#boyfriend? killer?

[pretendfan]

boyfriend?

killer?

boyfriend?

killer?

boyfriend?

killer?

{he can do both and me}

[a-mint-bear]

Comfort Object

Male Yandere x Reader

You see a really weird "job" post online, and the money seems too good to be true. But you aren't really in a position where you can turn it down...

You hope it doesn't get weird.

Parts: [ x / 2 ]

---

It was a very… concerning “job” posting.

But desperate times, and all that. 

It had shown up about a week ago, and it wasn’t hard to see why no one had taken the poster up on it as of yet. 

Bedmate Needed

● 11 pm to 6 am

● $25/hour up front

● Riverside Motel

● Room 44

● Not a sex thing

The last note seemed tacked on in a later edit, but it was still… not great.

You’d have to be either a gullible idiot or a desperate one to go for a job like this. Unfortunately, you were the latter. Very much so.

You couldn’t take another night on the street. It was getting so cold out. The promise of a warm bed was almost enough to lure you in on its own. But the money… 175 bucks just to sleep in the same bed as some internet creep?

Despite the clarification in the post, this had to be a sex thing, right?

You hadn’t gone that far, despite everything. It’s not like you hadn’t considered it… but the thought was too terrifying. Making yourself completely vulnerable to a stranger that could just decide you were less than a person and do whatever they wanted to you? You had to draw the line somewhere.

But at this point, you weren’t sure that there was a line you weren’t willing to cross anymore. 

. . .

The Motel wasn’t the seediest you’d ever seen around town but it wasn’t a place you would’ve voluntarily stayed at even two months ago. Back when you had options. 

Creepy post guy opened the door after a couple of knocks, with an awkward, pregnant pause between them. He wasn’t quite what you expected for an internet creep, but he was still a sight to see.

Really bad posture and dark, greasy-looking hair, with the darkest circles under his eyes you’d ever seen. He looked like he was about to pass out at any second, but he held it together long enough to gesture you into the room. 

“Hey…” His voice was low but he sounded nervous. And so, so tired. “You’re… You’re a little early. That’s…that’s fine. Uh, come in.”

You felt his eyes on you as you passed him, and it didn’t help your anxiousness. Not one bit. 

“Hey so, I-I really…I uh, need a shower.” He stumbled over his words with a breathy, nervous laugh. “Unless you wanna sleep next to a… fuckin’ sweaty mess all night. Do you wanna go first or…?”

You must’ve looked nervous because his eyes went wider, digging into his pocket.

“I wasn’t tryin’ to… Oh, uh…here.” He nodded, pressing the money into your hand. “Up front, just… just like I said. You just…just seemed like you maybe sorta needed one too.”

Some part of you must’ve still had an ounce of pride left because your whole body felt on fire with shame, embarrassment so consuming that you froze up. It had been a couple of days…

He just looked away, seeming like he was embarrassed himself. 

“I w-wasn’t gonna like… try to join you or peep on you or nothin’!” He tried to assure you, eyes darting in a panic and talking a bit too fast. “If I, like, go first? I won’t get mad if you change your mind and leave… I get it. I’m not gonna like… go after you or call the cops or nothin’ like that. I just…”

He stared at the floor, nails digging into his arm as he seemed like he was having trouble breathing.

“I really… I really need this.” He was so quiet, but his voice was so desperate.

You couldn’t really be considering this, could you?

He seemed more like a weird, awkward, sad guy than a real danger or some kind of pervert.

And you really did need a hot shower. 

It seemed like a safer bet to have him go first, if you were really going through with this. And it would give you a chance to look around the room for a spot to tuck away your pocket knife, just in case.

When he was in the shower, you did just that. The spot between the mattress and bed frame would be easy to grab at if things got hinky.

If things got all touchy-feely, as you suspected they would, him finding that on you or leaving it in your pocket when your clothes got tossed wherever would be really inconvenient. 

Steam rolled out of the bathroom when he stepped out, shirtless but with sweatpants and a towel around his neck. He was thin, almost alarmingly so, but you could still see muscle, enough to pose a problem should he decide to overpower you.

This was your last chance to back out, before you’d be vulnerable to this odd stranger.

But even if you left, the money wouldn’t last long, and it’s not like you had any other options. 

You were so grateful that the motel tub wasn’t disgusting, but you would’ve gotten clean regardless. Two days worth of sweat and funk was washed away and it felt so heavenly… But it was hard to relax when you were trying to stay hyper alert of any noise that could be that man trying to get in or even eavesdrop.

But…

Nothing. 

You finished your shower and brushed your teeth, doing everything you could to feel clean that a motel bathroom could provide. And there was no sign of the guy. 

But you had to go back out there eventually. You supposed you could lock yourself in here and get a full night’s sleep indoors, even if it was on the floor of a motel bathroom with your back against the door, but part of you just said “fuck it” and warily peeked around the doorway into the bedroom.

The lights in the room were dim, but warm. He was sitting on the end of the bed, one knee tucked into his chest, staring at the tv as the bright colors of a nightly talk show reflected in his eyes, but something told you he wasn’t really watching. His eyes met yours and you froze.

“It’s almost eleven…” He mumbled, his head resting awkwardly on his shoulder. His hand ghosted over the spot on the bed next to him. “… Will... will you stay?”

So many thoughts raced through your head. What would happen if you laid down beside him? You could probably deal with sex… even if it felt a bit wrong. But if he wanted to hurt you?

Your brain reminded you:

What do you really have to lose?

When you told him you would stay, sitting next to him, you could see him relax. Just a bit.

“If you still want to leave-”

But you cut him off, almost afraid he would talk you out of it after you’d made up your mind.

Avoiding his stare, you told him you had nowhere to go.

The bed was cold, it might take a bit to warm up with the two of you in it, but it was the least of your concerns at that moment. 

“So it’s...” He’d spoken up so suddenly, you hoped he didn’t see you flinch. He was staring at the ceiling, seeming just a tiny bit calmer. “... it’s fine if you just… lay there or h-hold onto me, or play on your phone or whatever, anything is fine. Just… just don’t leave ‘til mornin’. Okay?”

A worrying pause, but you told him you understood.

And that was that. He laid next to you unmoving for almost an hour before you had the nerve to move at all, shifting slowly to your side to face him.

His eyes were shut, his breathing even, but somehow you knew he was still awake. It was like he was trying to sleep but it just wasn’t coming to him. He looked so worn down, like he could just keel over any second. It definitely made him less intimidating, but you weren’t letting your guard down, no matter how much your body was screaming at you to just let go.

Despite your better judgement, you wondered if he really was being genuine about this not being a sex thing. It was a relief, sure, but it just raised more questions.

Why were you here?

. . .

You’d stopped looking at the bedside clock a while ago. It had to have been hours by then.

Your anxiety and dread somehow felt quieter under the lull of impending sleep. Despite everything, your body was at least grateful for a warm bed and hot shower, and if you didn’t sleep there now, you didn’t know when you’d be able to sleep somewhere warm any time soon. 

Every moment that ticked by, you felt your resolve slipping. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, just to let go… This whole situation was weird, but you just wanted to sleep.

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

He hoped against everything that he would just fall asleep.

Just this once, he didn’t want to have to follow through with it. But he was so damn tired. There was this ache behind his eyes that he could feel in his bones, his mind never stopped racing… 

He could feel your body heat in the bed next to him. You had either been very scared or very considerate, you’d only moved once since you laid down with him. 

He hated that he had to do this. He felt sorry for you, he really did. But it was drowned out by the buzzing in the back of his brain. The constant whispers in his ear. 

There had been so many before now, it was a miracle he hadn’t gotten caught. But this was a huge, dangerous city. Everyone in it was just a blip to anyone paying attention. 

He could feel their skin under his palms buzzing at the back of his brain. How their eyes stared into his, burning with betrayal, fear, helplessness. How he saw them fade away.

How it was the only thing that worked to let him finally sleep. The only thing that quieted the whispers, at least for a little bit. 

Some booked it after getting the money. Some just showed up and straight-up robbed him. Some tried to leave in the middle of the night, thinking he was asleep. But if they stayed and fell asleep, that was that.

He told himself that he gave them all a chance. 

If you managed to stay up all night, you’d be safe. But he really needed this… It was already day three, and he’d never made it past day five without completely losing it. Trying to fight this, it was too hard. The longer he stayed awake, trying to avoid what had to happen, the worse he felt. The louder the voice got. The deeper the ache in his bones. But the more often he did it, the easier it got. And that was worse in a different way. 

It was wrong. He wasn’t so deep in it that he couldn’t see that. The morning after, he always hated himself and what he did. 

But as the days went on, it would all creep back in. And doing it again felt less and less horrifying to him. 

You were scared. He could tell. And you had every reason to be, he told himself. But it just meant it would take you longer to fall asleep. 

He could wait all night. And if you made it the full seven hours, you weren’t what he needed. You’d be free from him, from this. Hopefully you wouldn’t come back, no matter how badly you needed the money.

He wondered what you meant by having nowhere to go.

But he tried not to wonder too much. It would make this harder. 

He could hear your breathing getting slower, your body relaxing into the bed. You wouldn’t last much longer. 

His eyes shot open when he felt you suddenly touch him, tucking your forehead into his shoulder. You weren’t quite asleep, a cuddler? He almost laughed to himself when half-asleep you looked a bit frustrated, like it wasn’t enough.

You muttered something about being cold, lazily scooting your body closer to him up the bed. He felt his breath catch when suddenly, his head was pulled to you, tucked into your chest as your arm circled him. He was suddenly the little spoon, but facing you. He could hear your heartbeat. 

He wanted to say something, wake you up or wriggle free to make what he had to do easier on you when you fell asleep. He felt a hand in his hair, playing with it and idle gentle nails on his scalp. 

It was… nice. Everything felt calm, the buzzing and horrible thoughts were still there but they were being drowned out by the warmth of your skin, the thump of your heart in his ear.

You were mumbling something. He held his breath, trying to hear.

You told him, or whoever you were dreaming about, maybe even no one at all, that he was okay. That he was safe. 

He couldn’t keep his eyes open. Something was different this time. He felt all his control slipping away, and for once, he wasn’t scared. 

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

You woke to a sunbeam across your face, and the strange man in your arms, sound asleep. According to your phone, it was 10 am. You were grateful for the extra hours in a warm bed, but would he be mad? Did he have somewhere to be?

You couldn’t remember anything past drifting off next to him, but the two of you were tangled together, he seemed so comfortable.

Now that it was over, and your anxieties were much quieter, you really got a good look at the guy. He wasn’t… unattractive, you supposed. He was all elbows and ribs but laying against your chest made him look so soft and harmless. 

Wasn’t the worst way you’d ever made 175 bucks.

You wondered if he’d shell out the extra 100, or if that would be pushing your luck. 

Either way, it would be best to wake him up.

Gently scratching at his scalp, you told him it was getting late.

You watched as his eyes struggled to open, and for a few calm moments, he just laid against you. After a beat, he gasped and jolted up, head swiveling around the room in a panic.

“I…” He seemed really out of it, almost scared. “I actually…”

He stared at you, eyes wide. You told him it was ten in the morning, hoping everything was okay and if it wasn’t, that he wouldn’t take it out on you.

He grabbed you by the shoulders, and for a moment you were sure something bad was going to happen, but somehow, it was even worse.

He was crying.

Breaking down, sobbing hard as he just kept staring at you. Even with the odd night you’d just had, this was somehow the weirdest part. 

Despite yourself, you asked him if he was okay. He pulled himself together and you were startled again when he touched your face, his thumb gently grazing your cheek. It was tender and sweet, and it was freaking you out a little. Just a tad. 

“You… It was you…”

All you could think to ask was if you should get going, maybe trying to make it seem like you had someplace to be, or were at least trying to be considerate of his time. But it didn’t seem like he was taking the hint. 

He grabbed your hands in his, the sudden contact made you jump. He pulled them to his chest, he was too close. The way he was looking at you…

“Can we… Can we do this again? Like tonight? Please?” He was practically begging, the look in his eyes changing. That nervous, achingly tired gaze was hopeful. And so warm.

“You can have the room, if that’s what you need!” he offered, maybe somehow having picked up on your current situation. “I can pay more too. Just p-please…”

He held your palm to his cheek, staring up at you.

“I need you.”

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

a bit of a different one from me, but i kind of liked how it turned out

that feeling when your new yandere was totally gonna off you but you were just too comfy

he's never gonna let you go. you're the only thing keepin him from killing again, ya know?

i don't have a ton of yanderes that actually kill, as odd as that seems. but this guy is one of them

he's not supposed to be a huge commentary on any particular mental health conditions, i did a bit of "research" into psychosis induced insomnia (using that term VERY loosely), but like does he hear voices because he can't sleep, or can he not sleep because he hears voices? who can say? certainly not I, the dummy who made him

i wrote this one pretty much right after my last big deadline ended, but it got reworked a bit cause it just needed some tweaks:

the yandere started out as tired but crass, kind of a dick, and when he switched after that good night's sleep it felt off. It felt more interesting if he was a bit pathetic and creepy, it felt like less of a red flag for the reader to stick around

the reader was originally going to be a straight up s*x worker that got hired by the yandere for him to kill, but it didn't really feel like my place to make that commentary on violence against s*x workers or to more or less soften it with a yandere love interest. it just didn't feel right for something so unserious

but ive been having horrible writer's block lately, so i thought i'd finally put this one out. i need to read/play some yandere stuff and get inspired. let me know if you have any recommendations y'all ✌️

[valentine-cafe]

1 caramel cheesecake pls! [bottom male reader]

filthy rich spoiled reader who gets himself taught a lesson by alessio in his room while also being scared about getting caught by anyone at the estate. (alessio does NOT give a fuck)

if its too specific you can ignore this ask <3

˖⁺. “ fuck yourself, rich boy ! ” :

﹙ top outlaw male x bttm richboy male ﹚.𖹭 ݁

. . . verse 9819 alessio x male reader !! 🍓 : ﹙ outlaw ˖ serial killer ˖ illusionist character ﹚

you grew up in the comfort parts of society. high class in comparison to the rest. but what happens when you start finding yourself messing with the leader of a rebel group? well, your bratty nature lands you in a bit of a predicament. bent over in your bedroom while the outlaw himself rails you dumb. 

﹙ cws ﹚: explicit content ˖ risky sex ˖ rough sex ˖ penetrative sex ˖ degradation ˖ handjob ˖ prone bone ˖ marathon sex ˖ brat taming ˖ multiple orgasms ˖ cum-eating | wc : 1.8k 

﹙ receipts ﹚: the way I gasped when I saw this request GID I had so much fun writing it ! 

꒰  other treats : guidelines ˖ m.list ˖ characters ˖ our lore  ꒱

“Talk to me, tesoro. Thought that’s all you’re good for?”

Your tie mocks the strain of your wrists, wrapped tight in a bound to your arching spine. The painful curve induced by an even tighter hand locked in your hair. Tugging every time you hang your head to let your tears of overwhelm hit the floor.

You’ll be clad in long sleeves and turtlenecks for the rest of the week with the bruises, hickies and plethora of bites all over your skin. None of that compared to the constant, hammering feel of his hips. Snapping into the backs of your thighs. Once, twice, thrice.

What is air? A luxury at this point. None of your riches could compare. Not when his swollen tip slams into that devastating bundle of nerves. Your lower lip falls from your teeth. Much like your erect dick bouncing aimlessly with every jerk of a thrust.

“Oh, but - I suppose I’m wrong, right?” Damn that deep croon to your ear. And the tickle of his dark curls on your cheekbone while you’re at it. But how could any of him crawl to the pits with the heaven that he sends you to?

Bent over in your own room. Feet between his shoes. Held like you weigh a feather as he chases bruises on your soft thighs. The claps of wet skin bounce off the walls. Merged with moans. Whines. Strangled gasps.

“You’re also good at taking cock.”

Punctuated with a harsh spank to your ass. Emerald eyes catch the ripple across your skin. He mimics it further by slamming all the way. Grinding. Humping. Any shallow slam to rub on your weak spot and huff struggled breathe from drooling lips.

But that’s not all from the wave of heated breath. A quivered: “Sh-Shut - shut uuppp -” carries in your pants. Tongue once confidently in spits of insult and disrespect now slobbers saliva all over your pristine floor. “Y-You’re a nuisance. An eyesore - a - f-fuchk-!”

Your dick twitches in the large hand squeezed around the base. His fingers are just as skilled as his hips. Cruel pumps and jerks that squirt your cum to the floor with a strangled noise bobbed from your Adam’s apple. All Alessio can do is flash a grin you catch a glimpse of in the mirror at your side. Before both palms snatch your waist and shove you back on his cock that he tames great pleasure in fucking into you faster. Harder. So that the slapping of skin rings through your ears like a sinful, broken record.

“P-Please - please o-oh god - fuckfuckfuck -”

What more can you do but arch? The lift of your spine shoves your ass into his pelvis. He takes it as an invitation to hold you firm against it since you clearly offered. Slam up into you until his balls greet your supple flesh with taps and smacks.

“P-People. . . ‘re gonna hear. Y-You jer- ah!” Another squeeze round your dick for your big mouth. Have you learnt nothing? Not that this is much of a learning experience if you can barely think.

The only thought running through your mind is the stretch of his big cock. The kiss of his veins on all your sweet spots. Their thrum. Your nerves on clear overdrive when he digs a calloused thumb into your tip and strokes until you’re teary.

You’ll squirt his palm all over again if he continues. No that he cares with the rough bucks that he fucks against your quivering hips. The deep chuckle from his throat would have have itched your palms to smack him. Alas, all you could do was wish to cling at his shoulders. Scrape down his back as he pounded you so full.

The creaking of floorboards constantly snapped your fucked-out mind from the depths of overstimulation. Were servants stepping closer. Or worse - your family?

You’d have no time to care when Alessio would withdraw to the tip then slam forward and hit your sweetspot dead on. Brimming tears to your eyes and a groan from the depths of his throat. Those emerald hues flicker to the ring of cream round his cock and he grins through sweat-drenched tresses. “What, they’ll hear? Hear you gettin’ pounded by an outlaw?”

He snaps his hips forward at that. With a power that jerks your poor body. The gasp fleeing your lips melts into a whimper when his fingers choose cruelty to your hair again. Twisting you to face the mirror as his free hand drops to your hip. A smack. A squeeze. Before he’s fucking you back into him like a ragdoll. Shoes planted firmly to the floor as he effortlessly uses your body like a sleeve.

“See what a whore you are? Cummin’ all over your fuckin’ floor and messing up this ‘expensive fabric’?”

His teeth tear into the collar of your shirt. If it weren’t for your tongue hanging out you’d cuss at him. Alas you are too preoccupied with being his little cumdump as he pumps you full once more.

You’d think he’d slow down after his second time spraying your gummy walls white. If anything it rejuvenates his punishing thrusts and turns your thighs to putty as he hammers at a sinful rhythm. Squeezing cum from the both of you and running it down your wobbly legs.

Alessio’s laugh is almost as callous as his hand that snaps around your jaw. “Look at yourself baby. First time taking cock like this? Yeah? Spoilt lil’ rich boy doesn’t know shit ‘bout the real world.”

Softness encases your front. The first in several minutes of being his tight toy. It fades with his heavy weight crushing you into the mattress after the outlaw shoved you into your sheets. Knees knocking yours apart to make way for the barrage of his mercilessly thrusts.

“A-Ah - ah-ah-ah!” Your eyes cross at the centre. He shoves your head to the linen. Another spank. Another grab at your poor, jiggling ass. He spreads you open for his imagination to picture it. Picture his veiny cock splitting you into two. Your tight rim struggling and crying around every inch. Not to mention his cum fucking out of you with every rabid hump.

“Tha’s it, yeah pretty boy. Yeah take it. Fucking whore.” His grunts drip with mockery that pours to your neck with his rough kisses. Your dick grinds and rubs into the linen. Great. Another mess to worry about later. When you come down from the high. Stuffed full of his cum and unable to stop the tremble of your thighs. “Imagine it. ‘magine them coming in - hah - seeing this - seeing you -”

The only thing to stop Alessio’s malicious laugh is the clench of your walls. He smacks your ass again in reprimand. A grunt soon follows. “Now that your ass ‘s nice ‘n full. . . apologise.” Another slam to your sweetspot.

And still, despite your eyes rolling back. Ass getting pounded for all your worth. Who knows how many concerned servants covering their ears through the halls — you wheeze.

“F-Fuck - angh - f-fuck you - fuck you, a-and - and every - god - ‘m n-not sorry-”

Your dick gets a break from the rough rubs of linen when the warm of his fingers encase it after a hand squeezes past your front flushed to the mattress. His thumb goes back to what it does best. Swirling around your tip. Squeezing the slit.

But this time he samples your sticky slick. Savors the feel of it between his fingers. Before he’s shoving your sweetness into your mouth. The pads of his index and middle press on your tongue, just as he’s pressing into the spot that makes you gurgle a sob.

“You taste that, you fuckin’ brat?” The hiss to your ear follows a thrust of his fingers. He hits the back of your throat with no care for how much you slobber all over his hand. “That’s you. Cumming like a fucking whore for me. Now lest you don’t wanna be dumped off in your foyer all creamed up and shaky. Apologise.”

The harsh ram of his cock at an angle tells you he’s not above humiliating you. After all, what’s it to him if a spoilt rich boy gets humiliated by his servants?

You’re the one constantly seeking him out. You’re the one who engages the flirts and mockeries flung across the bar of the Contraire. You’re the one who sneaks out every other day to suck off a serial killer when your parents aren’t looking.

Once he’s done finger-fucking your mouth, he withdraws with a trail of drool attached to his nail beds. Long digits grip your jaw and force your head up. So that he can hear your pretty, pitiful gasps as he shallowly pounds you sore.

“I-I - ‘m - s-sorry -”

“What was that?”

A squeeze to your throat. You gurgle on your spit and limp your head in his hold. Submit to the endless ramming of his hips into yours. Your tummy twisting and insides flaring as you cum a fourth - fifth - sixth time. “I’m - iii��mm so- s’rry - sorry-! Alessio-!”

He’s creaming you again. Stuffing you full and squirting some out to your rippling thighs and bedsheets. If only to chase after another release with the way he starts ploughing you into the sheets. His chuckle hoarse and rough like his teeth clamping on your ear.

“There we go. Finally acting like a good - mnn - fucking slut. Proud of you baby.”

Get ready to be flipped and pounded into the mattress with strong arms hooking your knees. Folding you in half. Making you his pretty boy toy to take his cock. A rich boy so full of cum from an outlaw. A man you should disgust.

One you can’t stop squeezing round the cock of.

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[temp-unu]

lil utmv sprites >:]

DA ORDER OF WHO DEY R WILL BE IN DA TAGS EHE. use for. whatever. if u want.. :3

if you request some, theres a good chance ill do em!!! especially if they like.. never get any art ehe.

OK TATA~

[ameamedraws]

Romantic pillowtalk

[gunsatthaphan]

just bro banter 🤙🏻✌🏻

[khaoala]

❝I used to love just sitting here with my parents. I never thought I'd get to do that with my boyfriend one day.❞

FIRST KANAPHAN as KANT PATTANAWAT and KHAOTUNG THANAWAT as BISON episode 9 of THE HEART KILLERS

[fishiteeth]

Surefire way to get what you want

[yanoverload]

I LOVE YOU TREND OF MAKING THE BOI PREGANTE

By mpreg... omegaverse.... idc I love it all!!!!

Sorry for the chicken scratch writing btw. I gave Dae-Ho some beauty marks because I felt like it but now I think it fits a lot??? Maybe will change that in his design.

[joongdunking]

JoongDunk kissing sounds

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Bad Guy x Reader

I am currently in my Natural Born Killers nostalgia, and so I'm borrowing its vibes and bringing you this: a bad-to-the-bone, rock-and-roll attitude yandere who constantly makes you question your own morality. Featuring an old OC!

Content: gender neutral reader, violence, murder, male yandere

He fell in love with you at first sight. A goody two shoes, quiet and obedient. Shy. Oh, terribly shy. You couldn't even meet his eyes. He knew you were the kind others would step on, take advantage of. But there was more to it, much more to uncover.

Who was it? A relative, a friend, a coworker? You know, that person holding you back, keeping you in your place. The one who'd always make you feel small and insignificant. The one who would always find something to criticize. How did it feel when you found them on the ground, bashed in and bloodied up? He was standing above the lifeless body, catching his breath, a cocky smile plastered on his face. His way of courting you.

He looked so tall in that moment, towering above your hesitant self, his gaze of a confidence and intensity you'd never known before. "Well? What are you waiting for? Get in", he said, gesturing towards a convertible he most likely stole earlier that day. What possessed you in that moment to join him without delay? Was it his charisma? Or did you know in the depth of your soul that he wouldn't take no for an answer?

You see, he's known it from the beginning. Someone like you needs someone like him. You’re a sweet little lamb lost among the wolves. The world would eat you right up if you were left by yourself. But now you have him. And he won't let his precious prey get away. Oh, dear, no. If he wants something, he gets it. And he's never wanted anything more than you.

"You didn't...even tell me your name", you sheepishly spoke up from the passenger seat, trying to keep your mind away from the crime you'd just witnessed. "Just call me Tig", he said casually with a yawn, speeding away. "Won't you be in trouble, Tig? Why would you even kill-" you tried to reason. "What kinda question is that? They treated you like shit and it pissed me off." He glanced at you with a frown, taking another drag off his cigarette. "You're mine now, so whatever happens to you is my business. Got it?" You just stared. Was that his way of asking you out?

Tig lives by his own rules, as you quickly learned from becoming his companion. Always on the run, indifferent to the world. For the most part, to your surprise, he's well-behaved. If people don't mess with him, he doesn't mess with them. Simple as that.

Anything involving you, however, sets him off terribly. Like a rabid, ferocious guard dog, he's ready to pounce on whoever approaches you the wrong way. Last week you stopped at a highway diner for coffee, and on your way back to your table, you jokingly pulled a clumsy dance move to the song playing from the speakers. Tig observed you with an amused smile, sipping from his cup. A passerby joined you, resting his arm on your waist flirtatiously. Tig's smile dropped in an instant, and next thing you knew, the whole place was splattered in blood. No one made it out.

"I didn't even finish my coffee", you whined, already used to the occasional massacre. The man hopped behind the counter and threw on a bloodied cap. "What will it be, sir/ma'am?" he pretended, dangling a takeaway cup and starting the espresso machine. "I never told you, but I used to be a barista", he declared proudly. An entirely different person from the unhinged killer you witnessed minutes ago. "What? You said you were a mechanic", you questioned with raised brows. "That's also true. I'm a jack of all trades, I suppose. You know what I'm best at, though?" He lowered himself until his forehead touched yours. "Pleasing you."

The man is romantic in his own way. He twists the key, and the engine stops. You follow him out of the car in confusion. "Why did we stop here?" He briefly lifts himself up onto the tall fence securing the bridge, and inhales deeply. "Isn't it a nice view?" he says, nodding ahead. It is a scenic sight, sure. The river slithers along the lush valley, and the setting sun gives everything a dramatic tint. "Give me your hand", he suddenly demands as he goes to grab it himself. Before you can ask for an explanation, he quickly drags a blade across your palm, and you wince in pain. He repeats the gesture with his own hand, locking his fingers with yours over the rail. You watch as fresh blood trails along your skin, eventually falling into droplets and vanishing into the river. "Now we're going to be everywhere", he remarks playfully. "Okay, but what was the point?" you insist, a little baffled.

"Isn't it obvious? Maybe this will help", he continues, procuring a ring from his pocket. "I'm saying I want to marry you, (Y/N)."

You open your mouth to answer, but he already slides it up your finger, eyes glimmering in excitement.

"You're never getting away from me, love."

[bird-inacage]

The Heart Killers EP8 | Kantbison + Physical Affection

You can tell just how madly Kant's in love with him. Lucky boy.

[summerofofelia]

When Style was born they ran out of survival instinct so the universe gave him a triple serving of audacity to make up for it

[valentine-cafe]

˖⁺. “ let me love you darkly, slowly ” : 

﹙ top outlaw male x bttm male aristrocrat reader ﹚.𖹭 ݁

. . . verse 9819 alessio x male reader !! 🍒 : ﹙  outlaw  ˖ serial killer ˖ inhuman illusionist  ﹚

the infamous aristrocrat serial killer has your family on his hit list. but it would seem that you are different. will you take his hand and run with him? so that he may love you darkly, slowly.

﹙ cws ﹚: dark romance ˖ explicit content at end ˖ mentions of parental abuse ( towards reader ) ˖ violence ˖ death ˖ penetrative sex ˖ hand job ˖ rough sex ˖ multiple orgasms ˖ alessio uses clones of himself in sex | wc : 0.7k

﹙ receipts ﹚: a dark little piece for our favourite outlaw <3

꒰  other treats : guidelines ˖ m.list ˖ characters ˖ our lore  ꒱

Usually, the infamous ace of spades’ knives are always willing and ready to sink into the vulnerable flesh of his next political victims. You were no different, until you were. A precious dove to fly into his life, that he had thought a hawk at first sight, judging by the image of your family across the city.

The youngest son of a famous aristocrat. Whom Alessio had pursued with intent of seduction before death. Yet your heart was made of something more beautiful than gold. Nothing like your father’s. Each smile that graced your lips was a blessing to him, he’d been ashamed of targeting you.

One may wonder why he went for you first and not the man that brought you into this world. Well, the very reason for that is that your entire family were on his list of undertaking, and he decided to go one by one, random pick. And you so happened to be the one the wheel landed on.

Your name was quickly wiped from it, with the blood of your mother splattering the paper. The note he left on her desk wrote:

“Farewell, to the two-faced wench, who advocated hiking medicare prices.” The pencil scratched across her signature, then got stamped with the ace of spades in Alessio’s quick escape.

He’d taken you with him that night. Held your hand tight in his as you ran away from the burning estate. Perhaps it was the unhealthy amount of childhood discipline and reprimanding you had earned as you grew up. You did not really care for the deaths of your family. Your father beat you bloodied and bruised, and your mother tormented you at any possible moment she could.

Your siblings were none the better than them, growing into their toxic behaviour and mannerisms. You refused to let your soul sour the way theirs had. It wasn’t hard to tell right or wrong. It wasn’t hard to really understand what the man you were running away with was doing.

It was no secret, you should have been long gone by now. And you were announced so by the public after the burning of the cold place you called home. With no trace of the family found below the rubble.

Instead, you now occupied yourself with the people of the lower city, aiding the poor and funding your saviour’s organisation with all of the money you had inherited. How they got a hold of it, you weren’t so sure. You didn’t bother questioning.

You found yourself falling for the man that was your executioner turned saviour. A part of you questioned your own morality.

But what was morality when compared to his kisses? What was the meaning or black and white when his hands fixed to your waist and held you so tight against him? Right and wrong be damned. It felt all the same in his arms.

By night, you often found yourself in Alessio’s bed. The air getting knocked out of you when he fucked you from behind. His hand squeezing away at the base of your dick to pump ferally at it. His dick pounding your pretty ass open and eager for him.

“That’s it—” You gasp out in unison to the grunt in your ear, hole and walls fluttering around him. While his arms cage you against the dark bedsheets.

The sight of your bodies intermingled, dimly lit, with a sheen layer of sweat covering your skin, flutters your tumm, as a hand reaches down to direct your face upwards. Helping you watch what he’s doing to you.

“This pretty ass ‘s all mine— All fucking mine-” Rough hands split your legs apart and images of him begin to appear all around you, to touch you, praise you, kiss you.

His powers are incredible in bed. Your head gets loopy by the feel of one of his clones sucking down hard at your throbbing tip. You barely get to process that he yanks yet another orgasm out of you. Cum squirts out on his hand which he brings up to lick away at.

“My pretty little dove,” he groans from above you. Swarming your blissed out face with rough hands to cup your cheeks. His movements hardly halt. Long, hard strokes shake your trembling body.

This. This feels right. Him inside. Him on top of you. All over you. To hell with wrong. You’d take the grey if it meant his warm hands. His intoxicating lips.

“Please.” You quiver.

Alessio can all but grin. His pretty little aristocrat. Now all his.

“Say it again baby,” he hums. “Beg. It suits you far better.”

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[deliriousblue]

THE HEART KILLERS (2024) roofie gang!

[secriden]

Oh! I just noticed something... this scene...

Is very clearly happening in the day (when the sun is still up).

But in episode 2, Fadel says:

Not only does this show that Style was so freaked out that he intentionally went to the gym during the day to avoid Fadel, but also our boy, Mr Plans Everything Ahead Of Time, decided to change up his whole gym routine (and brave the daytime "crowd") just to find an excuse to cuddle up to his new boyfriend and proposition him.

Fadel has like. Zero chill. 😂