Blue

𖦹 Hello! I'm Blue aka pitbullfics. I have been writing and obsessing over fictional characters for as long as I remember. Currently, I am quite focused on the creepypasta fandom, but I might expand in the future. For now, though, I am writing for the creeps.

𖦹 Some things about me... I am a single mom who uses fanfic to escape her troubles. I am currently looking for a career in the animal industry, currently volunteering in shelters, and applying for vet tech and pet groomer positions to figure out what I specifically want to do. I love dogs, and pitbulls are my favorites, hence the name pitbullfics.

𖦹 I have only recently started, so there's not much, but my works are below!

Series

Treat Me Like An Animal (Eyeless Jack x reader): Intro

Headcanons

Eyeless Jack Headcanons

𖦹 CW: Cunnulingus, cannibalism, “heat”, knot, violence, murder, sex 𖦹 Summary: These are my personal headcanons for Eyeless Jack, which will also show up in my series Treat Me Like An Animal (shameless plug). I’ll edit as his character develops more while I write him. 𖦹 Word Count: 1500

General Jack’s mask isn’t just to hide his face, it regulates him. Without it, the world is too loud, too bright, too overstimulating. Every sensation hits his increased senses all at once, the scent, the sound, the feel of things. The mask almost dulls it in a way, gives him something to focus on and distracts him. With it on, he feels more in control. Without it he’s overwhelmed. He doesn’t “see” the way humans do. He sees the world through many senses: heat, movement, pressure. Someone doesn’t have to be in front of him for him to see them. He’s always aware of everything around him. But he’s also never truly looking at anything.

Stillness makes people harder to detect. If you stop moving, slow your breathing, and quiet yourself, you’re less noticeable. But he will still notice you. His diet isn’t only kidneys but they’re necessary. They’re the best source of what his body needs. They help him recover when he’s injured or unwell. He can consume other parts, human or animal, but they don’t sustain him the same way. So he prioritizes the kidneys, and if necessary will leave the rest behind.

But he usually keeps what he can’t eat immediately in a locked deep freezer. He does not share or want people near it at all. It’s his and will defend it the same way a predator will defend their meal. 

Animals don’t satisfy him. They’re like a poor substitute, something to keep him alive but not satisfy him. He’ll eat an animal if he has to, if he’s too weak or too busy to hunt properly. But it leaves him not feeling right.

He doesn’t sleep the same way humans do. He goes still, completely motionless for hours. But he’s never unaware of his surroundings. He simply rests and regains his energy.

He prefers quiet places. Places that won’t overwhelm him with his increased senses. Anywhere the world feels muted, he will enjoy. 

Most of the time he’s so still, it’s uncanny. He doesn’t have the need to drift or fiddle his fingers like humans. He’s just still.

Romantic SFW He doesn’t understand romance at first. You’ll say something romantic and he’ll just… pause. He’ll tilt his head at you and just buffer, trying to process it. But once he does feel romantic feelings for you? Oh no. He’s intense. Constantly smelling you, trying to memorize your scent. His love language is quality time. He could sit next to you and do nothing but smell you and watch you breathe while listening to the soft beat of your drum for hours. Your space is the safest place he’s ever been in.

Personal space… Jack’s never heard of it. Honestly he doesn’t understand it in general but quickly got the message when he got up close to the other creeps and got yelled at. But with you, he especially doesn’t understand and you don’t think he ever will. You want him near you because you’re his and he’s yours. Why wouldn’t you want to feel his hot breath on you at all times? Even if he doesn’t mean to, he will start drifting closer and closer without realizing until he’s almost on top of you.

He loves biting, it’s instinct for him. He sees you? He bites. He loves the feeling of your flesh underneath his teeth.

He doesn’t “look” at you. But you can feel when his attention is on you. It’s heavy and focused, like the entire world narrowed down to just you two.

Your voice becomes something that he can instantly recognize, no matter what’s happening around him. 

He hates having his mask on around you. Usually he starts getting stressed as soon as it comes off, the pastas are loud and when he’s out of the house, he doesn’t like to take it off either. But around you, he’s itching to take it off. He wants to see you, feel you entirely. He doesn’t want his senses dampened. He wants to feel them overtake him as he focuses on you and only you.

He tries to understand human humor but fails. Hilariously so oddly enough. You laugh at something and he just tilts his head in confusion. But then later he’ll repeat the joke in the exact same tone because that’s definitely how it works.

If you ever get hurt, something in him snaps. Not loud or explosive like the other creeps are. But quiet and quick. Whatever it was will be gone immediately and he will treat you to the best of his ability.

He doesn’t like treating your injuries. Not because he doesn’t know how, but because it’s you. He overthinks, second guesses, checks everything over and over. He can’t detach like he normally does. 

He learns your habits and your routines. Not in a stalking way, just memorizing everything about you.

He doesn’t really get jealous per say. He doesn’t understand human jealousy really, like he loves you and you love him so why would either of you betray that? 

But sometimes, rarely, but sometimes he gets quiet. He watches and withdrawals, wondering if now will be when you decide you want something more than a monster.

If you reassure him, he believes you. But he still doesn’t fully understand why you chose him.

Physical affection is surprisingly natural for him. He’s almost always touching you— your arm, your hand, your waist. It grounds him, gives him something to steady himself. He can feel your pulse underneath your skin, and that’s comforting. 

Sometimes, though, there’s a slight disconnect. Not in a cold or unfriendly way— just observational. He’s learning what different forms of touch do to you, what makes your heartbeat change, what makes you lean in, what makes you relax. 

Your body becomes something he memorizes down to every detail. The exact speed your heart usually beats to. The subtle difference between calm and anxious. If your breathing shifts when you’re tired or when you’re focused. He notices, tilting his head at you, observing what changed.

With him, nothing is accidental. Even if it feels like it.

Romantic NSFW He doesn’t initiate. He gets drawn in by your warmth, by the way your body responds to him, by the way your pulse cuts through everything else directly into him. You’ll notice it slowly— an inch closer, then another, until his breath is against your skin. If you don’t stop him, he won’t stop himself.

He goes into heat, and when he does, it’s uncomfortable. He needs you. He’s no longer the quiet, gentle Jack who analyzes your every move. It’s messy, it’s rough. He pounds into you deep and relentless until you’re left screaming his name. Not out of a want to stop, but out of being so overwhelmed by the pleasure building inside you at every thrust. 

Knot. He has a knot, and he will gladly use that knot to make sure you can’t squirm away until he cums inside you. 

Sex, for him, is layered. It’s fixation, curiousity, and something a little too close to hunger. The line exists but… it’s thin. 

Control is something he has to maintain. You can feel it in the way he pauses sometimes, his body tensing, his grip tightening— like he’s reminding himself. There’s always a point when instinct tries to take over and he has to consciously hold it back. 

He prefers being close to you, against you. Your back against his chest, his arm around you, his hand around your wrists so he can feel your pulse quicken. 

Your heartbeat affects him more than it should.

He will lick you. He will lick every part of you with his long hot tongue that is able to maneuver into any space he wants it to, feeling like a hot wet scalpel slicing you open. 

He loves going down on you. His tongue loves exploring every crevice, pushing in when your back arches and those sweet moans escape you. After leaving you completely breathless, his tongue plunges into you, intensifying that warm feeling deep in your lower stomach.

He memorizes what you respond to. What makes your breathing change, what makes your muscles tighten under his hands. He learns it the same way he learns everything: repetition, focus, and quiet analysis.

Sometimes you’ll feel him pause. He’ll be completely still, his hand resting over you, his head tilted slightly like he’s listening to something you can’t hear.

Afterward, he doesn’t pull away. He stays close, almost pressing against you. Like he needs that extra time to reestablish control. Feel your body calm, your breath slow. So his body can relax with yours. 

With you, he’s not softer. But he is more controlled. And that control is the only thing keeping the rest of him from surfacing.

Treat Me Like An Animal (Eyeless Jack x reader) — Intro

𖦹 CW: Mentions of violence, blood, gore, suggestions to abuse, paranoia, medical

𖦹 Summary: You’re a new veterinarian in a small town. It’s your first week at work, and already, things have gotten strange.

𖦹 Word count: 1884

The sterile veterinary office was dimly lit by a failing lightbulb that flickered every few minutes. The sharp smell of antiseptic cleaner badly disguising the scent of wet dog and metallic blood was almost comforting to you now. No matter where you relocated, the veterinary office always smelled the same. It was the one common factor wherever you went; the odor of home.

It was late in the small town you found yourself in this month. There were many small towns in the country— especially in Alabama— yet in a big city, hundreds of people walked the streets. In a small town, you were easier to find. But only if he looked there. Your hands gripped tight on the broom. You rolled your shoulders like you could roll off the thought by the action.

Usually some intern or receptionist or— well anyone but an experienced veterinarian such as you would be doing this but it was a small town and it was late so business was slow. You had to keep your body moving, your mind on any task, menial or complex, as long as it kept you from thinking. You swept the fur and dust into a pan before dropping it into a trash can. You sighed, wondering what other menial task you could do to occupy you to the end of your shift.

You were almost relieved to find your prayers of a new distraction answered as you heard a desperate cry from the waiting room. Almost. But that desperate cry immediately informed you of a severely hurt animal. You would never be relieved at such a thing.

You rushed through the door into the waiting room to find a sobbing woman next to a big man barely holding onto the Anatolian Shepherd in his arms. Blood dripped down the shepherd’s cream-colored fur, staining it a sickly red before it splattered onto the floor. It didn’t take a professional to know the dog had already passed.

You had seen plenty of injuries causing a dog to die, even one as giant and graceful as an Anatolian Shepherd. But none of those had prepared you for this. When your eyes drifted onto the injury, your breath caught in your throat. You heard the woman talking to you in frantic words but you couldn’t understand what she was saying. You stepped slowly towards the dog, keeping your professional cool on the outside. But on the inside, you were wondering what the fuck happened.

He was cut from just below the sternum to near the pubic bone with surgical precision. As you observed closer, you saw that he was missing his kidneys. Your brows furrowed and your hands anxiously flexed. This didn’t feel right.

You snapped out of your trance as the woman hung onto your white coat as if it was her lifeline. “Please, he’s our baby! He does such a good job at protecting our sheep!” Her tears fell onto your coat, the white quickly dampening into a shade of grey. “We need him!” She pleaded with you as if she was pleading to God. The strain in her voice chipped at your composure. But you weren’t God and you definitely couldn’t save this dog. The man’s face was stone cold as he held the dog. He dissociated, behind his eyes was a sad acceptance and a silent wish for this to end.

Your eyes softened back onto the woman. “Ma’am, I’m sorry but your dog has already passed. We can hold onto him if you’d like so you can arrange a cremation. But I’m afraid that’s all I’m able to do.”

You watched as her legs gave out, gripping onto your arm so she didn’t hit the ground. A sob ripped from her throat and she shook her head in denial. The man put down the dog softly and rushed to hold her. Her hands moved from you to him and her face buried into his flannel shirt. Your eyes stung but you swallowed back your cry. You had become used to these things as a vet. Dogs passed all the time and without a doubt, the owner grieved. They grieved in different ways. Some blamed you with screams and insults with no real meaning behind them. Others shut down and muttered half sentences as you carefully explained what happened. But sometimes, it still hurts for a moment.

Your eyes flickered back to the dog. He laid on his side, completely still and lifeless. Shivers came at you as you saw the bleeding hole in his stomach. What an odd injury. What an odd death. In your years as a veterinarian, never did you see such a thing. The kidneys were just… gone.

When you snapped out of your trance, you were quick to alert the vet techs so they could freeze the body as the receptionist dealt the emotional damage control. It didn’t take long, the remaining vet techs on shift bunched around the door as they already heard the desperate screams.

You should’ve helped. Done something. But you couldn’t help kneeling by the body and looking closer. A professional assessment. Your hands became slick with blood, not even bothering with gloves as you were entranced by the strangeness of it all. Even the peritoneum was carefully dissected so the organ could be freed entirely. No tearing. No hesitation marks.

Everything was a messy blur after that. Vet techs carefully lifted the dog onto the pet stretcher and wheeled him behind the doors. The receptionist was able to calm the woman enough so she could get back into her car. You mopped the blood off the floor like you had done too many times before. Soon enough you were once again left with silence and thoughts wandering other than the quiet talk of the vet techs.

You didn’t usually indulge in the vet tech’s gossip— they were usually gossips no matter the office— but what you had seen was way too odd not to talk about. You approached the group that were huddled together, whispers of kidneys missing, just as you had seen that day.

One looked up and noticed you approaching. “Dr. (L/n).” One of them greeted, more to alert the others to your presence than any thing.

You simply nodded. “Have any of you seen anything like that before?” No greeting, no easing in, just a direct question for a conversation that was already lingering in the air.

They looked at one another for a moment before someone spoke up. “I mean, not with dogs.” Your eyes darted to the voice, head tilting in pure bewilderment. Deer. Bears sometimes. Once in a while… a person. Kidneys missing. Usually found at the edge of the woods. Unless a hunter finds something deeper. It’s happened in other towns nearby too. No one knows what's doing it.” The girl shrugged.

The most outspoken vet tech of them all, Haley, spoke. “What? More like who. That shit is medical precision.” She nervously glanced at you, shifting her weight. She wasn’t familiar with you yet, with your rules. “Excuse my language, Doctor.”

“No problem, I think it’s warranted when talking about something this bat-shit crazy.”

The edges of her mouth twitched upwards before she continued. “It’s not an animal like the news tries to say. Can’t be. You saw it. I mean I was never sure until I was hauling him into the back. But that was done by a scalpel.” One of them rolled their eyes, but they didn’t make it close to the dog.

Your eyes bore into the floor as you thought to yourself. Who would do that? Take kidneys from animals? From people apparently? You had gone through some shit, some scary shit. Shit you were still running from like it was hot on your tail. But this… this was something else. “The fucking peritoneum was dissected.”

Even that knocked Haley over as she released a shaky breath. But she quickly recovered as she realized her point was proved and she could shove it right into their doubtful faces. “The fucking peritoneum! Dissected! Name me one animal that could do that!”

A younger girl’s reddened eyes flicked up, her lips parted. One that was still new to the industry. One whose emotions weren’t stolen right from under her because she cried too much for the tears to even mean something anymore. “Are you sure? Only a skilled medical professional could do something like that…”

Your lips formed a thin, sympathetic line as you slowly nodded. She simply squeaked. “You guys should head home, I’ll close up.”

“Are you sure you want to close alone after something like that?” Someone asked, you didn’t even bother to look over to see who did. You tried your best not to memorize anything about the people you met. You never stayed in one place long, so why would you make connections? Loose ends that would make it easier for him to find you.

“Yeah, I’ll be alright—”

“Sounds great doc!” Haley ran off before you could even consider changing your mind. The rest followed her soon after. You didn’t blame them. After hearing that horror story you second guessed closing yourself.

Soon you were left alone with the tidied hospital and your thoughts. You checked over the rooms one last time. Double, even triple checking window locks, making sure everything was squeaky clean. Everything looked to be in order, you had plenty of time to sterilize everything so you weren’t surprised you didn’t have much to do before closing.

That was until you heard the clang of metal on the tile floor. You jumped, eyes darting to the door that led to the back. It became so silent all you could hear was your heartbeat and quickening, unsteady breath. You scanned the room, narrowing in on a scalpel next to the surgery table. You quickly grabbed it and slowly approached the door.

Your hand shook and your nails dug into your skin as it gripped around the weapon. You swallowed, hoping to swallow your anxiety down. But your breath didn’t steady and your mind couldn’t stop racing. Was it him? Was it the reason you jumped from town to town and had no friends or connections? Was it the reason every time the bell on the front door rang out, your heart skipped a beat? Was it what turned ten years of your life into a blurry bloody haze?

Your free hand gripped the cool steel handle. It slightly shook with an almost silent clicking as your hand held it. The door slammed open and you jumped into the room, ready to strike at anything moving. But there wasn’t anything. Just blood drops on the floor and on the frame of the open backdoor. Drawers were open and the metal that hit the tile floor— a scalpel matching the same one you had in your hand. One of your gauze pads sat neatly folded on the counter soaked through with fresh blood.

What had happened? Who had happened? What bleeding creature broke into a vet’s office just to leave a minute later?

You had an odd, sinking feeling in your stomach. One that made you keep your silence as you cleaned the blood, locked the door, and didn’t tell a soul what you saw.