#Yanderes appeal to me more when they are women too

[mothinabottle]

I just realized most of my childhood crushes are women 😳

How did I not notice I am bi before...? I mean now I know it's obvious, but back then I was the most oblivious fool in existence.

Like we are talking about a person who rejected girls before saying she was straight , only to wake up several years later and find out the only straight thing i had was my ruler and I made a fool out of myself for most of my life lmaoooo.

"Yeah, I think x is pretty. What? Attracted to her? Pfft, no way!" - A dumbass.

Well, it isn't as if I can freely say it outside of internet or my circle of friends since my country is homophobic as fuck-

[cozymoko]

Wait you write for Kamisama kiss??? OMG Tomoe's been my crush for years 😭 omg if it's okay with you then can I have general yandere headcannons about everyone's favourite fox boy?? 🌕 Anon

YANDERE TOMOE HEADCANONS

Note: I also love Tomoe. Btw this might suck because I'm bad at general anything.

Pronouns used: feminine, she/her (for convenience)

WARNING(S): yandere themes, slightly suggestive

YOKAI

Possessive, Manipulative, Violent (to others)

AS A ROUGUE YOKAI, pledging his loyalty to others never truly appealed to him; to a woman nonetheless. Being a formidable demon never called for such requirements.

You were feisty, pointing the round end of your broom in his direction. You knew not of who was there, yokai or human but you feigned confidence. The trembling of your hands gave it away, you were scared as one would be. “Who's there?”

The pale moonlight peeked through the few windows lining the walls, carefully calling attention to your features. You were easy on the eyes and yet so hard to look at. Your eyes were glassy and narrowed into thin slits. Your legs shook violently in anticipation for him to reveal himself as you hugged the broom flush against your chest. Such a look didn't suit you.

Having mercy on you, he decided to cut his fun a little short.

As one does, Tomoe made his way to a brothel which he was fairly acquainted with. All in a pitiful attempt to find solace amongst the predatory gazes of the women occupying it. But alas, he could not. With every look upon their faces twisted into one that mimicked your own. Captivating and seemingly kind, tempting him to reach out and touch it.

Tomoe is no fool. His emotions are evident, terribly so. He longs for a human woman and there's no need to deny it. Your image has been engraved in his memory down to every last detail. Women who were not you could no longer soothe his mind as they appeared lackluster in comparison.

Thus, he sought after you. In the middle of the night, he was whisked away by the chilly wind in search of the woman. Your scent was heavy on his mind, leading him back to the small cabin you resided in. His footsteps were night, almost silent as he entered your home, searching for you.

To his luck, there you were. Rolled up in a cotton futon, lulled by the chirps of noisy crickets. Yes, he's decided; You are his and no one else's. Tomoe isn't one for sharing and he'll make sure you're aware.

Akura-ou was quick to find out about your existence, which was a pain within itself. He would toy with you just to get under Tomoe's skin. It's not every day you get to see your moody "counterpart" fall so hard for someone, let alone a human. Anyhow, those who've tormented you weren't as fortunate as Akura-ou, serving a far more unpleasant demise for their actions.

If not for you, Tomoe wouldn't hesitate to massacre every man who looks your way. Having good-looking women by his side is nothing he isn't used to, yet, you are different. As his woman, he wouldn't want someone to so much as breathe the same air as you. The mere thought renders him ill.

Although, if you ask him not to he'll try his best to listen to your wishes. Keyword: try. He would never want to upset you, oh not at all! However he's only "human", even he has his limits.

No matter how he may terrify you, running is NOT an option. You will never be too far from his grasp. As long as his heart is beating, no one will ever have his heart. The fox demon is a bit too eager to show how he got his reputation in the Yokai world. As his other half, why don't you sit down and watch for a while?

“Foolish girl, when will you finally understand that your efforts are futile? Your cries may pain me but if I must tie you down to keep you. Then I shall.”

FAMILIAR

Loyal, Overprotective, Posessive

BEFORE HE MET YOU HE WAS A YOKAI, drowning in a pit of endless grief. Though not a powerful God, you held enough power to help the lost kitsune. You, determined to save him, kissed him and made Tomoe you familiar. For that, he was forever grateful.

Sure his bloodlust has been soothed over the decades, but it doesn't cease to exist. However, betrayal has never crossed his mind. His loyalty to you runs deeper than the blood that courses through veins. He is bound to you for life and he will serve you until greeted by death's embrace

He still finds you to be a subpar God in nearly every aspect. You were so uncool and lame as you lacked elegance, lazy in comparison to many, and awfully forgetful. But it made you even more charming. Tomoe found himself growing fond of your minor habits, though still trying to push healthier ones upon you, they were sweet, or even cute dare he say.

If you so choose, you can touch his ears. What can I say, the thought has plagued his mind more times than he cares to admit. Intimacy with you is not exactly scarce, you dot on the fox quite a bit, however, he yearns for more of your attention, your time. Being your familiar for some years has honestly built up his confidence. (There was no way in hell he'd ask you that and earlier than now.)

You cannot have another familiar, not a chance. Tomoe will burn them to the ground if they even try to kiss you. If you've had familiars before him, fuck them. They can die for all he cares. All you have to do is ask and he will gladly do the honors. (He knows you won't, unfortunately)

No male familiars are permitted to sleep by your side, except him of course. He must retain his superiority somehow. Allowing them to see you so vulnerable is not an option.

For you, he'd do an ything if it's within his power. As long as it doesn't put you or your reputation in danger that is.

“You reek of that wretched Tengu, must you always converse with such lowlives, mistress? If my company is not to your liking please allow me to fix myself. I am your loyal familiar and you should know I'm also the best.”

[depravitycentral]

I don’t know if this appeals to anyone but me, but I’ve been watching a lot of period pieces about Regency Era England (specifically the 1995 Pride and Prejudice and Bridgerton) and I can’t stop thinking about the way women were actually treated like property, their only purpose to wed and produce children. Imagine the yandere possibilities, and the absolute lack of control you’d have over your fate.

Specifically, I can’t stop thinking about the lack of care and the disregard for social customs and norms yanderes could exhibit in that era. The rules are so very strict, and so very numerous – really, can he be blamed for not adhering to each and every one? Sure, he doesn’t treat any other woman this way, but is it such a crazy notion that he breaks a rule here or there? Surely not – not when it’s so very obvious that the proposal is coming, that he’s absolutely hell bent on keeping you pristine and pretty and pregnant in his own abode, not the pathetic pile of wood and roofing you call your home.

Maybe he’s always been one for attending the local and regional balls – for appearances, yes, but also because there’s nothing more that he loves than being in a room with all sorts of beautiful women and alcohol. Maybe he likes to play the politics game, stringing along every girl he can find so that he gets his pick of wives, so that he can bed any woman he so pleases without as much as a goodbye. Except that once his feelings for you form, his composure crumbles a bit.

He’s standing much, much too close to you throughout the entirety of your dance with him. His hips are tightly pressed against your ass as he follows the 1, 2, 3 of the waltz, the shuddering breath you hear at your ear making your skin crawl.

Maybe he’s insisted on keeping his hand much too low as he guides you through the dance, almost able to feel the hem of your underclothes under the layers of your dress, his fingers eager as he presses them tighter and tighter against you.

He’ll speak to you during the dance, his voice low and whispered and his mouth much too close to your ear, the audible wet sound of him licking his lips seeming louder than the quartet in the corner of the dancefloor.

He’s even asking you to remove your gloves, won’t you? I wouldn’t want to ruin the delicate silk – what would your dear mother think of me? And once they’re off (because really, his tone left very little room for rebuttal), his bare skin is pressing against yours, his palms clammy and sweating and absolutely engulfing yours with the way he keeps grabbing at more more more, wanting to feel every inch of you possible.

And then of course there’s those who aren’t as bold with physicality – no, the mere thought of being any closer to you than society permits is enough to get them hot under the collar, so nervous and flustered that they’re sure they’ll trip over themselves, that they’ll make an absolute fool in front of you. Instead, they resort to more classy measures – that is, it’s a bit jarring when they quickly approach you the moment you’ve entered the ballroom, swallowing harshly and asking in a voice that’s just a hair too high-pitched if they could perhaps have the honor of claiming your first dance this evening?

You can’t exactly say no – and even as you watch him eagerly scribble his name down on the first dance slot, then the second, then the third and fifth and tenth, what can you really say? He’s wealthier than your family, and your mother watches from the corner with a glint in her eye because oh, isn’t this just such an advantageous match?

Even the grouches who only attended the ball in which they met you upon a friend’s request act out in unexpected ways. They seem distracted, clutching onto their lemonade glass with a grip tight enough to turn their knuckles white, their shoulders visibly tense as their eyes scan the room over and over. They’re looking for you, of course. Mentally guessing at what colors you’d be donning this evening, how your hair is styled, what sorts of jewels and precious jewelry sits so prettily in the hollow of your throat or dangles against the sensitive skin of the juncture of your neck and jaw.

And once they've found you, they may not have the courage to speak with you or dance with you. But suddenly you've gained a permanent shadow for the evening. Where you go, he goes. He’s following you a good five feet behind, snaking around fellow attendees and keeping his eyes locked on your figure, biting his lip as he mentally notes who’s eye you’re catching, who’s speaking with you, who’s approaching you with a request to dance.

He’s standing directly behind you as you dance with some low-level baron, some insignificant man who can’t hold a candle to the riches, comfort and adoration that he can give you. And he's just staring, too – eyes like daggers as he watches the interaction, letting the anger simmer and fester until he finally, finally approaches you, his voice gruff and choppy as he compliments your dress (something like this dress is much more handsome than the last one you wore) and practically demands your next dance. Yes, it’s awkward, and yes, he leads far, far too much.

But really, the truly terrible thing to think about is what happens after the ball – when they call upon you in the sanctity of your own home, all sorts of love declarations falling from their lips that are much too hyper specific and draw upon knowledge you know you’ve never shared with him. But you must be kind; he’s of higher rank, after all, in a position where a few bad words could ruin your family forever.

It’s just that when he drops to one knee and proposes, it’s difficult to remember your delicate position because he’s managed to find the ring of your dreams, and he’s going on about how he’s had your bedchamber already decorated to fit all your tastes, how he has a wardrobe full of new dresses he’s had custom-fit to you, how he’s already decided that you’re to have a son first, but then all daughters and you’ll name them James, Eleanor, Kathryn, Marta…

And as he embraces you, the hug either much too tight or much too stiff, it’ll feel like a cage locking into place around you. Because really, what can you do? If you try to fight him, he has the wealth and connections to force your family into consenting. And even if your parents refuse to hand you off to a man you clearly despise and fear, it’s not so difficult to spread the rumors about your purity, to claim that he’d witnessed a servant passionately embracing you, that he’d seen you naked in the arms of some butcher’s boy…

It’s your word against his, and oh, isn’t he so kind for still having you after your reputation’s been destroyed? Isn’t he so dreamy and chivalrous for saving you from a life of destitution and outcast? Even if he’s the one to blame for that life in the first place?

And he’ll be so good to you, he promises. He’ll explain each and every aspect of the wedding night, of the consummation of a marriage, showing you exactly how deeply he’s been desiring you, how long he’s been craving you, how many times he’s fucked his fist and been thinking of you you you in those tempting dresses you wear, of those hips that you sway and move like a fucking minx at every dance you attend…

He’ll leave you wanting for nothing – aside from perhaps your freedom, and perhaps your sanity. But he’s sure you’ll learn to love him.

You must, after all.

Specifically the image of a few characters in the traditional regency dress is making me feral - imagine Aizawa, who's known as the reclusive Duke of the area, his public appearances next to none and his temperament difficult to handle. But alas, what's this? A few snarky comments from you - also standing against the ballroom's wall - about the ridiculousness of women's fashion and the discomfort of dancing in heels has him chuckling a bit, your obvious lack of knowledge of his position making him feel oddly seen. And when you find yourself falling into his company at the next ball he's forced to attend, Aizawa decides there's something particularly agreeable about your smile - finding himself wanting to know if your lips taste as good as they look. And when he loses his composure and blurts these words out, don't expect him to cut off contact with you - instead, he'll immediately speak with your father, requesting your hand in marriage and hoping that in time you might learn to forgive his dismissal of your opinion. Perhaps a child would help distract you, yes?

Imagine Rengoku, who's introduced to you by the ball's hostess, Shinobu. Imagine Rengoku, who immediately dances with you and keeps returning to fill up your dance card, that smile blinding as he spends the evening on the dancefloor by your side. Imagine Rengoku, who calls upon you everyday after first meeting you, his visits growing in frequency - sometimes multiple a day - and duration as the weeks drag on. Imagine the way he'll end each visit by grasping your hand in his and giving it a much-too-long kiss, assuring you that it's only taking this long for him to propose to and wed you because he's having an entirely new manor built - one he thinks you'll like a bit more. Nevermind that you don't wish him to continue his visits or leave you alone - do you like floral or patterned wallpapers more?

Imagine Akaashi, who's every woman's dream for both his looks and status. Imagine the way he holds you so delicately as he twirls you, those steel eyes of his practically cutting into you, his mid-dance questions starting off simple and innocent and slowly morphing into something that feels like an interrogation, something that feels too intimate and demanding and strange. Imagine the way he grasps onto your wrist - still gently but firm enough to eliminate your escape - as he guides you towards the refreshments table, insisting that you absolutely must drink something because he's noticed you haven't drunk anything since you arrived nearly an hour ago. But don't mention the fact that you didn't meet until roughly twenty minutes ago - long after you'd walked through the front doors.

Imagine Chrollo, who manages to charm his way into getting you alone with him on the balcony, those dark eyes smoldering as he compliments you. There's something stiff and rehearsed about it, and as you snort and ask him how many women he seduces in a night's work, something clicks in his brain. Imagine the way he doesn't leave your side for an instant after that, glued to your hip and seamlessly managing to evade each and every potential suitor from approaching you. Imagine the way he begins inviting you for long stays at his rather luxurious home, conveniently placing your bedchambers beside his own, spending night after night with his ear pressed against your shared wall and biting his lip as he fists his cock to the sound of you humming to yourself and washing your face with the pale of lukewarm water he'd used first then had the servants bring to you.

[imagineredwood]

Would it be possible to get an HC or would include of Yandere Juice who's readers best friend and he (somehow) convinces reader to have sex with him and he pokes holes into the condom without her knowing? Thank you for giving us all the dark boys lately ☺️

**As you can tell from the request, this is not gonna be everyone’s cup of tea ***

This is obviously triggering content to some people so please please please don't read it if the subject is off-limits or triggering to you. It's yandere Juice who like anyone in that realm is crazy, obsessed, and unhinged and is not by any means a healthy depiction of a relationship. If anyone were to display these behaviors, RUN. That being said, the sex in the HC is consensual, it's the pregnancy that the reader hasn't agreed to obviously because the reader doesn't know. And one could say she was slightly coerced by being horny. (I did tag it for a TW for the R word since she didn't consent to unprotected sex but PLEASE tell me if there are any other tags for triggers I need to put in this post.) If you're on the dark fiction taglist and there are specific topics you don't want to be tagged for please also let me know. I also tagged it for categorization purposes on my page, but if anyone thinks I should remove them so they don't show up in the shows/characters tags please let me know. I'm still new to this type of content and want to make sure I don't do anything wrong.

He’s wanted you for so long

Wanted to marry you and spoil you and show you off as his

He loves you so much and has for so long

But you're just friends

Something you always made sure to remind him of whenever the joke flirting got to be a little too serious

You loved him, no doubt

But you were always hesitant, not knowing if he could be faithful when surrounded by so many other beautiful women so often

You didn't want to risk a broken heart

And he would rather have you only as a friend over not at all

So he never pushed

Only making half asses offers, hoping that one day you'd bite

It was one night when the conversation turned to sex again that he saw a golden opportunity

You admitted that you had never tried one of his favorite positions

Never saw the appeal

And he knows this is his chance

"You'd love it. I know you would. Once you try it, you'll understand. "

He'd go into detail more and more, slowly

Explaining exactly how he does it

How he'd touch you

How he'd position you

How good you would sound

How he would make you see stars

And he can see the way your eyes glaze over ever so slightly

It's the narrative as he explains and the way your mind plays it out that has your thighs squeezing

You think it's subtle enough that he'd never notice

But he notices everything

And he needs you to see how good he could be for you

"Come on. Just trust me. We'll go right back like nothing ever happened right after if you want. Think of it as a learning experience."

And before long, he's got you agreeing

"Just so I can try it out."

He nods and agrees, going into the nightstand and grabbing the one single loose condom that's out of the box

The one he kept for just this very moment

A baby is like an eternal link

Even if you decide eventually that you wanted to leave him, he'd always have access to a part of you

A bond that would be unbreakable

The mother of his child

He'd be a wonderful protector and provider

You'll see that soon enough

Dark fiction taglist 

@whitetxilwxlf @kikijackson-blog @ben-c-group-therapy @ravennaortiz @mama-mischief @pekusofixus @shellofashadow @flowercrowns-goodvibes

[elvestoneanzelote1]

I just come up with a great idea and I like it so much smh 😭

Can you do a yandere Atsushi and yandere Dazai (separately) with a reader who really have low self-esteem? It's so low to the point that even if you call them a b-word, degrading them and they would go "Oh thank you so much for wasting your time on taking care of sth like me!" with a happy face.

Surprisingly, the reader also know about that and used it to their advantage, would even victimized themselves just to get what they want.

They would be very caring towards Atsushi and manipulate (bribe, promise, not breaking his mind even more) him into doing what they want without question asked (not like he would anyway) but with Dazai, they would like to see how pathetic he is for wanting their affection, knowing they are the only one could make him gets on his knees and begs that he would be a good pet for them.

Yea, the reader can be a low self-esteem person but also can be a meanie if they want to, but only to their yanderes tho (especially those who that are hard to break like Dazai, Mori, Ranpo,... With those who are easy to break, they would just manipulate them and giving loves)

I want to see this type of reader sometimes but there aren't many, you're my last hope for my fantasy! 😭

This is my first time requesting this so I'm so nervous omg 💀

Oh and, you can call me Ry.

𝙰:𝚗- 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚁𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚏 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜.

𝙴𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚝𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎 𝚘𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚝.

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚍𝚎: 𝚍𝚊𝚣𝚊𝚒, 𝙰𝚝𝚜𝚞𝚜𝚑𝚒 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚔𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚔𝚒𝚍𝚊.

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝚐𝚊𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝙼𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚈/𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚖.

.

.

𝘋𝘢𝘻𝘢𝘪 𝘖𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘶.

The only reason how even does Dazai find you appealing is a question itself. Don't get him wrong he love you a lot but.

Your low self esteems and often shyness and couldn't even take a single insult make him wonder why he choose to be with you.

You are indeed a kind women who listen to him and indeed you were there with him when he quit Port Mafia.

He met you during his stay in underground.

Perhaps fate.

But he is still cautious of his words approaching you was an attempt.

A very hard attempt.

As you often be surrounded by people.

But one time he realise his mistake when he got angry at you.

As you mistakenly tied his bandages in wrong shape.

He won't be mad at you for silly reason but he was as his mood was already ruin by the people.

Your eyes were watery as you gaze to the ground avoiding to stare at him.

"I guess you are... Right I am a failure.. A b*tch" you muttered walking away with drag feet.

As much as he was angry he doesn't want you to leave him.

Your the only company he tolerates and somehow you care for him. Maybe you care for the others too.

He was the one who used two years of his and yours to lurred you to follow him.

Yes you are indeed a professional at finding and erasing people records. And no it wasn't your ability but purely skill.

I guess that's also a reason he feel connected to you.

He pampered you with hugs which you never ask but you comply so that you can get what you want.

He buy things for you... Well Kunikida money was at stake too.

He buy the new bag you often shyly mentions.

He knew somehow you want him to comply on your wishes which is why he call you.

"A cheeky chipmunk with greed like an elephant"

You negatively took it.

Yet he didn't bother to console you and only said it was the truth.

Somehow with his sarcasm you eventually somehow got used to it somehow.

But... He is seriously protective of you. Especially as you do not have an ability he prefer you to be on sideline.

He does get jealous when Ranpo and you talk to each other more.

Both of you were a sweet fan

And Ranpo fondness towards you for having no ability but pure skill make him praise you.

Dazai is the one drag you away from Ranpo who often get confused of why yet Yosano mention jealousy which Ranpo was more confused.

Dazai will make sure you spend less time with the others and only focus on him in exchange of your sly demands on things.

He cannot make you leave him right? Of course if you does so... He will make sure the same imply to you that... You only rely on him and only him.

.

.

𝘕𝘢𝘬𝘢𝘫𝘪𝘮𝘢 𝘈𝘵𝘴𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘪.

At first he really admired you from afar.

You the lady who eventually gave him a bread when he was starving on the outside world.

Your gently smile and kindness make him fall for you as he met you again during the Agency time.

You recognise him, oh how happy he was.

He blindly ignore you trying to get information from him about the agency.

He smile at you making you annoyed but you were patient to fulfil your mission and the thought to end him often linger onto you.

As money problem is the reason why you even work for the other group.

But when they insulted you for been weakass and couldn't take out a single useful info about agency. Unaware Atsushi stalk you so that you will be safe that day.

But his anger boil when he saw you cry.

"Repeat it! You are a whore who cannot do anything! Right"

"...I am a who-" before you uttered that word right in your eyes in split seconds the senior of yours was cut to half.

There stay a full transformed tiger as you fall on your kness afraid.

Yet the tiger ate those people as the whole group was eaten only some blood splattered on the floor most were droplets of blood.

"D-dont kill me, I-I am just a-"

"Y/n" said the tiger as your eyes widen when it detransformed back to a human.

You feel yourself vomiting out as you realise Atsushi ate away your colleagues those who pay you.

The blood beside his lips make you back away in fear.

Before you beg for his mercy he hugged you dearly.

Then it click to your mind and you happily agreed to be with him as you would rather prefer a home then leave in streets pretending to be a noble women who is kind and give bread to others but eventually you are starving more then them

A grave mistake on your part even if he gave it all to you as much as he could.

You never able to leave his sight ever again.

.

.

.

𝘒𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘬𝘪𝘥𝘢 𝘋𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘰.

He couldn't even uttered a word to you. You often lose your cool.

You were a teacher like him, a substitute teacher whereas he teaches math you teaches English.

Your self esteem was so low that you came crying when the kids eventually throw papers at you and make fun of you.

He was the one who scared them all for you.

Now that he thinks about he misses you a lot.

But that thought vanish when he saw you out in a park.

People were shock as the guy slapped you across your face.

As tears fall from your eyes as you gripped your bag tightly.

"What a moron can't even bear a single slap" said the other women as the guy cooed at his women while you were a victim of embarrassment.

"What's going on?" Asked Kunikida who approach the scene as The other women point a finger on you.

"She was begging my boyfriend to be hers! Even if she knew I was his girlfriend"

As people muttered how disgusting you were to eyed another man as Kunikida let out a sighed and slapped the women like how the man slapped you.

Your eyes widen as you finally look up to see Kunikida and the man anger.

"How dare you hurt my girlfriend!?"

"These lady here is the side women who stole y/n the victim here boyfriend more likely they both used her. She was a good friend of this women who seduced the boyfriend a vile women"

"I'm not! What proofed-"

Kunikida simply played a voice recorder where they mention about the money you gave to your boyfriend for his business.

Kind you were only to help your boyfriend.

He eventually arrest them both for manipulating you and taking your money.

People gasped in shock as they eventually start pointing the other two for such audacity to victimised a victim as the fault.

Kunikida approach you with the money.

"Here... You alright y/n?"

"Y-yeah thank you..." You said as you gently smile a bit.

He was worried as you were in questioning term how he knows about you and the whole affair thing.

And when did he record it. (Thanks to Katai).

He have been looking out for you some weeks now.

"Thanks again... Umm..."

He was disappointed by your confused face.

"Kunikida Doppo"

"Ah! The colleague!"

"Y-yeah" he muttered as he blush away by your happy smiled.

He couldn't help but feel happy to meet you again.

All this time he realise you were indeed an ideal match for him.

But sometimes he is concern of your low self-esteem as you often kick out of job because of that.

"Live in with me then"

"Huh?"

"I know it is not idealistic but... I want you to live with me I will take care of money as you can work at my apartment that way no worries for money and rent as you can repay-"

You hugged him happily in joy. Oh how glad you were to bring it up.

Kunikida couldn't help but be flustered.

But you knew you couldn't get what you want on things of sort after all... Kunikida will and make you an ideal women of his.

Despite you trying to refuse but somehow you knew... Instead of you manipulating him he is the one gaslight you intot submission.

People assume you both as green flag perhaps you were but... The saying goes two red flags make it green.

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A:n- that is all good day/night to all!

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

hmm… as for the discussion of yandere women as a lady myself…

i think what’s the most appealing for a yandere woman to me would be more of the dom manipulative type. like the trope of “why are you dating him? he’s awful. i’m so much better for you”

like a friend who definitely walks the line of being too close. more intense than bubbly when unhinged. nice to you but apparently can be quite scary

oh or a pirate lady or like a knight (lmao)

I wanna get kabedon'd by a big sister, but I'm too tall lol

Seriously though, that would be a nice change from the typical fem yanderes popular in media.

[harocat]

For me personally the super dark romantasy male lead vibe in an m/f story isn’t appealing. Like this doesn’t mean I need my MLs to be pure obviously (this should be clear from the fandoms I’m into), but domineering, manipulative, controlling toward their love interest is a turn off for me. This doesn’t mean I can’t EVER like it, but it’s uncommon.

It’s not purity culture. I don’t care if others enjoy it.

Firstly, it is that it reminds me personally too much of real life, and this is why it is hardest for me to see with m/f ships. Because I see women treated like this every day.

This isn’t a moral judgment on fiction or being unable to separate fiction from reality. I just can’t mentally bring myself to find this appealing because in my mind that’s how it is. I don’t think it shouldn’t exist. Not every story is for me.

Adding to this, and maybe even more of a factor; I’m gay, so there’s nothing tying me to this on a fantasy level. I respect that women find escapism in stories like this, and it can be sexually alluring, but as I’m not attracted toward men at all, let alone do I ever imagine a relationship with one, I can’t approach it like this.

My attachment to an m/f relationship is purely an emotional connection to their characters and their relationship because of this. If it doesn’t resonate with me there, there’s nothing to be interested in.

This is to say I saw a post recently talking about this, and it seemed to be of the opinion that you either like these kinds of stories, or you can’t separate fiction from reality. But that’s not true; personal preference, sexuality, etc. are all things that can tie into feelings on them that have nothing to do with not being able to separate fiction from reality.

To what originally prompted this post, Ziqi is the latest character who is much darker in his original novel than his adaptation, and I vastly prefer the character in the adaptation. I’m not interested in a yandere boyfriend for Miaomiao. I adore Ziqi as a character in the drama.

What bugs me is the idea from some fans that his drama self is inferior. He’s such a good, layered, and complex character in the drama, and DYX brings him to life with sensitivity and care. I could ramble about this boy for days. He’s different. He had to be. But he’s not lesser.

I think if you’re a fan of a novel like this being made into a drama, you should probably realize that the character has to be altered a lot in the changeover. And sometimes this can be done poorly (Kill Me, Love Me is an example of doing a sloppy job imo), but when the writers, within the limitations they have, use this opportunity to craft a character that may be different, but is still excellent (or even better), it should be appreciated on its own merit.

If you love novel Ziqi more than anything and don’t want to see him softened, that’s fine, but it’s just different, not less. And if you like both versions? You get two cakes!

Drama Ziqi isn’t novel Ziqi. Comparing the two the way some fans do really says nothing about the actual writing quality. It just ends up reading as ‘novel Ziqi is better because he’s darker.’ Which… no. From a writing quality perspective, that’s just a personal preference, not a reason.

[peachymilkandcream]

Hello again, the author. I have another idea. For example, oriental themes, such as ancient Egypt or the countries of the Middle East, where Levi is a rich monarch, and Evelyn is a concubine dancer. If my memory serves me right, you haven't had this before.

Dance For Me|Levi x Evelyn AU

(A/N: No I haven't had this one before! Interesting concept that I'm 100% willing to take you up on! Hope you enjoy and thank you for the request!)

WARNINGS: implied noncon/dubcon, big age difference, kidnapping, slavery, violence, power imbalance, implied somnophilia, forced pregnancies, mind breaking, yandere behaviour, yandere themes, forced exhibitionism, etc.

================================================

Too many girls. Too many girls Levi had gone through and watched dance for him. Each one his advisors promised would be more appealing to the picky monarch's taste. Each one had fallen short in some regard.

Too tall. Too short. Too thin. No chest. Blonde hair. Wrong shade of brown hair. Wrong shade of blue eyes, Weird proportions. Not funny. Too funny. Not talented enough. Too talented she thinks she's hot shit. Not perfect. Not enough. Not what he wants.

The list went on and on. No one could make the grumpy old bastard pleased.

They all so desperately hoped that one could charm her way into Levi's bed. He was entirely against advantageous marriages, seeing as they only ever benefitted the women. But the kingdom needed an heir regardless of Levi's feelings on the matter. Perhaps he'd take one just to get him laid and stop this attitude.

Finally with the collapse of a near by town, a young woman from the prisoners would be perfect for their ruler.

As far as they understood from his ever changing tastes, this one might stand a chance to please him. A good height. Rich brown hair. Eyes without green in them. Maybe she would be their saving grace in dealing with Levi's mood swings.

Cleaned, perfumed, dressed and then shipped off to the presence of Levi without so much as a chance to understand what was going on or to say goodbye to her loved ones. Now her whole life would be dedicated to this tyrant she would call master.

===============================================

It was months before she appeared to Levi for the first time. Her looks were enough to bring her this position but she needed to learn how to dance to gain his favor.

At first it was clumsy and uncoordinated, but soon Evelyn found small rays of joy in expressing herself with dance. It was all to please the emperor she knew, but at least she could find something for herself in it.

No one had told her about the true reason for her dancing. It wasn't just to entertain Levi, it was to entice him into bed. Had she known, the likelihood of her preforming well most likely would go down. Most of the girls his advisors believed failed on purpose just to not end up knocked up and alone, never able to find true love.

The poor girl wouldn't know what she was getting into.

===============================================

When the time came, Evelyn tried her best to block out the judgmental eyes of the emperor's gaze. If she let herself think about those watching her she would undoubtedly mess up her footwork. No, she had to just think of the steps, that was it. Hopefully he would find favor with her and she wouldn't be executed along with her kin.

Levi did find favor. The girl was exactly what he had been looking for. Levi always demanded his dancers wear just enough clothing to leave something to the imagination, but only to leave a little. The way she moved was clumsy and awkward at times, but Levi wasn't getting any younger. And her looks were enough that she could mature and grow with time to truly please him.

As she finished, Levi outstretched a hand to the mysterious girl. "Come here and tell me your name."

Evelyn, beaming with both fear and excitement bows before him. "Evelyn, Your Grace. At your service."

"Evelyn. You have pleased me greatly. My aide will take you to your new room. You have earned my grace and my seed."

She didn't pick up on what he meant by the last part. Perhaps she would be allowed to have a bit of land to start her life on. Oh how generous! Evelyn followed the man through the halls to a lavish chamber. This is how he rewarded those that pleased him? It had gone better than she thought. She felt like a princess in this massive room. Luxury dripping from every corner.

What a lucky woman she was.

She didn't even see it coming when Levi soon joined her within. She didn't grasp what was truly her fate until the seed he had really meant dripped steadily out of her with each animalistic thrust. She had been so wrong. So wrong to trust him.

What would become of her now?

[seeminglyseph]

I'm like... slowly watching a Chainsaw Man reaction and getting stoned to deal with a liiitttle PTSD episode I had earlier... and realizing that like.

as a person. who is very touch starved and lonely in my own way. while Denji has like "I wanna touch a boob" which is like funny etc etc... if he was not an animated character whose age was easy to forget, because his everyman protagonist placement makes me accidentally age him up to be closer in age to me... anime is bad for me just fuckin' forgetting that people are high school students. I just mentally adjust people to be 'neutral age' instead of their actual age. Especially if they happen to work in an adult industry surrounded by other adults.

I fully like. though. can understand like. 'man... sometimes I'm curious what that kind of sexual interaction is like. I have kinda given up on being seen as sexually appealing... but I kinda crave that intimacy.' and like. a lot of really toxic relationships have been built on that foundation. and exploring it with Denji is really interesting because like. Denji and Makima are.. a relationship dynamic I've seen played out with the Teacher and Student in a lot of series that aren't supernatural adventure shows. "I've given up on being considered attractive but I crave something" and "I know I can manipulate you and can get what I want from you without you realizing it because you have no experience and no confidence" and it's really fascinating. And all of us knew it was bad from the moment it started, but it was like 'yeah but it's like... something. and that's kinda good enough.'

And like. I ain't gonna shame the folks barking, I got my fair share of nasty abusive freaks I would bark at too. My Toxic Fictional Man list is Too Fucking Long. I'm just like. Too Gay for Makima. that's the only reason I'm not right there with you. Also I have like... too many abusive toxic women in my real life, fictional toxic women just don't do it for me. but like genuinely, I get it. I understand. Good for you, I hope you enjoy the good rep for genuinely horrifying Toxic Fictional Mistresses Who Might Walk You On A Leash If You're Good. like I get that want for fictional characters who make you both scared and horny for the subs out there. it's hard to get a good Evil Dominant who isn't just Tsundere or Yandere. The Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss is immaculate and like, congratulations on your full sexual awakening.

But practice safe kink IRL. to bring it maybe back around I guess. it's important to know like. when you can tolerate and survive being alone better than being with someone toxic, and that like. it's one thing to do a sexy roleplay of that stuff, but like there has to be a place where is stops 'cause it can wear down your self worth. Practice safe boundaries in kink. it's important even it maybe it's kinda boring. But it can mean you can do more exciting stuff. You *can* be someone's dog, if you also know you are important and valuable and a person with the right to say no in situations that you don't like. Live your fucking best life with communication, boundaries and safe kink. idk.

[laughing-with-god]

The Unsaid Vow (Prologue)

Synopsis- You always knew when you weren't wanted. And the way things are going in your marriage with Jungkook, a divorce is looking more and more likely. While he's getting closer to a woman at work that you're certain he's having an affair with, you're planning your escape with your four-year-old son. However, five years of marriage did not expose you to a certain side of your husband. A side of Jungkook that only gets triggered when you try to leave and break apart your perfect 'family'.

Warnings- Yandere behavior, graphic language, violence/murder, women bashing on other women, heavily implied infidelity, bad parenting, absent father, broken family vibes, very slow buildup bc Jungkook doesn't really snap until you leave him so just give him a min lol, inexperienced author writing for a four-year-old (I never wrote for a kid before pls gimme a break), also I chose my future son's name for this fic but pls feel free to name him whatever you want :)

Slow burn Yandere Husband Jungkook

Word Count; 5.4k

Unlike the vast majority of married couples, neither you nor Jungkook donned wedding rings.

Never in your five years of marriage did you regret this decision, given it was brought upon by you and your husband’s lack of funds for fancy wedding bands at the time of your rushed marriage.

Well, you were never annoyed....until tonight, that is.

The scene before you was exceptionally intimate, so much so that you felt the instinctual need to look away in respect of the two before you.

The woman was gorgeous, effortlessly attracting all the attention the small conference room had to offer. In addition to this natural charisma spurred on by her borderline enchanting looks, her short and skin-tight red dress showed off her pleasantly curvy body. Her long, silky, and jet-black hair was pulled back into an elegant ponytail that provided a simple background for her darling features. Utterly doll-like was her face; petite, creamy in complexion with bright doe eyes and berry-pink lips.

Such a beautiful woman was currently in the arms of an equally, if not more so, attractive man.

He was tall and slender, yet not at all lanky given his sturdy build that was a testament to his strict workout regime. His olive skin was complimented with occasional tattoos, a mix of faded and fresh ink that you knew like the back of your hand despite only the tats on his hand currently showing in his crisp Valentino suit. His mid-length inky black hair was down to frame his sharp face, and indeed it was a very handsome one consisting of full eyebrows, bow-like lips, a fleshy yet impish nose, and two large, yet seemingly bottomless, raven orbs.

This man had his arms encircling the middle of the mysterious woman, her expression lifting into a light-hearted giggle as she leaned forward to whisper something in his ear.

Whatever she said must’ve been amusing to the man, given his usual stoic facade briefly melted away as he allowed a small smile at her words, his pearly round teeth peeking out for a split-second appearance.

If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought that these two were lovers.

But there was only one problem with this scene.

That was your husband, Jungkook.

And that woman in his arms was not you.

As if sensing your distress and wanting to soothe your well-founded suspicion, Jungkook pulled away from the woman and ran his gaze across the room- only stopping when he spotted you. Your spouse then gestured at you, the girl following his line of sight and landing on you and your pitiful spot by the snack table. Her joyful expression briefly dropped for a blink-and-you'll-miss-it second, but she quickly plastered on another grin and nodded. The two then strode their way over to you, barely giving you enough time to steel your nerves and muster a polite purse of the lips.

Before you knew it, the woman was right in front of you with your partner at her side instead of yours. Much to your dismay, she was only more attractive up close, and you narrowly held back a grimace as she held out a hand in introduction. You took it and shook it lifelessly.

“Hello, you must be Mrs. Jeon. I’m Sana, Jungkook’s colleague.” Even her voice was pretty, musical and light to the ears.

“H-Hi, nice to meet you but please call me Y/n.” A brief and awkward pause as Sana briefly sized you up and down. “Um, Jungkook has never mentioned you….” you trailed off, side-eyeing your husband in hopes he would intervene and add context to this random goddess he’s thrust upon you.

Jungkook gracefully took his cue and explained, “Sana transferred from another branch out of the city and has only been with us for five months. I’m her case supervisor and have been taking care of her, showing her the ropes and whatnot.”

Sana didn’t even spare you a glance as she fondly looked up at your husband, coyly biting her lip and saying in a much softer tone that could've been just for his ears only, “And he’s been really good at taking care of me.”

You didn’t consider yourself a jealous stay-at-home wife who obsessed over the tiniest details between her husband and other women, but the double meaning behind her badly-whispered comment was enough to make you splutter in disbelief. However before you could even gather up the courage to ask just what the hell ‘taking care of me’ consisted of, two new faces waltzed up and joined the conversation.

“Are you all enjoying this fabulous Christmas party?” A tall, broad-shouldered but nice-looking man asked in a tone of familiar amicability.

You thankfully smiled up at him, having met him many times before.

His name was Jin, and he was the one who got Jungkook this job.

It occurred about five years ago when you first told Jungkook that you were pregnant. Being the romantic but overall good guy that Jungkook was, he insisted that you two get married so that your child could have parents who were at least husband and wife. In addition it would also lessen the judgment in your two families, which at the time was extremely appealing to you. You had agreed to marry on one condition: after running to the courthouse you two would need to move in together in a decent apartment with a room for the nursery. But getting an apartment would mean month-to-month rent, and Jungkook’s tattooing gigs weren’t stable enough to ensure that.

Jin was originally a friend of Jungkook’s older brother, but when he heard through the grapevine about the issue, he bought Jungkook a couple of suits and offered him a job at the corporation he worked at.

Now Jungkook made more than enough money to support your little family, and it was all because Jin took a chance on a college drop-out and his knocked-up girlfriend.

You opened your mouth to respond but were cut off by the unknown lady beside Jin.

“I’d say a little too much fun if anything. Sana and Jungkook, we get that you're the infamous office couple but maybe tone it down a bit, huh?” She joked while raising her brows at the close proximity between the two.

A long and tortuous silence swept the scene.

Jin glanced at you, pity swimming in his usually carefree eyes.

Not trusting your voice to say anything and desperately wanting to hide your face from the piercing eyes, you distracted yourself by taking calculated sips of watered-down eggnog.

“Daehyun...this is actually Y/n, Jungkook’s wife,” Jin told the lady in an uncomfortable voice.

You didn’t know what stung more, the fact that this stranger thought that there was more chemistry between Sana and your husband than with you, or that it was Jin who corrected this mistake and not Jungkook himself.

“O-Oh, well it’s nice to meet you.” Daehyun awkwardly said to you while avoiding direct eye contact.

You offered a tight smile, “Pleasure.”

Whatever gratitude you could’ve had for Daehyun’s clear embarrassment quickly vanished when the woman went on to continue, “I’m sorry. Jungkook never mentioned being married and he doesn’t wear a ring so I didn’t even know. I bet it must be interesting for his housewife to meet his office wife though, right?”

She laughed, not realizing that she only succeeded in putting a foot in her mouth right before stomping it all over your pesky little heart. The group didn’t seem to share your uneasiness, all three of them politely chuckling along to the lukewarm joke at your expense. Once again, you focused on your dwindling beverage to avoid the burden of speaking or even facing them directly, too scared that your miserable expression would be unanimously inspected.

“Well, we just came over to recruit you all for some karaoke!” Jin cheerfully announced, clearly trying to change the subject, “There’s a machine in the break-out room and it’s more fun to sing with a group.”

“More like you want an audience.” Jungkook wittingly teased, a handsome smirk on his face as Sana playfully scolded him with a push to the chest.

“I’ll take your jabs now Kookie because I know they stem from your insecurity that I can actually upstage you in the vocals department.” Jin rebutted in good nature, even letting your husband’s old nickname slip.

Daehyun and Sana both guffawed at this declaration, exaggerated disbelief present on their faces.

“Jungkook is the best singer in the office. He’ll upstage you without even trying.” Daehyun said in a tenor of utter confidence.

“Only one way to find out!” Jin brushed the comment off, pointing to the direction of the assumed breakout room, “Karaoke anyone?”

The so-called office wife nodded enthusiastically, taking your husband’s arm and looking up at him to plead, “Can we do a duet of that one song we like?”

Jungkook, for the first time in seemingly hours, shot you with a questioning gaze.

Be married to someone for a while and you’ll learn how to decipher what they’re trying to say with just mere looks. Your husband was wordlessly inquiring if you were going to join, if he should go along with the group or if you two should break away and do something else.

The ball was finally in your court.

Not wanting to be rude but needing to get away from these people before you lost your cool, you decided on a subtle excuse.

“I need a refill, but maybe we can meet you all later?” You said, shaking your empty paper cup as if to prove your case.

“Oh, well the drinks are right behind you.” Sana condescendingly pointed out, tightening her hold on your husband and began steering him towards the exit, “We’ll save a seat for you.”

Bewildered, you watched as Jungkook obediently followed her lead with the Daehyun girl trailing behind.

He didn’t even spare you a glance.

You wanted to be angry.

You wanted to storm up to your husband, yank him out of the clutches of his colleagues and practically drag him back home under the premise that he would never speak to Sana ever again.

But instead of a righteous rage fueled by the marital vows you two took, utter exhaustion bestowed upon you and prevented any instigation on your part.

Maybe earlier in your marriage you would’ve fought for his attention, but now you simply just wanted to go home and lick your wounds with the help of a Ben and Jerry’s ice cream while self-obsessing over Sana’s outrageous attractiveness. After all, who could blame any hot-blooded man for choosing that goddess over you? What could you possibly do but lean back and accept that she was the obvious choice?

Other than her being a knockout beauty while you were merely average on your best day, she had other qualities that made her a more appealing catch. She was most likely younger than you, obviously fit, more ambitious and professionally driven than you, and presumably has no kids.

Meanwhile, you were just an old stay-at-home mom who lived off of her husband’s paychecks while he fucked his coworkers behind her oblivious back.

Before you could draw more detailed comparisons between Sana and yourself, you felt a large hand place itself on the middle of your back, successfully guiding your attention to the only person who bothered staying by your side.

Jin smiled sadly at you, sympathy shadowing his expression as he gestured with his other hand to the empty cup still in your hold. “Let’s get you some more eggnog.”

You nodded wordlessly, still speechless from the interaction, and allowed the taller man to guide you towards the snack table. Jin then took your cup and refilled it himself, providing you the opportunity to pick at the catered food in some cheap attempt at stress eating. By the time Jin came back with a full cup, you were halfway done with a sugar cookie and eyeing the meatballs next.

“Here ya go,” Jin said as he handed over the drink to you. You took it and nodded in thanks but kept your eyes glued to the food, not wanting him to see just how defeated and tired your face probably was. But, Jin wasn’t going to let the whole thing go. “Y/n….I know what you saw and heard looks really bad but trust me….nothing is going on between Sana and Jungkook.”

You snorted. “It doesn’t just look bad, Jin. It was like they were practically rubbing it in my face. Him having an affair isn’t the problem, it’s the way they’re not even bothering to keep it down. The least they could do is be discreet.”

Jin’s jaw slightly dropped, “‘Him having an affair isn’t the problem’? Y/n, do you even hear yourself? Of course that would be a problem! Do you not care about your own marriage anymore?”

And there it was.

The big question.

Did you truly even care about this marriage?

Well, let’s look at the facts.

One: The disrespect of his alleged mistress was more offensive to you than the fact that she was a mistress.

Two: Jungkook dragging you along to this office Christmas party was the first time in over a year that he bothered to take you out.

Three: You two had humble beginnings and could barely afford food, much less wedding bands when you first got married, but now he was a very wealthy man and had no excuse for not buying you or himself a ring. Unless, of course, he enjoyed acting single around other women.

Four: And on top of all this, it had to be factored in how distant he has been with overwhelming work hours that prevented any alone time with your husband. Sex with Jungkook has been off the table for almost a year now.

But did any of this really bother you until tonight? The answer was a resounding no. You were willing to take all those burdens in stride but tonight it wasn’t just about the fact that you were the unwanted wife Jungkook got sacked with, it was the fact that you were humiliated and forced to face the type of girl Jungkook should’ve been married to all along. That was all you were truly upset about.

The conclusion that you indeed didn’t care about your marriage and haven’t in some time now hit you in a sudden wave, but in no way were you shocked.

Voice shaky and brittle, you allowed yourself to be vulnerable with Jin and say the one thing you always secretly thought but never dared utter out loud. “I-I guess I always expected it to end like this. When we were younger, he was always the popular one and all the girls wanted him. We were only dating for three months when I got pregnant, and if it weren’t for our son he probably would’ve dumped me eventually and left for another girl. But, he stuck around for his kid because he’s a good father. And I’ve been nothing but a burden to him for a while now.”

Tears began to blur your vision, forcing you to quickly duck down and quietly sip at your drink so as to not embarrass yourself even more.

You heard a shuffle and suddenly Jin was holding you, using both of his lengthy arms to cage you in and rest you against his broad chest. It had been a long time since a man had held you like that, and you practically went boneless at the contact. You closed your eyes and tried to will away the incoming tears, even going so far as to solely focus on the scent of Jin’s cologne as he soothingly said, “Y/n, listen closely to what I’m about to say. You and Hugo were never a burden to Jungkook, and you two never will be. Your marriage was sudden, but it doesn’t make it less valid than any other marriage out there. Jungkook has been with you for so long, he just doesn’t realize when other women are interested in him because he’s been off the market forever. But I promise you, if I knew for even a second that he cheated, I would tell you right away.”

You didn’t say anything.

Although Jin’s words were comforting, they weren’t necessarily true. A marriage that started from a healthy courtship and true love instead of inconvenient circumstances was of course more valid than yours. And even though you were sure of Jin’s honesty and loyalty to you, Jungkook could’ve easily kept his affair secret from Jin as well.

However, you didn’t wish to concern Jin anymore. You already put him through too much awkwardness tonight and didn’t want to keep him by your side as some sort of emotional sponsor any longer than you already have. Jin always loved parties and was the life of any one he was invited to, even if it was just a lame annual office gathering. You then felt guilty for putting Jin in a situation where he would even have to console you when he should be out enjoying karaoke with the rest of his coworkers.

You promptly pulled away from Jin and wiped at your face. He released you and also took a step back, carefully studying you for any signs of further turmoil. Once sure that your face was acceptably dry, you gazed back up at him and offered a thankful smile. “Thanks Jin, I’m sorry I just dumped all of that on you. I really have to use the ladies' room though, can you point me to it?”

“It’s right by the conference room,” Jin informed, pointing out the general direction for you. You nodded and took a few steps toward it before he grasped your wrist to stop you and ask, “Do you want me to wait for you?”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll just find you and Jungkook when I’m out. Go and join the others for karaoke.”

Jin nodded but seemed unsure.

You didn’t look back to see if he actually went to follow the others, instead just advancing to the restrooms, secretly looking forward to some alone time even if it had to come from a public bathroom.

Once you entered the restroom you were relieved to find it completely empty, you weren’t sure if you could handle another run-in with Jungkook’s female colleagues. They all seemed to have a personal vendetta against you.

Instantly, you dashed to the mirror to inspect your makeup, assuming at least the mascara was ruined from your little cry. Thankfully, the damage was minimal and you were able to clean the smudges up with a damp napkin. You focused all your attention on the dreadfully small task, trying not to study your reflection too much given it would just conjure up more mental comparisons to all the other prettier women you encountered that night.

Yet the small task couldn’t last a lifetime, and you had to resort to looking at your phone in search of things to do. You weren’t emotionally ready to go out and search for your husband, so you wanted to prolong your time in the bathroom. Although it hasn’t been that long since you left the house, you decided to text the babysitter for any updates about your son.

To Emily: Hey, is everything okay with Hugo?

It only took about 40 seconds for the teenage neighbor girl to text back an answer, clearly on top of things and overly eager to provide any updates.

Emily: Yes! He ate his dinner, took his bath and we’re about to get ready for bed.

Your motherly instincts were satisfied with that response, but it didn’t do anything to subdue your desire to return back home. Your thumbs briefly hovered over the keypad, somewhat hesitant with the next text you were about to send.

To Emily: Great, thanks again for doing this. Listen, I think we might head back home sooner than we thought. Don’t worry tho, I’ll still give you the pay for the full four hours.

Before you could wait for a response from her, the sound of multiple incoming footsteps interrupted the steady silence in the restroom. Muffled female conversation could also be heard, the slight laughter and bickering amongst a group of women approaching the bathroom. Your fight or flight instinct was triggered, and to avoid any more awkward encounters you rushed to the nearest stall and shut the door- fully prepared to wait out the faceless group of female colleagues.

You heard the restroom door swish open before the women burst in, chatting and giggling with their heels clicking against the tile floor. One of the unknown females made way to the stall beside you, the others presumably hovering by the mirror if the sudden comments about their appearances were anything to go by. You quietly sighed and pulled out your phone again, ready to drown out their office politics talk.

Only for the conversation to somehow steer towards you.

“Did you see her?”

“Of course, I was very confused, to be honest.” One of them replied. “I mean….look at Jungkook and you just assume that whoever he’s with is drop-dead gorgeous, and she was just eh.”

“Yeah, she was pretty plain. What was her name again?”

“Y/n.” A third voice cut in, this one eerily familiar to you.

You glued a hand over your mouth to silence your gasp.

It was Sana.

“Did he ever mention her around you? You are the closest to him in the office Sana, and we didn’t even know he had a wife until tonight.”

“No, I didn’t know until tonight either.”

“What?! That’s insane. Literally all the time he spends with you: getting coffee, buying you lunch, driving you home after late nights, and he conveniently never mentions that he has a wife at home?”

“That’s suspicious. But I guess if I had a dog like that at home, I’d never mention her either.”

Cruel laughter from all of them.

The toilet from the stall next to you flushed, then opened as a new voice entered the discussion while she approached the sinks.

“It’s more than suspicious. He doesn’t even wear a wedding ring. And he’s so close to Sana but never mentioned that he’s married?” A pause as she washed her hands. “It’s obvious what he’s trying to do. Jungkook is trying to have an affair with Sana.”

Although this exchange was extremely hurtful to you, you felt somewhat relieved that you weren’t the only one to see what your husband was doing.

A pause hung in the air as none of the women spoke for a minute, they were willing to gossip but apparently outright declaring the obvious was a step too far for them.

Eventually, one of them chimed in with their own observation.

“Can you blame him? Sana you’re the most beautiful person in the office and you look so good next to him anyway. Much better than that cow Y/n.”

Another round of obnoxious laughter that broke your heart.

“C’mon guys. We gotta head back. Jungkook is gonna get anxious if Sana is away for too long.” Someone teased.

They all murmured in agreement, heading towards the exit as a group before one stopped them with a final question.

“Wait, Sana. If Jungkook does want to have an affair with you, what are you going to do?”

Although you couldn’t physically see Sana, you practically heard the smirk on her face as she said, “Who says we already aren’t having one?”

--

Needless to say, you ditched the Christmas party almost immediately after the bathroom incident.

You texted Jungkook a white lie about Emily struggling with Hugo, although a good father would’ve known something was up because your son had never given babysitters any trouble before. But luckily, your husband also wasn’t doing so hot in the dad department either.

You would’ve felt bad for not telling the truth if the truth wasn’t so fucking embarrassing.

“Hey, I’m gonna go home to cry like a little girl because I caught your coworkers talking shit about me. Oh, and also your little girlfriend accidentally let it slip that you’ve been fucking her this whole time. K talk to ya later!”

You grimaced at the thought of actually sending that text.

Sure it’s what that cheating bastard deserves, but you just weren’t emotionally ready for that fight yet. Especially after the night you endured, you needed some time to pick yourself up and figure out what to do next.

Divorce was the next logical step, but you were financially dependent on Jungkook. If you moved out and took Hugo with you, where would you two stay? How could you afford to be a single parent? And if Jungkook were to try to fight you for custody or the divorce in general, you would need a damn good lawyer. Unfortunately, lawyers weren’t cheap, especially one that stood a chance against Jungkook and all his wealth.

Your shoulders sagged with the imaginary weight of all these burdens.

When you entered the high-rise penthouse that you called home, you were surprised to see Emily anxiously pacing the foyer in waiting for your arrival.

“Hey, how was Hugo?” You greeted politely, already opening your clutch to pull out the agreed-upon salary.

“M-Mrs. Jeon, I swear I tried to have him in bed by eight like you said but he’s being stubborn and said he won’t go to sleep until you come back and read to him-” The teenager rushed out all at once, clearly nervous that you would scold her.

You held a hand out to stop her rambles, using your other hand to give her the money, and offered her what you hoped was a comforting smile, “It’s okay, Em. Thanks for doing this on such short notice. Why don’t you run home now and try to enjoy your Christmas Eve?”

Emily looked relieved that you weren’t mad, gratefully taking the cash before grabbing her jacket and shoes to make her exit. “Thanks so much for this Mrs. Jeon. Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas.” You farewelled while walking the young girl out, locking the door behind her.

You turned around and proceeded down a long hallway that led to the bedrooms, stopping at the door beside the master room which belonged to your four-year-old son. You opened it to peer inside, the familiar deep blue walls with painted-on sea creatures greeting you back, swiftly reminding you once more of Hugo’s obsession with the ocean.

Your son was bundled up in a twin bed so big that it practically drowned him, his small frame barely being recognizable in the large fish-printed duvet wrapped around his tiny frame, only his small and adorable face peeking out to stare right back at you.

Hugo was essentially a carbon copy of Jungkook. At first you were somewhat resentful about this, how was it possible that you carried a baby for nine months and he came out with absolutely none of your features? But after a while of watching Hugo grow up and come into his own slowly but surely, you were pacified by the conclusion that while he may look exactly like his father, his personality and heart took after you.

“Dumpling, why did Emily say you were giving her a hard time and wouldn’t go to bed?” You asked gently, sitting by his side and petting his black hair.

‘Dumpling’ was a nickname you chose for Hugo since you first found out you were pregnant with him. It stemmed from your sudden pregnancy craving to eat dumplings and nothing else, you once even going two straight weeks surviving off the food. There were many times where Jungkook had to bribe you into eating other things, playing on your guilt for not providing your baby all the nutrition he needed. But even now ‘Dumpling’ still stuck, if Hugo’s chubby cheeks were anything to go by.

“Mommy, I-I’m sorry but-” His big doe eyes looked up at you in teary guilt, “I really needed you here. It was a nece-necess-”

“Necessity, bub.” You finished for him, grinning at his attempt at a big word.

Part of you wanted to scold the boy for being difficult, but you didn’t have the heart to. Lately, Hugo has been more clingy to you than ever before. Yet it was practically impossible to punish him because Hugo has always been a good kid and you knew deep down that he didn’t act out unless there was something else going on. You suspected that it had something to do with the lack of his father’s presence that forced him to hold onto you like his life depended on it.

“Well try not to do it again, okay? Emily is a nice girl and she’s just following my orders when she tells you to go to bed.” You said, ducking down to peck the crown of his head and continue running your fingers through his hair.

Hugo nodded in understanding but ultimately stayed silent, basking in your cuddles.

All was silent for a passing moment, and while Hugo enjoyed his mother’s touch, your mind gradually returned to the turmoil that was your marriage.

A sudden epiphany struck you and bit your lip as you debated an idea.

Should you expose your son to your future plan?

The victim of any divorce has always been the children who were left behind. And the last thing you wanted to do was blindside Hugo. Perhaps you should play the hypothetical game just to see where your son’s head was at? It went without saying that Hugo was closer to you than Jungkook and you were more of a parent than your husband. But still, every kid deserved to have a say in their parents’ divorce.

“Bub, how would you feel if….it was just me and you?” You hesitantly inquired.

“What do you mean mommy?” Hugo titled his head in bewilderment and craned his neck to look back up at you.

“What if me and you went away to live together?” You clarified.

“Like a va-vayca-”

“Vacation? And no. But forever. Just me, you and no one else.” You whispered, as if Jungkook himself would storm in and catch you planning your escape with the toddler.

“Oh.” A pause as you could practically hear the mechanisms in his four-year-old brain trying to work out the logistics of what you just proposed. “Okay.”

The nonchalance in his youthful voice had you taken aback.

“It’s a really big decision, Hugo. You wouldn’t mind...not living with daddy anymore, right? You would hardly ever see him, dumpling.”

The boy shifted to lean more of his body against you, essentially resting against you with his head on your chest as he said, “But it’s like that already, mommy.”

Your heart broke.

You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him closer to you, feeling a maternal instinct to comfort and protect.

“Okay Dumpling. I need you to promise me not to tell daddy what we talked about.”

“”Kay.” Hugo yawned and closed his eyes, inhaling deep breaths of your scent and beginning the process of falling asleep. “When do we leave?”

“It’ll take some time, bub. You start school in a few months, so mommy will try to find a job while you’re there.” You told him, not bothering to try to explain the concept of a lawyer or apartment deposits on top of that. “But we can do this. It has to be a secret but you're my partner in crime.”

“Like spies?”

You chuckled, “Yeah, like spies. Promise to work with mommy in utter secrecy?”

You held up a pinky, one that Hugo grasped with his own.

“Promise.”

Author’s Note:  So....A while ago before I took my long ass hiatus, I did a poll for which yandere story I should write next.  The Unsaid Vow won but that was around the same time that shit hit the fan in my life.  Recently was scrolling through my notes on my phone and found some of the plot points for this story and I needed a lil break from QQ.  Plus I know so many ppl were hyped for this concept so....Here ya go lol.  This is kinda short but it’s just a set up, Chapter one’s plot line will start a few months after this when Hugo will start kindergarten and Y/n will actually start looking in to jobs, lawyers and apartments.  Also I’m sorry but I’m really bad at writing for kids lol, and I absolutely refuse to write that gross ass baby talk so just pretend your son is a lil genius okay? Also srry Once but I needed really pretty girls to be villians in my story so yeah, Twice girls in here aren’t likable but aren’t reflective of how i actually feel about them lol.

Big thanks to @sushireads​ once again for creating the cover art for this fic.  They literally are becoming my go-to for fic art.

And my beta readers @bigbuffjoonie and @mustardpop​! They beta’d for QQ and I came to them really early about this fic.  They were with me since the beginning and have given me advice with creative choices to just simple grammar.  They easily could’ve leaked the first draft of this too but they didn’t and kept it secret for a while.  I was really insecure about getting out of my comfort zone with this plot but they really guided me.  

[baekluvie]

obsession | chapter 1

paring: reader x baekhyun

words: 9k

genre: yandere au | this is heavily inspired by the show 'you'

tag list: @mayboy <3

warnings for this chapter: murder, mental illness (s), death, suicide, manipulation, mature language, violence, obsessiveness, aggression, drug use

do not read if: you are triggered by any of the warnings i listed prior. this fic will contain this theme throughout the chapters. if you are not comfortable with that; please skip this post. please remember this is a work of fiction.

viewer discretion is advised

synopsis: baekhyun is a hopeless romantic. some may say that he has a funny way of showing it, but they just don't understand. but... you? you'll learn to understand.

(a/n) hi guys. this is going to be the main focus for me for the upcoming months so make sure that you stay updated. i'll be posting chapters twice throughout the week for this one. let me know what you think in my inbox or reply to the post. reblogs and likes are always helpful.

Baekhyun’s POV

It’s been a long, tiresome day for Baekhyun. He just arrived from a date and he just needed some alone time, something to take the edge off. And nothing was better than just drinking to his heart’s content and watching a good movie. He just made it home to his apartment, nothing too nice, it felt like him, small, isolated and simple. Baekhyun was as simple as they came. He didn’t like wearing formal clothes. He preferred loose fitted clothing, baggy slacks and collared shirts that hung low enough to expose his collarbones; something that he thought was appealing to the women he would typically go for. He hated when his hair got too long, he watched enough Youtube tutorials to understand how to cut it himself. He preferred to be neat, careful with how he looked. It was something that he prided himself in.

If people only know you from your appearance, they’ll assume you’re nothing but a fucking moron. Stains, creases, clothing that wasn’t taken cared of… he hated that. Despised it. Nothing turned him off more than a woman who didn’t know how to take care of herself, the way that she looked.

He peeled off the jacket that hid his white collared shirt, placing it on the coat rack. He threw his keys into a ceramic bowl on top of his hallway table. He was about to continue his way to his kitchen before he noticed something on his lip in the mirror. He paused, grazing his fingers over the red lipstick that was smeared below his bottom lip. It was faintly there, reminiscent of the encounter before he had arrived home. He furrowed his eyebrows together, a hiss coming out from under his breath as he tried to rub it off.

Baekhyun hurried down to his kitchen, the cool toned gray fridge looked heavenly right now, and swung it open. He quickly grabbed some beer and slammed it shut. Making his way to his living room, he tossed his phone from his pocket onto the couch, then placed the cold bottle on the table. He frowned as he continued to his bedroom, straight into the bathroom.

Flicking on his lights, he grimaced as it blurred his vision. Squinting into the mirror, he turned on his faucet, letting the water warm up his hands. He began to splash some on his face, attempting to scrub the disgusting makeup that made it’s temporary home upon his lip.

“Fucking…bitch. I told her to wipe that shit off.” Baekhyun grumbled to himself as he realized that the red lipstick would not come off, not even with his persistent scrubbing.

He ducked down to the lower cabinet below the sink, searching for a solution. His mood brightened as he spotted some rubbing alcohol. Fisting in his hand, he brought it up and grabbed a towel that was hung, splashing it with the liquid. The strong smell wasn’t overpowering to his senses, no, he’s gotten used to that. He violently rubbed it on his face, his eyes looking concerned until he dropped the towel, revealing the stain to be removed.

He smiled as he chuckled. It was probably the first time today that he actually felt truly happy. He looked back down into the sink, red continually going down the drain. He began to hum as he began to wash his hands off, flooding it with even more crimson color. He got some soap and dug into his nails, to rid of the mess that was embedded underneath it.

“I shouldn’t have overdid it,” He sang to himself, “too much blood.”

The woman was asking for it. All of them did, really. Baekhyun just didn’t think that this one wouldn’t have been so dumb, so careless. She wore all the right clothes, went to her salon twice a week to maintain her stupid highlights. She exercised everyday, went on strict diets to maintain her figure. But just like all the others, she managed to fuck up. She decided to meet with him, letting her thoughts only think about him, and him alone. He managed to have that effect on people. But she was intelligent, she stood out to him.

She could have been the one. Maybe he could have settled down with her, got married, hell, even had his children. But she had to go and mess everything up.

30 minutes prior…

“Hurry and get inside, it’s too cold.” Baekhyun slipped inside his car, unlocking it so the woman would enter.

She giggled as she entered, her chestnut brown hair bouncing as she jumped onto the passenger side. She was beautiful. She only wore Chanel foundation, shade B20, with the same branded red lipstick to match. She didn’t like putting heat to her hair, only when her hairdresser would do it. She liked looking natural… simple. Her clothes were what caught Baekhyun’s attention in the first place.

Although she preferred a minimalist style, she wore expensive brands. She knew which trends were in, which were out. Which meant that she had to get new clothes practically every week. Now that, that was fucking hot to Baekhyun. A woman who knew her worth, and knew how to adorn the body that was she given with only the best of the materials.

But she fucked up. Otherwise, Baekhyun wouldn’t be thinking about this as he stood in his bathroom, washing off the blood from his hands. If what she did didn’t happen, no, he’d probably be sitting on his couch enjoying a night with her by his side, slowly becoming intoxicated not by the alcohol, but by him.

“So how did you like dinner? I remember you said that you always wanted to go there.” Baekhyun took her to the wealthier side of town, a restaurant that required a 6 month wait in order to even eat there.

Her eyes sparkled and Baekhyun’s heart leapt from his chest.

“I had no idea that food could even taste like that. Thank you so much honey. That was the perfect way to spend our two month anniversary,” She smiled as she put her purse down on the floor of the car.

“But I still think that you shouldn’t have spent so much just because we’ve been dating for such a small amount of time, don’t you think?”

He shook his head as he rested his hands on the steering wheel, looking at the dark sky in front of him.

“Of course not. I like to spoil you. Don’t make me talk about this again, my love.” He looks lovingly into her eyes, placing a finger on his cheek.

“Use your makeup wipe to remove your lipstick. Give me a kiss.” Baekhyun waited as she reached for her purse, showcasing the drugstore bought remover that he purchased for her. In bulk, might he add. She didn’t have a lot of time to go shopping for these things herself, rather she would order it online and wait a week for it to arrive so she wouldn’t go through the trouble of going to the store.

No, that wouldn’t have worked out for him. He made sure to memorize her password to her Amazon account when she was showing him a book she had ordered one time. He assumed that it was the same password she used for all her accounts, and he was right. So he bought some for her, and when she texted him saying she was confused that a huge box had arrived at her apartment, he knew exactly what it was.

Baekhyun: When you spent the night I decided to buy the makeup remover wipes for you. I just bought it in bulk so you didn’t have to wait a week until you ran out. You should be covered for a couple of months. Don’t worry about it, I put it on my card.

He had patted himself on the back for that one, smiling at his phone in the dark of his room as he patiently waited for her reply. She was grateful of course, didn’t suspect that her boyfriend had intensely memorized the way her fingers imputed her password onto her phone, spending all night writing on paper all of the different combinations that could be the right one. He couldn’t get caught if he attempted a wrong password to log in since it would notify her that someone was trying to get into her account. No, he was careful.

As she brought the wet towel to her lips, she paused. She looked at him and scrunched her nose, then abruptly placed her lips with his… her lips that still had that lipstick on them. Baekhyun internally cringed inside, his body yelling and screaming at him that it was being attacked; to fucking get her off of him at that exact moment or else he was-

He pushed her off, earning him a dramatic groan from the small woman sitting next to him. She pouted at first, then a timid smile washed over her, drinking in reaction from Baekhyun.

“You never let me kiss you without taking my lipstick off. Stop acting like a baby about it, will you?” It could have sounded charming to someone else, maybe. Someone who didn’t care about messes and having makeup plastered on their body. Not him though, not Baekhyun.

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, his grip on the steering wheel tightening with every second he listened to her. Was her voice always this annoying? No… he had thought it was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard just a few moments ago. But really, now it just sounded like horrible screeching, a threat.

“I told you why I don’t like it, Mina. Why the fuck, don’t you listen to me?” He tried to not sound so harsh, so mean. He took another gasp of air before he brought his hands down, attempting to calm himself down.

She wouldn’t understand, of course she wouldn’t. He goes to say something else, but his eyes are suddenly zoning in on her blouse. Something that could have gone unnoticed only if one didn’t focus too intently. There was a rip that made its way on the top of the baby blue silk top she had bought. Now, this was a designer piece, he watched her as she bought it in the store, sipping his coffee from across the street hiding behind a car. This article of clothing was hundreds of dollars, it was sold from a luxurious brand, the building had security guards standing outside even.

You can’t just fucking ruin something like that.

“You… you ripped your blouse.” He said empty.

Mina looks down, a small gasp escaping her lips. She toys with it in her hand, the material rubbing in between her fingers as she frowned slightly. She looked back up at him, a neutral look on her face.

“So? I’ll just go and buy another one. Look, let me make this right. I’ll make you forget about the lipstick even being on-”

He grabbed her by her throat, a gurgling noise erupting from her chest. She looks at him with wide eyes, instinctively grasping at his hand, trying to pull it off from her. But right now, Baekhyun didn’t care about her watering eyes, the way her manicured nails were digging deeply into his skin; all he cared about right now was that fucking rip in her blouse. He brought his other hand to secure his place on her neck, squeezing it.

He could feel himself fuming, becoming agitated as she tried to make more noise.

“How could you do this to me? Why did you act so… so aloof? Like it didn’t matter that you ruined it? How you ruined yourself.”

He grunts out that last word, making sure that it would echo in her head, letting it repeat like a scratched record. Maybe if she listened to it enough times, she would get it. That she wrecked who she was over something that she should have paid more attention towards. But she continued to fight with him, with the truth that he was trying to pass onto her. He sighed as he let go, slamming his fists onto the side of his head. This was so… fucked.

Mina shakily gasps for air, tears streaming down her face as she corners herself into her seat. She’s sobbing now, not believing that the man she’d been seeing, the man that she couldn’t help but love, had just done that to her. She scrambled with her thoughts, trying to understand him, but she just couldn’t. She did understand one thing though, something that rang clearly in her head.

She pushed open the door on her side, collapsing onto the cement. She’s holding her throat, crying raspily. Her black high heels stomped onto the ground, digging into the skin of her feet. She had to get away, she couldn’t be around him anymore. This was too much, over something as stupid as a blouse, a rip, her lipstick? Her heel suddenly snaps, and her body is falling on the ground. She groans as she places her hand to her forehead, her fingertips stained with blood.

“Now why did you do that?” Baekhyun towered over her. He had sighed as he watched her exit his car, shaking his head at the stupid action. He opened the glove box and unsheathed a small pocket knife that his friend had gifted him for his birthday last year.

Mina looked up at him, horrified. She sat herself up on her hands, the gravel ripping the skin off the palm of her hands and she dragged them backwards, trying to crawl away from the boy that she was just dreaming about last night. This wasn’t him, this wasn't Baekhyun that sung her to sleep when she had drank too much. Baekhyun, that surprised her with tickets to the ballet that she had wanted to go to since she was a child. No, this was someone else…something else.

“Baekhyun, please. Please! Don’t hurt me!” She bargained with him, she choked on her words as the blood from her forehead began to drip onto the ground.

A ‘tsk’ escaped his lips as he placed two feet on either side of her, sitting on her stomach as he watched as she struggled to push him off. He brought his right foot to dig into her arm, a scream coming from out of her lips. He shook his head lightly, a smile forming, twitching as he brought the knife to her neck.

He pauses before he puts pressure. “You know. I thought I was going to marry you.”

Mina shakes her head. “We can still do that. Please. I’ll forget this ever happened. I won’t kiss you with lipstick on. Please. Don’t do this, you love me.”

Baekhyun’s eyes roll. “I love you? Tell me then,” He digs the knife into her pale skin, beads of blood covering the stainless steel, “what did you do wrong?”

Tears fell down her cheeks. “I- I kissed you with lipstick on.”

He brings his left hand to slap her cheek. “Try again.”

She’s trying to stay focused but her eyesight is giving out, she can feel the life slowing draining out of her. She snaps her attention back to Baekhyun, who is still looking down at her, taunting her with a smile. Her brain tells her to say the only thing that she remembered before he had choked her.

“My b-blouse. I ripped it. I’ll get another one!” She smiles then, realizing she found out what caused her boyfriend to freak out like this.

Baekhyun stills over her, then brings the knife to his chin, tapping it lightly as he looks off to the empty parking lot, like he’s debating something. He speaks slowly this time.

“So you’ll just buy another blouse… because you ripped this one. Now do you see how stupid that sounds?”

Mina struggles as the knife is suddenly placed at her neck again, deciding to stay quiet instead of getting herself into any more trouble than she already is. Baekhyun laughs loudly at that, his eyes beginning to tear up too, but not because he’s sad; because he’s so frustrated that he spent his time on someone who doesn’t value herself.

“You don’t just buy another blouse. You take care of the things that you buy, treat it with kindness… with love. Just like you’d do with yourself. You’re so fucking stupid. Now, what can you say that can make this all better? Can you,” He flicks his finger onto the wound on her head, making her wince in pain, “think with that smart little brain of yours?”

Mina knows. She’s going to die. There’s no point. She shakes her head, giving into the sweet release of pain that had been inflicted upon her, by her psychopath lover that she had given her life up to at this point.

Baekhyun yells at her, his spit splattering on her face as he finishes the job. The weapon clatters onto the ground, Baekhyun lifting his head up as he closes his eyes and lets the cold wind blow on his face. This all happened because he was obsessed with her, but he doesn’t think of the word ‘obsession’ as what is defined online or in the dictionaries.

He ponders on the word as he takes his ex-girlfriend's body and throws her into the trunk of his car. Obsession, as defined from Google, ‘an idea or thought that continually preoccupies or intrudes on a person's mind.’ If you look at the example, it states, "She cared for him with a devotion bordering on obsession". Note, ‘cared’. Baekhyun always found it funny how people would associate obsession with a word that evoked a loving personality, someone who would go out of their way to help the person they loved by killing them, but then say that it was disgusting.

But showing that person you cared about them, just like it stated in the example, was the truth. Sometimes the truth has to be laid out in… well, harsh ways. That’s what Baekhyun always did, and it always worked out just fine. Those girls understood why it had to happen, and he felt like he did them a favor. They died knowing what they did wrong, and hopefully they would always remember him, maybe in another life. They would know that someone as caring as Baekhyun would be out there, loving them in the precious way known as obsession.

Y/N’s POV

“Long night Y/N?”

You had just walked into work, knowing that you looked absolutely wrecked. You didn’t bother putting on any makeup since you knew you were going to be late. You had spent all night at the police department working on a case your boss had given you two days ago, trying to understand what had transpired.

Sehun sets down a cup of coffee for you, and you can see the swirls of smoke slowly disappearing into thin air. You flash him a smile as you dump your purse and phone onto your desk, grabbing the hot drink and putting it to your lips.

Three vanilla creamer and a splash of sugar, just how you liked it.

You do a little dance as it runs down your throat.

“Thank you Sehun. Yes, unfortunately.” You groan.

You plop your butt on your chair, letting your feet roll you back and forth with the wheels on it. Sehun sits at your desk as he looks at the papers that are strung on it, the case you were working on until 3 in the morning. He grabs one of them and reads it, his eyes widening as finds out the gruesome details.

“So they’re saying that the woman committed suicide? The way the autopsy sounds, it’s looking like a fucking murder. There’s no way someone would be able to do this to themselves.”

Sehun drops it as he looks at you bewildered, and you can do nothing but nod and take another sip of your coffee. The whole case was weird, the area that you lived in had a reputation of being safe, so when you first heard your boss Junmyeon sparing you the bloody details, you were shocked.

“Sir, this is…impossible. Our city has never gotten a murder case once.”

Junmyeon had shook his head at you. He stood in his office as he looked outside his window that overlooked the town, his arms crossed behind his back. You knew that he was distraught, but he had keep insisting to you that he believed it was a suicide.

“Her boyfriend came to us. He was completely out of it, screaming and crying. I wanted to put him in a mental facility myself, but he insisted that he stayed at the hospital. He kept saying that he had no idea that she was suicidal. Apparently she left him a note, talking about how depressed she had been. He found her with her neck slit open. He stated that he had leant her a knife earlier that day because she said she needed it for something, and with no idea that she was having those types of thoughts… he did.”

He had turned around and looked at you, and you immediately felt devastated. You couldn’t bring yourself to imagine finding someone that you loved dead… especially from suicide. You straightend your posture and share your thoughts with him.

“Have you gotten the chance to interview him further? Do you have any suspicions?”

Junmyeon shook his head as he took a seat behind his desk.

“I didn’t want to ask him any more questions, he was in shock. I want to put you on the case. Schedule the interview with him within the next couple of days and get back to me on it. I don’t have any reason to question him on this, but please inform me if something doesn’t add up.”

So you agreed, even though you had just finished another case just a few days prior. You bring yourself back to your conversation with Sehun, shivering as you thought about what you were going to do later on today.

“I have to interview the guy in a couple hours. I’ve never been in this type of position before.”

Sehun gives you a reassuring nod. “It’ll be fine. Do you know what you’re going to ask him?”

You shook your head. “I have no idea. I don't really think we should be asking him anything. From everything Junmyeon told me, this dude has an alibi. He followed up with his friend, I think his name is Chanyeol. They went to a club that night and once he was done he decided to go over to the victim’s house.”

Sehun shrugged and clapped his hands together in means of defeat.

“At least it wasn’t the boyfriend. As someone who works in the police department, whenever I watch those documentaries about murder cases and shit, I always think… What if that could be me? Like, what if I just overlook someone and then I look stupid when they decide to interview me for a fucking docu-series or movie?”

You hum as you direct your attention back to the papers, shuffling through them.

“That’s why you don’t stay up and watch them late at night, Sehun. You’re like those teenage girls that do ‘dive in’ videos and try and explain the case better than the people that have all the information. Do me a favor,” You look at him and put your hand on his leg, “let me know when the boyfriend comes in.”

He shoots you a thumbs up and heads back to his cubicle. You sigh as you reread everything that you did last night, trying to piece together all the evidence that was compiled. You really didn’t know why, but with each moment you looked at the photos and notes that the police had written down, the more you felt like that what happened wasn’t a suicide. The woman had everything going for her, she was a model that had a decent salary, graduated from university majoring in business, was loved by her friends and family. It didn’t add up, and you had even checked to see if she was seeing a therapist, if she had ever been admitted to any mental hospitals in the area. Nothing.

All you could do was look her up online, browsing through her social media accounts to see if there were any signs leading up to her tragic passing. For the most part, she didn’t post a lot. When she did post however, it was always selfies, and within the past two months it had been gifts she had received or places she was at. You stopped on a photo of her smiling in front of a grand stage, assuming it was a theater of some sort. She linked arms with a tall, broad shouldered man who covered his face with a peace sign. He had black hair that was neatly combed back, and he wore a tan slim fitting suit. You guessed that was the poor boyfriend, and you went to click on his profile since he was tagged.

You didn’t find much, his recent posts were photos of the woman, Mina. She looked happy in all of them, whether it be her holding a bouquet of roses, or her showing off a diamond necklace. You clicked on a video that he uploaded, the main focus being on her. He didn’t show his face, rather the video was brought down a frame lower, past his nose, only broadcasting his lips and chin.

“Give me a kiss, darling.”

You could hear the cute cooing tone in his voice when he said it, and the giddy girl pressed her lips on his cheek. The video ended there, and if you lingered on it it would just play on an endless loop. The one thing that caught your attention was that througout all the photos you had looked at of the young woman, she always wore red lipstick. It was a staple for her, but in this video, and in other photos on the man’s page, whenever he was in frame, her lips were bare of any makeup.

“Strange…” You muttered to yourself.

As you let yourself become swallowed by the workload that was given to you, you didn’t notice that time had slipped by so quickly. When Sehun had announced to you that the man had arrived, you thanked him before making your way to the bathroom. You gave yourself a once over, making sure that you looked professional. You combed your hair with your fingers, shooing away any loose strands. You tucked your shirt into your black slacks, the white button up free of any creases, then straightened out your blazer.  Once you were finished, you tucked your hair behind your ears and you made your way to a remote room that was purposely made for these types of confrontations.

Before you opened the door, you took a deep breath, ridding yourself from any stress and emotions. You had to make sure that you seemed like you were in control here, that he didn’t have any kind of upper hand if he was to be found guilty of anything. With a little pep talk and an ‘You got this!’, you opened the door to reveal the man you had been researching for the past couple of days.

He looked tired, dark circles underneath his eyes and his foot was tapping nervously. He immediately looked towards you when you entered, and you noticed how well kept he was. Even though he was going through the tragic death of his girlfriend, his physical health seemed to be well off. His hair was groomed back nice and neat, he wore a tight navy blue shirt that hugged him well, paired off with some black jeans. His shoes looked as though they were polished to perfection, clean of any dirt or scratches.

You sat down at the table, moving your seat closer to him as you settled in. The room was bland, it was just white walls, a simple wooden table, and two chairs. You give him a smile as you pull out a notepad and pen from your blazer pocket, placing it on the table.

You hum quietly before you open your mouth, “I’m just going to be asking you some questions today. It shouldn’t take too long based on what we know. Please answer truthfully as everything is going to be noted and recorded.”

He nods, giving you a sad smile. “Take as long as you need.”

Getting that out of the way, you start off with your first question.

“So, can you please let me know your name so I know how to address you?” You laugh nervously as you push on your pen, ready to write. You forgot his name throughout all of this, too absorbed by the awful details of the death.

He coughed as he put his hands on the table. “Baekhyun. Byun Baekhyun. But you can just call me Baekhyun, I hate it when people say my family name.”

Noted. “Okay Baekhyun, I know that you have an alibi, but can you just go over that night for me? If you have any suspicions or possible motives that you know someone who could have done it?”

Baekhyun gulps as he stares at you, his foot beginning to tap again. Also, noted.

“Well, me and my friend, Park Chanyeol, decided that we wanted to go to the club that night. I didn’t text Mina since we had spoken earlier that morning about my possible plans. So she knew not to text me. I also gave her a knife, she stated that she needed it for a project she was working on. She used to dabble in making clothes so I assumed it was for that but…”

He starts to choke up, and he puts his hand over his mouth. You give him a reassuring nod, telling him that it was okay. He throws his head back as he chides to himself, blinking rapidly, his eyes are becoming glossy. Regret immediately runs through your body, you’re left thinking that maybe you shouldn’t have been the person to do this, maybe Sehun would have done a better job, made him feel more comfortable as another man.

“Take your time.” You whisper to him.

He forms his lips into a tight line before he talks again.

“I just said goodbye to Chanyeol, and I was still pretty drunk. I, uh, wanted to go see her. She usually doesn’t care if I come over late at night. We tend to meet during that time anyways, and she gave me a spare key to her apartment. I walked there, it wasn’t too long. Maybe… 20 minutes? I just got there and… she was just on the ground. Her neck was bleeding, so was her head. I don’t know what she did but it looked as though she was going to go out? She had heels next to her body but one of them snapped, the bottom of it? I thought maybe she tripped at first. Maybe hit her head on the counter since I saw blood on the corner of it. But once I got down and saw the gash on her neck… I just knew. It was my fault.”

You perk up at that, you were writing everything down, trying to summarize the best you could while pushing down the horrendous image that was just painted out to you.

“Your fault? Why do you say it’s your fault?”

You keep your eyes on him, looking at his face. He had beautifully carved lips, and his nose was soft around the edges, morphing into his face perfectly. He had an attractive look to him, very authoritative and intoxicating. You push away those thoughts and focus on what he says.

“Because I gave her the knife. And- and then I read the letter and… Fuck. I never knew she felt like that. If I had only knew… If I had known. I could have stopped all of this.”

Baekhyun starts to sob, snot coming out of his nose as he begins to yell a string of curse words.

You didn’t know what to do, you weren’t trained for this, a situation like this has never happened to the quiet and reserved city. You decide to not think as a police officer and comfort him as another human being, a friend.

You put your hand on his shoulder, and for a second he twitches and halts his sobs. But then he looks up at you and pulls you in. He pushes his face into your chest and you could feel your shirt becoming damp. You look up towards the camera that’s embedded into the corner of the room, a look of confusion and desperation plastered on your face. You start to rub his back, trying to calm him down. He pulls back and stands up, beginning to bow.

“I’m… I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to get so emotional.” He returns to his seat as he wipes his nose, sniffling as he looks at his shoes.

“That’s perfectly fine. You don’t have to worry about that, it’s understandable. You just went through a horrific loss and I’m so sorry. I don’t think I have any more reason to question you, so if you’d like to leave, you’re free to go.”

Baekhyun smiles at you. “Thank you. I appreciate that. Ms….” He trails off, raising his eyebrow at you.

You shake your hands at him. “Just Y/N.”

He continues to smile at you, standing up. “Y/N. Thank you.”

Baekhyun begins to walk towards the door, his breathing raggedy. You’re about to close your notepad before you remember another question that you had lined up for him.

You turn your head and raise your finger, catching his attention. He swiftly faces you once more with a questioning expression.

“Your girlfriend… This is all a part of investigating the crime. We usually go to social media and contact family and friends just to get to know the victim a little better. I noticed that she would usually wear red lipstick. You can stop me if I’m intruding at all. But when looking at photos of the two of you together she never wore it. She also didn’t have any on when we took her body in. You said it looked like she was going out.”

He pauses as he stares boringly in your eyes, and you can’t help but feel creeped out.

“You were right. You are intruding.”

You gape at him, then you recollect yourself as shame washes over you. There must have been a private reason for all of that, and it probably had nothing to do with the case at all. You stand up and apologize to him.

“I’m very sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. There’s no way you would have known why.”

He doesn’t do anything else besides giving you a subtle nod, then making his exit. You sit at the table when you hear the door securely close behind the man, staring down at your notepad. You didn’t really feel like he had anything to hide, going based on everything that he told you. But the last moments you had with him just now left you feeling weird. Who was Baekhyun? And why were you so interested in him?

Baekhyun’s POV

He knew he shouldn’t have taken off her lipstick when he set up the crime scene. But the more that he looked at her lifeless body with that dreadful red substance gracing upon her lips, the neediness to rid her of it overcame him. Chanyeol had helped him with setting everything up, a true and loyal friend that Baekhyun knew he could always count on.

He had called his best friend of many years as he drove his car down to Mina’s apartment, just a few minutes after the killing was finished. He drove in silence as the phone rang, then flickered his eyes to the volume dial on his dashboard, turning the radio on. An upbeat song began to play faintly in the car, and Baekhyun smiled as he listened to the lyrics.

Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do, I'm half crazy all-

“...For the love of you,” He smiled crazily as he sang, staring into the darkness of the road, “I love this song.”

He looked in his rear view mirror, and although he couldn’t see his beautiful ex-girlfriend, he tried to imagine her sitting in the backseat, looking at him lovingly as he sang to her. Baekhyun doesn’t usually feel bad about what he does, he always thought of it as a sweet confession of love; the bittersweet ending to a fairytale. Mina meant everything to him, just like all of his past girlfriends did. He loved them in different ways, but the obsession he carried in himself was prevalent in all of his relationships.

There was Yeri, a sweet and innocent socialite that came from a wealthy family. She had problems of her own, her father constantly cheated on her mother, the brother always criticizing her for her morals and the way she spent her money. But Baekhyun still loved her, despite her many faults. He would follow her around constantly, making sure that she was safe, at least that’s what Baekhyun told himself. Not because he was always on edge that she would cheat on him and want someone else for their status and wealth. No, that couldn’t be it. Because when you love someone, you trust them, there’s no room for doubt and resentment, that isn’t what makes a relationship work. And Baekhyun, of course, knew how relationships worked.

It was easy to cover up her death. He had stabbed Yeri’s chest with the pen she had gifted him for his birthday last year, a Montblanc Meisterstuck Classique Ballpoint Pen, to be precise. It cost her a measly 400 dollars, and Baekhyun treasured it with his life. And he also used it to take someone’s life, proving the point that it was well worth the money spent. That night she and Baekhyun were sitting on the bed in her bedroom, watching a movie. She had told him that she had bought cocaine, and that she wanted to try it out with him.

“It’ll be fun! All my friends do it. Come on ~”

He had complied, he’s done his fair use of drugs before. A couple days prior he had smoked weed with Chanyeol after they had come back from a small concert. He enjoyed the feeling he got from it, the subtle mystical and dreamy sensation that covered his mind and body. So after he snorted the coke, a strong urge to kiss his cute girlfriend flooded over him. He turned his head over to her, peering at her lips. Yeri knew that he didn’t like lipstick, and she made it a point to never wear it. He liked that about her, she listened to him and obeyed his requests.

He brought his finger to his nose, “You have coke right there.”

Yeri had blushed, wiping the substance away and then moving forward to place a kiss on her boyfriend. Instead, Baekhyun gently placed a hand on her chest. There were still white specks littered above her lip, placed on the peach fuzz there.

“Wipe it off completely.” He said sternly. He made sure to say it with meaning, but the drug could have passed it off as a joke, maybe. She didn’t take it seriously.

“Come here, Baekkie~.” She pushed herself on top of him, straddling his thighs and licking her lips.

He looked at her stunned, hurt. This was the first time that Yeri didn’t listen to him and it made him infuriated. So he did the same thing he did to Mina, choked her. She didn’t put up a fight then, she had accepted it. Baekhyun thinks that she thought it was all part of a sexual desire he had, but it didn’t matter what she thought anymore. Because now she was passed out on her bed, her light pink dress sprawled on her body, ruffling up at the bottom of it, exposing her milky white thighs. He had gotten up after, pushing his hands through his hair as he continually looked at her and the pen that was on her white desk. He had left it there a couple of nights ago when he was working on something for work.

He picked it up, then jumped back on the bed, towering over the small woman. He swings the pen up into the air and then plummets it into her chest. The second he plunged it in, her body seized upwards, a breath of life escaping from her. Her eyes widened, and Baekhyun smiled into them, wanting to make sure that he was the very last thing she would see. She would see her boyfriend, who loved her, killing her with the gift she had given him.

He placed the pen into his slack’s pocket. Rubbing any blood on his hands on them as well, and diverted his attention to the pink laptop on her desk. A thought ran through his head, and a smile painted on his face. So he typed a lengthy email to Yeri’s father, from her, stating that she was running away, and taking all the money she had with her. She would tell her mother about the cheating if he said anything about her disappearance, and knowing his girlfriend’s father, he wouldn’t dare to say anything. He was a respected man that worked in the government, and if any news about this would be released, he would lose his career. And it worked. It really fucking worked, and Baekhyun couldn’t believe the lack of love that her father had for his only daughter.

He would never be like that when he would have children. He would protect them, treasure them, make sure that they were happy and given anything that they wanted and needed. He scoffed as he came back to the situation at hand. Mina.

Chanyeol had picked up finally, his voice groggy like he had been awoken from his sleep.

“Baekhyun… man. It’s 3 in the morning. What do you want?”

Chanyeol had been a part of Baekhyun’s life since the sweet and tender age of 5. They were best friends in their toddler years, and continued to stay that way up until now. The tall man was extremely social and made friends easily. Baekhyun liked that about him, mostly because it gave him connections to… specific people.

His best friend was the Assistant Chief Deputy. Which also meant that he knew about everything that Baekhyun has done, and will most likely do in the future. And Baekhyun took advantage of that. The first time he had ever killed someone, he immediately told Chanyeol, who questioned him. He was hurt, of course, but he wasn’t going to tell the person he was friends with since 5 years old that he enjoyed slashing his girlfriend’s throat; that he finally understood the meaning of love. He covered for him.

The city would never come to find out about the 5 deaths, because Chanyeol would take care of it for him. Sometimes he questioned his best friend, wondering why as a police worker that he would do this. But Chanyeol let him know bluntly one night when they were drinking at a bar.

“I don’t know. I just know you, dude. You’re like my best fucking friend. I think… I can understand it maybe. I don’t want to though. But… I can’t let you get a death sentence. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.” He took a swig of his beer and slammed his head on the bar table.

He laughed at that then. But it made him realize that his friend was really fucking stupid. Did Chanyeol ever think about the families and friends that would have to live with the death of their loved one? The pain and unknowing reasons why the women in their lives had just fucking disappeared? Died? He parked his car in front of the familiar apartment he'd frequent in the past couple of months.

“I have a favor. Can you meet me at…”

That was all it took. So Chanyeol planned everything out, down to the suicide letter. Let him know what to say to the police, and what questions he would probably be asked.

“Hey… don’t do that.” Chanyeol had finished washing his hands in the kitchen of Mina’s apartment, ridding of the blood. He looked at Baekhyun swiftly using a makeup remover wipe to take off the crimson lipstick.

He perked at the comment. “Why? It doesn’t matter.”

Chanyeol walked up to Baekhyun, watching as he continued to take off the makeup from the corpse. He sighed to himself. He didn’t know why he continued to do this, and got people to help Baekhyun with getting rid of bodies and making sure the public wouldn’t find out. It was just the loyalty that he had… something that his father instilled in him at a young age. He followed in his father’s footsteps, working in the police force.

‘’If you can’t be loyal to something as small as your best friend, you can’t be loyal to your country.”

And he took those words to heart. He didn’t want to disappoint his father. So as he watched his best friend of many years taking off fucking lipstick from his dead girlfriend, he didn’t say anything else.

-

As Baekhyun walked out the police station, he felt a twinge of fear; something that he had never experienced before in his life. He thought about you, as he made his way down to the parking lot to get to his car. He fidgeted his fingers in his hair, twisting it and slightly tugging on it, something he used to do when he was only a child when he would get in trouble. This was odd for Baekhyun.

Usually, Chanyeol would take care of everything for him. He wouldn’t have to be confronted by the police because, well, there was no evidence that trailed back to him. This time however, he called his best friend late at night so he wasn’t able to call for backup to dispose of the body. He told him that he would have to stage the scene himself, he wouldn’t have time to set everything up like he usually did or his girlfriend would get suspicious. He stated that she was already upset about him leaving in the middle of the night to go and see him, saying that it was weird. The more time he spent out, the worse the chances of getting caught doing something would prevail. Plus, he was a terrible liar under pressure. How Baekhyun hasn’t got caught yet was surprising to him.

As he opened his car door and slumped his body inside, he heard footsteps echoing in the half empty parking lot. He slowly closes his door and rearranges his mirror to see who it was.

You.

There was something that piqued Baekhyun’s interest… Maybe it was because you were an authoritative figure. He always liked that in a woman. He did prefer the submissive type, mostly because when things got out of hand, he wouldn’t have to deal with any fighting. But that didn’t matter right now because at this moment, as Baekhyun looked at you a little more… he could picture his entire life with you.

He thought that your hair was pretty, and the way you didn’t have any makeup further proved to him that you were a natural beauty. He did like when a woman did herself up, but really he loved it when they didn’t care about those superficial things. It made it easier for him anyways. You were his ideal type, strong, confident, beautiful. This would be the first time he went for someone like you, someone who matched him in terms of dominance. And he knew that he had to make you his.

So as he continued to watch you walk to your car, he looked onto the car seat next to him. He needed something to catch your attention, and his car keys would make the perfect distraction. He rolled down his window and threw them out, then he stepped out of his vehicle. He looks down on the ground to where his keys laid and stepped on it. Immediately, the car alarm started to blare, echoing loudly. He pretends to act shocked, scolding himself, playing the part. As he picks them up, he turns, seeing if anyone had seen, looking to see if you were interested in what just happened. And you were, you looked at him strangely, stopped in your tracks.

He waves to you, smiling. “Sorry! I guess my keys fell out of my pocket.”

You wave back at him, nodding quickly. “It happens!” You yelled back.

Baekhyun takes this as his chance to walk up to you, and you, you made the mistake of doing the same thing. His mind began to race as he watched you move each limb, your legs were sexy, they gripped around your thighs tightly, leaving little to his imagination. He hoped you were wearing a sexy pair of underwear underneath, something lacy, perhaps. But as he finally stops in front of you he gets to see those eyes of yours. And that did something for him.

He didn’t notice it before when you were in the confrontation room together because he was nervous, he was afraid he’d slip up. But getting to see you, when he was in his most confident form, he basically fell in love right then and there. You would get married to him, have his children. He imagined a long, overly outrageous wedding dress, something that attempted to outshine you, but it wouldn’t. Because you were the most beautiful fucking woman he had ever seen in his life. He can’t believe that he wasted so much time on those other women, those immature girls, you were so much better than all of them, in every way.

You gave him a small smile, pushing your hair back with one hand since you were carrying some documents. Baekhyun could smell the perfume you were wearing, he let himself memorize the notes. Vanilla… accents of Rum and Patchouli. He knew what it was.

He blinks before he lets a chuckle out. “This is going to sound weird but… are you wearing Dior?”

You pause, your mouth agape. You were probably impressed with him, they all were. He did work in the fragrance industry after all. He enjoyed it, it was the only thing in his life that he actually loved. To Baekhyun, creating a scent that could enhance someone, to make them desirable, create an immediate reaction just by the way they smell; that was powerful. Something as meaningless as fragranced air, essentially, could let him know what you were trying to go for. Something fruity… that was childish. But if you were an outgoing, bubbly personality, you could make it work. A perfume with stronger notes, lets say, an aromatic one. That would detail anise, lavender, lemongrass. That gave you a more sexy appeal, it drew your target in, wondering how someone can smell so fucking hot, that you wanted to fuck them.

“I am, actually. Wow, you have a great sense of smell,” You laughed as you blushed.

Baekhyun didn’t miss the way your cheeks flooded faintly with the rosy undertones, and he knew that he was getting to you, making his way into your mind, your thoughts. You were probably thinking, ‘How the fuck did he know what perfume I was wearing?” It could go one of two ways, one, you would think that he was fucking creepy. Or two, you were interested. And if you were interested, this would go perfectly. He changed his body language to something more comfortable, shifting his weight to one side and grinning.

“I work in the fragrance industry. It’s kind of my job to know about those things. Don’t worry- I’m not a freak. It’s a lovely perfume, I recommend it to all of my clients.”

“Lucky for you that ticks a box in my ‘Not Creepy Men List’. Well… have a good day.”

You start to head back to your car but Baekhyun dismisses that, he had to know more about you. He suddenly grabs your arm, to which you shy away from, taking a step away from him.

He withdraws it quickly though, shooting you an awkward smile.

“I’m sorry. I wanted to ask you something before I head back home. Is there any way I can get your number?”

That did something to you. Baekhyun watches as you don’t say anything at first, and then you start to stutter, gibberish spilling out of your mouth at a rapid pace. He holds back his happiness at that, loving the reaction you gave him.

“I-I uh, I don’t think it would be professional to give you that information Baekhyun. I have a boyfriend-”

“For the case. If I can think of anything else I can text you. That’s all. Not trying to flirt with you after I found my girlfriend’s dead body.” He attempted to make it sound funny, but you look back at him horrified.

You shake your head, smiling to yourself like you misinterpreted him. But you didn’t, Baekhyun knew that. He knew what he was doing and if he played his cards right, he would know everything he needed to know about you as soon as he got home. A simple search on social media with the number you would give him would show him your profiles, seeing as they all require a phone number to even sign up. However, the boyfriend comment didn’t go unmissed at all, he knew what he had to do. That was fine, easy even.

“Of course. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound cocky or anything, I totally didn’t think you were flirting. Oh my god… I am so sorry.”

You start to stress out a little, and Baekhyun’s neediness to comfort you wants to take over, to hold you and make sure that you were alright; that you didn’t need to freak out for him. You were going to be his wife after all, you didn’t need to be so flustered around your soon to be husband.

You start to recite your phone number to him, and you look at him confused when you don’t pull out a phone to save it.

“Aren’t you taking my number?” You asked.

Baekhyun smiles. “I have a good memory.”

She juts her bottom lip out, looking impressed again. You finish telling him your number and the two of you part ways. He watched you as you left, just to make sure nothing bad happened to you. As soon as you’re not in his sight anymore, he pulls out his phone and furiously types in your number to his contact list. Tossing the phone back onto the car seat, he leans onto his back, putting his arms behind his neck. He smiles.

“The things I’m going to do with you, Y/N.”

ch 1, ch 2, ch 3

[novasdarling]

Hi Nova! I had an interesting question/ thought.

Do you reckon Chrollo would’ve gotten a vasectomy done?

Hear me out: basically considering how he probably does sleep with quite a few women to get what he wants, he wouldn’t really rely on their contraceptive methods (or condoms).

Now especially for when he has his darling, there still is a chance that his darlings contraceptive methods might fail so he might want to he extra precautious considering how he doesn’t strike me as the type who would want kids in the future anyway.

Condoms might get annoying after a certain time considering how they don’t offer the same feel as unprotective sex (wrap it up kids)

My theory is that he might get one and have his darling use pills not by forcing them, but by striking the fear of having a child that would tie the two of them together to have his darling religiously take their pills.

Yes yes yes. I see this too. He isn't a man who screams father to me, but if he did have kids, it would be done strategically.

Dark Content! Yandere Thirsts!

I can see him not wanting kids as they're a responsibility he does not care for. Plus they would take his darlings attention away from him. BUT also, he would be the type to mold himself into the man you want. Plays the part of the gentlemen if need be, becomes everything you every wanted. But what if you want children? This is when I think Chrollo could go down two different roads.

Let's say this is the road where he doesn't care if you want one. I think he wouldn't get a vasectomy while he was with his darling, if he did get one it would be before. But I dont know if I 100% see him to like go to a doctor's and get it down. Perhaps he got it done years ago before he became the man he is now. Anyway whether he can or not, in this scenario he would make it clear to his darling not that he can't or doesn't want kids, rather that it would be foolish to have them. After all, he's a dangerous man, with enemies. Protecting you is already taking everything in him, adding a kid would make things more difficult. Chrollo would play this up more to him protecting your emotions, as it would crush you if something happened to the kid. It would be sad wouldn't it? So why not prevent that, have you on birth control or the old pull and pray. Maybe one day he'll let you know he has a vasectomy, but not now.

Now this version differs from the first and your opinion(which I think yours is spot on and goes with option one up ahead). He doesn't really want kids, but know it's how to make you stay. Especially if he knows you really want kids. He believes this will make you fall for him, or at least show some tenderness to him even if he had kidnapped you. If he gives you something you want, surely you would give him what he wants. Plus the part where you need his help when you're all round and pregnant appeals to him. This option is much more manipulative of him. As he doesn't actually want the kids and will do little to no parenting unless you convince him (give him something for watching the brat). To him the kid is nothing more than a tool to tie you to him and appease you. However, I do see him faking his love for the kids. Especially if you try to run. Chrollo would act like you taking the child from him is the most hurtful thing ever. How could you separate a man from his kid? He's a good actor, having you believe him somewhat even though you know he doesn't really care for the kid like you do. Whatever it takes to keep you, he'll do.

I think these two options are the most likely, yours definitely fall within the first one. Whether he actually does get a vasectomy or not, he's not a fan of kids and would rather avoid them if he can. Yet, sometimes life calls for sacrifices and he'll do whatever it takes to keep you with him. Even if he hates the though, which is the second option. Overall, I think it depends on the darling which is why I don't know if he would get a vasectomy later in his career. Either it's done really early which means no babies. Or if he thinks/knows darling really wants a baby, he may get it reversed if he got one.

I hope I answered or elaborated enough. Sometimes I go off on a tangent that differs from asks, sorry.

[btsydtrash]

Euphoric Endeavours [4]

vampire bts, poly ot7 x uni student yn

Through a series of curious happenstances, the Boys of Bangtan - your campus’ most popular and most handsome group of individuals - set their sights on you, a regular student with a stubborn streak and a wayward mouth.

Strangely enough, the mere sight of them sets your instincts off, red-lights flashing in your brain - danger, danger, danger, danger.

It’s too bad that they can’t seem to leave you alone, though. They like you too much.

(angst / smut / yandere / fluff / gore)

Masterlist / i dont have a tag list / find me on twitter  /  word count: 2.8k

(AN: Hi, all! This story is actually already posted on AO3. But, I decided to post it on here. I have almost 50 chapters of this story up over there, so I’ll slowly be adding them onto here too)

TW: non-graphic mention of blood

Chapter 4 - ‘Unsullied’

“She’s awfully fun to play around with,” Taehyung comments, tossing more of his chocolate covered almonds into his mouth. He hands some over to Jimin and Jungkook, who open their palms, without shifting their eyes from the TV screen. “She refuses to bend to any of my requests. She’s so cute.”

“You think? I haven’t met her yet, but I’ve heard about her,” the pink-haired dancer says, peeling an orange and tossing the rind into the bin as if it were a basketball. He hands a third to Jungkook and another third to Taehyung. “One of the girls in my contemporary class, Young-mi, is apparently close with her.”

Jungkook nods, stomach swooping strangely at the mention of you. “She’s a little headstrong but, from what I can tell, she’s a nice girl.”

“Hyung’s been trying, unsuccessfully, to break her down,” Taehyung says, excitedly. “He gets so mad when she just brushes him off.”

“It serves him right,” the youngest says, pushing some of his cherry red hair from his eyes. He recently bleached and dyed his locks, finally taking the leap to drastically change his appearance. Taehyung had been the one to do it for him, experienced with bleach and dye, and he’s proud of his work, liking how to colour contrasts with the maknae’s honeyed skin. “He’s too cocky sometimes, especially with girls.”

The way the older boys ran through girls never really appealed to Jungkook, considering he’s just come out the back end of a long-term relationship, only ending because his ex-girlfriend thought it pertinent to sleep with someone else during Freshers’ Week at her campus in Daejeon. He wasn’t a sucker, and he wouldn’t forgive cheating, no matter how much he loved her. That had been one of his hard limits, and she knew that. He's a stickler for faithfulness.

“You’re only saying that because you haven’t experienced women,” Taehyung says, making a lewd gesture with his hands, as if he were squeezing soft globes in his hands. Jungkook didn't need to a mind-reader to know where his head was at. His lips pull up in a salacious smirk, fangs peeking out dangerously. “They’re addicting.”

Jungkook snorts, turning back to the TV. “Are you forgetting that I’m not a virgin anymore, hyung?”

Taehyung lets out a gentle laugh at Jungkook’s affronted gawk. “No, silly. I mean, once you start to actively, you know, sleep around. You realise how fun it is. How easy it is. How good it feels. You and Seugi were dating for like, what, a year before you took that step?”

The maknae nods, adjusting his circle-framed glasses on the end of his nose. “It didn’t really feel great, either. Like, okay, it felt good, but in my head, I kind of thought, well, ‘is this it?’ You know?”

Jimin puts a hand on his shoulder, sending him an empathetic look, flipping his fluffy pink hair from his eyes. "You deserved better than that."

Taehyung gives him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry you didn’t have a good experience.”

“Seulgi was fine, I was fine. It just wasn’t meant to be,” he supposes, shrugging. Taehyung can scent the frustration on the maknae, but he leaves him be. Kookie deals with his emotions in a relatively healthy way, so he can’t complain, especially knowing that after his first break-up, he was in a much worse state, emotionally.

Jimin says, clapping his hands together, “That’s enough about this depressing stuff. Tell me about YN.”

Taehyung can’t stop the grin from reappearing on his face and he goes off, cheerily, “She’s funny, and fiery, despite her size. Even Yoongi-hyung thinks she’s interesting. He keeps going to her workplace, even though we have a coffee shop nearer to our apartment. He keeps pretending like he doesn’t, but I see the coffee cups in his car.”

Jimin’s brow raises at that, knowing how disengaged Yoongi likes to be with near enough everyone outside of their coven. To have caught his eye, and maintained his interest, there needs to be something noteworthy about you. He asks, “What does she look like?”

“She won’t accept my Instagram request otherwise I would show you,” the artist mumbles, put out, staring at his phone screen, icon with your name and the word ‘pending’ beside it, sending a new flash of annoyance through him. “And she doesn’t have any pictures on Line. Or, maybe I’ve been blocked from them – I don’t know. She’s being really difficult.”

Jimin shifts on the floor, adjusting himself to get more comfortable, before he asks, “Are you- Are you interested in her, as a woman? Or, just as something to play with?”

“Neither,” he admits. The idea of using you for sex hadn’t even come into his mind, strangely enough. The late nights in the library working on your content of the presentation, he’d never thought of trying it on with you. He thinks you’d smack him into the sun if he did. He’s not ashamed to say that he’s somewhat thrilled by the fact. “She’s fun to be around.”

Jimin rears back to stare at the artist, and he lets out a low whistle. “Well I’ll be damned. Taehyung finally seeing a girl as a person, and not a hole.”

“Let’s not be crude,” Taehyung chastises, with an amused look. “Her mouth is sharp enough to keep my penis disengaged.”

Jungkook perks up and, playfully, presses his finger into his ear, pretending to be a service agent. In a funny voice, he says, “The weapon has been holstered. I repeat, the weapon has been holstered.”

Taehyung shoves at him, laughing loudly. “Both of you are idiots.”

“Did I hear you guys mention YN?” Namjoon asks, stepping into the room from where he’s been holed up, writing up a composition on some long-dead homophobic poet from the 1700s. His eyes are puffy from a lack of sleep and he’s sipping on his AB-neg like it’s his lifeline. “Hoseok keeps talking about her, I’m starting to hear her name in my dreams.”

The two boys share a room. As do Jimin and Jin, Taehyung and Jungkook, which leaves Yoongi in the smallest room by himself. The white-blond composer often stayed up late, putting together his pieces, editing his tracks and playing instruments well into the night, as to not bother his room-mate, he elected to take the single room by himself. Plus, he prefers his own company, unlike someone like Jimin or Taehyung, who thrives around more people.

Taehyung bounces excitedly on the floor, making space for the leader of their coven to sidle beside him. When he drops down, Taehyung notices the smell of shampoo and body wash, realising that Joon must have just come out of the shower.

Unhappily, Jungkook pokes at the bags under Namjoon’s eyes, and asks, frowning, “What time did you get to sleep, hyung?”

“I didn’t,” he admits, ashamedly. “This composition is pretty important, and the professor is an ass, so he doesn’t give extensions, save for like… death. So, it was either sacrifice sleep, or sacrifice my grade.”

Jimin prompts, “But, you’ve finished now?”

He takes a long drag of the bagged blood, finishing it and crushing it in his hands. “Yep. Submitted and now, I finally feel like I can breathe.”

“Then, why aren’t you in bed?” The chastising tone of his voice surprises Jimin, Taehyung and Namjoon, but Jungkook appears serious. “You should be resting.”

“I have work,” he tells them, glumly. “The aquarium gave me a few days off to finish, thankfully, but I’ve got to go in for a couple of hours, just to show my face and make up for the time I took off.”

“Hyuuung,” Jungkook whines, unhappily. “You’re running yourself into the ground.”

“It’ll be fine,” he says, ruffling his hair. “Oh, that’s what’s different about you. Your hair. It looks good, Kookie. Who did it?”

Taehyung gestures to his face, extravagantly flipping his hair. “Moi.”

“It’s good. You always were good with hair,” he runs a hand through his own honey-blond locks, having been done by the same talented hands.

“My mom is a hair technician,” he tells the two of them. “If I weren’t good with hair, I’m sure it’d somehow offend her.”

They chuckle, enjoying the amicable silence, before Namjoon drifts off in Taehyung’s lap. “He’s more tired than he lets on,” he mumbles, carding a hand through his hair as he lightly snores in his lap.

“I hate it,” Jungkook admits, pouting. “He’s always doing so much for us, working himself when he doesn’t need to. He deserves a break.”

“Shall we treat him? We could drive down to the beach again,” Jimin says, wistfully recalling their three-day excursion, dropping all their responsibilities and just escaping from the pressures of their family life, of their titles, of their blood bonds. They just got to be a group of teenagers, for once. “We all could use it.”

He can tell that Jungkook is thinking the same as he is, by the wistful, nostalgic smile on his face. He nods. “Yeah, hyung. That sounds good. But, for now, can we let him sleep a little? He won’t have work until four or so. It’s not even midday yet.”

“Of course, Kook,” he says. The maknae retrieves a blanket and throws it over Namjoon’s shoulders. The leader lets out a happy sigh and nuzzles closer into Taehyung’s gut, throwing an arm around his tummy.

“He’s such a snuggler,” Taehyung laughs, quietly, playing with the metal at the cuff on his own ear. “He’s so cute.”

------

“He’s so weird,” you complain to yourself, tossing your mug in the sink and flicking on the hot water. You’d just finished a shift at work and had come home to a messy kitchen area, a frustrated grunt escaping your throat at the sight, but you clean up because if you don’t, and you still see it tomorrow morning, you’ll want to bury your housemates. “What kind of person does that? They’re all so fucking weird.”

“Who’s so weird?” Mei asks, joining you in the kitchen. She has a bowl of what was ramen in her hands, and sheepishly hands it over to you to wash out. You don’t even care to glare at her, simply dropping it into the hot water to soak, like the other pots and pans. “You’re making the Face.”

Intrigued, you echo, brow furrowing, “What Face?”

“The ‘I’m going to kill you and eat your kids’ face,” she says, grabbing a banana from the fruit basket atop the small fridge. “You usually reserve it for men at the bar who keep pestering you. And I know you haven’t been out for a long time, so what gives?”

“That’s because I’m too busy to go out. If I don’t have class, I have work. If I don’t have work, I’m in the library for this stupid project,” you whine, wanting to stamp your colourful sock clad feet against the linoleum and turn to begin washing the dishes. “But, thinking about it, I don’t have work next Saturday morning. Maybe I can sleep in.”

“You’re such a grandma,” she laughs. “Next weekend, there’s a house party over at the EXO frat house. Do you want to go?”

“Hm. Do I, also, want a yeast infection? The same answer applies,” you sass, grabbing a sponge and scrubbing at the stubborn red stains on the plates from last night.

She grimaces at the image. “Gross.”

You blow her a kiss and she catches it, holding it to her heart, before she asks, “Who were you talking about when I came in?”

You grumble, “Oh, just Kim Taehyung. In fact, all of those Bangtan Boys.”

The subject is still a little sore for her, remembering Hoseok’s cold attitude towards her a few weeks ago, although she says he’s been nothing but cordial with her since then. She ducks her head, shyly, and asks, “Have you- Have you, maybe, spoken to h-him since?”

You try not to wince at the reminder. You’ve tried to avoid him, but for some reason, since you found yourself on his radar, he pops up at the strangest times. When you and Taehyung have been in the library for hours, working on your project, he would drop in the seat opposite to you, feigning conversation with his brother before staring you down.

When you’d finished in the swimming pool at ass o’clock in the morning after a long study session, you walk out, hair still wet, to see him entering the pool at exact the same time. He’s been delightfully shirtless, but you couldn’t even concentrate on the trail of dark hair leading beneath his swim shorts, nor his literal washboard abs, because you were so shocked at the time, sliding onto your ass.

He even popped up at your work, but you’d been in the back at the time, only spotting his ostentatiously bright jacket as he left. You knew it was him because of the shape of his back and his expensive Mercedes parked outside.

You shake off your stupor and reply, edgily, “Who? Hoseok? Absolutely not. His brother, on the other hand, won’t seem to leave me alone. Plus, the older one- uh, what’s his name? Yoongi? He came to my work the other day. Again.”

She looks at you in shock, and babbles, “You- Do you know how lucky you are to interact with them so closely? Do you know how many girls would literally, and I mean literally, do anything to have that kind of luck?”

You nearly buckle over from how hard you laugh, the sound lacking all amusement. “Lucky? Are you kidding me? They’re a menace.”

She laughs and gives you a seedy look, mimicking claws and pawing at you. “Menacingly attractive.”

Grimacing down at the soapy water, you reprimand, “Okay, one, ew. Don’t say that ever again. And two, they’re upsetting my chakras. Clogging my flow. Obstructing my waves.”

“You’re an idiot,” she laughs.

“I’m your idiot,” you reply, winking at her, before letting out a sigh. “I’m going to be stuck with Taehyung for another month or so, but I refuse to interact with any of the others. They give me major weird vibes.”

She echoes, a cute pout to her lips, “Weird vibes?”

You nod, vehemently. “Are you telling me you’ve never felt it before? They don’t feel- I don’t know, they don’t feel like they’re one of us.”

“Taehyung’s nickname among the student body is Alien, because he’s so quirky, if that’s what you mean,” she suggests, tossing the banana skin in the trash.

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” you mumble, but you can’t think of how to explain it, so you drop the topic. “Whatever. Look, I’m gonna kick ass on this presentation and get a hundred, and there’s no way Gucci Boi is going to stop me from doing just that.”

She squeals out a laugh at the nickname you gave the tall artist, nearly falling off her chair in amusement, before she glances at her phone. “Oh, shoot. I’ve got to get going.”

You ask, sympathetically, “Do you have work?”

She glances at you, shyly, and instantly, you’re intrigued. “I’ve actually got a date?”

You clap your hands together, forgetting that they’re lathered in soap and so the blowback has bubbles flying into your face and mouth. Spluttering, you ask, excitedly, “Who is this guy? What’s his name? Where did you meet?”

“Not enough time to explain,” she tells you, grabbing her pretty heels from the front door. “He’s nice though, I promise! No shadiness this time. I’ll text you when I’m on my way home, okay? I shouldn’t be too late.”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” you call after her.

She laughs, playfully. “Then I wouldn’t do anything, YN!”

Leaving you with your thoughts, you finish washing the dishes mechanically, and disappear into your room, to finish off your anthropology assignment for the week, and add some notes to your end of year applied linguistics essay. You know it’s early, but you’d rather be on top and ahead, than lacking and behind in your studies.

Before long, you realise that hours have passed, and Mei hasn’t contacted you at all, despite the few messages you’ve sent her. You don’t want to overwhelm her, or cock block on accident, so you let her be. But, something in you feels anxious, and you can’t put your finger on why you feel so confused.

Just as you get out of the shower, you hear the tail-end of your ring-tone signalling an incoming call, but you’re too slow to answer it in time.

Glancing at your front screen, you see an unknown number, that you call back instantly.

“Hello, Seoul General Hospital. How may I help you?”

- end - 

(1), (2), (3), (4), (5), (6), (7), (8), (9), (10), (11), (12), (13), (14), (15), (16), (17)

[mypoisonedvine]

You, Me, and Him | (dark)Bucky Barnes x reader

summary: the worst thing about the man who did this to you is that he’s convinced he isn’t the one who did this to you (or, brainscrambled bucky decides to keep the gift that the winter soldier left for him)

word count: 4k

warnings: smut (noncon), yandere-ish themes, stalking, kidnapping, very unstable/erratic bucky, slapping, creampie kink, praise

When you opened your eyes, you wondered why your room looked so strange.  What possible angle could you be looking at your ceiling from that it would be like this?

However, when you turned your head, you suddenly realized that you were not in your room at all.  The next thing you realized was that your hands were restrained— shackled, specifically, and suspended above your head.  Obviously, this realization shot ice-cold terror through your veins as you began to try to understand how you’d gotten here.  Now that you thought about it, you didn’t remember going to sleep in your room: no, you’d been out shopping, in the middle of the afternoon.  Why couldn’t you remember anything after that?  

Your head spun when a door nearby opened, and the man that awaited on the other side brought it all back.

He was following me.  I tried to lose him, I turned a corner, but he was right there— and there was a syringe in his hand… and he must have—

“Oh my god,” the man gasped, “shit— are you okay?”

You stared at him in confusion, already starting to cry as you put two and two together about all this.  Generally, only one thing happened after a man drugged a woman and chained her to a wall.  The part that didn’t add up was the terror on his face as he rushed to you and knelt down in front of where you were lying— why was he worried about you?

“Oh no, oh nonononono,” he whimpered, mostly to himself, “oh god, I didn’t— this wasn’t… oh fuck.”

“Please let me go,” you started to plead between sobs, “I don’t know what you want, but I don’t have any money… I’ll give you whatever I have, I won’t tell anyone, just let me go, please—”

“No, no, no,” he shook his head quickly.  Either he wasn’t listening (bad) or he was denying your request (worse) and both possibilities just made you cry harder.  He, meanwhile, was rocking back and forth in front of you, covering his ears with his hands to muffle your cries.  “Oh god, what have I done, what have I done— what did I do?”

“Please don’t hurt me,” you whimpered.

“No, no, I won’t— I would never do that…” he sighed.  “I would never do anything to hurt you.”

You squinted as you tried to make out what that meant, sniffling as your crying subsided a little (mainly from being distracted by the confusion of it all).  “Do I… know you?”

He chuckled a little, scratching the back of his neck nervously.  “Uh, no, not really, I’m— my name is Bucky,” he explained, “I— you might have seen me on the news, but that wasn’t really me, that was this other guy—”

“Why did you do this to me?” you interrupted.

“No, see, that’s the thing: I didn’t do this to you.  It was… it was somebody else.  He’s… he’s in my head, and every once in a while he takes control and sort of does his own thing…”

Not that anybody who kidnaps somebody is totally right in the head, but this guy is certifiable.

“And he did this to you.  Don’t worry, it’s gonna be okay,” he assured you, though it wasn’t comforting at all, “I’m not gonna hurt you, I would never— I won’t do that, okay?  I’m just gonna… I’m gonna let you go.”

You sighed with relief, although some voice in the back of your head told you not to trust him just because he seemed regretful.  Regardless of his strange excuses, this was still the man who kidnapped you.

“You don’t believe me,” he realized with an awkward smile.  “It’s okay, I understand.  I wouldn’t believe me either— god, I must sound crazy, right?  But I’m not crazy.  I don’t think…”

This time your sigh was less relief and more irritation.

“See, I was, uh, tortured.  Experimented on.  That was a long time ago, and I’m mostly over it, but this other guy— he’s a soldier.  I guess I am, too, but he’s… more on the war crimes side of things.  Like, assassinations and stuff.  That’s a whole other story…”

I think I’d prefer to hear that one.

“Anyways, sometimes I get sort of… messed up?  Up here?” he gestured to his head, leaning back to sit on the floor in front of you with crossed legs.  “Like, I can’t tell what year it is or how long it’s been since I’ve slept.  My psychiatrist says I’m ‘losing time’ and that it’s normal for people with… whatever it is that I have.  But it’s scary, you know?  Because I don’t know what I’ve done in that time.  So today, I woke up and had no idea how I got where I was—”

Same.

“And I came down here and… you’re here.  I didn’t… I didn’t do this, I can’t stress that enough.”

“So… this other guy…” you tried to understand, hoping that appealing to his twisted sense of logic would get him to tell you something actually useful, “he did this?”  Bucky nodded.  “Does he do this often?”

“What, kidnap women?  No this is… this is new.  As far as I know.”

“Why me?”

“Uh…” he stalled, looking away.  “God, this is sort of embarrassing, but… it’s probably because I sort of have this, um, crush on you…”

“You don’t even know me,” you mumbled.

“No, you don’t know me, but I… I know you,” he nodded confidently.  “Do you remember a few months ago when you went to that art gallery by your apartment?  It was raining that day, I couldn’t tell for sure if you came in to look at the art or if you were just trying to get out of the weather but, anyways, you had on this big puffy coat— ‘cause it was cold out— and you took off your hood and you just looked around… I saw you, cause I was in there to look at the art, too, and you looked so beautiful.”

You were getting anxious.  He said he would let you go but he hadn’t really made any progress on that goal.

“And I sort of followed you after that, and watched you— I mean, that sounds really bad, it wasn’t like that, I just… I just wanted to make sure you were safe and—”

“Let me go, Bucky, please,” you interrupted, getting more desperate.

He shook his head with a sigh.  “You’re right, you’re right, I’m sorry… I just haven’t had anyone to talk to… you’re a good listener.”

Yeah, everybody’s a good listener when they’re tied up and forced to listen.

“Just let me finish my story and I’ll let you go.  I was kind of in the middle of something.  You know, it’s rude to interrupt people.”

Oh fuck.  You’d angered him.  It was subtle, but he was clearly irritated; he looked at the floor, and his jaw tightened a little.  It must have been that this candid talk made you forget he was unstable and that you needed to tread lightly.  You couldn’t afford another mistake like that.

“I’m sorry, Bucky, finish your story,” you offered.

“Okay,” he nodded, “well, anyways, when you came into the gallery you looked around for a while but there was one painting you kept looking at— do you remember it?” 

You shook your head.

“Really?  You must’ve stared at it for half an hour.  I swear I saw you tearing up a bit,” he smiled.  “Clearly it had an effect on you.  I wasn’t sure if you were considering buying it, or if it would make you upset to see it in your house every day, but the way you looked at it… it changed everything for me.  You smiled at me as you left, just a quick glance— I’m not offended that you don’t remember me just from that, if anything it’s good because it made it a lot easier to trail you, but… I knew then that you were such a kind, soulful person.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, “I remember… I remember that.”

It was so cold out that the rain was nearly frozen.  You’d gone in to escape the elements, but one painting drew you in.  Someone else was there, a man that you remembered thinking was attractive but a little eerie with the way he just stood there, seemingly even more purposeless than you.  He smiled at you as you left, and you smiled back.  You were just trying to be friendly.  No good deed, though, right?

“Do you remember the painting?” he asked again, leaning in a little closer with innocent hope sparkling in his eyes.

“Yes,” you nodded, “it was… it was a woman, and she was looking away from the viewer, out over the water.  She looked sad, but determined, like she was thinking about something impossible to describe.”

He smiled wide then, apparently impressed by your description.   “Look,” was all he said as he pointed to the wall beside you— and as you turned your head, you gasped as you saw it: it was the painting, even more hauntingly beautiful than you remembered.  You started to cry again, because somehow it was this show of disturbed affection that made you more sure than ever that you weren’t going to get out of here.

“Don’t be scared,” he soothed, moving closer again and wiping the tears from your face gently.  “It’s gonna be alright.”

“Please let me go,” you whispered shakily, looking back at him, straight into his eyes, as if maybe you could find some sanity there to appeal to.

He frowned a little as he pulled back, bringing his thumb to his lips to chew the nail nervously as he thought.  “See, here’s the thing…”

“Bucky, please—”

“I don’t think I can do that,” he sighed.

“Please,” you cried, the word starting to lose all meaning as you just fought to be able to speak past the force of your sobs, “please, please—”

“You could tell somebody— and I know it wasn’t me, but the police aren’t gonna care about that.  I always have to take the heat for what he does… and I would just rather not go to prison.”

“I won’t, Bucky,” you feverishly defended, “I wouldn’t tell, I swear— we’re friends!  Friends don’t tell on each other—”

He interrupted you as he grabbed you by your shirt suddenly, pulling you towards him as you recoiled.  “I don’t have friends,” he growled.

“We… we could be friends,” you offered weakly.  “I could be your friend.  Do you… do you want to be my friend?”

He studied your face, the gaze of his bright blue eyes burning through you instantly.  “I can’t say that I do.”

You whimpered as he leaned in closer, taking a deep breath right against the side of your face.

“You smell so good,” he whispered, his left hand— bionic metal, much to your horror— reaching up to trace over your face and hold you close to him.  “We aren’t friends, silly; we’re soulmates.”

You shivered, gut sinking as you closed your eyes and thought there might still be a chance it was all a horrible dream.  This isn’t happening to me, this isn’t happening to me, this can’t be happening to me—

“Hey!” he yelled, slapping you on the face suddenly.  “Keep your eyes open!”

You cried but tried to do as he asked, knowing it would only be so much worse if you didn’t do whatever he wanted.

“The point is, even if you didn’t tell, letting you go just isn’t… economical for me,” he explained.  “‘Cause the truth is, even though I didn’t want to kidnap you, right now I wanna… I wanna keep you.”

He didn’t even let you start crying hard again before he cradled your face in his hands, refusing to let you turn away.

“No, baby, it’s okay— it’s gonna be good!” he promised.  “I would never do anything to hurt you.”

“Please, Bucky, don’t do this,” you sobbed.

“Shh, shh, don’t you get it?  He did this to help me— he knew I couldn’t do it alone, ‘cause I was too afraid to talk to you, but he brought you to me, and now I’m gonna make you understand how good we are for each other.”

He scooted closer, his hands rubbing your legs through your jeans as you cried silently.

“And that’s why he didn’t touch you,” he continued.  “He just left you for me, cause he knows you’re— you’re mine.”

He kissed you suddenly, and it was awkward and sloppy against your unwilling lips.  His tongue eventually managed to force your mouth open, exploring and filling it as you struggled and failed to turn away.  His hand on your jaw was almost tight enough to choke you, a looming threat of what awaited if you didn’t kiss him back.  You couldn’t exactly put much passion into it but you tried your best.

He was smiling when he leaned back and broke away from you, still holding your face and seeming almost proud— of you or himself, you weren’t sure.

“You are so perfect,” he praised quietly.  “I can’t believe I finally have you… god, it’s like a dream come true.”

Or a nightmare, you responded internally.

You jumped when he pulled the knife out from a holster on his belt.

“Oh, this?  I won’t hurt you with it— so long as you stay still,” he explained gently as he leaned forward and started to cut off your shirt while you tried desperately not to shake.  

He looked at you with the reverence of a man at the altar as he tore the shreds of your clothes away, cutting slowly until you were just in your bra and panties.

"Stop," you whispered, but it was so quiet he must not have heard you— or he just didn't care.  He gingerly slipped the knife between your bra and your chest, tugging out to snap it off.  

He took a breath to steady himself; he seemed nearly as nervous as you, just in an entirely different way.

"Baby," he mumbled under his breath, "god, I just wanna do everything to you."

It was hard not to tense up when he said that, or when he brought the knife between your legs to cut off your underwear, but you willed yourself not to shiver because you really weren't ready to lose anything important if his hand slipped.

With them cut and tossed aside, you forced your eyes shut— because you couldn't stop him from seeing you, but at least you didn't have to watch.  As your legs instinctively closed, he gently guided them back open, metal fingers cold on your skin but flesh ones unbearably warm.

“You have such a nice body, I don’t know why you hide it in those baggy clothes,” he chuckled as he ran his hands over your skin.  “I watched you shower a few times, you know, and I saw you look at yourself in the mirror before you got in…"

You opened your eyes, but he wasn't looking at your face, instead taking a long moment to take in everything else.

"You looked like you were disappointed," he continued, "but— but you’re beautiful, and you should know that.  You need somebody to tell you that.”

You felt your face heating up even though you should be horrified, not flattered.  To be fair, it was a bit of both.

“Do you think I’m, you know, handsome?” he asked awkwardly, glancing up to your face again.  “People used to say that about me, a long time ago.  Are you… attracted to me?”

You shook your head, lying.

“Then why are you so wet?” he sing-songed with a mocking grin, thick fingers spreading your lower lips and gathering the arousal they found there.  You whimpered when he brought those fingers to his lips and sucked them hungrily.  “Fuck, you taste incredible— I mean, I knew you would, but wow, this is so much better than just smelling those panties he stole.”

You shivered with disgust, realizing that he was responsible for the pair you thought were lost in the laundry.  

“Oh, yeah, I forgot to mention that,” he laughed.  “Yeah, it was his idea and all, I didn’t do anything but… I’ll tell you a little secret,” he smirked as he leaned in, right against your ear, whispering: “I got off with them, and on them, and it felt soooo good…”

He quickly pulled his cock out of his trousers as you started to struggle against the chains again, getting a quick glimpse before looking away as you wondered how he could possibly fit that in you.

“Do you like knowing that?  Do you like knowing I stroked my cock and thought about you?  I imagined you were laying under me, begging me to fuck you… and now you’re here, and it’s real, and it’s gonna be wonderful.”

You gasped as he suddenly pushed in, trying not to react but knowing he was watching your face intently and saw it all.  “Fuck, baby,” he breathed, “you’re so tight, god, I knew you’d be perfect…”

You cried as he started moving inside you, holding your hips steady and filling you completely until it actually hurt to be stretched so wide.  You were sure nothing had ever been so deep inside you, and it was making your whole body jolt with each thrust.

“Does it feel good?  Do you like my cock in you?” he asked— but it didn’t sound like dirty talk, it sounded like he was genuinely asking.

You shook your head, lying again.

“What if I do this?” he offered, reaching down and circling a calloused thumb over your clit.  Your back arched into his touch, and he grinned proudly.  “See, doesn’t that make it better?  I bet I can make you come.”

One final lie for the night, you shook your head.

"Oh, doll," he soothed, kissing away a tear that had trailed down your cheek, "it's okay… it's okay to like it.  You don't need to pretend."

He reached down and pressed his hand into your lower belly, making you winced as he applied pressure until it took everything you had not to scream.

"Feel that?" he cooed.  "I can feel it.  We're finally together, baby, you never have to be alone again… isn't it incredible?"

Sobbing, your back began to arch up against the wall you were chained to.  With his hand pushing on you, it was impossible to ignore the head of his cock slamming into your g-spot— hard enough that your entire body shook with each thrust.  It was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before, and not just because you’d never been kidnapped before.  As he leaned down to suck on your neck hard enough to leave a mark, it was hard not to feel like he was claiming every part of your body all at once.  You bit down on your lip, afraid to moan too loud, but he heard the muffled noises and pulled up to tut at you disapprovingly.

“Don’t do that,” he frowned, “I wanna hear everything, pretty girl.  I wanna hear you beg for me.”

You whined as you tried to resist it, but getting railed like this made you want to do whatever he told you to.

“Come on, baby,” he encouraged sweetly, “just let go, I know you want to…”

It was bubbling up in your chest faster than you could stop it, each cry louder than the last until you couldn’t hold back anymore.  “Bucky!” you shrieked, hating yourself as you heard him laugh happily right by your ear.

“Oh I know, I’m right here, doll,” he soothed gently, holding you tightly; your hands wiggled inside their shackles, and you shamefully realized that you were craving to wrap your arms around him, run your fingers through his hair.  The desire to push him away was lost to the need to reach your peak.  “Say my name just like that when you come on my cock, sweetheart.”

Your walls were already convulsing and you were moaning so loud you thought you might lose your voice.  Pleasure built up faster than you could comprehend, and so intensely that little black dots were dancing on your vision.  

Oh god yes, right there, don’t stop, yes, you would’ve cried out were it anyone else doing this to you.  Instead all you could do was whimper his name, somewhere between begging for more and begging for mercy.

“Fuck, fuckfuckfuck, I can feel you coming for me— you’re so good, so fucking good,” he groaned, “I’m close already, can you believe it?  I should slow down, so I can make you come again, but you feel too good, I can’t stop.”

Most of that was lost to you, though, because everything had gone numb and fuzzy in the wake of your orgasm, your body limp in his grasp.  The way he pulled your hips into his made you feel used, like a— well, like a doll, fittingly.

“Oh god, babygirl— can I come inside?” he asked gently, but when you weakly shook your head, he just smiled.  “It’s gonna feel so good to fill you up.”

Before you could make it clear that you were saying no, he leaned forward and kissed you— aggressive and rough as he started to breathe deeply and moan against you.  You kicked your legs to try to get him away but all you could do was uselessly scrape your feet against the floor.  You could feel him pulsing inside you, growling against your lips until suddenly warmth began to paint your walls.  Whimpering, you slouched limply as the fight left you.  

“Oh my god, angel,” he sighed, pulling back and smiling as he traced his thumb over your face, following the path of a fresh tear, “that was… you’re incredible.  I’ve never come like that, you feel so fucking amazing.”

He kissed you again, gentler and slower than before.  

“Is it weird that I don’t wanna pull out?” he asked just louder than a whisper, chuckling as his nose brushed against yours.  It was like this guy thought he was in a Hallmark Christmas movie while you were in a Lifetime thriller.  “I could just stay inside you forever… but I won’t.”

He watched in awe as his hips pulled back and his softening cock slipped out of you.  Your face burned with shame as you felt a gush of his come (and yours) leak from you.  

“Wow, look at that,” he mumbled weakly.  “Can you push it out, baby?  I wanna see how good I filled this pretty pussy.”

It made you feel disgusting, but you summoned the last of your strength to do as he asked, unable to see the results but watching him stare between your legs and bite his lip.  

“Fuck, babygirl, that’s… that’s fucking gorgeous.  I stretched you out pretty good, and you’re all swollen…”

Strange enough, he pulled you into a hug, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“You’re so perfect, sweetheart… my pretty little doll.”  When he pulled back a bit, he moved a stray hair that had stuck to the sheen of sweat on your face, admiring you with a small smile.  “God, I can’t believe you’re finally all mine.  Guess he was lookin’ out for me, bringing you here.  I oughta thank him, somehow.”

He must have known what you were imagining by the way you tensed up, and he laughed softly.

“Don’t worry, baby, I won’t let him touch you.  I won’t let anyone touch you but me.  Now let’s get you out of these chains and into a hot bath, how’s that sound?”

Weakly nodding, you let your eyes fall shut as he reached up to unlock the metal cuffs around your wrists.  Holding your hands in his, he softly kissed the marks left there from when you’d still been fighting, before finally scooping you up into his arms.  He didn’t struggle at all to lift you, and you were too exhausted to notice the way you were leaning into his chest as you dozed off.

You dreamt that you were looking out over still water, contemplative but determined, before falling right in.

[the32ndbeat]

𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐣.𝐲𝐧 - [ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟛 ]

pairing: stalker!jaehyun x fem!reader ( ft twice’s tzuyu, loona’s haseul )

word count: 2.4k

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, alcohol consumption, mentions of sexual harassment, mature themes, mentions of drugs, smoking, extreme views, misogyny, yandere themes

a/n: unedited! it’s been forever since I updated this but also considering if I should turn this into a tbz series at my tbz writing blog so we’ll see how this goes.

taglist: I don’t have one yet and I’m seeing how this does since I’m thinking whether I should convert it into a tbz series. Please do lemme know if you guys want to see this continued!

disclaimer: everything written here is FICTIONAL and I am in no way saying that the mentioned characters act like that irl!

masterlist  

(inspired by netflix’s you and the book of the same name by caroline kepnes)

The first thing that registers in my mind is how fucking loud this place is. Seriously, what is it with college parties and their inherent need to blast music loud enough to wake the entire neighbourhood within a five mile radius? Before I even step within the premises or even make it to the front yard, the whole fraternity house seemed to shake from the loudness of the bass-boosted music when viewed from a distance away. I even had to squint as I approach, the strings of fluorescent party lights draped all over the place glowing so brightly it almost hurt to look straight.

A few drunk college frat boys stumble past me, their hair sticky and messy with sweat and their breaths reeking of cheap alcohol. Their steps are wobbly and I can even see drool and remnants of vomit hanging at the corner of their mouths. My heart clenches with pure disgust and I grit my teeth as I watch them laugh out loud over nothing, their brains a pink, unintelligent mush in their skulls, probably rotted by endless drinking and fucking. All part of the college frat experience.

I wonder if they enjoy being a complete waste of space while wasting mummy and daddy’s money to put them through college.

I look away and ignore the growing irritation in me. This is the sort of party your friends wanted you to go with them to? I thought your friends were bad influences but scratch that, they’re fucking horrible. They taint you, taint your innocence and put you at risk around such dangerous men who do not deserve to be even a mile within your presence. As I walk closer, the house looks even more hideous up close.

It’s decorated in the worst way I’ve seen a house decorated. It’s as if someone threw a bunch of random fairy lights bought in the brightest, blinding neon colours that simply do not go together over a sloppy looking house and the front yard is littered with empty, red plastic cups and is that a discarded bra I see over there?

I tiptoe over the trash laying around on the grass and try to avoid the gyrating bodies of college students who clearly have no sense of rhythm. My skin feels grimy within just a few minutes of being here and I can’t wait to leave but there is no way I’m leaving when I know that you will be here. The thought of you being surrounded by such vermins makes me sick to the stomach and I want to get you out of here. The only place you should rightfully be, is at my place where there are no revolting men who only love to drink cheap alcohol, party till sunrise, get high off smoking a blunt, yell ‘turn up!’ every few minutes as if it’s muscle memory in their tiny, almost non-existent brains and do anything but be a productive member of society.

As I push through the double doors, the nauseating smell containing a mixture of intoxicating alcohol, smoke and cheap cologne almost knocks me backwards. My hand grips tighter to the wooden door and I force myself in. Inside, the house is dim but bright at the same time with disco and laser lights. A massive boombox and a pair of equally large loudspeakers sit at the corner of the room and some hip hop tune is being played while people dance and drink and smoke to their hearts’ delight. You’d never believe these kids were supposed to be the future.

Oh, how disappointed their parents must be.

A girl in skimpy shorts and a tube top looks at me with unadulterated want and beckoning in her eyes while staring at the varsity jacket I’m wearing, no doubt replaying fantasies of fucking a college athlete in her mind and trying to guess which sport I supposedly play. I gaze blankly at them before turning away and I can see her shift from the corner of my eye, obviously bothered by the lack of attention. It’s like I can almost see the gears whirring in her brain. Did she not show enough cleavage? Is more skin needed to get my attention? Sometimes people are so predictable and readable that it’s almost pathetic.

Other times, I might have lowered my standards and settled for a casual fuck with someone like that but not today. Today, I’m a man on a mission. A mission to look out for you.

My eyes scan the room but it’s too dim to see anything within four feet in any direction. The flashing lights threaten to overwhelm me along with the stink of the place and booming music and I can feel my annoyance evolving into anger. I repress the urge to slap the shit out of a guy in a red bandana who screams ‘turn up’ all of sudden, practically effectively bursting my eardrums.

I almost bump into a couple eating each other’s faces out when someone yells out at me.

“Hey, you!”

The music is so loud that I almost don’t hear it. I whip around and sure enough, it’s tube top girl making her way over to me. You have got to be fucking kidding me. Not only do I have to find and save you from this sleazy place and have to squeeze in with a crowd of sweaty, brainless college kids who know nothing but party in a tiny, dirty, smelly frat house but now I also have tube top girl hot on my heels?

The things I do for you, y/n and we haven’t even properly gotten to know each other yet.

“Hey, how’s it going?” Tube top girl smiles and up close, I can see that her mascara is smudged and her hair is slicked back with an unholy amount of gel into a tight little bun which only makes her face look wider and her forehead exposed with a sheen of sweat covering it. Her lipstick is reapplied and I know for a fact that she has done it to impress me. Her top is also inched a little lower, as if that makes her anymore appealing.

I smile in a dismissive way, in a way that showed that I cared, but not really.

“Hey,” I reply flippantly.

“Crazy party huh?” She grins, satisfied that she’s got my attention now. Women.

I let my eyes drift to her breasts and look back up at her expectant, puppy dog eyes that are so eager to please it’s actually embarrassing.

“Yeah.”

“What’s your name? I’m Meg.”

“I’m Jaehyun.”

“You part of any sports team in school?” And just like that I know that tube top girl must have had fantasies of fucking a college athlete.

So predictable.

“Yeah, I’m on the swim team.” I say and her smile widens, a playfulness in her eyes as she leans her chest in closer in what was meant to be a sexy gesture.

“Oh, is that so? I’ve never really talked to a competitive swimmer before,” she replies in a sultry voice and I smirk.

“Well, here I am. Am I every bit of the guy you imagined a college swimmer to be?” I whisper in an equally sultry voice. Let her think she has me wrapped around her finger. It’s easier that way. Better for her to think I’m enthralled with her and her breasts than let her cling onto me the entire night.

“Mhm,” she says, “of course.”

I’m about to reply when something catches my eye. From the window, I see you and your friends stumbling and swaying down the sidewalk, away from the party. Internally, I feel my rage simmering again but not at anyone. At myself.

How was I so late that I didn’t manage to stop this from happening? How are you already drunk? How did this happen?

A million questions are racing through my mind and my vision almost blurs with white hot anger as I imagine a slimy frat guy placing his greasy hands on you while you sit there, drunk and uninhibited in that dress that seemed to accentuate your every single curve. You look simply gorgeous in that dress and I fucking hate to think that other guys in this whole house may have made a pass at you. Why was I so late? Would I have been just a little bit earlier if tube top Meg didn’t stop me? I should have left the moment she decided to strike up conversation. This is my karma for letting other temptations get in the way. I vow to myself that this will never happen again as I extricate myself away from Meg’s clutches (“Hey! Where are you going?” She calls out and I ignore her).

I shove people out of the way and do not care for their protests and yelps. Fuck them and fuck this entire shithole of a house. I scramble through the door and maintain my distance as I follow you and your friends down the pavement and past the buildings within the campus. I watch and cringe as you seem to crumple under the weight of your friends’ arm and quickly realise that you aren’t drunk. Your friends are. Stupidly drunk.

I feel my heart relax and my stomach unclench. Of course, you wouldn’t be. You are good. And smart. Too smart to get drunk in a place like that. You know what are the risks and you are above such parties. Your friends though, I couldn’t say the same. Which brings me back to why you need better friends but that’s besides the point. I can see a few guys hanging at the other side of the street who leer at the group of you, clearly getting their dick hard at the thought of a group of vulnerable girls roaming these empty streets at night.

It’s dangerous. But that’s what I’m here for. They see me next and they look away.

I will do what I can to protect you, y/n. Even if that means protecting your good for nothing friends in the process.

All of a sudden, I see you trip and it’s like everything is in slow motion. You fall forward and I take long strides over, my legs stretching out and rushing to help you. Before your knees can hit the rough ground, I have you in my arms, encircled around your waist as I hold you up. I have your other friend, Haseul upright with my other hand tugging at the collar of her jacket. Your friend Tzuyu is not so fortunate and falls flat but she barely notices it, smiling tipsily to herself instead.

You glance up at me with those large eyes and I could get lost in them right there and then. But as quickly as we have our moment, you move away and I see a hint of suspicion in your eyes. We separate and the moment you extract yourself from my arms, I already want you back. Your touch feels addictive already. What have you done to me?

“Thanks.” You say curtly and I admire the fact that you have boundaries, not like Meg. You are hard to get and that’s what makes you so appealing. You are to be earned and respected.

You help Tzuyu to her feet and as you turn to leave with your friends, I call out, “is there any way I can help?”

You regard me with caution and open your mouth to reject me but then suddenly, the tenseness in your eyes relax.

“Do I know you?”

You remember me. Halle-fucking-lujah! I want to wrap you in my arms again but I play it cool.

“I… don’t…?”

Your eyes grow wide and the recognition seeps in.

“Wait! You’re from that hardware store right? Jaehyun?”

I pretend to be surprised when I’m actually fucking overjoyed.

“Yeah, wait… You’re that girl with the rope right?”

You laugh and it’s the most melodious thing I’ve ever heard in forever.

“Yup, that’s me. Kind of mortified that’s how you remember me but sure,” you say and your eyes twinkle but then you continue with a more subdued tone, “what are you doing here?”

I pat my chest good-naturedly.

“Friend of mine is a student here. I just came over to visit and he gave me his varsity jacket so I could try feeling like a college student for once. Never been to college so… yeah. I thought I’d like to try it out for fun.” I reply and shoot you an awkward smile, the kind you do when you try to get someone to favour you and think of you as ‘adorable’.

It works and you smile gently.

“That’s pretty cool, you’ve got a good friend.”

And you haven’t, I think but don’t say.

I gesture towards you and your friends.

“Need any help?”

You look at your drunken friends and back at me and I sense you thinking. Finally, you decide that you do need my help and chuckle, “We live right at that block over there and I think I might die halfway there. I’m not fit enough to hold 2 people.”

That’s so like you. So compassionate over friends who clearly didn’t give a shit that you didn’t want to go to some god forsaken party, so caring over friends who get drunk and don’t take responsibility, so helpful to take care of friends who literally do not give a fuck about you. You are not beautiful on the outside but on the inside too and as I loop Tzuyu’s arm over my neck and hold her, I wish I was holding you instead.

We amble over to the front of your block and we part, you thank me and we say our goodbyes and it’s all too soon. I want to be with you for longer, I want us to talk and I want you to invite me to your room but reality is often much less exciting and more boring.

“I’ll see you!” You call out, smiling as I walk away and I wave back, my heart soaring.

Today is a good day, I think and as I round the corner to the next street, I slip the keycard out of my pocket and feel the hard plastic under my finger.

Wasn’t difficult honestly. Your friends should really learn to keep their valuables in safe places, not the back pocket of their jeans.

[after-witch]

Yandere Ransom Imagine

“That's some heavy-duty conjecture.”

Word Count: 2700ish

notes: unhealthy relationships, emotional and physical abuse, financial abuse, yandere

Imagine being a struggling adult working a full time job plus freelancing gigs just to get by in your one-bedroom apartment where the ceiling always leaks when it rains and you have to perform a complicated maneuver to make sure the door doesn’t jam up on you and you’re constantly worried about your landlord raising the rent.

Maybe a well-meaning friend gets you a gift card to an upscale bookstore because they know you haven’t had a new book on your shelves in years, or maybe you find $20 on the street like a veritable Charlie Bucket but instead of buying a Wonka Bar you head into a this fantastic artisan coffee shop on the rich side of town, a place that everyone always raves about on Instagram, just so you can try an expensive latte with hand-ground beans and flavors you’ve never heard of before--because don’t you deserve a treat, for once?

Whatever it is, wherever it is, Hugh Ransom Drysdale is waiting inside and sees you there.

And oh my God is it obvious that you’re out of place right off the bat. I mean, what the hell is someone like you doing in this part of town?

With your worn out clothes that are worn from necessity and not from being fashionably thrifted and your ratty purse stuffed with papers and candy wrappers that spill out when you dig in for your card or cash and your winter boots that you’ve probably worn 5 years in a row, ripped in the hell and patched with black tape that you hope people don’t notice.

It becomes even more obvious that you’re out of your element when something goes wrong. The gift card isn’t activated. The $20? A fake, probably a movie prop that blew in the wind. Whatever goes wrong, it means that you’re suddenly at the register, impatient people with real money tapping their expensive shoes behind you, unable to pay. You’re left standing there like a deer in headlights, unsure of what to do or say.

Normally he might just roll his eyes and remind himself that people like you ought to stick to your own shops, your own place. But something about the way your eyes go all downcast and you seem to shrink down in embarrassment makes him take pity on you. Like a stray cat in the alley hoping someone will toss it some scraps.

So he strides up and flicks out a card and hands it to the cashier, dropping a friendly greeting to them because he spends like crazy and they probably know him by name at this place, and he’s the one who hands you your coffee or your bag and your hands touch ever so briefly during the exchange.

He leads you away from the register--don’t want to piss off the spoiled debutantes and assistants on lunchtime coffee runs--and you stammer out a thank-you-thank-you and you promise you’ll pay him back as soon as you can and Jesus Christ, isn’t that just adorable? Someone like you, some lost kicked puppy who can’t even afford new boots, promising to pay him back?

He doesn’t care if you pay him back, but he finds that he would like something out of this exchange, so he says that instead of paying him back you can do him the honor of going to lunch with him. His treat. 

He insists. And you can’t really say no, can you? You are hungry and he did just pay for your things and it’s the least you can do to oblige his request.

He’s not stupid. He doesn’t take you to some razzle dazzle fancy restaurant where you’ll feel embarrassed and out of place. Instead he takes you to a quiet diner, classy not greasy, where you can have an easy conversation and tell him all about yourself.

It’s funny. Normally he brings up his family name, his grandfather’s books, to women he picks up, to get them impressed and hooked and pliable. Something about you, though. Something about you is making him want to turn this into more than a lunch date and pressure for a quickie in the car to repay him. 

So he holds back to see what he can do with you on his own. No quickie in the car, but instead before he drops you off--at a bus station, you insisted--he brushes his hand over yours. Can he get your number? He swears he can feel the heat coming off your cheeks as you fumble for your phone and let him put his number in your contacts.

He waits a day, then asks you out again. Dinner, this time. He asks you if you know any good places and you recommend a dive bar that you can go to after work (because 1) schedule and 2) cheap) and shit, he’s all for it. There will be time in the future to impress you with restaurants that have dress codes instead of sticky floors. You sit close on the stools and you buy him a drink (real cute, real real cute) and just for you he keeps the baggie in his pocket there all night instead of heading to the bathroom to liven things up.

Your relationship develops with an almost shocking speed. He knows just how to reel you in. I mean--look at you. Working your ass off at some dead end job, living in an apartment so shitty it takes you almost a month before you reluctantly agree to let him see it.

He can understand, though. Because you’re not that stupid and you know he’s wealthy, even before he casually brings up his family in a “it’s no big deal but I don’t want to keep things from you because we’re getting serious” sort of way. 

You pretend to be casual about it all, but he can tell you’re suddenly wondering: why the hell would someone from this wealthy family want anything to do with me?

It’s a question Ransom asks himself a lot. He asks himself this when he’s snorting coke off another woman’s stomach (hey, you’re dating, but he’s got needs and they aren’t met with hand-holding) or when he’s eating another greasy burger at a shitty bar because you refuse to let him buy you a nice dress to wear so he can take you out somewhere fancy.

You’re not the type of person he normally goes for, not at all. He has strings of girlfriends and flings, but they all tend to fit that same cookie cutter mold: wealthy do-nothings with their parent’s credit card who want someone else to spoil them for a while, without caring who it is or what they’re like. They’re easy pickings that Ransom can burn through and then toss aside when he’s bored of them. Some of them cry but a few days later he’ll see them on someone else’s arm, it’s the circle of life.

With you, though, there’s more. You don’t expect him to pay for dates or anything at all (even when he wants to spoil you a bit) and you have actual conversations and you seem to actually give a shit about what he says and does. You argue with him, too, when he wants you to do something (just let him take you shopping, for Christ’s sake!) or he asks you to move in (again) and you say no (again). I mean, you really fight with him, spitting words and all.

And unlike his previous girlfriends, you don’t come crawling back a few hours later because you want to buy a new purse with his shiny credit card. Instead, you make him apologize first. Fuck, that’s hot. It’s also something he tucks away in the back of his mind to work on later--but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t admit that he sometimes has the overwhelming urge to push you against the wall and fuck you for the first time right after a good argument. 

But he knows that would destroy your image of him entirely, so he holds back. He’s good at crafting a version of himself that appeals to others when he has to, and you’re maybe the first person that’s been worth all the effort he’s put into you so far.

But you need a push, a push that makes it so you can’t go running back to your shithole apartment when you fight or when you question whether or no you two have a future. You do, you’re just too naive--too inexperienced with money, to say it charitably--to realize it.

So he tips off the fire marshal about your apartment building’s shoddy fire escapes and well, damn, in the process of the investigation all the little corners that your landlord has cut come crashing down. At least they were discovered before it was the building that came crashing down.

But the evacuation of the building leaves you--and countless others--high and dry. You don’t have any family in the area, and your only half ass-decent friend in the city lives in the same building but her parent’s aren’t going to let a stranger move in.

When you finally realize you have no options and call him, voice tentative and embarrassed, he knows just what to say to get you to pack your meager belongings and wait for him to pick you up. He’s no-nonsense about it. 

He knows how to avoid deflating your pride, how to keep you from deciding you’d rather stay in a shelter than take his charity. You’ll pay him back, he says, you’ll figure out a rental plan or whatever. He even teases--he’s not the best landlord, but he won’t take 2 weeks to change the toilet if you submit a maintenance request. It makes you crack a smile and bam, just like that, he knows he’s gotten in.

That night, after takeout and wine and a Netflix movie neither of you paid attention to, you fuck for the first time on his expensive sheets on his expensive bed and afterwards, when you’re both sweating and cuddling and reveling in the afterglow, he makes a note to buy you some new lingerie. 

It’s all very homey, for a while. He could do without you leaving for work and working your ass off, with your freelance shit, sometimes staying on the computer until two, three in the morning. But it’s nice to have you close all the time, available to him whenever (almost whenever) he wants. He brings home takeout and you snuggle on the couch and he finally even convinces you to go out with him to a nice restaurant wearing something he’s bought and hot damn, do you look good, head-to-toe in the clothing he’s chosen for you. Especially, later that night, in private, in the lingerie. 

Does he love you? The word hasn’t left his lips yet, hasn’t crossed yours either, but he can feel it underneath the surface. No. It’s more than love. He wants you. He wants to have you. And not just for the afternoon or the summer, but forever. 

He spins daydreams about how he’ll clean you up nice and introduce you to the family. Probably to Harlan, first, because everyone knows that’s whose opinion really matters. Harlan will like you--he would probably like you without any primping or fixing, actually, which is more than he could say for his parents or anyone else in the family. Then once you’re in, you’re in--you’ll come to family dinners and vacation retreats where people always end up in ridiculous arguments, and you two can exchange snarky comments about the family on the ride home.

And yeah, sure. You fight sometimes.

He throws out your old clothes and buys you a wardrobe befitting someone he wants to integrate into his family. You fight about that.

He makes comments about you how you should quit your job or at least try to get a degree--he’ll pay, as long as you agree to go to a university within driving distance--to work somewhere more respectable than a chain restaurant. You fight about that.

He gets pissed when you want to meet some “friends” at a bar without him, because why would you need to go anywhere without your loving boyfriend in tow, unless you were trying to flirt with someone else? You definitely fight about that.

And, okay. Maybe he’s hypocritical.

Maybe he goes out late at night when you’re stuck doing your “freelancing work” and he’s in a rotten mood about it, and he ends up on the floor of a swanky club with drugs in his system and lipstick on his neck. He doesn’t come home until the next morning and you’re pissed and red-eyed and arguing with him, accusing him even, but you have no shitty apartment to stomp back to anymore so you’re stuck. 

Until you’re not stuck. Until he casually snoops through your phone and sees that you’re looking up cheap-ass apartments and hey, you’ve already booked a few interviews already. The thought of you slipping through his fingers makes him more sober than he’s been in a while. He’s got to do something. Not to himself, of course. But to you. To keep you with him.

It’s easy enough to get you fired. He’s a ‘Thrombey’ after all, and some nice crisp bills anonymously sent to the right hands is all it takes for you to come home one night, cheap mascara (he notes: buy you some better quality makeup soon) running down your cheeks. Your freelancing isn’t nearly enough to get you into an apartment.

He assumes that you’ll give up on the idea after losing your job, but you’re nothing if not stubborn (one of the reasons why he likes you) so you start the job hunt the next morning, fresh mascara in place. 

Damn, do you keep him busy. Anonymous calls. Cash in nice white envelopes. Rejection after rejection. You get so sad, so depressed. You don’t even want to go out to restaurants, so he orders in and you snuggle in his lap while he feeds you bites of orange chicken and rubs your back. It almost brings you two closer again, starts to mend the rifts that began when you refused to get over his occasional late night out.

But then you break the uneasy mending by snooping and woah, you don’t like what you find on his phone. 

You fight. 

Damn, do you fight. This time there’s no pretense of potential forgiveness as you begin wildly throwing your clothes into your ratty duffel bag from the back of the closet, telling him to fuck off fuck off fuck off, telling him he’s crazy, telling him that what he’s doing is fucking illegal and--

It’s the shock that hurts you the most.

The shock you feel when he grips your wrist hard and pushes back on your shoulder when you try to yank away, pushing you against the wall with a hard thud. It’s like having a rug pulled out from underneath your feet when you feel a slight ache in your back, on your shoulders, when you tell him to Let go, goddamn it and he only pushes back harder to keep you in place. It’s Ransom. It’s Ransom who’s doing this.

His voice feels unrecognizably cold when he leans in and hisses in your ear.

“You think you can just leave me? After all I’ve done for you? Let me tell you something--you won’t get another job within one hundred miles of here, within one thousand miles of here, unless I say you can. So just put your clothes back in the closet, chill the fuck out, and stop being such an ungrateful bitch.”

It’s the shock that makes you numbly hang your clothes back up in the closet, fold them again with shaking hands, and sit on the bed until the dam breaks and you cry.

And oh fuck, he’s sorry. Really. He wraps his arm around your shoulders and then he’s the one who’s crying and confessing that he didn’t want you leave him because yeah, he knows he’s a fuck up, he knows he’s got a drug problem, but he loves you. 

It’s the first time he’s ever said it out loud. He loves you. “I love you,” he says, again and again, half-laughing.  And he tells you you’re the only person he’s ever dated that made him want to be a better person but he doesn’t know how.

You don’t know what to say because maybe you do love him--but he hurt you and got you fired, but the tears on his face seem so genuine and he tells you he’ll never, ever hurt you like that again and fuck, he says, if you want to go get a job he’ll drive you to the interview right now just-let-him-blow-his-nose-first-please.

You make him sit down and then you’re the one apologizing and the rest of the afternoon is a shaky truce between you two as you drink hot chocolate and order in takeout and watch a movie together.

It’s not until you’re both under the sheets, satisfied and then showered, that you think about what he did to you in a clearer light. The thoughts weigh heavy on your mind, pulling and tugging. You think you might love him. He hurt you. He took care of you when no one else would. He cheated on you. 

I love you, he tells you, when your mind is starting to tug itself into sleep.

He hit you. He said he was sorry.

He hit you.