbed your clit against the palm of his hand. “Tell me what else is wrong with me, love? Go on.” Hobie curls his fingers against your silky walls that grapple him so well he might just say forget his fingers altogether and move on to bigger things. But you were enjoying yourself so much.

You bite your lip as words fail you and you whimper. “Y-you–” You’re too focused on riding his hand. If only you could see yourself. You’d be so embarrassed that you’re letting yourself go to such a degree. “You’re so cocky.” You shiver, pressing your pelvis down harder against his rough hand.

“You make…yourself too comfortable in my house.” Hobie chuckles at that one. You can feel him curling his fingers everytime you bounce. He massaged the small little place inside you that makes your vision go blurry and your eyes cross. “Fuck— Hobie.” You whine needily. “Right there.” You’re starting to feel hot in your clothes. You wanted them off. You wanted his clothes off. You wanted to feel his skin against yours.

“Saying my name all pretty like for someone who doesn’t like me, eh?” His other hand is on your waist, stroking your hips and thighs before setting in just the right position to control your hips. He can see you getting flustered, just the way you did when he called you a pretty girl. “You like that, love? You like it when I call you my pretty boy, love?” You cry out again for him.

“You’re right. I am cocky, aren’t I?” He forced you to move your hips faster and every muscle in your body trembled. “‘Cause I can really get used to a sight like this. Can’t you?” Hobie likes that way you’re completely falling apart just from his fingers. He couldn’t imagine what you would look like taking the rest of him. He could feel your walls pulsing, begging for release, to completely unravel and fall into pieces.

Your orgasm came like a tidal wave. So brutally you might as well have been torn apart and stitched back together like one of your late-night projects. It seizes your muscles, takes your over, makes you kiss him harder than ever before. Lips meet teeth, tongue, and metal all at the same time. You don’t notice Hobie slip his hand from your pants, digits coated in you.

“You still peeved with me?” He asks softly with a twinge of humor in his voice. There’s something horribly tender about his tone that isn’t usual for the Hobie you know. If you hadn’t known any better, you might have said that he liked you but he was far too inconsistent for something like a relationship. It wouldn’t last. You knew it.

"Just don't be late to practice tomorrow or I'll throw you out the damn window."

#spiderman atsv #spiderman #across the spiderverse #hobie brown #hobie brown fic #hobie brown smut

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ultralightpoe · 4 months

Text

Final Girl Part 3 -Eddie Munson

Authors Note: I wrote this awhile back, clearing out my drafts. Hope you enjoy !

Word Count:4822

Warnings: stabbing, hints of smut but not really.

Part One Here...... Part Two Here

(Thank you for the gif @feodor-dostoevsky)

Enjoy!

There was nothing ‘cool’ or ‘awesome’ about the movie Slashed anymore.

In fact as Eddie Munson sat between Dustin and Lucas while the film played on the tv before them he could barely stop the anger that coursed under his veins at every turn. That was you. This entire time his crush on the actress that played k/y/n had been a knockoff version of you.

He watches with his jaw clenched so hard his teeth begin to ache as the main character screams while the masked killer begins fighting to open the car door. The actress crawls along the console to get to the other window, and this part she rolls the window down but only half way so she could climb out. Her panties flash and the killer sinks his knife into the meat of her thighs.

Eddie’s mind flares, the memory of the scar on your leg the day he brought you dinner, right fucking there. It had looked like a knife had slashed its way down your thigh and the scar itself was still brash against your skin. Bumpy and noticeable. And though he never thought anything bad of it before right now he hated the scar. He hated how you managed to get it and he hated that this movie would make a mockery out of you. Would make a mockery out of his girl.

“What a bimbo!” Mike laughs out, shaking his head. “Open the door and run. Jesus this girl is stupid.”

“Do you think the real girl was stupid enough to do-“ Will starts before Eddie snaps out “Shut. Up.”

Steve, who was normally the first to tell one of them shut up in any given situation, looks over at Eddie with wide eyes and a shocked look. He mouths a “you okay?” and Eddie chooses to act like he hadn’t seen it because the truth was he wasn’t okay and everyone in this room knew something was off.

He had tried calling you numerous times, and had even stopped by your dorm more times than he could count. Desperate to see you, desperate to explain the shirt and explain that he had no idea what was going on.

It didn’t take much to figure out what you had scrambled together that night. Everyone was talking about you, talking about the final girl on campus and dashing to get a picture and he had shown up wearing a shirt that had that stupid fucking mask on it and- Jesus just thinking about it had his heart lurching through his throat as he rubbed at his face aggressively. He hadn’t gotten much sleep since.

Your roommate had explained that under the circumstances the school allowed you take finals early and head home for winter break, and Eddie was absolutely disgusted to realize that this was the first time he had ever seen a dash of excitement on your roommates face regarding you. Of course she would be the one to hate you until you because a popular name. What a bit-

“YOU FUCKING BITCH!” The lead actor in the movie wails out in pain, now fully unmasked and holding his side from where the actress had managed to stab him.

All he could see was you, you covered in blood with tears streaming down your face. You limping from the injury on your leg as you circled around getting ready for the killers next attack.

All he could see was you.

He wanted to make it all go away, to be there and protect you from everything. Kiss away all the pain and hold you close enough that your bodies might as well morph together. He wanted you, and after weeks of not being near you he found that he couldn’t breathe or think straight.

It was like someone had cut off his oxygen the second you dashed away from him.

The main actor playing Billy begins taunting the actress- you- and laughing. Laughing on her pain and how he has used her just mere hours before and Eddie thinks he’s going to throw up. Heat flashes through him as a tight pain sears through his chest while he fights back the urge to puke, his hands raveling into tight fists.

He used you. He used his girl.

He had taken something from you that you would never get back and made it into a weapon. Blind rage fills his body as he gets up, angrily slamming the dial and turning the tv off before moving to the kitchen and beginning to angrily clean up everything they had used tonight.

His body sings as he slams the pots and pans from dinner into the sink, each bang giving him a little sense of pleasure. The spoons follow next and more and more until he can finally start scrubbing them clean. Scrubbing inch by inch, getting every spec of something off the dishes as someone makes an appearance in the kitchen.

He expects it to be Steve or Dustin, coming in to make some annoying remark on his attitude, so he chooses to stare at the fake tile the apartment manager had put up for his uncle when he was moved in. He stares and stares and stares, seeing the light from the kitchen flash from it.

“Munson.” Eddie is shocked to hear a female voice, strong and i breaking rather than the voice of his 2 dumbass friends, whipping around to face none other than Nancy Wheeler.

Eddie had been a little shocked when he saw her the first time tonight, because Nancy Wheeler looked different. From what Eddie could understand from her letters she had dropped both Steve and Jonathan and chose to move to college and build a better future and it showed. Her hair was perfectly done, she dressed in flattering outfits that fit her well and she stood a little taller. No more will they won’t they bullshit and Nancy was growing into the smartest person Eddie knew. She always had been but he would never admit that to her.

“Wheeler.” He sighs back, casting his eyes back to the dishes before him. He didn’t want to talk about this, didn’t even know how he could explain any of it to her.

“You know I love your letters, I’m glad you still write with me.” She smiles, moving closer. “But something has been off about your past letters.”

“Oh yeah? You finally realize I’m illiterate?”

“Close, but I’ve always known that.” She teases which forces a small smile on Eddie’s face as well. “You just seemed…. Happier. I was always worried about you in the beginning because of what you went through and your letters, although you tried to make it sound like you were having fun, you just seemed miserable. But then it changed, and you started writing about the pretty girl from your English class and the next thing I knew it was like your letters lit up.”

His mouth goes dry, and he can’t pull himself together long enough to look at her. “I didn’t know you could tell.”

“I knew you didn’t want me to know.”

“What about it?” He finally asks.

She doesn’t say anything for a minute, and he finally looks up at her to see that she’s pulling a newspaper from behind her back and setting it on the counter quickly. “I know the editor for your colleges newsletters.”

There you were. After weeks of not seeing your face he feels the breath of fresh air, his lungs expanding as he snatches the paper to pull the photo of you smiling a little closer to him. Just like that he felt like he was in your dorm again, laying with you while you both laughed at something. Your roommate, or maybe your teachers accent, maybe the jock that works at your shared pizza spot and never seems to know what to say.

It takes him a moment to drag his eyes away from the photo and read along the lines printed, seeing how they found out made his jaw clench one more time. An “anonymous source” recognized you from the newspaper and had to tell the world. Then the source explains that he also recognized that you were on a date with the ‘Metalhead that can never brush his hair’. Low blow.

“You recognized me because the metal head comment?”

“I recognized the girl you described. The metalhead comment just cemented my belief.”

“What about it?”

“Well I’m using my power of deduction to assume that something happened and you’re mad about the movie-“ A deep sigh falls from his lips before he nods and moves to face her fully.

He explains what happened and Nancy is a great listener, and once he is done she merely nods before a smile breaks out across her face. “This is so perfect for you.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I mean with everything that we went through and everything that you specifically went through we never find people that can handle our trauma-“

“Therapist Nancy is in the building.”

“And this is a beautiful person that, although she doesn’t understand our trauma, understands trauma on her own and-“ She takes a deep breath in before looking at him with such excitement it made his stomach ache. “You just seem so much better, you seem happier. I haven’t seen you rub your side once.”

His heart stops, ringed hand rushing up to rub his side, rubbing slow soft circles as he did so. She was right, since Eddie had been thinking about you so much he hadn’t had time to think about his side. Now that she’s mentioned it he can feel the full ache there, pulsing under his skin like another heartbeat.

“I just don’t know how to explain it. You know? To make her believe me.”

“You’ve been collecting outcasts and misfits for as long as I can remember. You have the weirdest way of making the most shut down people I know break out of their shell. You will be just fine.” She smiles, leaning forward to kiss his cheek before heading back out to where the rest of the group had chosen to hide out and let him finish the dishes in silence.

By the time he makes it back out to sit with them they are watching a comedy movie Steve had chosen, and Dustin is staring at Eddie with a highly confused look. But Eddie just attempts a smile at him, staring at the screen to ignore the rest of the world.

The rest of the break was spent catching up with Wayne and helping his uncle out with anything he needed, and when Eddie told him he would be going back a week early Wayne made sure he had everything he needed and the two parted ways with a tight hug before Eddie began his trip back.

But there was one stop he had to make first, and his chest was tight just at the thought of it.

He had one newspaper clipping, back from when he himself had been in the hospital, he had found it in a book Wayne had been reading then. It was folded up and used as a bookmark, half the words ineligible from the time used but he could still make out the town he needed from it.

So he packed it all up, got directions and drove to find you.

You had always told him stories about the town you grew up in, but he had never connected the dots, now as he drove past the welcoming signs it finally settled in. The diner your parents always took you to was right there. The school you went to was 3 blocks away. The cabin that changed your life, as he understood it, was an hour just into the woods.

This was your town.

His chest ached for Hawkins, a town he hadn’t seen in years since they moved him and his uncle away. Even spending winter break with his friends meant they had to go to a new town so no one would spot him.

He had hated Hawkins, but that was his home.

He stops at a red light, skin itching with excitement at the possibility of seeing you. Even if you turned him away he would be able to spot you for just a second. That would make him feel better.

A honk pulls his attention, making him defensive as he sits up, looking to see where it came from and finding quite the angry scene unfolding before him. A pedestrian had been walking and a car had honked, the two now sat cursing eachother out. Eddie watched, stuck due to the light, and turned his music down to concentrate more as he watched one of them slam his hand on the hood of the car in anger. There was something utterly familiar about him, one that he just couldn’t put his finger on.

Before he think about it too much the light turned green and he drove off, casting one last look on their direction before he pulled over and asked for directions to your place.

For a town known for a murder spree peopke seemed just fine handing out personal information and Eddie tried not to get too irritated or protective at that fact. Instead he drove slowly, trying to remember if the older gentleman had said red brick or 2 houses down from the red brick.

He got his answer when he made it to the street, seeing a news van outside the red brick house as someone filmed in front of it. He parked, hopping out of his car and heading up, keeping his face turned away from the news caster as he knocked on the door softly.

There was no answer and Eddie was beginning to believe his plan was useless and stupid. What are the chances that you are home right now? And what are the chances you would answer the door to him?

He knocks a second time anyways, heat traveling his skin in embarrassment at this whole idea when suddenly the door opens. It’s the smallest amount, but he recognizes your eyes immediately. They seem to narrow in on him and he finds himself holding his hands out in a surrender motion with a small smile. “I was hoping to explain myself.”

“I don’t want to deal with some crazy stalker-“ you snap out, moving to close the door quickly before his hand is being shoved between so you can’t. It hits him and he gasps out in pain which makes you remove the pressure with a gasp of your own. “Are you crazy?! I could have broken your hand!”

“I’m not a crazy stalker, I had no clue. Please just give me a moment to explain.” He sighs, “it’s not what it seems.”

You both seem to have caught the news anchors attention, risking a side glance to where she is now standing and blinking slowly at you both. He stares back, giving her his best mean mug before he feels your hand snatch the front of his leather jacket and drag him in quickly.

He trips over his own feet, reaching a hand up to grab your arm to stablize himself as you glare and shut the door.

“I don’t recommend getting into with her, she will blast your ass across the news networks.”

“The government would make her take it all down. I’m not really worried.” It’s meant to be a joke, something to ease the tension as you rubs soft circles on your arm, but you merely glare at him and he knows you didn’t get it. But his main concern is the bags under your tear stained eyes. “Have you been crying? When’s the last time you slept?”

His hands fly to cradle your chin, rubbing soft circles on the skin, his rings glinting in the light of your living room. You seem to melt into his touch and he finds himself truly happy at the thought, moving closer to you.

“I should be the one asking you that.” You snap, staring at his own bags. “You look like hell.”

“I haven’t been sleeping. I’ve been caught up thinking about you and-“

“I know you didn’t know.” You blurt , cutting him off. “I know it, and part of me knew it then but I was panicked and embarrassed and I can’t believe I hit you. I….. oh my god I hit you in front of everyone and you-“

“I’m not mad. It’s not the first time I’ve been hit and I enjoyed the sting. Warmed my cheek up a little.” He teases and you shake your head.

“Eddie. No. That wasn’t okay and I can’t believe I did that. You gotta know that I’m bad news, okay? You’re better off without me.” You rush out, head snapping a bit when you hear the news reporter speaking closer than she was before. He watches as you rush to lock the door before coming back to him and holding out a hand for him to grab, he takes it quickly and lets you lead him up the stairs. He can’t decide between staring at you and your beauty or admiring the house you grew up in. You decide for him when you lead him into a room and shut the door.

“Sorry. They have the habit to peer through windows.” You explain, blushing bad as he scoffs.

“They really do that? Fucking lunatics.”

“Everyone wants to know the girl that-“ you cut yourself off, shaking your head. “You probably have questions. Ask away, ask anything. I owe you that.”

His chest tightens painfully and his jaw clenches at your words, choosing to look around your room because he was too afraid to look you in the eyes. This entire room felt wrong, it didn’t feel like you….. well maybe a past version of yourself. One he hadn’t met, still happy and innocent in the world. Like your past had been frozen in place.

He had his own version of this, his own room would have been stuck in the past if the police hadn’t snatched everything of his since it was a crime scene.

“You don’t owe me anything.” He bites out. “Ever. I want you to open up to me when you’re ready, not because you feel guilty for something. If you’re in danger, on the other hand, then yes you need to tell me.”

Still refusing to look at you as he runs his fingers over all your garments in the closet before walking by your desk and doing the same there. Humming a little when he sees a picture of you cheek to cheek with a cheerleader, both of you smiling ear to ear.

“Mila.”

“Maya, actually.” You sigh. “Her name was Maya.”

Nodding slowly, his stomach clenching in pain at your time as he turns to sit on your bed, finally facing you.

“I have many many questions. But you do not owe me answers.”

“I want to answer them.” You smile slightly, walking forward ever so slowly. “Not because I owe you, I want a clean slate with you. You know all my secrets and I get to be myself.”

His hands reach out to grab your hips, pulling you softly into his hold as he peers up at you with his heart hammering through his chest. You peer down at him, obviously a little worried and he wants nothing more than to wipe that look off your face.

“How about I go first?” He whispers, relieved when he sees the worry replace itself with confusion. Smiling from ear to ear as he slowly slides the leather jacket off before reaching down to pull his hellfire shirt over his head. His scars pull a bit as he reaches to do so, and the second the fabric is off him he watches your face intently, looking for any shred of disgust.

He finds none, only a look of devastation as you reach slowly to rub your thumb along one. “Fire?”

“No. Bats.” He smiles.

“Bats?!”

“Bats.”

“Bats?”

“Yup..”

“Like the Halloween version of birds?”

“Weird way to describe them but I’ll allow it.” He scoffs, watching as you let your thumb follow the ridge of it. He doesn’t want to think about how soft your skin feels, or how gentle your being.

“How do you get attacked by bats, plural and not just one?” You whisper, allowing him to reach up and pull you in by your hips until both your thighs were on either side of his, allowing you to straddle him.

“It’s a long story. One that I really don’t think you’ll believe but I brought proof.” He mumbles, nose nudging your jaw. “And I’m hoping you’ll believe me.”

The proof, which had been the tooth of a demobat, you had gotten freaked out and demanded he put it away which had made him laugh and shove it back in the pocket of his jeans. You spent the next hour asking him question after question, taking 5 minute breaks to kiss along his face whenever you thought his answer was painful.

Finally it went back to you, and as much as he loved sharing the secret with you, Eddie found himself grateful that the pressure was off of him. He hated talking about it all.

But now you were explaining your side of things, and he found that he truly didn’t feel much better as you went through the events of the night.

You explained that you hadn’t slept with him that night but you had in the past, explaining how you had separated from Maya and the rest of the party because Billy had pulled you away to argue about your relationship.

While you had been arguing with Billy his friend Stu had been killing people downstairs, your friends Maya and Paul included.

He listened closely as you described seeing the mask for the first time and the terrifying dash for your life you had made, jumping off the roof to avoid him. How you tried the van to see if you could drive away, but another figure had found you and you were doing your best to escape over the console when he slashed your thigh but you still managed to get out of the car through the door. The final fight with them where you received the scar along your arm and your abdomen. You described finding Randy in the bushes as you waited outside man’s held onto his stab wound until the police arrived. At that point in the night you had been fully covered in blood, yours and your friends and the killers. The police had mistaken you and put you in handcuffs first while the paramedics were trying to rush you to the hospital. They only released you once they got Kelvins and Randy’s story.

“I thought there had been four survivors?”

“There was five of you include Gale and Dewey. She was a news anchor and he was the deputy of the time.”

“And Kelvin was the one that sold the story? Wasn’t he dating Maya?”

“Yes to both.”

“Does that make you mad?” He whispers, tensing a bit when you begin caressing his side once more, letting your finger feel his scar like you were amazed by it. He fights the urge to bring a hand up and cover it, embarrassment clinging to him like dust to wet paint.

“I try to think about it from his point of view…..” you start, your voice nothing but a whisper as your nose nearly touches his. From right here he can smell the your perfume perfectly, his thighs tensing as he feels his jeans tighten. “And then I always relent to anger, because he’s never tried to see it from my point of view and I’m the one that saved him.”

Your finger slides from his scar up to his chest, rubbing at the collarbone there. “Do you ever get mad about it all?”

“All the time. I think anger is the only thing that keeps me going sometimes” he admits, loving the way excitement sparks in your eyes.

“You don’t think I’m a bad person for wanting to crack Kelvins nose in?”

“Baby, I want to and I’m not even involved,” he laughs and before he knows it you are dragging him in for a heavy kiss, your hands woven in his hair as he moans a little into your mouth.

“I want you.” You breathe out when you break from the kiss, moving off him a little to give him room to crawl back as you push him back slightly.

He does what you want, smiling up at you as you tear off your shirt.

“You sure?”

“Never been more sure about anything.”

“This is so stupid.” Savannah Stevens snaps, slamming her car door and moving to the trunk to snatch the overpacked suitcase she took home for winter break.

Arriving back to school a week early was absolutely dreadful, and not something she ever planned on doing. None of the other girls would be coming back until Friday which meant it would just be her and the freaky girl Lindsay who barely ever spoke. To nervous to make eye contact but her mom was a pledge so she got an easy way in.

Savannah would be enjoying a nice hot dinner with her family right about now if her teacher hadn’t emailed her about a missing project that was worth 70 percent of her grade that semester. So she was forced to drive back to school and get it in before the new semester started. How lame.

There was a million other things she’d rather be doing right now, and as she struggled to find the key to the sorority house she chose to try and forget about them.

Frustration knaws at her as she cannot find the key, twisting the handle in a lame attempt to open it but shocked to find that it slides open easily. “Wow Lindsay.”

Nevermind people breaking in, Lindsay would just let them walk in, but the anger disappears when the warmth of the building engulfs her and she sighs in relief, stripping the jacket off and throwing it on the chair beside the door telling herself she would pick it up soon.

“LINDSAY?!” She calls, looking around at all the lights that had been turned on in the home. Brittany was going to lose her shit at the electric bill. “LINDSAY!”

When she gets no answer she rolls her eyes, turning to lock the door before walking through and turning the lights off as she made her way to the room.

Just as her hand hits the handle there is a shrill ring that breaks through the house, making her jump and turn to where one of the many landlines sat. “Swear to god if that’s Amy’s weird boyfriend….”

She picks it up anyways, sighing out as she answers “Hello?”

“Hello….”

“Yes. Hello. How can I help you?”

“I was looking for someone.” The voice drawls out, slow and saccharine. “Think you might be able to help me?”

“Who are you looking for?”

“Well that depends… do you think-“

“If you’re calling for your girlfriend she’s not here.” Savannah snaps, shaking her head. “Leave a name and I’ll write your message down.”

“It’s Paul….”

“Okay Paul,” she sighs. “Wait…. Like? Paul from English class? This is Savannah!”

“You mean the cheerleader that sits in the front row?”

“Yes, oh my god hi. I was actually scared for a second?” she laughs, hand falling on her chest as she breathed out. “Who are you calling for?”

“You,”

“Oh haha.” She giggles. “You calling for Lindsay?”

“I’m calling for you.” The voice says, more serious. “Think you have a moment to talk? Or should you go and close the front door?”

“What do you me-“ she begins to ask, walking to the staircase and stopping short when she sees the door that she locked wide open.

“What the fuck- how did- where the fuck are you Paul?” She snaps, instantly on edge as she whirls around to check around her. “This isn’t fucking funny.”

“What’s not funny about it?”

“You think this is a fucking joke?! Huh?! I’ll tell Munson, and L/N. Yeah I’m their friend so why don’t you back the fuck off you freak!”

“Munson huh? And just who is this Munson?”

“You need to BACK OFF!” She screams, dashing back down the hallway and looking for a spot to hide. “I’ll call the police and-“

Then he was there, in front of her, peering down at her through the mask. A loud scream tears it’s way out of her mouth as the assailant grabs her, plunging his knife deep into her abdomen.

“I asked what was so funny?”

(Yeahhhhhh. Who do you think is the new ghostface? Scream 2 babiessssss. Once again I wrote this series awhile ago and just never published it.)

(Scream will not be the same without Melissa and Jenna, I will no longer be watching and as much as I love the series I urge anyone to stop streaming it for the time being.)

TAGLIST:: (Tell me if you want removed <3)

@cryingglightningg @maxstecc @hookergutss @sunshinepeachx @random000000sblog @fried-peaches00

#eddie munson imagine #eddie stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson fanart #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things #stranger things fan #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanart #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader

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haddonfieldwhore · 1 year

Text

scary dog privilege pt2- ethan landry

ethan landry x alt! reader

❤️🔪 spoilers for scream 6 🔪❤️

2.2k words // part 1

warnings: mentions of death, violence, blood/gore language, one instance of y/n, not edited

❥ taglist: @breadbowser @lillunna @fanboyluvr @wroetoslut @gojosbucket

in the last 12 hours, you and ethan had grown very close, despite the more than unusal circumstances; or maybe because of them. both having been thrown into such a crazy situation, with a masked killer on the loose, it made it a little better that you weren’t going through it alone. everyone in the group had someone - tara and sam had eachother, same with chad and mindy. ethan and you were by far the most outcasted from the group, so in a weird way it brought you together.

sam and tara had been attacked by a killer in a ghostface mask at a bodega on the way to the police station last night, confirming that the murder that had happened a few hours before was in fact no coincidence. woodsboro had followed sam and tara and their friends to new york, and by association, you, ethan and everyone else were potential targets as well as potential suspects.

it was now daytime, sam and tara having spent all night at the police station. everyone except danny, sam’s neighbour friend, were sat outside the college campus, listening to mindy go over the rules of a franchise; which is what she determined you were all in at this point. sitting on the bench next to ethan with your legs across his lap, as mindy stood in front of the group.

“listen up nerds. as terrifying as this situation is, i’m actually glad i get the chance i get to redeem myself for not calling the killers last time. now, it seems like the killer is out to make a sequel to the requel,” mindy began.

“um- what’s a requel?” anika asked, raising her hand.

“sweetie, you’re beautiful. let’s hold all questions till the end,” mindy said.

“stab 1 took place in woodsboro…. stab 2 took place in…college,” sam recalled.

“i don’t like this,” ethan shook his head.

“do we think the killer is following the movies?” tara asked.

“it’s possible, and it would make sense if this was a regular sequel. but nobody just makes sequels anymore, we’re in a franchise! and there are certain rules to surviving a franchise!” mindy explained.

“i had a feeling,” sam sighed.

“everything has to be bigger than last time. forget about the legacy characters; canon fodder at this point. only brought back to be killed of in a cheap bit for nostalgia bit. it’s all about doing something different to keep people coming back: longer chase scenes, higher body count. if the killers last time were whiney, snowflake film nerds with letterboxd accounts instead of personalities, you can expect it to be the opposite this time. new city, suspicious new characters added to the friend group to round out the suspect list. and that’s not even the worst part,” mindy went on.

“oh this is where she tells us the worst part,” chad chimes in.

“the thing about franchises is that they’re ongoing episodic storylines… which means that main characters are expendable now too. meaning any of us could bite it at any time… especially sam and tara.”

“wait- am i in the friend group?” ethan asked, and mindy nodded.

“yeah i feel like i don’t really qualify,” you added. “i didn’t even know you guys 2 days ago.”

“this is true. it would seem you just have terrible timing. plus- you are from woodsboro, so that probably counts for something,” chad said, and unfortunately you realized he was probably right.

“but-i’m not like… one of the targets?” ethan asked, to which mindy nodded again and responded with a simple ‘mhm’.

“am i gonna die a virgin?” ethan asked, perhaps not realizing he said it out loud.

“that was a weird overshare.” mindy said, making a face.

“and by the looks of it i don’t think that’s gonna be a problem,” chad teased, gesturing to you and ethan. a blush formed on ethan’s face and you gave chad the finger, although you weren’t really that offended. he returned the gesture with a smile, and you knew he had just been teasing.

“first up; ethan, the shy and dorky guy who no one suspects because he’s so shy and dorky-“ mindy continued her speech.

“watch it,” you threatened, giving her a nasty look.

“why am i on the suspect list? because i’m randomly chads roomate?” ethan asked.

“roomate lotteries can be juked- you could’ve fixed it to get next to us!” she said, turning her attention to you. “and you- clearly you have some unresolved anger issues, and you suspiciously found your way into our friend group the night the killings started. not to mention the fact that you look like you know how to murder someone and get away with it.”

“for the record - i was not exactly trying to join your friend group; no offence.”

“so how did you end up with us last night?” tara asked genuinely.

“we were together at the frat party when you all left,” ethan explained. “we have econ together.”

“together.. at the party?” chad asked suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows, and tara slapped his arm. “sorry.”

“i’m in your film studies class too,” you said to mindy, ignoring chads question.

“interesting. so you also have a connection to the first victim.”

“mindy- i know you’re having your patented monologue moment, but i was at the same party as you when the murder happened. and i was in the apartment with you when sam and tara were attacked- we all were.”

“there’s always more than one killer- which brings us back to ….quinn - the slutty roomate; a horror movie classic.”

“sex positive, and… thank you?” she said, a confused look on her face.

“how exactly did you come to live with sam and tara?”

“i answered their ad online-“

“okay, say no more; you’ve already implicated yourself enough,” mindy interrupted.

“it was an anonymous ad mindy, plus her dad is a cop-“

“and that makes it more likely that she’s the killer becasue having a cop dad is a great cover- do you not remember how these movies work tara?” she yelled. “and finally; anika,” she said gesturing to her girlfriend, who blew a kiss at her, which mindy returned. “never trust the love interest.” her eyes narrowed, and anikas smile dropped.

“okay.. so we have our rules. and we have our suspects.”

“uhh what about you guys?” ethan suggested, referring to the four survivors from last years attacks.

“i think it’s safe to rule out the four of us who went through this last year,” mindy smiled.

“agreed.” chad said, pointing at her.

“well what if it is one of you. i mean what if the trauma from the last killing spree got to be too much and one… or more of you snapped.” quinn suggested.

“or- what if all of the killings made you thirsty for more? i mean to be honest some of the theories online about sam…” ethan started.

“don’t you fucking dare.” tara snapped, and he raised his eyebrows, but didn’t continue his sentence.

“ok let’s just face facts. if we’re all suspects, you’re all suspects.” anika said.

everyone silently agreed, eyeing eachother nervously as you

///

everyone was back at sam and tara’s apartment, except for ethan, who had said he was going to econ. with everything going on you decided not to go, as well you thought better to stay with the group than split up. you had tried to convince ethan to stay as well, but he said his dad would kill him if he didn’t go - he was super uptight about grades and stuff.

sitting on the couch with anika as chad, mindy, tara and sam were in the kitchen, you started to wish you had gone with ethan. what if something happened to him?

“shit,” you muttered under your breath, and anika looked over at you.

“hey… if you’re worried about ethan, i’m sure he’s fine. he’s with a bunch of people in class right?” she smiled. you were thankful for the reassurance, and to her surprise you smiled back.

“you’re right… thank you.”

“you seem cool. i wish we met under better circumstances,” she admitted, and you were a little surprised; she was one on the only people in ethan’s friend group who had been nice to you.

“yeah, me too.”

“so.. you and ethan?” she asked playfully, and you shrugged, looking at your phone awkwardly, secretly hoping he would text to say he was alive or something.

“i don’t know. we made out at the party and then… all this happened.” you said. it had been a crazy 24 hours to say the least. you wondered what you would be doing right now if you hadn’t talked to ethan at the party. “he’s cute though. it’s nice to have a … friend through all this i guess.” you weren’t sure why you were being so open with her, but you couldn’t help but feel a little better after talking about how you were feeling.

“well, i think after all this is over we could be friends. isn’t stuff like this supposed to bring people together?” she said, and you felt your phone buzz in your lap. “is that him?”

“yeah; he’s just checking in,” you answered, before typing a reply to ethan to let him know you were all okay. you typed out “i miss you” but decided against sending it, instead erasing the message and dropping your phone back on your lap. it soon buzzed again, and you picked it up, expecting it to be ethan again.

banging sounds could be heard from quinn’s bedroom, and you assumed it was her and her guest going at it again, until you heard the four voices in the dining room hush and someone mutter a quiet “oh my god.”

looking at your phone, you opened a text from an unknown number to be met with a photo of someone in a ghostface costume holding a bloody quinn, just on the other side of the door. everyone gathered next to you and anika in the living room, and you all stood in silence staring at the door to quinn’s room.

“run,” mindy spoke, and the door swung open, quinn’s body landing on you and anika, knocking you both to the floor. ghostface followed close behind and slashed at mindys arm, as chad and tara ran out of the apartment, leaving you, mindy, anika and sam. pushing quinn’s bloodied body off of the two of you, terror flashed in your eyes as the killer dove towards you, and you sent him backwards with a boot to the chest. he went after anika next, his hands wrapping around her throat and lifting her off the ground, and she squirmed around before he pinned her to the wall and drove his knife into her stomach. she screamed in pain as the killer twisted the knife and dragged it upwards, blood pouring from the wound before you picked up a dining room chair and slammed it over his back. the killer dropped anika to the ground, and you and mindy grabbed her and followed sam into quinn’s room, managing to slam the door just in time. the killer banged against it repeatedly and you turned the lock, leaning against the door as you breathed heavily.

“mindy- bathroom door,“ sam whispered, and mindy hurried to lock door on the other side of the room to the adjacent bathroom, where you heard her exclaim, you assumed at the sight of quinn’s lovers body, considering he was nowhere to be seen. sam followed walked over to the window, and you heard her slide it open as you held your hands against anikas stomach, trying to stop the bleeding.

sam and mindy screamed, the killer having come around to the other side of the door through the bathroom, throwing his body against it and trying to break open the lock. you and anika ran over, and tried to help mindy hold the door closed. after slashing at you with the knife, creating a deep gash in your shoulder blade, the four of you managed to push him out, barricading the door with a dresser. it wouldn’t hold him off for long, and he continued to kick at the door as danny, sams boyfriend next door slid a ladder over the expanse between the two windows for you all to crawl across.

“she’s loosing a lot of blood,” mindy said, referring to anika.

“say something more positive!” she cried in response, as sam started climbing out the window. sam made it across, calling for mindy to come next. you and her were using your weight to hold the dresser in place, trying to keep the killer out of the room with all of your strength.

“someone has to hold the door. y/n you go, i’ll get anika next.” she suggested instead, and you knew mindy just wanted to stay behind to protect her girlfriend. somehow even with everything that was currently happening, your mind flashed to ethan; and you were thankful that he wasn’t here, and that he was somewhere safe. “come on!”

you shrieked as the killer managed to get the door slightly open, and reach his arm through, the silver knife in his hand catching your cheekbone and leaving a long cut behind. mindy still leaning all of her weight against the dresser nodded at you to go, and you made your way to the window, grabbing hold of the ladder. sam and danny were holding it steady on the other side, and all you could think was

do not look down

do not look down-

you crawled across the cold ladder over the alleyway below; which was surely a 30 foot drop if not further. you made it across and danny pulled you into the apartment, as sam called for anika to come next. her and mindy went back and forth on who should go across first, and anika promised to be right behind mindy. pressing a tearful kiss to her shaking girlfriends lips, mindy started her crawl across the ladder as you all held the ladder steady from the other side.

you watched as the dresser continued to shake from the killer kicking the door to get in, and anika cried that she couldn’t do it as she approached the window, her trembling hands gripping the ladder with blood covered fingers. she was bleeding badly from her stomach, but with reassurance from mindy and sam, she got onto the ladder and slowly started moving across it. she was about a third of the way across, and the four of you in danny’s apartment watched with wide eyes as the killer broke into the room with no one’s weight holding the dresser.

“what?” anika asked, noticing that all of you had gone silent.

“anika you need to move right now!” mindy and sam yelled, urging her to continue across the ladder. she looked back as the killer stabbed the knife into the windowsill, and grabbed hold of the ladder. anika screamed and held on for dear life as he began to shake the ladder up and down, and then from side to side; attempting to throw her off of it.

the four of you tried desperately to hold it steady, mindy in hysterics. begging the terrified to hurry across the ladder. she managed to move slightly forward and was almost close enough to reach sams outstretched hand, as she called for her to take it. the ladder shook hard as she tried to grab hold of sams hand, and the killer twisted it to side, causing anika to fall screaming to the ground below, her head slamming into the open dumpster below. mindy balled next to you, and you all stared across the alleyway at the killer, as he picked up the knife and walked out of view.

#ethan landry imagine #ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry headcanons #ethan landry fanfiction #ethan landry one shot #ethan landry fic #scream #scream 6 #scream 6 spoilers #jack champion #jack champion fic

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atalana · 7 months

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so i've been doing a doctor who rewatch with my flatmate, which is giving me whole new avenues to think about doctor who meta from

and i wanna talk about this moment

the dalek emperor asks "so prove yourself, doctor. what are you, coward or killer?"

and i think the full context of his response goes a little underappreciated

because especially if you know a lot about doctor who, this line seems fairly obvious. still poignant as hell, but we know the doctor, and we know he's the man who'd always make that choice, it's built into his very mythology

except this is nine

and the choice he's being offered is whether or not to use a weapon that will kill every living thing in its radius - it'll wipe out the daleks, but the range of it also includes the entire earth. you can finally stop the war, but you have to sacrifice a planet you've come to call home, and all of its people, in order to do so. and you'd better act fast, because the daleks are waging war right now, people are already dying - if you don't do something, they're going to wipe out the human race anyway

logically, he should. logically, he has to.

but this is a doctor who is fresh of the heels of making that same choice! he already did it! not too long ago, with his own world in the balance, he proved himself killer, once and for all. what's one more planet, compared to all that? one more planet, to prove it wasn't all worthless? if you let them go now, you killed your own people for nothing

i don't think he knew, until he got his hands on that trigger, what choice he would make. he was certainly planning to be able to do it. and it's not like he stopped being a soldier after the war, when he met that one lone dalek he did everything in his power to kill it, to make the war finally over, to make it worth it. nine doesn't want to be a killer, but he knows that he is. and he's proven it many times this season

until right now. staring down his worst enemy, his worst nightmare, knowing that if he acts with mercy here he'll condemn the universe to destruction, he does it anyway. throws everything aside to give the devil itself the kindness neither of them deserve

this isn't just the moment he declared himself the man who never would. this is the moment he became the man who never would

and time lord regeneration's a funny thing. same man, new man. same memories, new personality, new goals, new ideals. and sure, some aspects of that are random, but there's still a chain of connection. each new incarnation becomes who they are in response to how the last one ended. the 50th enjoyed going into the differences between ten and eleven, how eleven ran away from everything that the doctor was before, played up the childish and the trickster and never fully looked at all the horrors in their past, because ten couldn't help but take responsibility. he considered responsibility the only moral option, but at the end was still so angry that this weight never stopped dragging him down, that he could never make the selfish decision. the world isn't fair and i don't want it to end like this, i see so much of that in eleven

and that defining moment of nine's that birthed ten, that's right here

the man who never would is a line stolen directly from the doctor's daughter. ten is the doctor who holds up genocide as the worst crime someone can commit, no matter the circumstances. ten who will let a dalek go just to avoid causing another. ten who won't touch a weapon of any kind unless absolutely necessary. who doesn't even want to be in the same room as a gun. it all comes down to this moment, with nine against the end of everything, in the final hours of his life

handed an identical choice to the one that changed his life forever and saying never again.

#this has been sitting in my drafts for a while whoops #i got very passionate about it and then i forgot i hadn't posted it yet until i saw that post like don't skip nine #and i was like YEAH DON'T SKIP NINE HE'S VITAL TO TEN'S CHARACTER #and then i realised i hadn't explained that yet #but ye! i have many emotions about this. and genuinely you can't fully understand ten without looking at this moment #also nine good #doctor who #tenth doctor #ninth doctor #eleventh doctor

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bella-goths-wife · 2 years

Text

Slashers kinks (NSFW)

Michael Myers

I could see Michael as someone who has to always be in control- even in the bedroom

He would need to you to submit to him and would always want to be in a dominant position because of the power he holds over you in that moment

I do think he has a power play kink

He would love to use his pure strength on you

Not too much obviously because that would kill you, and I don’t know about you but being killed really puts me out the mood y’know

He’d love to use you like a personal rag doll to throw and use whenever he wants to

Definitely would hold you up by your neck and choke you so yep add a choking kink to the list

Overall i think he would be open to new things in the bedroom as long as he’s in control

Bo Sinclair

Big daddy kink

No I mean huge, to the point you would have to call it him to get his attention some days

He has a thing for roleplay

He likes it when you play a helpless victim, and he plays the killer who spares your life for a favour (wink wink)

He also likes to play the role of the mechanic working on your car and you play the clueless bimbo/himbo who forgot their credit card

Would be open to doing it in public places but only in Ambrose so you’ve practically got a lot of privacy considering the chances of someone actually catching you is very slim

Could see him having a biting kink but more because he likes to mark you up

Vincent Sinclair

I think Vincent would love a dominant partner

If you are a fem Dom I could imagine him either calling you mommy or mistress

If you are a masc Dom then it would be either daddy or master

Has a huge thing about going down on you, just seeing how much pleasure it brings you is enough to make him cum in his pants

Enjoys being ordered around

Loves it when you kiss his neck or just behind his ear

Is a total sub but could occasionally be a Dom if you asked for it specifically but would always end with you dominating because he just doesn’t know what to do

Thomas Hewitt

He would have to have a romantic setting

Like candles, music, the whole shebang

Definitely a soft Dom

Loves gentle, slow, loving sex and adores it when he can look in your eyes and see every pleasure filled look you give him

He loves it when he can control the pace

Like let’s say he lets you ride him, he’ll have his hands on your hips the entire time guiding you in a loving gentle way

Definitely prefers having sex in the dark because of his insecurities about his face

Would love it if you had sex in the basement one time but he’s too scared holt, or god forbid Luda May, would walk in

Also has a bit of a breeding kink for any gender, doesn’t matter

Asa Emory

Obviously he wants to have a masochistic sub for a sexual partner

Will never ever under any circumstances give you any ounce of control

Is very possessive over you so he would love to mark you up

Giant knife kink

Wants to carve his name into your body with his favourite knife while also being balls deep inside of you

Very into you cockwarming him while he does his work for his day job

If you squirm even a bit too much for his liking he will edge you until tears are streaming down your face

VERY into edging and punishment

You will be in a sub Dom relationship

Rules and all

He will be called master, no ifs, ands or buts

Overall your always sore

And I mean always

Tiffany valentine

Mommy? Sorry. Mommy?

Yes Tiffany has a massive mommy kink

Adores it when your tied up in black or red ropes

Has a bit of a gun kink

Has a fantasy of you two fucking which her holding a gun to your head with you doing the same to her

She’d see it as the ultimate act of devotion if your willing to risk your life while giving her immense pleasure and love

Likes to dress you up in gothic lingerie

Especially wants to get you a collar with mommas girl/boy/pet in glitter on the front

I do believe that she would enjoy spanking you as a form of punishment

Otis driftwood

Massive brat tamer

Would love a bratty sub S/O

Likes the power of putting you in your place over and over again until you submit

Massive blood kink

Like bite down on his shoulder until he bleeds and get some of that blood in your mouth and on your teeth?

This man would kiss you the hardest he ever has before because of how aroused it made him

Probably give you the odd spank on the ass during sex buy nothing too major

Quickies in public places hold a special place in his heart

Sex with clothes on turns him on

Major fan of hair pulling on himself

Bit of a masochist

Baby firefly

Massive brat

Wants a switch partner so that they can put her in her place when she wants it but she can also turn the tables and turn you into a whimpering mess of a human

Loves to humiliate you and degrade you until she can have you fully submit to her

Enjoys it when you ride her thigh just so she can call you a “poor little puppy” and call you pathetic for humping on her leg like a little mutt in heat

But she also enjoys it when she’s the submissive one and you gently or roughly praise her

You two are like the ying-Yang of doms

Likes it when you call her sweetie or honey in a gentle voice because it makes her feel safe and loved

Adores eye contact

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simonsdoll · 11 months

Text

Poly relationship with

Ghost and Ghostface hcs

Warning: NSFW CONTENT AND MDNI

Pairing: Ghost x Ghostface x fem!reader

A/n: Ghostface has been living in my head rent free and I’m not complaining thanks to a fellow whore who is getting me into slashers lately 🤭

- Ghostface was so happy when you and Ghost accepted him for the sick things he does and at one point he tried getting you both into helping him with his massacres but Ghost immediately shut that down but either way he’s happy he could come home with blood and all and tell somebody about all the messed up shit he does when he randomly disappears at night

- Let’s just say Ghostface does more than just murder his victims but also has albums of murdered people on his phone and definitely shows Ghost the images when he comes back from deployment. Things would add up for Ghost as he would scold Ghostface for leaving you all alone while he does his killings. It makes him feel bad and reflect on his actions but like the good boyfriend he is he will make it up to you by cuddling up with you and Ghost all day long

- Both of them have different love languages and love to spoil you just how you deserve. Ghostface is very sweet and loves getting you gifts but you and Ghost both know where he gets them from but would rather not question him knowing he snatches the jewelry he steals from his dead victims. Ghost is a quality type of man and enjoys having movie nights watching horror movies. The adrenaline the both guys get when someone gets killed is something they bond over every time and they do get a little judgy if the killers are just corny or stupid

- They can be very controlling whenever your going out somewhere without them and you will always be tracked down wherever you are no matter what. If for some reason you don’t disclose where or who your going out with you best believe your always going to have two masked men watching you every move and with knives of course for extra measures. They wouldn’t want some guy talking nor touching you but if they do,don’t worry, you won’t see them again. They won’t permit it as long as your theirs and that guy should know better but look what happened, stabbed to death for even daring to try

- Arguments with the guys can get very violent. They both aren’t vocal about their problems nor feelings in which they tend to resolve things physically. It would always start out with old habits of pulling out a knife when things get heated. It’s what they both do when they feel defenseless and it always continues with some swearing and yelling back and forth till you come in and end their argument. They would never under any circumstance hurt you, but when it’s just them both and an unresolved issue things are bound to get ugly

- They are both manipulative and always tend to self victimize themselves when you start to get bratty with them. Always threatening that their going to leave and never come back because of the way you treat them and the worst thing about it is that it’s true. Either Ghost would get deployed for longer on purpose or Ghostface would be in the pitch darkness letting out his anger on innocent people. It’s desperation more than anything and they would be playing mind games with you if they’re feeling petty. Calling you over and over again on purpose waiting for you to pick up the phone just to not say anything at all. They won’t stop, not until you call them back crying for forgiveness and until then they’ll give you fake sympathy,cooing your cries while your hugging them tightly as a smirk forms on their face when you plead sorry to them

- When things get down in the bedroom, they both have their ways of making you feel pleasured. Although Ghost loves to be rough, he mostly prefers you to be bare and splayed out for him so he can gently work you open for the both of them. He’s a simple man with one task and it’s to satisfy you whether it be soft or rough. On the other hand Ghostface is the complete opposite, when you have sex with him he likes to fuck you fully clothed because it’s a kink of his coming from what he killings that he does. He has a tendency to rush your orgasm and have you begging and crying for more

- Painful or not these guys will incorporate a knife into the bedroom most of the time. They have a special knife for you and use it to either excite you or scare you and most of the time it’s both. They would take turns fucking you with the handle of the knife calling you degrading names as you clench around it from the stimulation. Blood excites them both so there would always be fake or real blood involved during spicy time always bringing chills to their skin when they see you dripping in it. If it was real they would soothe the wounded skin telling you how good you did for them

- These men love it rough so when it comes to blowjobs,they would start forcing your head down without warning at a fast pace. Through all the gags and crying they wouldn’t stop until they were satisfied. Both teasing you and degrading you when you gag over their cock whispering how pathetic you are for not taking them in fully. The filthy words coming out of their mouths tainting you in arousal encouraging you to take them all the way like the good girl you are. Whether they cum on your face or mouth they always demand you to swallow every last drop of what you worked so hard for

- Ghost and Ghostface love role playing and would most likely play as killers who are stalking you in your home. The adrenaline would be rushing through your veins making sure not to get caught but unfortunately they’re both trained killers so there’s no escaping them. Once you were caught, they would punish you by fucking your throat until you can’t speak and as they do that they would remind you in a teasing tone how smart and tactical they are all while they push your head down further for being so naive and unaware of your surroundings

- Whenever Ghost is out for deployment, you both love to take advantage and tease him when he can’t be there for when you need a good fuckin. Ghostface loves to tie you up naked and take photos of you sitting there all pretty and defenseless. If he really wants to get Ghost to come home unexpectedly, he would record you both having at it so good and so rough just how Ghost likes it. Ghostface would look straight into the camera teasing and making fun of Ghost for missing out. Just to fuck with him, he would challenge Ghost by telling him how much of a better fucker he is then him. All while your loud and moaning is heard in the background proving his point even more

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Check Masterlist for more

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