Characters: Michael Myers, Thomas Hewitt, Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter

TW: mention of violence, stalking, kidnapping, drugs, and lack of consent

Note: first attempt to write something dark and dirty, don't judge harshly

Michael Myers

• You were his nurse at Smiths Grove, and God, he adored you. You were so human. You treated him like a living person, not an object in a room or a monster. It was so good. You brought him sweets in the pockets of your hospital gown and even bought him children's art supplies so he wouldn't get hurt. One of the walls in his room is filled with drawings of you. But one day you left. Just one morning, an elderly woman came to him with morning pills. The cleaners were saying in the hallway that you just ran away. The guards said that "Dr. Loomis didn't like how this chick got close to this freak.." Michael sat and stared at the wall for a long time, already imagining how he would smear Loomis on the wall of his room.

• Michael knew where you lived. He didn't know the local streets, he didn't know your address, he just felt it. Like a dog following a trail. Your house was small, but cozy. God, the house smelled so good of you. When he came to your house, it seemed like you had gone somewhere. You must have gone to the store, you always told him how much you love making interesting dinners.

• Michael walked all over your house and froze in the bedroom. Your bed was big. Did you live with someone? No, Michael was sure you didn't have a ring on your finger, but the rest of the house was designed for one. Suddenly, his body felt heavy. Michael approached your bed, put one knee on the mattress, and literally collapsed onto the bed with his face in the pillow. Your bed. Your pillow. It smells like you. Michael suddenly felt a strange painful sensation in his body. It's been there before, when you were too close to him in his room in Smiths Grove, but it's never been this strong. Your scent wasn't that strong, so close. Michael clutched your pillow with one hand, burying his face in it like a feral dog. With his other hand, he touched himself below, feeling his cock painfully tense. Something is happening to his body. But it feels so good that he doesn't want to think about it. Michael wrapped his hand around his cock, squeezing hard. A desperate moan escaped his lips, like a whimper with your name on his tongue.

• When you got home, you didn't seem to notice anything. His silly little star. He was watching you. Intently, but silently, like a ghost. Michael remembers how every damn thing in your house is. Absolutely. Here are your favorite sweets. Your soft plaid in the armchair by the fireplace. The TV show you watch every weekend. The basket where you throw your dirty clothes...

• Michael was a feral dog who once got to the caress of a random passerby. And he will follow you to the end, no matter yours or his. But your friends will disappear one at a time simply because they were standing too close to you that evening. Your boss has allowed himself to raise his voice at you, he's already a corpse. Your neighbor is too suspicious. They'll all have to be killed. And he will lay their corpses at your feet.

• You're just his silly little star that needs to be protected, carried in his arms, shut off from the whole world and not given to anyone. Michael doesn't know what it's like to love. But he seems to love you. You're his. From the moment you came to his room with that innocent smile and praised his drawing.

• He leaves flowers for you on the porch. He steals stuffed animals for you. He kills rats and wild raccoons and piles their corpses on your porch in a neat pile. He knows how they annoy you, how afraid you are of them. Then why do you scream every morning? After all, he does everything to make your life better, to please you. Perhaps you want to see your boss corpse? He can do it, just ask.

• Michael wants to hold you close, damn it, to hold you to the bed and just touch, stroke, hug, touch... He knows how soft your skin is under his palm. Sometimes he comes up to your bedroom in the dead of night while you're sleeping and strokes your hands or cheeks. He likes your hands. And how would they look tied up..? Maybe then you won't run away? Will you love him like you used to? He will show you his drawings. He will draw the house again, and next to it you and him holding hands. Maybe if he shows you how serious his feelings are, you'll accept him..?

Thomas Hewitt

• Thomas was an animal. At least that's what they told him. He tore human flesh with a chainsaw and knives like a wild animal. He ate his food like a starved dog, not even bothering to pick up a fork. He touched these warm victims when his body became too unbearable. But that's what he was, isn't it? Stupid animal. Capable only of murder and filth.

• And then Hoyt brought you. There were a few other people with you, they must have been your friends. They were all screaming, and you seemed frozen with fear and couldn't scream or run away. Such a quiet little thing. It seems like your leg was dislocated, so you basically wouldn't have run far. But his Momma liked you. She said she always wanted such a sweet, wonderful child. But, surprisingly, Thomas was not jealous. He was hungry.

• The rest of the people were already hanging on meat hooks like pieces of meat. He went up to the kitchen. You were sitting there, pale, trembling, with a tear-stained face and tied hands. Thomas approached. His rough hand touched your face. He reflexively circled your cheeks and lips with his thumb, and with his free hand he touched his own disfigured face in a mask. A beautiful face. But then Momma came and said you were a guest. You won't be eaten. At least for now.

• Later, Hoyt carried you to one of the spare bedrooms. He was giggling nastily, trying to touch you, but big Thomas appeared in the doorway, blocking out all the light from the hallway. The man growled a deep warning. Hoyt spat on the floor, but obediently left the bedroom, muttering something about how loud girls made this boy too obnoxious. Thomas approached. God, you were so beautiful, even in tears and scared. He loomed over you with his heavy, fat body. He buried his face in your hair, desperately inhaling your scent. It was especially strong now, without those strange smells that smelled like people from the "outside world." Now it was the warm, moist scent of skin and sweat, mixed with your bitter fear. And God, he loved it. Thomas growled deep in his throat, touching your arms, sides, hips. He liked your hips. Your legs. He carefully circled the slightly blue spot on your ankle, which not so long ago Momma had smeared with some kind of ointment. He pressed your ankle against his cheek, rubbing his mask against your soft skin. He felt desperately needy. Thomas suddenly thought, what would it feel like if you touched him back? If you wanted to touch him the way he wants to touch you? Would you like his body? He would have fed you. Would have washed you. Would have dressed you. He will make a beautiful dress for you, and Momma will make embroidery on it. Would you like that?

• Thomas had never had sex in the usual sense. Hoyt gave him some of the "dolls," as he called them, and showed Thomas what to do with them. Hoyt said that "Tommy is already a grown boy, and he needs to become a man," but Thomas never understood what that meant. Yes, he used his hands and cock, it was wet and warm inside, but he didn't feel much pleasure from it, as they said. Perhaps if it were you, it would be different? Would you like it? Maybe you could even whine and call him "Tommy" in that sweet voice of yours.

• Thomas took you to his basement. He made a kind of hammock out of old blankets and tied them tightly to the ceiling so that you could comfortably lie down and watch him work. That way you'll get used to him faster. But if you get tired of lying down, he can put you next to him on his workbench or on that old sofa in the corner of the basement, also covered with pillows for you. He wants you by his side. So he can look at you while he's working. Your hands and feet are still tied for your own safety, but he often changes these bandages and treats your skin so that it doesn't hurt. He's gentle. Madly. As much as his thick, unwieldy body allows. He's carrying you in his arms. He feeds you with a spoon, even if he has to force-feed you. Thomas touches you down there because it makes your body feel wet and throbbing. But he doesn't go far. You start to sob softly and squeeze your hips, he doesn't like it. Thomas growls under his breath and removes his hand, wiping his palm on his apron. He wants you to spread your legs for him. He doesn't know why, but he wants you to want it so badly too. It'd be like you're husband and wife. It'd be like you love him.

• Momma told him how marriage works. That people love each other in marriage and they have a child. The baby grows in the belly of the person you love, because the two of you will want to make your love physical. Belly. He loves stroking your belly. Perhaps if you love him, your love will also become material. Little Tommy Jr. Or whatever you want to call it. Or it will be a girl. He would like to have a girl. That's why Thomas just sits and strokes your belly in the evenings. It calms him down. Sometimes he lies down next to you on the bed as if you are a real couple. He puts his head on your belly and rubs his cheek against it. And he falls asleep like that, feeling incredibly happy.

Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter

• Will had never understood this strange aura of Hannibal's obsession. Until one day. A new impersonator of the Chesopeake Ripper has appeared, and they've been asked to help with the investigation. It would seem that there is nothing surprising. Until they saw the victim of this maniac. You. You looked so.. fragile, scared, but infinitely beautiful, even Hannibal was speechless. Something clicked in their heads at the same time, although to the rest of the room it looked like professional thoughtfulness. This strange feeling spread through their veins like a red-hot iron, and the men suddenly realized that you were theirs, and they were obligated to protect you. From the whole world.

• Everything started innocuously. They portrayed absolute involvement in the case. Will's empathy and Hannibal's psychological conversations. They were soft, tactful, infinitely gentle. And then they happened to see you smiling at Crawford. And the trigger went off. They left you. Disappeared from your life. At least that's what you thought. You haven't noticed what life has become.. easier. Safer. No one attacked you anymore, and if someone screamed or putted their hands on your, then the next day there was no trace of them in this world. It's a coincidence, isn't it? Years have passed. You've almost forgotten their kindness, that brief, insanely devoted attention, as if you'd been known for hundreds of years before that moment.

• And in their lives, you were a dull ache in a sore tooth. Is the rapist in the alley? A nasty employee at work? An unfaithful boyfriend? An envious friend? They ate them all. Will had never thought that human meat could taste so good. It tasted like the sweetest honey on his tongue, and Hannibal enjoyed the ecstasy of it. You've become their common obsession. Will could spend hours talking about what he sees in you, about your life, which he watched from the sidelines, about his dreams. And Hannibal could listen to his stories as much, loving the moment when your name came out of Graham's swollen lips. Everything started spinning. Abigail, Will's family, the arrests, the cliff. Everything was a mist. But this mist was sweet, because they knew what was waiting for them on the other side of the veil. You. They survived. One of Hannibal's houses far to the north was decorated according to other documents. A quiet place in cool forests, with no one around, just hungry wolves. And the hungry men who finally got their ritual lamb.

• They stole you and hid you like the most precious treasure. You woke up on a soft bed and saw these infinitely loving faces in front of you. Hannibal was already rubbing your stiff limbs, and Will was bringing you a cup of warm tea. It was like it was the most common thing, and the three of you were long-time spouses. That would be the case if it weren't for the heavy collar around your neck. "The forest is big, it's easy to get lost. We don't want you to get lost, do we, dear?"

• They treated you like a crystal doll. Hannibal would bathe you in a bubble bath with expensive salts and oils, give you a massage, and Will would read to you, sitting by the fireplace surrounded by dogs, or just sit on the floor, hug your knees and whisper how amazing you are. They didn't need much, just to have you around. This house has always had everything you need, expensive and high-quality food, your favorite snacks and fragrant flowers. There was a beautiful view from the window, and the house was always warm and smelled of vanilla. A real golden cage. Because you weren't allowed to go outside. The forest is dangerous. And even Will, who once suggested going fishing on a lake not far from here, obediently fell silent under Hannibal's meaningful gaze. Although from time to time Hannibal left to buy groceries or some household items. He always kept his car keys with him. You had everything, but nothing that really brought joy. The men didn't like it. You were fading like a slowly melting candle.

• At some point, you felt better. A glass of red wine, thoughtfully served to you by Hannibal, pleasantly relaxed your head. Thoughts began to flow more slowly, like a stagnant river. The world has become softer, more welcoming. Music started playing in a room. Hannibal must have turned on the gramophone. The light dance melody made you smile. Will froze, looking at you, but didn't say anything. He took your glass, helped you out of your chair, and took you dancing. You felt.. good. Will's warm, slightly rough palms gently held you, circling the room. His lips touched yours in an innocent kiss, and you responded. Slowly, gently. You felt the warmth on your back. Hannibal was pressing his chest against you from behind, a slight sly smile on his face. He kissed you on the temple and caught Will's lips with his own. And you felt so strangely infinitely happy, like you've never felt before. Half an hour later, Hannibal was already teaching you how to cook lasagna, and Will was sitting on the kitchen table and looking at you with a gentle smile.

• The next day, you felt terrible. The heart was pounding in your ears, and panic was starting in the head. You felt like you died alive. The world has lost its usual colors. But Hannibal didn't seem to notice. After a while, he was already sitting on the edge of your bed and stroking your hair while you slowly drank the tea with bergamot he offered. And he was enjoying watching your pupils dilate. It's not enough to make your eyes become bottomless wells, but it's enough to make them shiny and moist like a deer's in the headlights. He watches as every day you become more and more like a devoted puppy who is waiting for him to bring you "liquid relief" again. And your spark returns to you. You can cry, laugh, snap back. You're that little thing they fell in love with a couple of years ago again. And if they have to physically bind you to them for that, Hannibal is ready for it.

Michael Myers x frogs lover!reader

Note: I'm so sorry for long waiting, luv 😭 It took me time.. to find the right words and so.

To everyone around, the old Myers house seemed like an insanely creepy place with a bunch of ghosts and murderers under the floor, and every resident of Haddenfield tried to avoid it by the tenth way. But you didn't seem to care. You just moved to this city, and the house turned out to be the best for the price, and the building itself was not bad, just abandoned. Although even the neighbors tried to dissuade you from buying. Of course, that didn't stop you.

One of the reasons why you chose this house is the extensive garden. Seriously, it was quite a large area. Probably, children used to play there. But you tried not to think about it.

After receiving the coveted keys, you quickly put the house in order and moved all your belongings.

The garden was spacious. Your imagination instantly went into ecstasy, already imagining a small pond here, and flower pots for beauty there.

The first thing you did was take care of the pond. You dug it up small, in an interesting shape. It came out deep enough not to freeze in winter. You planted ferns, irises and other flowers around the pond, which were reflected in the smooth water surface like large purple candles. You even repaired the fence so that no neighbor's dog couldn't get on your property and ruin everything.

You worked nights. With a pair of garden shears in your hands and a flashlight on your forehead. It was still hot enough during the day, and you had other work to do. In the evening, there were a lot of curious neighbors around who were still looking at you with a mixture of misunderstanding and pity. "The Myers House... The ghost house.. poor girl, all alone.."

But you weren't alone.

Michael had been watching you from the beginning. His gaze was sharp, searching. He was angry at first. This vile, poisonous feeling curled into an unpleasant knot in his chest. You were in his house, on his property. In the house where he expected to see his baby sister, but found a stranger. But what you were doing threw him into a stupor. You knelt in the mud and planted small bushes of plants around the pond, humming a silly song under your breath. As if the most dangerous killer in the city wasn't hiding in the shadow of your garage. It was as if this house was ordinary. But you didn't care, you just dusted off your gloved hands and began to place smooth stones around the pond. Michael was interested. Maybe he could leave you for now and watch.

The next night, you went out into the garden with a box. Michael had already learned your daily routine, so he came in late at night. This time, bright lanterns were already lit around the pond.

You knelt down in front of the pond, opened the box and pulled out something small and round. And it made a loud sound. Croak.

You laughed.

And for some reason, it seemed to Michael that this clear sound reminded him of his little sister. And of something good.

You stroked the frog in your hands and lowered it onto a water lily in the pond.

"That's it, good little thing.."

You got some more frogs. He thought there were five of them. Michael was counting.

You smiled as you closed the box.

"Well? Welcome to your new home. Promise not to forget to feed you and clean your water."

The frogs blinked stupidly into the darkness. One of them croaked softly, as if she had considered your suggestion. But they stayed in the pond, so it was definitely an agreement.

Michael couldn't take his eyes off the tenderness in your voice, in your moves. From how gently your fingers stroked these slippery creatures and adjusted the leaves of the flowers. There was a strange constriction in his chest.

Weeks passed.

He watched you every night.

Then you went out into the garden with a blanket on your shoulders and a cup of tea in your hands. You sat down on the grass and started telling the frogs about your day. The greenies croaked thoughtfully in response. Michael thought that this "boss" of yours from work deserves special attention.

The other day, you brought some glowing decorations and dropped it into the pond. It looked even more beautiful and fabulous now.

During the day, you put small umbrellas over the pond so that your little friends wouldn't be hot. When it was raining, you went out into the garden in your light raincoat and with that lantern on your forehead you looked like a yellow firefly. You even made some kind of houses out of colorful flower pots so that your frogs could have fun somewhere else. You gave them names. Michael thought he had to remember them.

One night, a severe thunderstorm began. The wind was terrible, cold and biting the skin. You ran out into the garden in just a sleeping t-shirt to strengthen the houses and cover the pond with a small canopy. Michael didn't understand. Risking your pathetic human life for what? For the frogs? But the tenderness with which you returned your escaped green babies back to safe water spoke for itself.

You brought life back to this place.

The Myers house no longer smelled of death or hopelessness. There was that tenderness and love in it that was not there even with the young children of the still living owners. And now they were. You and your little green frogs.

Now the Myers house smelled of freshly cut grass and flowers, and the knife in Michael's hand felt heavier and more wrong.

You set up a small wooden bench next to the pond, hung garlands with warm yellow light, and every night, when you returned from work, the first thing you did was check on your little friends.

The frogs are used to you. When you dipped your fingers into the water, one of them (the boldest, which you called a Pumpkin for it's orange color) jumped on your palm and sat there, blinking stupidly. You laughed, patted it on the head, and whispered nonsense that no one should have heard. But Michael had heard.

He stood in the shadow of an old maple tree, invisible in the night. The dark jumpsuit blended into the darkness, and the white mask seemed to float in the air when he turned his head. He knew your routine by heart, when you go out, how long you sit by the pond, when you return to the house. He knew that you sleep with the window open because you like the fresh air. He could have come in. Could have stopped it all.

But instead, he just stared.

"It's weird," you whispered. "Sometimes I feel like someone is watching me..."

Michael froze. His fingers tightened on the hilt of his knife, but the usual rage did not return. Instead, there was something else. Something he couldn't name. For now.

He came later the next night. The rain had already subsided, but the ground was wet, and the air smelled of ozone and wet flowers. You were in the house. The light on the second floor was on, but he knew that you were awake, reading a book, lying on the bed with the window open, or just drinking tea, thinking about something human, distant.

Michael moved quietly.

He walked over to the pond.

The frogs fell silent in fright. They looked at him with dark eyes, and in their button eyes there was something similar to the usual fear of his victims. Michael slowly got down on one knee. One of his hands rested on the soft grass. The second one hovered in the air. He looked at this transparent water surface, at these flowers. This life.

You turned his house into a place where you wanted to stay and just live.

He ran his finger along the edge of the little pot house you made for the frogs.

And one of the frogs, Pumpkin, jumped towards him. It sat on his rough hand. Blinked.

Michael froze.

He could have crushed it with a flick of his hand. But instead, he was watching.

You came out on the porch at that moment. You must have heard the rustle of a flower pot.

"Pumpkin?" You called in a sleepy voice. "Where did you jump to again? Silly little.." and you fell silent.

You saw him.

A tall dark figure kneeling by your pond. A white mask reflecting the moonlight. And the frog on his hand.

Michael slowly turned his head towards you. The empty eye sockets of his mask seemed to stare straight into your soul. He was expecting a scream. Or that you'll run away, begging for your life like everyone else.

But you didn't budge.

"You're not going to hurt her," you said. And it was said so confidently and clearly that Michael felt like a naughty boy, not a terrible maniac.

Michael looked down at the frog. His hand moved, and you were about to rush to him, but he just gently lowered Pumpkin back into the water.

It croaked contentedly and disappeared into the water.

Michael got up slowly.

You've seen him stand up to his full height, huge and intimidating. And yet you didn't back down. He was taller, stronger, but you had some kind of insane, almost maternal care and the desire to protect the most precious, which even a monster like Myers was powerless against it.

"You.. were watching me," you said. "All this time. Yes? It was you."

Michael didn't answer. He just stood there and glared at you.

"I knew that," you muttered. "But you know what? I'm not afraid."

You stepped forward.

"I know who you are. This house is yours. He was yours. Your.. family's one."

Michael tensed. A typical "family" breakfast flashed through his mind, which made him feel sick just for a moment.

"But now it's mine, too," you continued firmly. "And I'm not going anywhere. I love this garden. I love my frogs. And I won't let you take it."

Silence.

That must have sounded too confident for an ordinary girl. Will he laugh?

Michael took a slow step into the shadows. You already thought he was going to come at you with a knife. But he stepped aside somewhere and suddenly he froze. He turned his head in your direction. He raised his palm up.

He pointed at himself.

Then to the pond.

A nod.

Good.

The pond is nice. Just like the house. You brought life back to him. And this time he will save this life.

His hand tightened on the handle of the knife in his coverall pocket.

You forced a relieved smile.

Michael was gone. He disappeared into the shadows like a ghost. And you were left standing there in your garden, listening to your frogs croak contentedly.

---

The next day, there was a pot with a white flower on your doorstep. A few drops of blood on the petals.

There were such flowers at your boss's office.

Bo Sinclair x gn!reader

Note: I'm sorry if this is a little different from what you wanted. I tried ♡

• You were one of the victims that Bo usually dealt with quickly. He played on your feelings, in other ways, as always. You left your car outside the city, found him in the church, grieving and broken, listened to his sad story while he smoked and just were there. Bo turned on all his charm and charisma. But then, when he showed real himself and a knife flashed in his hand, there was no fear in your eyes. You were still looking at him like a lovesick puppy with that insanely stupid smile. Well, maybe you're just a little crazy. He could play with you a little more. That's what he thought.

• The days turned into weeks, and over time, Bo just got used to it. In a way. You became friends with Lester, their dog liked you, and you even managed to gain Vincent's trust. The guys really started to see you as someone dear, so Bo couldn't do anything about it.

• But most of all he was surprised by your behavior. The way you watch him with awe, how you help him at the gas station, how you don't disdain other people's cries of pain. It was scary. And it turned him on. You became his right-hand man because you literally agreed to whatever he asked. Can you hold the tools? Yes. Twist the victim's arms? Sure. Could you help him carry the body to Vincent? No problem!

• The strangest thing was the almost puppy-like tenderness. It was as if you melted like snow at his touch or glance, and that was from the very beginning. It felt like you knew him on some mental level and felt safe with him. It's like you went back to your home. Like him was your home.

• Bo is not used to this kind of attention. His own parents usually yelled at him and were cruel, and the victims were afraid and begged for mercy. You were different, it was scary. Your behavior was out of line with his usual worldview, but it was pleasant in its own way. He finally felt noticed. Necessary or something like that. And that was so refreshing.

• He hinted to you that this city is dangerous. That he was dangerous. But you brushed his words off like annoying flies and hugged his hand, rubbing your cheek against his jacket. God. He was annoyed by such excessive arrogance. And surprised. It was strange to feel such attention, sincere, real. People have "fallen in love" with him and his charisma before, but it was different with you. Bo snorted at your antics, but he didn't take his arm away. Instead, he put his free hand on the back of your head, ruffling your hair. "You're sick."

• Gradually, Bo became protective. Of course, now you also played a role in catching the victims, but if one of them indulged in excess, touched you or hurt you, the masks of Bo came off instantly. After that, he would grab the victim and punch them hard in the jaw, feeling your fleeting fear, "Hands off! It's mine." But you quickly came to your senses and clung to him again, pleased with the attention. "Sick asshole," he muttered, clutching you to his chest. He was almost scared.

Summary:Ethan Landry has two problems: he's hopelessly in love with you, and he's terrible at keeping secrets. Tonight, they both collide.

Type: Romantic, One-shot

Warning:Ethan being an adorable mess, light angst, blood (a little), a knife, Ghostface's identity revealed, awkward kisses, dark humor, and twisted tenderness. Sweet ending.

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Ethan Landry was, without a doubt, the worst Ghostface in history.

And you were about to find out.

You'd been dating for six months. Six months of study sessions where he looked at you more than his notes, of messages with way too many shy monkey emojis, of awkward kisses that always ended with a "Sorry, was that okay?" and your laughter melting against his lips. Ethan was a sweetheart. A nervous, stuttering, and adorable sweetheart who turned bright red when you told him "I love you."

But Ethan was also Ghostface.

And tonight, his legendary clumsiness was going to get him into serious trouble.

It all started with a text from him at 10 PM:

"Hey, beautiful. Don't come by my apartment tonight. I'm… studying. A lot. Tons. Quantum physics. Nerd stuff. Love you. Bye."

Summary:Your ex-husband is trying to rekindle intimacy with you.

Type: Romantic, One-shot

Warning:mentions of sex

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The room was dimly lit. Only the light from the bedside lamp illuminated the figure of the Good Guy doll sitting at the foot of your bed. You'd tried to ignore it all night, but Charles wasn't one to give up easily.

"Come on, doll…" he said in that squeaky voice, but full of the same lust as always. "It's been three fucking years since I last touched you. Don't you miss me fucking you properly?"

The doll crawled across the sheets with unsettling agility until it was between your legs. Its little plastic hands moved up your thighs, trying to spread them.

"Charles…" you warned, sitting up a little.

Characters: Michael Myers, Thomas Hewitt, Bo Sinclair, Stu Macher & Billy Loomis, Hannibal Lecter x Will Graham

Tags: well, period, period cramps, a little nsfw (with Thomas and Ghostface boys), mostly comfort and fluff

Michael Myers

• Michael doesn't know anything about women, and he wasn't supposed to ever get out of Smiths Grove and have relationships, so he has to learn on the go. It took several months for him to learn how to calculate the signs. You become more irritable and sad; you walk around holding your belly or basically don't get out of bed. It bothered him at first. You're lying in bed, writhing as if you've been injured. Later, you explained to him that you just have some kind of a stomach ache. Next time, there will be a lot of painkillers in your bedside table.

• Over time, he begins to understand a little, something similar was with his sister Judith, then she scolded him more than usual. And usually her boyfriend would come to her with sweets and all that. Michael decides that this is the best solution to the problem. After all, when he feels bad or sad himself, he eats a lot of sweets. So in the evening he will bring you a whole bag full of chocolate and various sweets and snacks.

• There are no days of the week for Michael, but he carefully monitors the calendar that you keep. If today's date was circled in red last month, he is already ready. Michael removes all possible irritants. Loud neighbors, a ticking clock, and even a store across the street if its bright sign gets in the way (he'll just kill the light bulbs). He's the guardian of your peace of mind.

• Michael sees how vulnerable you're becoming these days, so he lets himself take off all the masks. He becomes a little more tactile. In the evenings, he wordlessly settles into your bed and lets you lie on top of him like a big teddy bear. Michael has a big and pretty hot body, so at this moment he's just your big hot water bottle. Over time, he will put his big hands on your lower back and gently massage it. His body is firm but soft, and this combination slightly relieves the pain in your lower abdomen. Or you can add a real hot water bottle between you for more effect. Michael will be there for you until you feel better.

• He may even take off his mask, but that will be at night. You're asleep, but you're whimpering softly because of the background pain in your lower abdomen. Michael carefully pulls off his mask and looks at you for a long time. He doesn't care about someone else's pain, but still, your pain does something to him. He gently presses his lips to your face, almost awkwardly, but he remembers how you did it yourself, even though he was wearing a mask. It's a gesture of tenderness for you, isn't it? Forehead, cheeks, bridge of nose. He'll kiss wherever he can reach. Eventually, he will press your face to his chest, and he will bury his face in your hair, breathing steadily. Your scent calms his demons, so he can lie there a little longer.

Thomas Hewitt

• At the beginning of your life in Texas, you didn't have periods because of the intense stress and heat, and you were almost happy. But the first period felt like a knife in your belly. Literally. It was very painful and unpleasant, either out of habit, or because of hormonal changes. Anyway, you felt really bad. Thomas woke up earlier than you, as usual, that day. It was a weekday, so he didn't have time to stay in bed with you any longer, no matter how much he wanted to. But at some point you didn't come down to breakfast. Thomas was alarmed. He went upstairs to your bedroom and froze when he saw that you were writhing in pain, and the sheets under you were a little bloody. He immediately ran after Luda, and when he returned, he carefully began to examine you for wounds. But Momma immediately realized what had happened, so she tactfully asked Thomas not to disturb you. Thomas had to leave while Momma helped you change the sheets and clothes.

• Then Thomas finally learned that women are amazing creatures who bleed every month and live as if nothing had happened. This helps them to carry a child in the future. But Thomas didn't care if it was a miracle or not, you were feeling bad, and if you were feeling bad, then so was he. He did his business as soon as possible and returned to you (in clean clothes so as not to annoy you). Thomas gently picked you up in his arms, pressed you to his wide, hot chest and began to rock you like a small child. A measured mumble came out of his chest, as if he was trying to sing to you to calm you down. His strong palms gently stroked your side. He just sincerely wanted to take your pain for himself, he's ready to suffer and bleed if it makes it easier for you, it's not difficult for him.

• After all, you were alone at home one day. Momma was at the gas station, and Hoyt and Monty had gone somewhere. You had your period again, but it wasn't as painful, so Thomas let himself touch you. He was wondering how it was going. He killed people, he saw their wounds, but what could a wound that healed from time to time and bled from time to time look like? You were shy, but you let him, after all, Thomas had already seen you like this on your normal days. Tommy settled contentedly between your bare thighs and began to gently kiss the inside of your thigh to distract you. You looked so swollen underneath that the only thing he could think of was to lick you. The man basically already knew that you have a certain spot up here that helps you feel good. He gently slid over that bundle of nerves a few times, and you made a small sound. Well, at least you're not in pain. He went down a little lower. Yes, your hole, which he loved so much, looked a little unhappy and not white slick was coming out of it, but pinky red one. He licked it again. It didn't look like ordinary blood, he knows for sure. But it was your taste mixed with something metallic. Thomas liked that. His tongue didn't hurt you, so he continued, settling your hips on his shoulders and giving himself completely to his breakfast. When he finished, your hips were shaking a little and your cheeks were flushed. But after the orgasm, it didn't hurt so much. Thomas, pleased with himself, climbed up to you so that you could pet him like a good boy. If it helps you, he will always be between your thighs until you feel better. This is his favorite place.

• You don't have a lot of painkillers here, so you get it from the victims. Although Luda usually makes you an herbal decoction, which really reduces the pain a little and the menstruation itself. She really worries about you, so on the most painful days you don't do anything, and she shouts at men and forbids them to make loud noises and annoy you. You're her sweet daughter.

• Thomas tries to make you feel as comfortable as he can. He makes you a cozy nest out of all kinds of pillows and blankets that he finds in the house. These days you wear one of his shirts, which are huge for you, but incredibly cozy. He likes it when you wear his stuff. He brings you food upstairs. Thomas specifically asks Momma to give you a bigger piece of meat because you're literally losing blood. And he feeds you with a spoon himself, of course, cooling the broth.

Bo Sinclair

• Bo always swore to himself that he would never be henpecked and would not run after any woman, for him a woman is just a "housewife and a whore in bed." He was so wrong. As soon as you appeared in his life, everything changed. Not immediately, of course, gradually, but irrevocably. Now he was definitely wrapped around your finger like a dog on a leash. Although he listened to biology lessons with half an ear at school, and his mother died early enough, so he didn't know much about women (of course, he has porn magazines, but nothing about menstruation there lol). So it was almost a revelation to him. When you had a painful period, the first one in Ambrose, Vincent was already circling over you, caring... and you were smiling. It was a blow to Bo. So he decided to come to his senses.

• Now every month he goes to the neighboring city for several types of painkillers and different types of pads. He learned your favorite company and the number of drops on it, and one of your pads is always in his glove compartment in the car, just in case.

• In fact, he likes your short temper during your period. Like, it hurts, everything annoys you, and even more annoying are "stupid men who don't understand your pain." It is correct to say that "husband and wife are one Satan," because you become as angry and aggressive as Bo. But Bo.. well, it turns him on. In some ways. You just start yelling at him over a dirty cup in the sink, throwing the first objects you see at him (towels, napkins, even knives), and Bo just catches it all with a malicious smile, "Come on, baby, let it all out. Just like that." He likes this spark in your relationship, because after this fit of anger, you will start crying and begging for him to carry you. Bo is weak before your mood swings.

• Eventually, when you run out of energy, Bo wraps you in a blanket, sits you on his lap, and puts some herbal tea (mint with chamomile or something) into your hands. He hugs you, strokes your side, and just starts telling you something. About his past, about his favorite way of killing, about how he looks after this city and how madly he loves you. His conversations are just background noise that makes it easier for you to fall asleep. A warm blanket, your man's soft chest and his steady heartbeat soothe you. After a while, Jonesy will even come to you and settle down at your feet, warming your frozen feet.

• Bo is a "self-sufficient man," but when you're out of shape and so sensitive, he turns into an insanely caring man. In his own style. He brings you breakfast in bed (although you usually cook, after you came to Ambrose, the brothers even got a little fatter because they started eating normally). He leaves you a glass of water on the bedside table, a plate of painkillers and a cup with various sweets and nuts (mood pills). Bo even tries not to argue with his brothers, so as not to make noise and annoy you. And if a new victim appears that day, then for having to listen to these screams, he will bring you a bouquet of flowers. You're his woman, and he doesn't like seeing your pain. You're special.

Billy Loomis & Stu Macher

• You are their third, so they perceive your pain as their own. It's an insult to them. Stu turns on clown mode to cheer you up, while Billy remains just as grumpy but insanely caring. They come home with big packages. Stu has sweets, chips, your favorite yogurts, and Billy carries several books on "taking care of your girlfriend" (this is for him), several heating pads of varying cost, painkillers, and special drinks to reduce pain. One of the hot water bottles is even in the form of a cute animal, so that you won't be so sad. They make a special first-aid kit for your days, so that everything you need is always at hand.

• Boys are getting quieter. No, of course, they take care of you and behave as quickly as possible, but if they see that you are on edge and you need to rest, they give you space. Stu gets quieter. He picks you up in his arms and carries you into a warm bubble bath with candles and relaxing oil. They turn on the overhead lights throughout the house and pull the curtains tightly shut. Stu takes care of you in the bathroom while Billy prepares the bedroom. Soft blankets, pillows; a hot water bottle and pills on the bedside table. Of course, a couple of cans of cool Coca Cola for nausea and some chocolate and sour worms for a good mood. Stu will help you bathe and carry you back to bed. You're wearing only a shirt, so as not to put pressure on your sensitive skin and make you feel too hot. The guys lay you down in the middle of Stu's big bed and arrange themselves on either side of you like a protective cocoon. The room is cool and fresh, and they hug you like warm teddy bears. They're clean themselves, but they didn't use perfume so as not to irritate your sensitive nose, so their scents soothe you. No matter how crazy and loud they may be, for them, love is caring and tenderness next to you, they are always there for you.

• For the rest of the world, they disappear, even for their "girlfriends." The main thing now is you, their soul and heart. They will arrange a real marathon of horror movies. These will be some of your favorite movies, so that they are familiar to you and do not cause great fear and discomfort. You can be more tearful now, so they'll be there for you and hug you while you cry. Right now, their only goal is to be comfortable pillows for your emotions, they can't even dream of more. They know how to be caring.

• They are like loyal dogs. If you wake up in the middle of the night with pain in your lower abdomen and tearfully ask for ice cream or a certain chocolate, Stu is already halfway to the store. Billy will stay by your side and "ground" you. He will hug you to his chest and gently stroke your tummy and praise you, telling you how good and strong you are for them. They will never swear at you during this stressful period or anything like that, no. The boys absolutely love you, and it's their duty to take care of you.

• Stu read somewhere that an orgasm can reduce a girl's pain during her period. They have to check it, and they check it every time. Usually one of them works with your pussy while the other showers kisses on your body and tells them how beautiful and good you are for them. No direct penetration, they're too afraid to hurt you. But they'll fuck each other while caressing you. It will be gentle and slow, you have the whole night ahead of you and they will definitely make your pain subside.

Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter

• Hannibal finds out about your period even before it starts according to your calendar. The speed of your pulse, the smell of your body and the increased pallor speak for you. A man is suitable from a medical point of view. He makes your bedroom more comfortable and prepares meals to replenish iron loss. Liver, legumes, all that. Even if you don't eat some of it, he will be able to disguise the product so that you won't even notice. He also makes you a decoction for nausea and abdominal pain so that you don't poison your liver with pills.

• Will feels your pain as his own. No, of course, he doesn't fully understand it, but he feels your resentment at the injustice of the world and you own helplessness in the face of the pain of your body. It's exhausting. He just picks you up and takes you to some cozy place. His dogs settle down next to you and on you like living warmers, this relieves the pain. Will asks you to talk to him about anything. About what annoys you, about your pain, about your desires. These days, he shaves more often so as not to make you uncomfortable with his stubble. His rough palm rests on your lower abdomen and gently strokes you. He's here, you don't have to worry about anything. Meanwhile, the dogs gently lick you and whine to cheer you up.

• Hannibal bought you some silk and cotton sets so that nothing hinders your movements during these days. He chooses more neutral colognes and, in principle, does not use things with a pungent odor, because he knows by himself how annoying it can be. His concern is not in words, but in actions.

• Hannibal lets you eat in the room instead of with them. He just brings a plate into the bedroom, where you're lying in Will's arms. Will silently takes the plate and starts feeding you carefully, trying not to touch your belly and all that. You really bring them together. When it comes to you, they hardly swear, but behave like one well-coordinated organism. Will is acting like a naughty puppy because he really wishes he could take your pain for himself, he would love to do that. Therefore, their actions speak more than words, their concern is simply maximum.

• Hannibal has strong enough hands, so he gives you a massage with relaxing oil. A man massages your back, especially developing your lower back, where your pain radiates. Will is rubbing your thighs and arms with the cream Hannibal gave him. Lecter noticed your pallor yesterday, and your skin has become a little drier. Hannibal's hands are soft, aristocratic and gentle. Will's palms are rougher and more lively, but caring in their own way. This contrast helps you really relax and let go of the pain.

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IN SATAN’S NAME: part two (Titus Danforth/Reader)

Summary: You spend time with your family only to learn that a new addition is coming

Author’s Note: No smut in this part. I thought it would be nice to see a little slice of life after the ritual and explore more of the dynamic between the reader and Ursula, not just Titus. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings/tags: 18+ (nothing explicit in this chapter but still), fem! reader, no description of reader beyond that, theistic satanism, it’s suggested that Mr. Le Bail & Satan are the same being, mentions of sex rituals, reader has established fertility issues, vomiting, planned pregnancy, maybe a little OOC but I don’t care, not beta read, 2.4k words