#when i become obsessed with something i feel terrible

[burningcheese-merchant]

I know that it is highly unlikely that it is the case, but come and give it a thougjt with me (Yandere Spice with a twist).

What if: Burning Spice, despite being completely obsessive and being the sadomasochist he is, routinely cuts off the heads of animals and cookies and brings them to her the first time with a love letter (he used to be the Herald of Change, so I'd imagine he's got- and retained- some brains, enough to at least write a psychotic obsessive love letter).

Now, Golden Cheese is obviously gonna freak the f out and gape as he shoves the head into her arms (probably throw it into the air and back up in panic) while Burning Spice- though displeased at first, just grins manically at her reaction soon enough (maybe even laughing), before he grabs it and shoves the letter and head onto her hands again and leaving.

Golden Cheese, having noticed his reaction to her throwing it, becomes concerned with what he might do if she doesn't accept the 'gifts', decides to keep it (She flies hella fast and enters through her window and hides it in a secret compartment in her room, before creating a hidden room the other gifts in the future).

Now, here's the twist:

Despite the shock and horror she displayed to Burning Spice's gift, she knew that deep down... She fucking loved it. She silently revels in it, even. At having so much of the Beast- A cookiebeing you could practically almost consider primordial and all-powerful-'s attention and taking up so much of their headspace. To be obsessed over adored by someone like that, so much so that they would go out of their way to behead someone and something and write a love letter daily, just to give it to her as a gift-

In short, she absolutely loves the attention she will never say it and will keep that to her grave and Burning Spice and everyone else is none the wiser of it. Of how she'd kept every letter and laminated every single one with the care and cautiousness and love one would use when holding thin glass, of how she intentionally goes out alone every day for a few minutes just so Burning Spice would 'see an opening' and give his gift, where Golden Cheese would then act terribly disgusted and horrified, and then keep the gifts. Ignorant of how she has a room full of the 'gifts' he's given her- which she'd taken the time to personally taxiderm each and every one, before hanging it on the wall like a reward or trophy. Of how she'd come to the room every night to just adore it just the sight makes her want to coo and purr in delight for a few minutes to an hour, before going to bed and resting.

Sorry for the rambling and the long paragraphs 😅😅

This is such a horrifying (in a good way) concept that I MUST acknowledge it and give my take!!! Gonna put it under a cut because this is particularly dark

Yandere Spice basically acting like a cat is so fucking funny to me lol I love it

I'm so glad you think Spice is a smart guy due to having been the Herald of Change/History, because I think that too! He simply HAS to be intelligent, even wise to a degree. It would be ridiculous if he wasn't; being buff doesn't automatically mean you're dumb. And I LOVE the letter thing, I've always headcanoned Spice (the "normal" one, not the yandere one) as writing Golden romantic poetry (and her liking it lol. It helps win her over).

Now, with the murder gifts: of course Golden is horrified. Not only has Spice ended innocent lives, but he did it for her. In a way, it's her fault, and she feels horrible. Animal, person/cookie, doesn't matter, Spice has killed again and he gives the fruits of his sinful labor to her as a declaration of "love". It's sick. No matter how deranged she finds him, he finds a way to sink lower. (But... one thing: he never hurts birds. He has never once brought her a dead bird, because even he knows that's a step too far and she REALLY won't like it. It's the one little drop of care and tact that he possesses.)

But that twist: somewhere beneath all those layers of shock, disgust and righteous anger is... flattery. Sick, twisted flattery. There's nothing Golden loves more than being praised, than being worshiped, than being showered with attention and gifts... and Spice is doing that. He's feeding her ego, albeit in the worst way possible. And so great and terrible is her ego, no matter what she does to temper or suppress it, that somewhere deep down inside, she enjoys what he's doing. That he'll gladly kill for her. That he'll show off his hard work in search of her praise and admiration. She is a goddess and he knows it. He is giving her the adulation she rightfully deserves.

Now, of course, this contradicts her normally altruistic nature, and she has a massive crisis of conscience. She keeps everything Spice gives her, she keeps the heads and the letters and stores them all properly, because... Well, she tells herself that it's better this way. If she refused them, he would retaliate, if not against her then against another innocent. If she preserves the heads, she can later discover who they belonged to and hopefully return them to the person's family (and it was the least she could do; clean them up, give them back even a fraction of their grace and dignity...). If she reads the letters, she'll have better insight into his mind and how he thinks, and thus be able to formulate a better response to him and his behaviors. These excuses are what she mutters under her breath over and over as she sneaks the heads into her room, through the window so no one sees her. As she tidies and laminates the letters, and stores them in a secure folder that she tucks into a box under the bed (which eventually becomes boxes, the more and more letters she gets). As she expertly taxidermies the heads and places them on nice shelves in a hidden closet in her room. It's better this way. She has to do this.

...and these are all true, they really are. But at the same time... Existing alongside this pain and terror and crushing guilt, is the sick joy in knowing that she has someone wrapped around her finger this completely. And a Beast, too. The Beast of Destruction, no less. Burning Spice himself, heads over heels in love with her, willing to do anything to have her. It shouldn't please her to have a monster practically at her beck and call, but... it does. It really, truly does. And no matter how much she hates herself for it... It's never enough to make it stop.

Sometimes, she'll hint at a specific person she doesn't like - usually a known enemy of her kingdom - just to see if he'll do what she thinks he will. Sure enough, the next time they meet, he has that person's head ready for her, all but puffing his chest out in pride and grinning that hideous, face-splitting, cruel grin of his. She acts upset, but she's actually pleased to know that she was right: he WILL do what she tells him to, just to please her.

Sometimes she'll stand there admiring her ever-expanding taxidermy collection, congratulating herself on her hard work; she does a better and better job every time. (And when the guilt comes bubbling to the surface, asking her why they're still here and not with their loved ones so they can have a proper funeral, she tells it that Spice will lose it if he catches her giving them away. Or she'll be made out to be the one responsible, since she's the one who has them. Or they're dead, their souls have departed to the afterlife, what happens to their mortal vessels matters not anymore...)

Sometimes, when she's in bed at night, she'll pull out the letters and read them. Sometimes she'll read one, sometimes a few, sometimes all of them. Some are surprisingly sweet and romantic, full of oddly gentle and doting words; she can feel the warmth and affection soaked into the page. Others are downright vulgar; she feels her own face catch fire as she reads through what are obviously his fantasies, the list of ways in which he wants to pleasure her so long and graphic that she suspects he wrote them one-handed, if you know what I mean. The rest are just flat-out deranged: feverish rants about his ownership of her, how he hated and wanted to get rid of those around her, how she took everything from him (his power, his sanity, his heart, his soul) and he was willing to pardon it if she gave him everything of hers in turn. How he will never stop hunting her. How he will slaughter thousands to get to her. How he will bring the world to ruins just to have her to himself. Madness. All-consuming delusion that she fears is incurable.

But the worst part is... she doesn't know if she wants it to be anymore.

All she can do now is... hope he never finds out. Hope he never knows she feels this way. That she relishes his kills, his gifts. That she has a godforsaken trophy room now. That now she's as starved for his attention as he is for hers. (And he will. The idea is simply too tantalizing. He WILL find out eventually, someway, somehow - and when he does... Oh boy.)

TL;DR: Golden is so greedy that her greed has warped her into being as bad as Spice, at least in her own way. They probably deserve each other at this point. Pure, incorrigible arrogance and psychopathy all the way down. God/Witches have mercy on us all

[fairiesthrum]

Can I be 🧚‍♀️ anon if it's not taken pls!! And ok... what are your thoughts on cult leader Geto? 🫣🫣

🎀 — OFC U CAN BE FAIRY ANON AHAKSJAUSJ

and abt cult leader geto hmmmm (incoming yap session y’all)

ngl, i expect his wife to absolutely HATE his guts. like i’m talking melania trump core (i made a small post abt this before).

i can just imagine some young woman from a powerful clan being forced to marry some weirdo obsessed with monkeys (cuz yes, you genuinely didn’t know what he was talking abt when he said monkeys and thought he was insane in the beginning. well, you still think he’s crazy).

i would describe suguru’s wife to be the “nonchalant” kind, very elegant, just cares abt that bag and living a good life.

you have no interest in sexual relations with him at first (though he was super hot and that’s what pushed you to agree to the marriage in the first place), and neither does he (the both of you actually sleep in separate rooms). suguru only married you to gain support and followers so all you had to do was make appearances beside him, sit pretty, act like everything is fine, and spend the rest of your life not having to lift a finger whilst gawking at your husband’s dashing looks. easy enough, right?

wrong. you actually end up learning he’s a cult leader through these strange meetings (yeah, your parents forgot to fill you in abt that part).

it sets you off (like fr mom and dad? a cult leader??) and you become more irritated with him and everything he does as the days pass. you start acting like an entirely different person, smacking his hand away when he tries to hold it in public, opting to clutch onto your designer purse instead. and geto just stands there with a close-eyed smile, laughing it off.

you couldn’t even stand to look at him. you married a psycho obsessed with killing non-sorcerers. but what could you do? your parents basically sold you to him, so the smartest thing you could think of in terms of fighting back was to just not listen to him. it’s really awkward for the people around you both when you’re constantly acting like a bitch and geto sits there with a tight smile while everyone else in the room shares concerned and nervous glances.

nowadays, all you ever really did was grovel abt your terrible life while wearing your designer clothes and wiping your tears with the designer handkerchief that you pull out of your designer handbag #richpplproblems

but suguru brushes off your behavior all the time, he assumes you were having trouble adjusting even though it’s been two months and you acted pretty normal in the beginning of your marriage. so he doesn’t do anything abt your attitude… until you really embarrass him.

it ends up with him dragging you into his bedroom, seething and red-faced. it was totally unlike your calm and collected husband, and you were smug that you’ve finally gotten a reaction. it placated something inside you, a part that was desperate for revenge cuz you were stuck in this god awful marriage.

he notices the change in your eyes, and then the both of you go back and forth, yelling and screaming. until he slams his lips onto yours, shutting you up.

clothes are ripped off and then the next thing you know, both of you fuck on your marriage bed for the first time while gasping out between moans abt how much you can’t stand each other.

just a bunch of hate fucking and then acting normal and back to snide remarks the next day until it happens again… and again… and again.

cause both of you are scared to admit you enjoy the steamy sex and the fact you’ve started having feelings for each other since you’re both stubborn. so, the two of you just find an excuse to fuck all the time.

anyways, that’s my take on cult leader geto ₓₓ

[yuwuta]

can i have ur thoughts on poly yuuji nd yuuta? i think abt it constantly since ur post abt how they act when u alr have a bf and how yuuji plays the nice guy card but is a little shit but i think he respects yuuta so i wonder how he'd act w him and how would they be in a poly 🤕

there’s always two versions of poly okkoita to me

one: you and yuuta are together, and yuuta realizes he’s got a big fat crush on yuuji and cannot be normal about it. he’s trying to be but there’s this strange mix of insecurity and lust pooling inside of him whenever he sees you with yuuji, it becomes obsessive and the center of all his fantasies. he likes that their names are similar, sometimes he hopes you’ll mistake the two of them… sometimes he hopes he’ll come home to you and yuuji making out and he wouldn’t even get mad he would just happily watch and join you two… sometimes he wonders if yuuji’s ever thought about you that way too, you guys seem to close friends, he’d have to be crazy not to want you, too, right? 

two: yuuta and yuuji are together, or at the very least, messing around with each other because neither of them know how to say that something feels incomplete between the two of them, and that that missing something is you. they both harbor so much guilt about having a crush on you despite seeing each other and they’re both so fucking terrible at hiding it, it’s a miracle it doesn’t come out sooner. there’s relief, when they both realize they like the same person, and then it’s weird for a bit… them hooking up isn’t even about them anymore, it’s about you… it’s strange, they both want the other to want you, they both want to feel you between them, they both want to watch the other get you off… they spend their time together fantasizing about you. it’s too much and not enough at the same time and even though they both want you, neither of them knows how to go about talking to you about it, and they’d both probably short circuit the first time you remotely touch them… honestly it’s overwhelmingly sweet w the two of them, and equally as suffocating once you’re between them 

[linusbenjamin]

We’ve been waitin’ for you, now.

[gunstellations]

rk800 💙 rk900

[whenthegoldrays]

also, my god, Choi Se Kyeong, what a horrible thing to say to your daughter when her best friend just committed suicide???

[alastorss]

brother i still have no idea how tumblr works and this is my first request and it might not even be in the right place but—

why does NO ONE talk about the fact that “Allie” would be such a silly nickname for Alastor? i would love to see some headcanons/a lil story about how he would react to the reader calling him that. maybe completely detests it at first but secretly likes it?

a/n: hello lovely, you've come to the right place 🫶 yes yes yes!!! i'm obsessed with this idea <3 i'm adding to this: he would think you're mad at him when you finally call him normally again ^ ^

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

"What did you say?"

"Huh?" You hum, attention devoted to fixing Alastor's bowtie.

"That thing you just said. Repeat it."

You finally blink at him, using your palms to smooth out the front of his jacket before stepping out of his bubble. "I said your tie was undone."

"No, dear, before that."

The Radio Demon can feel his eye twitching in irritation. You look at him again dumbly, trying to retrace your steps.

"Oh!" You flash him a little smile and he thinks his brain is going to explode. "Allie?"

He just gawks at you, surprised by the sheer audacity you have. And it doesn't help that he's so fond of you that he doesn't even want to strike you down.

Had it been someone else calling him so endearingly, he might have done something violent. But how could he do that to you, his darling companion, when you look so sweet calling him such a ridiculous name?

"My apologies but... where did that come from?"

"Isn't it cute?" You grin, completely dodging his question.

No, he wants to say. Absolutely not. However, your smile is ever-growing and he can't very well deny you this pleasure. So he sucks it up, draws in a deep inhale to compose himself, and nods.

"Of course, cher."

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Weeks pass and the rest of your friends in the hotel begin to raise a brow at how casually you address such a powerful Overlord. And more than that, he doesn't seem to want to correct you.

It becomes his name reserved exclusively for you. Angel had tried, once, to purr out Allie in a seductive way that made Alastor's skin crawl. Never again.

He gets used to it. Even likes the idea that there is something shared between you that no one else can have. That is, until you're pushing around your breakfast on a plate one morning.

"Can you pass the salt, Alastor?"

He looks up from his mug of coffee in confusion, brain taking a moment to buffer before it catches up with his already moving mouth.

"Alastor?" He repeats his own name, staring at you intensely and most definitely not passing the salt over the table.

You look back up at him blankly. "That's your name, don't wear it out."

He scoffs at your lame joke before sliding the salt shaker over the table. There's something unsettling him and he can't quite place it.

Setting down his newspaper, he watches you as you eat. His gaze is so fiery that you look up from your food almost instantly.

"What's wrong?"

"Are you alright? Have I done something to upset you?"

Your brows scrunch. "No, why?"

"Why did you not call me Allie?"

Complete and utter silence settles over the dining table until he feels like he can't breathe. Your spoonful of food hovers just in front of your open mouth as you stare.

Then, laughter. Laughter fills the room and his ears so heartily that he feels it in his own chest. You double over the table in your fit, spoon clinking onto the plate as you drop it.

"What?" He grumbles.

"Of course I'm not mad at you!" You howl, using a finger to wipe up the tears gathering in your eyes. "'Sides, I thought you hated that name?"

His jaw grows taut. "Hate is a powerful word."

"So you like it?"

"Absolutely not!"

"Liar, you do!"

Alastor is never one to get flustered, but here he is for the first time in his afterlife, teetering on the edge of bursting out in flames. "You are terrible, you know that?"

You snicker, leg getting trapped between his under the table. "Yeah, Allie, I know."

Yet the way his smile softens says it all.

~

taglist: @the-lake-is-calling @dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice @averylonelysea @bri22222 @cxrsedwxrlds @amarokofficial @anae-naea-zacheria @for-hearthand-home @fantasy-is-best @angixyc (send an ask to be added!)

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC: I wanna be like most girls ghosts.

or Danny: What should I do to make my mom happy?

or ~Danny deserves a little teenage rebellion as a treat~

Maddie: I just want this damned Phantom to stop pretending to be a hero! All ghosts are pure evil, who is he trying to deceive? Danny: Oh, really? And Danny took it personally.

It’s not Danny’s fault that he’s a good kid and wants to make his parents happy. But why would he have to be a monster to make them happy? Why must they hate him to be happy?

Danny’s obsession was going crazy.

Well, when your own parents call you a monster in the face, it hurts. Why do they always believe that only their opinion is the absolute truth? They have no idea how much worse things would be if at least some of the ghosts really behaved the way Maddie and Jack think they’re supposed to. If he really is evil by nature, is there any point in fighting his own fate? They want to see him as a villain, he will become one. He will. He just needs a little help and practice. And not bring it to the level when Clockwork has to clean up his mess. Poor guy is without a vacation for how long? Couple of millennia?

Johnny 13: Sup. Danny: F*ck off, Johnny, I’m not in the mood. Busy thinking about world domination. Get out of here or I’ll call Kitty. Johnny 13: What’s wrong? You’re usually so grouchy only towards the end of the week. Danny: Nothing. Just parents. Again. They are wonderful but I can’t help but feel sometimes that they, em… Johnny 13: Suck? Danny: Right…Damn. I’m a terrible son. Maybe something is wrong with me. Johnny 13: What? No, no, dude. You’re just growing up. And you’re a little late, usually teenagers go through that stage before they graduate. Well, you’ve probably been busy with other issues, so just missed it. Danny: I wonder whose fault it is. Aren’t there ghosts who enjoyed to ruin my life in the middle of school day?

Johnny 13: Oh, bother. Anyway, you’re entering a beautiful time of emancipation, where you’re going to shape your own view of life and, along the way, to get drunk on cheap alcohol at parties, maybe to go to jail and to become the greatest disappointment to your family..And then you will be ashamed to remember it for about the next ten years. Danny: Well, it looks like I’ve already done two out of three additional things. Great success. Johnny 13: When did you get drunk? Danny: I didn’t. Johnny 13: Oh. Want to fix that? Danny: What? No. What an idiot wants to add a headache to his problems? Johnny 13: Well, your loss, then I’ll go terrorize the bars of Gotham alone and no one can stop me. Let’s see what your boyfriend will say about it. ~~~~~ Danny: Bartender, another shot of Dead Man’s Fingers, please. Red Hood: Babe, haven’t you had enough? Danny: Have you ever felt that no matter how hard you try, no matter how many sacrifices you make, in their eyes you’ll always be nothing more than a monster? Nothing more than a mistake? Oh, Death doesn’t give people like me a break. Red Hood: …I’ll have what he’s having. *gives the bartender a sign to switch the rum shots to a batburger milkshake for them, and starts talking to Danny so that he doesn’t understand Hood's scams*

~~~~~

Johnny 13: Other people’s kids are growing up so fast. It seems like yesterday he didn’t know how to shoot ectoblast, and now.. Kitty: Stop trying to make me feel bad, we’re leaving. Johnny 13: But the boy needs our support, honey boo!

~~~~~

Danny: I'm fine. Really, I am. This isn’t the first time mom’s called me a monster. She often called me that when she was upset with my behavior in my childhood. Huh, it's even funny. Jason: There’s nothing funny about that. Danny: No, you don’t understand. Looking back, I was really a very active child and didn’t know when to stop. Not surprisingly that I often annoyed my parents. They’re very busy people, and Jazz couldn’t always keep an eye on me. And I was often afraid to go to sleep alone because there were shadows in the darkness of my room. Well, I used to think they were. But I pretended everything was okay to not distract parents from work. Jason: Hey, it’s not your fault. You were a child. Obviously, kiddo requires a lot of attention, they must have understood that. You are the second child in the family, right? Danny: Well, Jazz was different. I don’t know. Anyway, I thought if the monsters behind the curtain and under the bed were just like me, well, according to my mom, you know, then they wouldn’t want to hurt me. And since they look after me, they are friends. So I kinda greeted all the suspicious noises and howls. Huh, I was a strange kid. Jason: If you smile at someone in the dark alley right now that someone is more likely to wet themselves or faint. Danny: Rude! I’m not that scary. Admit that I’m adorable. Do it right now. Jason: Stunning, darling. But still carry a gun and a knife, please. My childhood taught me that what's hiding in the dark is worth beating up. Danny: Come on, what should I be afraid of? Death? Anyway, I want to try this shit. Like, the inevitable one. Being a bad boy, you know? Hood *raises eyebrows*. Danny: Oh damn it man, I'm talking about ghostliness. I want to try to be like most of dead ones. I want to unleash my side of the trickster and the villain. But only a little bit. I have to be supervised so that things don't go too far. Would you help me, honey?

~~~~~2 hours later~~~~

~~~~~

Goons used to expect a lot of weirdness from working with the boss.

Sometimes Bruce Wayne would go into their base and yell at the Red Hood like he's one of his kids. Of course Wayne's well-known as 'Gotta adopt them all' but the guy must really suffer from insomnia to count the Red Hood into his brood of chicks several times. Sometimes the boss would fight Robin or Nightwing over differences in morals…or for biscuits. It varied from moment to moment. Sometimes the boss caught the local street children, fed them and taught them to steal correctly. And most of the foundlings stayed with them under their protection.

To make a long story short, Red Hood is not the typical crime lord that some of them had to deal with before. Which is a blessing. Thanks Lord for the health insurance. But still the crime lord. Which means he's still scary, and sometimes deadly.

Anyway, when the boss brought in a guy who looked more civilian than any civilian in the whole Gotham and said he was going to be their intern, they thought it was a joke at first. Despite the fact that Hood was not in the habit of joking while working.

The teenager was too well-mannered and sweet to come from Crime Alley. Phil thought the guy was gonna run when he saw the first murder, Jessica didn’t think the domestic boy wouldn’t chicken out at the sight of a fight. But arguing with a boss’s orders in their profession is like asking for a bullet in the head, so these conversations were taking place outside of their boss's sight. God, how can they teach him anything? What do you take from a boy who’s only good to do the coffee run? Fenton will fall if they’ll give him something heavier than 10 pounds. And then boss will yell at them because he treats the new guy like a princess on a pea. Well, at least that’s what they thought until the boss decided to give the new guy his own assignments:

~~~~~

Red Hood: So, what have you learned during your internship, my young Padawan? Danny: Well, it looks like I’m gonna suck at being a criminal mastermind. I think I may have to find myself some other profession. Red Hood: Come on, you just need a little more practice. Danny: Thank you but I don’t think that’s fit my obsession that good. Don't misunderstand me, I wanna be like most ghosts. But I was wrong to go to hit that goal only base on human stereotypes about my nature. Red Hood: What a pity. The newbies just learned not to flinch when you walk in. But, to be honest, I'm not gonna miss the adrenaline-boosting roller coaster of you at work. Danny: Oh, and I guess to hold on to the concept of humanity was really stupid too. I clearly no longer fit in and I’m finally ready to accept that. So, hopefully, if you get into trouble, you can rely on my ghostliness and call for help. I am the spirit of many talents and of my word. I can haunt your enemies or walk through the walls of Arkham Asylum. Whatever you need, I’ll be here. Red Hood: I’ll bear that in mind.

[oldsoul007]

hope you like scary movies, cus you’re in one

a/n: I may or may not saw an edit…

ghostface!nicholas x reader

It was a quiet night in woodsboro , like it always is. I was a nanny for a little boy so I could get through college. My phone buzzed on the kitchen counter, and I glanced at the screen. Unknown Caller. I pressed declined but it repeatedly kept calling. Then the landline they had started ringing. I hesitated for a moment before answering.

"Hello?" I said, my voice cautious.

"Hello, y/n," a distorted voice replied. It sent a chill down my spine. "Do you like scary movies?"

I recognized the voice immediately. It was Ghostface, the infamous killer that terrorize my dad in 1996. But something felt off. There was a familiarity in the tone, beneath the distortion.

"Who is this? You’re not funny” Y/n asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Guess," the voice taunted. "Or maybe I'll just have to come find you."

My heart raced, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I knew this person. She thought about Nicholas and how he always played pranks on her. Could it be him?

"Alright, Nicholas," I said, calling his bluff. "Cut it out. I know it's you."

There was a brief silence on the other end before the voice changed, becoming softer and unmistakably Nicholas.

"You got me," he admitted, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I couldn't resist. I've been watching too many horror movies lately."

I let out a relieved laugh. "You really had me going there for a second. But seriously, you need to stop watching those movies."

Nicholas chuckled. "I know, I know. But hey, it got you to pick up the phone, didn't it?"

I shook my head, smiling. "Yeah, it did. But next time, maybe just send a text?"

"Deal," Nicholas agreed, his tone warm. As I hung up, I couldn't help but feel a mix of exasperation and affection for Nicholas. Even when he was being mischievous, he had a way of making me smile.

I had been feeling uneasy for days. I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching me. It started with strange noises outside my window at night and escalated to finding eerie notes left in places only I would notice. The notes were signed by "Ghostface," and they sent chills down my spine.

One evening, as I was walking home from work, I heard footsteps behind me. I quickened my pace, but the footsteps matched mine, growing closer with each step. I turned a corner and ducked into an alley, hoping to lose my pursuer. But as I looked back, I saw the unmistakable mask of Ghostface looming in the shadows.

My heart raced as I tried to find a way out. Suddenly, Ghostface lunged at me, pinning her against the wall. "Why are you doing this?" I cried, her voice trembling with fear.

The masked figure was silent for a moment before reaching up to remove the mask. To my shock, it was Nicholas, my boyfriend, standing there with a sheepish grin on his face.

"Nicholas? What the hell?" My fear quickly turned to anger. "You scared me half to death!"

Nicholas looked genuinely apologetic. "I didn't mean to frighten you that much. I thought it would be a fun Halloween prank. I guess I went too far."

My anger softened slightly as I saw the remorse in his eyes. "You think?" I said, still shaken. "You could have just told me you wanted to scare me a little, not make me think I was being stalked by a killer."

Nicholas sighed. "I'm really sorry, y/n. I just wanted to do something different, but I realize now it was a terrible idea. Can you forgive me?"

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. "Just promise me you'll never do something like this again."

"I promise," Nicholas said, pulling me into a hug. "I'll make it up to you, I swear."

As we walked home together, I couldn't help but feel relieved that the nightmare was over. But I also realized that Nicholas had a lot to learn about what constituted a "fun" prank.

“I don’t understand why you’re so obsessed with ghostface” “babe it’s Halloween losen up!” He said as we walked hand in hand.

I had always felt a chill in the air around Halloween, but this year, it was different. I had my boyfriend, nicholas. He was charming, funny, and had a smile that could light up the darkest night. Everyone loved him. But there was something about him that I couldn't quite put my finger on.

One evening, me and nick decided to attend the town's annual Halloween party. The old mansion where the party was held was decked out in spooky decorations, with cobwebs, eerie lighting, and ghostly figures lurking in the corners. Everyone was in costume, and I had chosen to go as a ____.

As I mingled with friends, I couldn't help but notice that Nicholas was nowhere to be seen. I asked around, but no one seemed to know where he was. Just as I was about to give up, I was walking by the stairs when I heard someone yelling.

I try not to be nosey but go up the stairs anyone. Maybe nick was up here anyway. I walked through the house looking in the rooms finding nothing. When I open the door i see some kid in a ghost face costume hop out the window. “What the fuck” I say under my breath. I pull out my phone to text him. No service?

I heard commotion downstairs so I ran down to see what’s happening. Everyone was gone from the house. I heard a floorboard squeak behind me.

It was Ghostface, and my heart raced. The figure moved silently through the room, its eyes fixed on me. I felt a shiver run down my spine as Ghostface approached, stopping just inches away from me.

"Y/n," a familiar voice whispered from behind the mask. My eyes widened in shock as Ghostface removed the mask to reveal Nicholas's face. He smiled, but it wasn't the warm, friendly smile I was used to. It was cold and sinister.

"I've been watching you," Nicholas said, his voice low and menacing. "You have no idea who I really am."

I took a step back, my mind racing. The pieces started to fall into place—the strange disappearances, the eerie feeling I got around him, the way he always seemed to know too much. I realized with a sinking feeling that my new boyfriend was none other than the real Ghostface.

Before I could react, Nicholas lunged at me, but I was quick. I grabbed a nearby candlestick and swung it at him, knocking him off balance. I ran through the mansion, my heart pounding in my chest, desperately searching for a way out.

As I reached the front door, I could hear Nicholas's footsteps behind me. I flung the door open and ran into the night, vowing never to trust anyone so easily again. But before I could even get out of the door he grabbed my arm pulling me back in. I try fighting him off but he grabs both of my wrist. “I’m not gonna hurt you y/n!” “Why, why did you do this?!” I yell looking him in the eyes. “What even is a motive?”

[animeyanderelover]

Anon: How would yan chuuya, jouno, light, megumi and gojo react to a darling that just doesn't care that they're yanderes?

I already did a similar concept with Chuuya before but I added him nonetheless because I wrote this with a darling in mind that is even fine with the Yandere killing

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional mindset, clinginess, isolation, murder

Tags: @maggiequinn59 @shumidehiro @leveyani @izanami78 @lovley-valentine7

Darling doesn't care that they are obsessed

Yagami Light

✍️Light takes the information very well, a pleased grin on his lips when he realises that none of the things that he does seem to bother you. It’s a sign of submission from your side, something that could only ever please a man with a god complex like he has. This is how it should be after all. You should know your place and love him utterly and completely for the perfect being that he is. Light has done some terrible things in the name of his proclaimed love for you, things that he believes he has the right to do as no one is allowed to steal the person away from him that he plans to keep by his side after he has become the New God. Stealing what belongs to a deity is nothing short of a sin. A sin that has to be punished with death itself. After having confirmed that his feelings for you haven’t scared you nor have some of the actions that he has committed which you were aware of, Light starts truly testing how far your adoration and your dedication go for him. He reveals his ideologies, his mission, his identity to you as well as the future he plans to have with you all whilst you remain loving and loyal. Oh, you are indeed worthy of ruling this world alongside with him. He chose wisely.

Nakahara Chuuya

🟠Chuuya tends to let his delusional side get the better of him yet upon initial discovery that you truly don’t care about his behavior as long as he keeps on loving you and treating you well, the Executive is a tad bit concerned. Are you sure? You’re really fine with all of this? He’s in the Port Mafia, he’s killed people for you even. It’s just hard to believe that you accept all of it as gracious as you do to the point where Chuuya wonders if you’re trying to trick him. That distrust remains for a while even if you give him no reason to doubt you. Paranoia is rarely soothed by logic after all. Once Chuuya has been convinced that you truly mean it when you say that you don’t care about his obsession he gets undeniably more delusional though. If you don’t mind his obsession after all he can’t possibly be as bad as he thought he was. He starts indulging in his obsession for you more and more as you basically give him a free pass, asks of you to move in with him so that he can protect you better all whilst spoiling the living shit out of you. He doesn’t really have to hold himself back as much anymore which leads the Executive to turn his possessive behavior up quite a bit. You won’t mind after all.

Jouno Saigiku

♦️For Jouno this knowledge is a bit of a double-edged sword. On the one hand you are easier to deal with, don’t throw any tantrums which could get on his nerves and show quite a level of obedience that deeply satisfies his possessive side. The composed sound of your heart doesn’t overwhelm him but sometimes he also finds himself getting bored. Don’t forget that this Hunting Dog is still an utter sadist after all who would love to listen to the melody of your frantic heartbeat once in a while. After all it’s quite unspectacular for you to be so monotonous with your behavior and your acceptance all of the time. As much obedience and acceptance you may give him after all, it is all for naught if Saigiku doesn’t have control over you by having you fear him. Loyalty and love are not enough in his mind, not if there isn’t fear that weights you down and has you carefully thinking about every stupid decision you might make. The sadist inside of him is truly talking out of him with this desire yet Jouno never attempts to restrain his actions. Since you’ve already taken so well to everything that he’s done so far he’s sure you won’t mind learning how to be a bit scared of him~

Fushiguro Megumi

💙Megumi’s silent paranoia has led him to justify his overprotective and somewhat overbearing behavior most of the time yet there is a shred of awareness still left somewhere inside of him. It is this last shred of sanity that is the only thing letting him know that you shouldn’t think this way, that you should be scared of him. Perhaps you’re trying to trick him? Something holds Megumi back from believing you when you first admit it to him, almost accusing you of trying to fool him so that he lets his guard down. The moment you manage to convince him though that you are speaking the truth the last shard of awareness shatters and leaves him thoroughly led by his paranoid and overprotective instincts. Of course he trusts you. It’s everyone else that he doesn’t trust though. So you two better spend time alone with each other where others won’t be able to bother the two of you. When he isn’t with you, try not to leave the house. If you do, please contact him and let him know where you are, what you are doing and when you are back home again. No, he isn’t overbearing and overprotective. He only wants to ensure your safety, wants to know you’re safe.

Gojo Satoru

🩵Gojo totally eats your behavior up as soon as he knows that you really don’t mind his overbearing, clingy and paranoid attitude. This man has no restrains to begin with as he never holds his affection back but everything becomes even more gross for the people forced to watch as soon as you indirectly give him the free pass. The man is thrilled, constantly smothers you in love and presents and he quickly pushes this relationship to move in the direction he wants it to go. You quickly find yourself moving in with him as it takes him little to no time to convince you, you find yourself spending an almost overwhelming amount of time with him as he gets quickly jealous when you pay attention to others as his possessive and needy nature quickly cages you in. You’re compliant, you’re sweet and you love him for the person that he is which only pushes Gojo to cling tigthter and tighter to you. He finds comfort in you, he finds his peace when he’s with you and he only confines his pain and his feelings to you. You know him. You understand him. You love him. For those reasons he will never let you leave him nor will he ever let anyone lay a finger on you.

[bella-goths-wife]

So if Alastor made a deal with Vs pet before going missing for 7 years how would she be at the hotel?

What would have happened if alastor made a deal with Vs pet before leaving

Warnings: obsession, bad foreshadowing, violence?

In all honestly, if alastor had ran into you again before disappearing he would have made a deal with you

You intrigued him in a way that he hadn’t felt in years, the familiarity he felt towards you almost made him nostalgic

But let’s say he did offer you a deal on the day you met

It would be something similar to your deal with vox, your soul in exchange for food, water, shelter and protection

He’d give you a small cottage away from the city and close to the cannibal colonies, somewhere where you could live without the worry of being hurt or killed

Your fridge would always be stocked with food every week and you had all the things you could need in the cottage with you

Now you expected there to be a huge workload after you found out what a prominent demon alastor was, but all you had to really do was be his assistant and help him with his broadcasts

You were his assistant for a few weeks before he disappeared and suddenly you were alone again

You were still taken care of in the essential ways, your always had food and water in your little cottage and Rosie checked up on the cottage once a week to make sure you were still alive and safe

But you were lonely, so you started to help out Rosie in the cannibal colony every now and again

And you continued like that for seven years, until alastor finally returned

Rosie had let you know about his return and warned you that he would call on you soon and not to ask him to many questions

It was whiplash for you, one minute you were making some tea in the kitchen and the next you were standing in the hotel lobby with a look of shock

Alastor introduced you to everyone and informed you that you’d be staying at the hotel with him to help Charlie with her vision

You were mainly there to help alastor and be his entertainment, but you did help nifty with chores and even cooked meals for everyone

Charlie was ecstatic to have a younger soul with them and claimed that you’d be perfect for redemption

Her girlfriend, vaggie, on the other hand was extremely cautious around you since you were associated with alastor

Husk knew of you from whispers from some of the other souls alastor owned

At first he pitied you since he knew what it was like to be leashed by alastor, and then he saw how much alastor favoured you and treated you much nicer than he treated any of his other souls

Husk couldn’t help but feel bitter of the fact that he was in a much worse situation than you, but he eventually grew to like you since he understood you were practically a kid compared to him and he wouldn’t wish his fate on anyone

You and angel wouldn’t be as close as you were if you were the Vs pet, but you’d both still be friends

Alastor wouldn’t be fond of sharing you with the rest of the hotel since you were there to be his entertainment, but when he made comments about it and gave you an unnecessary workload he got a very harsh scolding from Rosie

I believe that alastor would become like a mentor to you, almost fatherly but not too much

It’s canon that alastor would be a terrible father but a great mentor so I could see him teaching you how to use your power to its full extent and he’d like combining your powers together

I like to imagine that when you and alastor combine your abilities then it would start off as a 1920s jazz music sound and would contain techno beats when you join in

Your relationship with alastor would be almost parallel to yours and vox if you were the Vs pet

It would be less cruel and you’d be much happier, but there would still be a hint of obsession in the relationship

Alastor would definitely be somewhat possessive of you in a certain way, the same way a male deer is protective of its children

He’d like getting to know you and finding out what the connection was between you to

The Vs would absolutely despise you since you were associated with alastor and the first time they met you was through one of Vox and alastors fights

So overall I think you’d be much happier and safer with alastor but that doesn’t exclude you from still feeling like a pet

But at least with this path, you’d have a chance at redemption for you

That’s if alastor didn’t drag you back from the pearly gates by a leash

———————————————————————

“And this little dear is my darling assistant” is the first thing you hear as your pulled from the shadows, you could recognise that voice anywhere.

One minute you were stood in your lovely kitchen and now your stood trying to take in what seems to be a hotel.

You try and hide your surprise as you turn to find your owners crazed grin staring down at you.

“What am I doing here alastor?” You question with a confused tone. You know you shouldn’t question him, Rosie had warned you against it, but you couldn’t help your curiosity “where have you been?”

Alastors eye twitches in what seems to be irritation as he stares down at you, you could see a cat demon behind alastor wince in what looked like fear before alastor wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

“Nevermind that, my little doe” alastor says with an over exaggerated laugh “I’ve brought you here because Charlie here has an idea to redeem demons, truly laughable I know but I’ve taken it upon myself to help her achieve this pipe dream”

Alastor laughed with radio static as a background before turning you to look at him once again.

“And I knew I wouldn’t be able to do it without my dearest little fawn” alastor said with a grin as his claws pinched your cheek in what could be seen as threatening or playful, you gave up guessing a long time ago “so from now on you’ll be staying here and helping me with this hotel, okay dear?”

You simply nodded at his question, knowing you had no grounds to refuse your owner. You had to play the loyal pet once again.

“Perfect” alastor said with pep in his tone as he let go of you and face you in the direction of the bar “now run along and get to know the others while I talk with Charlie about your rooming arrangements, I’ll call you back when I need you”

You nodded as you begin walking to the bar and you take a seat next to an extremely tall spider man who eyes you with curiosity. You’re in front of the cat demon from earlier who also regards you with intrigue.

“Hi” you say almost shyly as your ears remain pinned against your head, you hadn’t talked to someone other than Rosie or alastor since you made your deal and this entire experience was outside your comfort zone.

“Heya toots” the spider demon spoke unsurely as he looked down at you “where’s smiles been keepin’ you then?”

“Hm?” You make a questioning sound as your head tilts in a confused manner

“He means he’s not seen you around, no one has” the cat demon clarifies with a gruff tone “it’s weird for alastor not to cash in on a favour from his souls, angel here wants to know where alastors been keepin’ you”

“Oh” you say with a confused look “I don’t think he’s kept me hidden exactly”

“Well I only heard about you through whispers, but I assumed it was just rumours” husk responds gruffly “no one knew alastor had an assistant until a few days ago when he mentioned bringing you here”

“Didn’t think smiles had it in him” the spider, angel, comments before looking you up and down “your a bit young for him though, don’t ya think husk”

Husk nods cautiously as he takes in your appearance, you couldn’t have been been more than eighteen.

“It’s not like that” you assure with a mildly disturbed face at the thought of the insinuation

“Than what are you to smiles toots?” Angel asked curiously “because he certainly seemed fond of you”

You think for a moment on how to explain your connection with alastor before speaking cautiously

“Well, I’m his-“ you were about to answer but alastors call interrupted you.

“My dear” alastor called for you “don’t you think it’s time you and I set up for a broadcast”

You nod as you abandon the two demons to walk beside alastor on his way to his radio station, like a loyal mutt being called back into the house.

“I think it’s time I show that pesky TV that radio still lives” alastor comments as he puts his hand on your shoulder and guides you “and with my perfect little assistant, I’m sure my broadcast will be as great as ever”

[untoldstar]

Yandere bully x gn reader headcanons

warnings: yandere tendencies, obsessive behavior, mentions of bullying but no direct explicit scenes or descriptions of it, stalking

yandere bully who doesn't give you a break, as soon as you step foot into the school building he's already up in your face making sure you start your day terribly

yandere bully who makes it his top priority to somehow take up all of the space in your life, Wherever you go he's there with an evil glint in his eyes, whoever you're talking to sprints away when they see him headed in your direction, you start to actually become paranoid, yes he wants you to be miserable but there's something so..wrong with the way he's always around you.

surely even he has other things to do?

yandere bully who steps proudly in the school hallways with a smirk plastered on his face, people passing by cowering slightly but he pays no attention to these people his eyes are eagerly scanning the halls for you, his tipped smile falters slightly when he doesn't see your figure near your locker or roaming in the halls.

yandere bully who shakes off this uncomfortable feeling and decides to carry on with his day, he was sure you were just avoiding him, he doesn't mind.

he likes a good chase

he starts to get irritated when he doesn't see you for the rest of the day, did you seriously not come at all? he was definitely gonna make you pay for that

days go by and you still don't show and now he's starting to get nervous, were you sick? he doesn't recall you showing any symptoms but why else would you be gone for that long?

a week goes by and he snaps. he charges to your class his eyes set on Jackson, a classmate he's seen you talk to frequently.

he slams his hands on the desk startling the boy sitting and earning a few worried glances from the others in the class. The boy looks up already cowering slightly "um..do you nee- hey- wait!" he grabs Jackson from his collar lifting him up from his seat "alright spill. y/n hasn't been here for a week where are they?" he glowers at him watching the boys expression go from terrified to confused "y/n? you mean you don't know?" he grips his shirt tighter and jerks him forward earning him a yelp "know what?" Jackson swallows before answering "y/n moved schools a week ago..b-before you ask I don't know which school!" he stays quiet for a few seconds as the new information dawns on him, he lets go of the boy's collar abruptly and speeds out of the classroom.

moved schools? what the fuck is all that about?

he's filled with anger at this, in his words, stunt you pulled but his anger twists into discomfort when he realises he won't see you every day anymore.

yandere bully who threatens almost every student in your school, talks to every teacher he even goes to all the places you frequent outside of school but you never showed, did you move to a different city or something?

yandere bully who finally finds a lead to where you are and wastes no time in tracking you down and showing up to the school itself, waiting by the doors for you, his heart jumping with excitement when he sees your figure walking, phone in hand still unaware of his presence.

yandere bully who finally feels like he's found some sort of relief since the day you moved when you lift your head up and lock eyes with him.

he smiles and starts to head in your direction, you step back slightly turning on you heel to walk when he grabs your wrist stepping closer and inching down next to your ear.

"found you.."

[yolli-es]

Hi! This is my first request also i love your writing so much! I've been looking everywhere for a nsfw alphabet headcanons for jinx there isn't any can you please make one i don.t think anyone understand or describe her the way you do

Also don't push yourself!

NSFW Jinx alphabet🔥

Tags: NO spoilers for season 2

I did!! It was an interesting experience for me and thanks for the kind words. In fact, I have a problem with understanding the characters and it is very nice to hear this 😅

PERSON WHO ASKED SOMETHING SIMILAR: Are you still waiting for an answer to your request? Most likely, I will write the same thing 👉🏻👈🏻 You can also answer anonymously.

Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Jinx spends most of her time proving her love for you. Sex is no exception. It's just another of the many ways to say: "I don't just love you; I obsessed you." That's why, in the moments after intimacy, Jinx finally calms down. She just spent all her energy on pleasing you and got it in return. There is no better confirmation of your feelings for her right now. You can just look at each other; she won't rush at you to touch you like she would at any other moment.

Don't worry, she'll do it later.

Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Choose and Jinx are not compatible. She will never tell you what she likes most about you; it's too complicated. Hands, neck, legs, hair, belly, and absolutely everything will be honored with attention from Jinx before and after sex. She also sincerely does not understand why others choose a favorite part of their beloved if they can fuck all parts?

It's much easier for her to say what she doesn't like about herself. Her breasts are her main complex, and if you say something like "I like big breasts,"  "my exes had huge breasts," or simply "between big and small, I'll choose big," expect a bunch of strange decisions from Jinx to hide her "flaw."

Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

She will never think twice before cumming. Jinx doesn't care where, how, or where she does it. If you like it when she does it in certain places, she will remember and will definitely do it... However, if you don't like it when she cums somewhere, then... accept it; she will simply forget about it until you throw a real tantrum and you won't start threatening her.

Jinx has trouble remembering "no" and is great at focusing on "yes."

Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Jinx has a strange turn on when playing with her guns. She has imagined you saddle her with a gun in your hand more than once. She finds it oddly arousing to think about the possibility of a purely accidental death or injury while you're so close. The possibility of being blown up is also close to her.

But all of this will remain a fantasy. You are unlikely to agree to point a gun at her, which Jinx is well aware of. Besides, it's too dangerous for you. What if you go crazy and shoot yourself in the foot?

Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

You are her number one in everything, and she will do anything just to keep you from finding out. Jinx thinks that her lack of experience will make her a terrible partner in your eyes—a bad choice, and you will absolutely never fuck her. You will definitely understand that she is inexperienced when Jinx cannot pull off your bra. She has never worn one, and I swear she was ready to burst into tears at that moment.

After a couple of "training sessions," Jinx becomes the best lover possible. She learns quickly and does exactly what you want her to do because of her excellent understanding of people and her huge intellect.

Favorite position (this goes without saying)

She likes everything as long as you touch her. Jinx won't mind hanging upside down if it means constant physical contact.

Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Until Jinx gained enough (by her standards) experience, she took any joke in bed personally. Don't joke with her in the beginning; it might trigger voices in her head.

Later, when her skills allowed her to make mush out of you, Jinx began to like sudden stupid phrases. Especially while you were riding her. Jinx is not very goofy, but she starts to enjoy breaking your serious mood with the stupidest joke. You can start so hot and continue so intensely, but at some point Jinx will whisper in your ear: "What do you call a person who runs away from a cannibal? Fast food"

She lost a couple of orgasms, but you laughed! It's a small loss for a great cause.

Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Jinx's hair is really long, and I believe that her pubic hair was just as long. Okay, not that long. But Jinx has definitely never shaved. One day she got the idea to paint them green, but she got a minor chemical burn, and now she is afraid and ashamed to do anything with them.

You can ask her to shave, and then do it yourself, because she will definitely cut off a piece of herself without help.

Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Jinx is focused on your feelings and simply adapts to them. If you want it hot and fast, she will do it; if you want it slow and gentle, she will do it. You don't even have to ask. And believe me, she will like it. Jinx will definitely not deprive herself of pleasure; she can just enjoy any interaction as long as you are delighted.

Jinx herself doesn't put much meaning into sex; there is no special romance in it that she could not achieve without getting into your pants. After all, she grew up in a city where they make a living from it.

Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Jinx did this a couple of times as a teenager, mostly out of curiosity. Mylo ruins her mood every time, and it never worked.

After her first orgasm with you, she tried to repeat something similar on her own. She missed your hands, your breath, and your giggles. She couldn't cum.

Jinx will quickly stop doing it.

Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Jinx is obsessed with you. She spends most of her time expressing her gratitude to you for all the good things you give her.

And she loves you even more when you do the same.

It's okay if you get cruel and a little over the top at this point; Jynx will still love it. She will never feel as loved and needed as when you are completely obsessed with her. Sincerely, not when she asks you to. Bite her to mark her, dominate her, and constantly whisper: "You are mine, and that will never change." Oh, she will cum so hard.

Location (favorite places to do the do)

On the table in her workshop. Jinx will also call you her project or her favorite gun.

Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

When you take the initiative. Any touch to her with a subtext will be met with active actions. She feels your mood well.

Jinx will also try to tease you if she feels like you've been too cold towards her lately. She firmly believes that this is a radical way to love and will definitely remind you of her devotion.

No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Want to pick a fight with Jinx? Ask her for group sex.

Jinx won't share with you. Forget about a threesome.

Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Jinx will always be the first to initiate oral sex. She enjoys it while she's doing it and goes crazy when she's receiving it. It's her favorite. She's also damn good at it; oral wasn't bad even the very first time.

It must just be a talent—another one in Jinx's stack.

Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

The one you need. She won't be too shy about being rude to you if you moan louder and rub against her more actively.

Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Jinx herself is very active, and her life is quite eventful. And yet this does not mean that she is a fan of it.

Usually you have quick sex just because you want it; Jinx prefers to wait for the moment when it will be possible to do everything she wants. Bite, rub, look, and lick, enjoying the moment, not just to stop the itching.

Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Experiments? Yes. Risk? Never.

You will try everything; Jinx is a searching nature. She will definitely tie you up, spank you, not let you cum, and try different toys on you. You will go through all this together and more than once.

But Jinx would never risk the safety of your pussy. To do so much for your safety, only to be able to lose you so stupidly? No, never.

And no threesomes either.

Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Jinx runs around Zaun with three guns and a bunch of bullets. She's incredibly resilient. You'll sweat more with her than you would on a Silko or Sevika mission. She won't leave you alone until she feels satisfied. Just when you feel like you're getting used to long sex sessions, she finds a way to knock you off your feet again. You tried to wear her out by having Jinx lift you.

Fatal mistake, terrible decision. That's why Jinx is a genius in your little family.

Her body got used to your weight pretty quickly and only strengthened her, making your sex not only long and exhausting, but also a little more difficult for you.

Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Jinx only uses them when she thinks you're getting bored in sex. Jinx will also definitely make a couple of sex toys, more for the sake of interest than sexual desire. She won't use it on her own, but how can she deny you the pleasure of torturing her a little with a toy? She'll definitely enjoy it too much, and control of the situation will pass into her hands as quickly as it left. 

Unfair (how much they like to tease)

For Jinx, teasing = prelude. She won't start until she realizes how hard you're want to coming. Sometimes it can go on too long, and you'll be hysterical and start crying. Jinx didn't want that; she just got carried away, so she'll definitely pay for it tenfold.

Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Scream or she will make you.

Your moans and screams are the only way to show others that you adore her without endangering the lives of others. It's also a great way to relieve stress.

Jinx will definitely enjoy it; don't hold back.

Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

One time you accidentally called her by her real name in the midst of oral sex. She immediately stopped and just looked at you for a few seconds before she started crying. You didn't finish that time.

"Powder" has become your stop word.

X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

5.25 feet of slender body, long fingers, and a nimble tongue. There's a lot to work with.

Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Jinx has a low libido, and before meeting you, sex was not a concern to her. Even as a teenager, when hormones were raging, Jinx remained indifferent to intimacy. Now, you can excite her with just a hint. A light touch, a piquant pose, or an ambiguous phrase will make Jinx immediately become active.

Other people doing similar things irritate her.

Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

After sex, Jinx will lie next to you, just watching. She will be strangely silent and soothingly sweet. Very soon it will stop stressing you out and make you calm down. She will not close her eyes until she is sure that you have fallen asleep. This will last for a couple more hours before she can fall asleep.

Jinx always had trouble sleeping, but when she's next to you, her problem disappears.

I hope the topic of sex is covered and I didn't miss anything 🙏🏻🙏🏻

[taevbears]

Movie Night

When horror movies don't scare you anymore, your boyfriend wants to figure out what you are afraid of.

⤑ pairing: Jungkook x fem!reader (feat. the Daegu boys) ⤑ genre: horror, mystery, suspense, one-shot ⤑ rating: 18+ ⤑ word count: 6.1k ⤑ warnings: obsessive behavior, stalking, depictions of kidnapping, torture, and multiple murders, hidden camera, non-explicit sex, a bit of angst, open ending. this fic gets pretty dark, so please be cautious of the warnings! ⤑ note: happy halloween! this started as a little spooky shower thought i had a little over a month ago and became this lol. i love reading scary stories, but lmao, i feel like i'm not very good at writing them. thank you @angelicyoongie for assuring me that this isn't as terrible as i think it is. also please note that this is a work of fiction and i don't think IRL jungkook is like the character in this fic at all

“No, please! Don’t hurt me!”

The shadow of a muscular, male figure looms over the female protagonist. His breaths are heavy from chasing her around, barely visible against the chilly, October air. Finally, he has her cornered. He holds up a sharp knife in the air.

The woman trembles on the ground, sobbing and pleading for her life to be spared. Mascara runs down her cheeks, and a look of hopelessness and despair fills her eyes. She holds her hands in front of her in a feeble attempt to defend herself.

The camera pans away as the killer violently stabs the woman. Her terrifying screams of pain and anguish echoes from the TV screen as fake blood splatters on the wall.

Blue and white light bathes over you and your date in the dim living room. You try to suppress a long yawn with the back of your hand.

You’re so bored, you’re practically in tears.

“You didn’t like it?” Jungkook asks you, chuckling at your reaction.

“It didn’t scare me,” you admit sheepishly, hoping he doesn’t get the wrong idea.

You love horror movies. It’s what inspired you to become a film student. You love being on the edge of your seat from the thrill and suspense that the main character acts out. You love being genuinely shocked from unexpected twists and jump-scares. You love a good ghost story that haunts you long after the credits roll, or the paranoia of a similar terrifying incident happening to you.

But perhaps, over time, they’ve lost a bit of their magic.

Although the production of movies has become phenomenal in recent years, movies these days seem to rely too heavily on shock value and nostalgia. Once popular franchises are milking out their legacies to a newer audience. There are so many retellings of the same, old stories that you can already accurately predict what will happen before you reach the ending. Even some of the most climactic scenes of the movie are so over-the-top, they’re almost comical.

Honestly, it has nothing to do with your date or even the so-called horror movie itself. You just don’t scare as easily anymore.

Jungkook peers are you curiously, a boyish grin on his face. “Then, what are you scared of?”

“I don’t know. Probably nothing.”

“Yeah? That’s a bold statement.”

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

Jungkook laughs. “You have to be scared of something.”

You throw the question back at him. “Then, what are you afraid of?”

He thinks about it, rubbing his chin in thought and pushing his tongue against the lip rings on his mouth. Then, he meets your gaze. There’s a sparkle in his eyes as he smiles at you. “Hmm, I think I’d be scared to lose you.”

You find yourself smiling back at him.

“You’re so sweet, Kook,” you tell him, leaning over to kiss him.

Only recently, you and Jungkook started dating officially, and you really like him a lot. He’s very cute, funny, handsome, and perfect in many ways. Butterflies flutter in your stomach when you’re around him, and there’s still that exciting giddiness and eagerness of new love whenever he messages you or visits you in the evening.

In some ways, Jungkook is almost too good to be true.

Part of you wonders if there’s a catch.

But with his lips on yours, it’s easy to push that thought aside.

Credits roll on the screen as the movie comes to an end. His fingers glide up your thigh as yours tangle into his hair. The cool piercing on his lips presses against your bottom lip as he slips his tongue in your mouth, and a soft moan escapes you.

Suddenly, Jungkook pulls away and faces the TV. He uses the remote to tap out of the movie credits and browse through the list of recommended shows on your streaming service. Casually, trying to hide a teasing smirk, he asks, “How about we watch a different movie, then?”

You stare back at him, a bit stunned and flustered. But your own smile touches your lips.

“Or,” you suggest, grabbing his wrist to lower the remote. He turns away from the screen to look at you, eyes lingering on the sultry smile on your lips. “I know something else we can do instead.”

When you first saw Jungkook, you thought you were being catfished.

His selfie on the dating app included a slight head tilt, a pucker of his pierced lips, and a peace sign. Big, doe-shaped eyes stared back at you from your phone screen, and you noticed the tiny moles below his lip, on the tip of his nose, and on his cheek.

The second picture was of him and his brown doberman, affectionately named Bam. The picture was taken of them outside. One of his hands was holding a tennis ball and the other was gently touching the dog’s long ears. A small, fond smile tugged on your lips when you looked between them and realized that they kind of looked alike.

The third picture was him at the gym. It was a back-shot where he was using the equipment. Broad shoulders, buff arms and back, a tiny waist. You stared way too long at his strong muscles and the ink on his arm before you finally swiped right.

Turned out, much to your surprise, he liked your pictures too. The two of you were a match.

And it wasn’t long until he sent his first message to you. In your inbox, a simple: “hey :)”

On your first date, the two of you agreed to meet at a very public, very crowded bistro. You stood nervously by the building, dressed nice for the occasion. And in case anything went wrong or if this Jungkook guy wasn’t who you expected him to be, you shared your location and had a “send help lol” message on standby for your bestie, Min Yoongi.

As you waited, scrolling through and jumping around different apps on your phone, you found yourself to be surprised yet again.

Someone who looked like the guy you’ve been chatting with called out your name. And soon, he was standing in front of you: big eyes, bigger muscles, tiny beauty marks on his face, colorful ink on his arm, a charming smile, and a simple, “Hey, I’m Jungkook.”

One date turned to a second date. Then, a third. And by the fourth date, as he laid in your bed that night and snuggled close to you, it finally started to sink in that Jungkook wasn’t some figment of your imagination.

He was real, and sweet, and seemed to really like you as well.

Jungkook, like you, had an interest in filming. He especially liked editing videos for his dance challenges, short clips, and a series he called “Golden Closet Film” on his channel. While you imagined yourself to be a big director, working in movie sets, and making scripts come to life with your vision, Jungkook told you he’d like to film a project where you’re the star.

“I don’t think I’m on-screen material,” you replied, amused by the idea. You’re not an actress. You don’t think you have the kind of beauty filmmakers seek out for their lead roles. Hell, if anything, Jungkook would be a better fit for an acting gig.

“You are,” he insisted, brushing his thumb against your knuckles. “To me, you’re perfect.”

You smiled at him then, your heart fluttering by his words. “You are to me, too.”

It was shortly after that conversation when you both decided to date each other exclusively. And it felt like the kind of romance you’d see in the movies. Picture perfect, a little corny at times, and a thrilling whirlwind of laughter, teasing remarks, and intimate touches.

“Am I who you thought I’d be?” Jungkook asks you the next morning after the movie-night bust, propping himself up on the side and peering down on you. His arm flexes, colorful ink decorating it, as the thick comforter wraps around his bare body.

“No,” you confessed, still a bit tired from last night. You keep your eyes closed as you quietly murmur, “You’re even better.”

“Yeah?”

You don’t need to open your eyes to see the pleased look on his face. As you feel him press his lips against your cheek, you ask, “What about me? Am I who you thought I’d be?”

Had you opened your eyes then, perhaps you would’ve seen it. The blank look on his face as he pulls away from you, how the light in his eyes suddenly seems to vanish, as if he isn’t really looking at you anymore.

Jungkook doesn’t answer you right away. When you open your eyes, you see him shaking his head. The same, sweet boyish smile appears on his lips.

“You’re exactly what I’m looking for.”

The topic about exes inevitably came up early on in your relationship with Jungkook. You’ve dated casually before. Even thought you’d be getting somewhere with some of the guys you were talking to.

But none of them quite compared to Kim Taehyung.

You were a film student. He was a photography major. The two of you were bound to end up in some of the same classes together in the art division.

To you, it was love at first sight. You fell for him so hard and so fast.

What started as bumping into each other at the library and helping each other with assignments led to making out at each other’s dorms with the text books left unopened. Coffee dates between classes became anniversary dinners at nice restaurants. He introduced you to his parents, and you proposed going on a romantic getaway together.

The day you didn’t think you’d ever love anyone else was when he snapped a photo of you looking out at the scenery during that weekend trip. It was just you and him, and a natural setting that looked straight out of a movie.

He smiled to himself as he looked at the picture through his camera. That day, he called you his muse.

And in return, you told him that you loved him.

When you fell for Taehyung, you fell hard and fast. Eventually, it occurred to you that Taehyung didn’t do the same.

Sure, he cared about you. Sure, he loved you. But while you heard wedding bells and dreamed about your future with him, Taehyung was just starting to put himself out there in the world. His art was being recognized, and he was getting booked to shoot at weddings, parties, and other big events every week.

Soon, the dates happened less frequently. The romantic gestures of bringing you flowers, surprising you on nice dates or small gifts, or even renting your favorite movies to watch together happened even less. He would promise that he’d make it to a party or an important event to you, just to let you down. And it felt like him giving you a bit of affection or attention was a chore.

Taehyung was the world to you, but the petty arguments and the distance that started growing between you two made it clear to you where his priorities were. And it wasn’t with you.

Breaking up with him was the hardest thing you had to do. Both of you knew it was coming. It was just a matter of who broke up with who first.

Just as Taehyung came into your life, quickly and effortlessly, he was gone. Nothing but bittersweet memories of what once was and what could have been weighed heavily on you for months.

What made it worse was that Taehyung, a man you loved with all your heart, had moved on from you so fast and so easily.

You saw him and his new girlfriend at a mutual friend’s party. You were warned that he’d be there, that he was already seeing someone. But it still hurt like hell to see him happy and in love with another person.

But if Taehyung could move on, so could you.

It felt weird at first, but you started to put yourself out there again. You joined dating apps. You went out with the people that fancied your interest. You met Jungkook.

And from there, everything was history.

With Jungkook, you started to think about Taehyung a lot less. The plaguing “what ifs” have quieted down, and the hurt from heartbreak began to heal. With Jungkook, you started to feel like yourself again: you started to smile more, laugh more loudly, enjoy watching movies again, became passionate about cinematic ideas you’d like to create one day.

With Jungkook, you’re also cautiously optimistic.

Because like Taehyung, you feel yourself falling hard and fast for Jungkook. It’s almost scary how truly perfect he is.

“I think you’re just psyching yourself out,” Yoongi tells you, sliding into the chair opposite of you with two cups of coffee in his hands. He smells like freshly-baked cookies. A spot of flour stains his apron as he uses his fifteen-minute break to hang out with you.

“Maybe,” you sigh, gratefully taking the drink he hands you. “What do you think about him?”

“Does my opinion even matter at this point? You’re in love with him,” he drawls before taking a sip of his Iced Americano.

“Of course it does, best friend. Why else would I keep you around?” you remark, taking a sip of your own drink. “Besides the free coffee and cookies. Thank you, by the way.”

He rolls his eyes. The perks of being friends with the cookie boy at your local bakery is a free cup of coffee and getting dibs on leftover treats that didn’t sell the day.

“He’s fine. Kind of annoying. A little too energetic,” he answers as his eyes flit toward the TV screen that his boss keeps on. A woman dressed in bright, business clothing holds a microphone as she reports on the recent news. There’s a grim look on her face.

You have your back turned to it, but you can hear Yoongi’s boss turning up the volume.

Breaking news. Missing woman found dead near home. The victim has succumbed to multiple stab wounds. It is believed that she has been kidnapped and tortured prior to her violent death. The attacker is currently unknown and still at large. Local authorities advise staying indoors and to please report any suspicious activity.

Your heart sinks as you look over your shoulder, seeing police taping off the crime scene and answering what they can to the news outlets. The location is so close to where you are.

“This is the second victim,” a customer mutters with a frown.

The person they’re with nods their head and asks, “Do you think they’re connected?”

“I don’t know. I hope not. We’ll have a serial killer in our hands.”

“Hey,” Yoongi calls your attention. When you look at him, there’s concern on his face. “If you need a ride anywhere, make sure you call me. Doesn’t matter what time.”

“I’ll be okay, Yoongi. Jungkook usually comes to my place anyway.”

“Still. Just let me know that you’re still alive when I check in, all right?” he says as he stares at the screen. You don’t blame him for being worried. As you follow his gaze, you see a picture of the latest victim of the ongoing case that has the whole town on edge.

This woman, like the others, kind of looks like you.

“If you’re with me, you have nothing to worry about,” Jungkook assures you, throwing a tennis ball as Bam hurriedly chases after it. 

The two of you are at a park with his dobermann. Despite how scary it’s been lately with the news, it’s a nice day. Children are screaming and playing together on the playground as their parents watch them nearby. A group of teenage boys are playing basketball on the outdoor court. Middle-aged and elderly couples are paired up and are getting their daily steps in.

“My hero,” you joke half-heartedly, but you’re still a bit concerned. Yoongi being worried about you makes you feel paranoid.

Jungkook turns to you. He holds out his hand as Bam retrieves the ball and drops it for another throw. “I thought you weren't afraid of anything.”

“Movie-wise, I’m not. But this is different.”

Jungkook throws the slobbery ball again. Further this time as Bam barks happily and takes off. He takes a seat next to you on the park bench. “I can leave Bam with you when I have my evening shifts. He makes a good guard dog.”

He works as an editor and cameraman for a big content creator, which gives him lots of flexible hours to work on his projects when he isn’t busy filming. Since the beginning of autumn, his boss has been giving him evening work to film ghost-hunting videos and other spooky content for Halloween.

“That’ll be nice,” you reply with a small smile. The two of them have been coming to your place so often, it might as well be their second home.

From a short distance, Bam lies on the grass with the tennis ball by his paws. His tongue is out, needing a short break from running around, as he faces you and Jungkook. Even with other dogs and kids around, he’s very well-behaved.

Just as Jungkook tells you that he’ll get Bam, the sound of small, excited barks grab your attention. A familiar black and brown pomeranian approaches you like an old friend, wagging its tail and perking its ears up when it sees you.

Your heart nearly jumps when you recognize the dog.

“Tan!”

You know that voice. How could you not?

That deep, smooth baritone has haunted you for months.

Taehyung, your ex-boyfriend, stops in his tracks when he realizes why his pomeranian took off. The two of you were still together when he adopted Yeontan, and you were there to help raise him when he was still a puppy.

“Who’s this?” Jungkook asks, drawing your attention back to him. He reaches out to pet Yeontan, but the pomeranian growls at him. Almost like he wants to protect you from him.

“Sorry, he’s mine,” Taehyung apologizes, stepping closer to you two and picking his dog up. He looks at you as he tries to soothe the agitated Yeontan in his arms. “It’s been a while. How’ve you been?”

“Good,” you reply politely. Old feelings start to pull on your heart strings that you fervently try to ignore. “I’m good.”

“You look good,” Taehyung starts, but then he purses his lips in regret. It’s obvious that he’s nervous to talk to you. Maybe he feels the same as you.

Softly, you reply, “You do, too.”

“Who’s this?” Jungkook repeats. This time, there’s an annoyed look on his face as he stares at Taehyung. 

It puts you off a bit. Jungkook is usually a friendly guy.

“Oh, this is Taehyung. We used to date,” you tell him honestly. Though, the information seems to just annoy him more. “Taehyung, this is—”

“I’m Jungkook. She’s my girlfriend now.”

His arm snakes around you possessively. He holds a steady gaze, but it’s a look you’ve never seen on him before. Dark, threatening, and angry. It’s almost unnerving.

“I see…” Taehyung trails off as his gaze shifts toward him. Yeontan is still in his arms, growling and barking at Jungkook. You don’t think you’ve ever seen the pup so aggressive toward someone. Even Bam comes over, ditching his ball to guard over you and Jungkook.

“It was nice to see you, Taehyung,” you tell him, sensing the tension in the air and deciding to cut things off. He seems reluctant to leave.

“Yeah…” he continues to trail off, finally pulling his gaze away to look at you. It looks like there’s a million things he wants to say to you. In a lower tone, he tells you, “My number is still the same. If you ever want to talk.”

You frown. After the breakup, you’ve deleted his number and unfollowed him on social media. “Oh, I don’t—”

“Then I’ll call you,” he promises, firm with his decision.

You don’t get it. You and Taehyung have run into each other after the breakup before, and he’s never had an issue with you dating anyone after him. He clearly has moved on, and so have you. 

Why now?

What is it about Jungkook that has him worried for you?

“I don’t like that guy.”

Jungkook is still heated as he drives you home. His grip is tight around the steering wheel, and the tires screech when he makes a sharp turn. Bam stumbles a bit in the back before sticking his head out the window again.

“Slow down, Kook. You have nothing to be worried about.”

The radio blasts in the car, too much in a rush to connect his playlist to the stereo. It’s playing the week’s top music, and a catchy song from a popular artist fills the car.

Curious, you open your phone and check your followers. You’ve unfollowed Taehyung a long time ago on all your social platforms, finding it hard to look at any of his recent pictures – even just his scenic photography – without thinking about how he had once called you his muse.

But Taehyung never unfollowed you. He had always kept his inbox open for you.

“Did you see the way he was looking at me? It’s like he was looking down on me,” he continues to rant, speeding over a yellow light. He glances over at you and sees that you’re distracted with your phone. “I don’t like how you were looking at him either.”

“Are you serious?” you ask, turning your attention to him. “We barely talked. What the hell are you trying to insinuate?”

On the radio, the program is interrupted. One of the hosts makes a grim announcement.

Ladies and gentlemen, we just received unfortunate news that a third body has been found pertaining to a series of brutal deaths. 

“You still love him! You’ll go back and leave me again!” he suddenly snaps, throwing you off guard.

Silence follows the tension.

Then, you inquire, “Again?”

The third victim is a young female. Hair color and eye color match the previous victims as well, indicating that this might be a targeted attack by the killer.

Not once have you been unfaithful to Jungkook. Even when you were starting to message each other, you weren’t talking to anyone else. The two of you haven’t even been dating that long.

“Forget I said anything,” he starts with a frustrated sigh. But he realizes he’s fucked up.

“No, I’m not just going to forget it. What do you mean by that, Jungkook?”

As of now, authorities have no leads on a suspect. All victims have been kidnapped, tied up, and tortured prior to their deaths. We are led to believe that this is the work of a potential serial killer. 

He nearly slams to a stop. The seatbelt around you yanks you back from hitting the dashboard. Bam falls to the floor and you gasp as the back of your head hits your seat.

Jungkook doesn’t answer you, but for the first time, it feels like the rose-tinted glasses you have on him have fallen off. He’s always been perfect to you: sweet, athletic, talented, and kind. But the Jungkook before you is someone completely different.

This Jungkook scares you.

Stay inside. Lock your doors. Call the police if you see anything suspicious. Be safe out there, folks.

“I told you to forget about it, didn’t I?” he asks through gritted teeth and a harsh look in his eye.

You nod your head, hands trembling a bit as you hold onto your vibrating phone. The screen shows an unknown number trying to contact you.

“Is there a reason why your boyfriend called me?” Yoongi asks you from the other line. He has you on face-time, awkwardly propping up the camera to show his elbow as he mixes a batch of cookies.

It’s been about a week since you saw Jungkook.

After he dropped you off at home, he wanted to put it all behind him. He kissed you sweetly and murmured apologies for overreacting as his hands slipped under your shirt. But you sent him home before he could convince you to sleep with him. You were still upset about how hostile he was toward Taehyung, his accusations about you, and what his outburst meant.

That hasn’t stopped him from trying to get back to your good graces, though.

The number of missed calls from him keeps increasing by the hour. Ones that you leave unanswered or send straight to your voicemail. 

You don’t want to talk to him.

At your door, you hear him rapping his knuckles against the wooden frame and insistently ringing at your doorbell. From the other side of the door, he begs for a chance to explain. 

You don’t want to see him.

Clearly, after reaching you directly hasn’t worked, he’s starting to contact your friends.

“He’s probably trying to find me,” you tell Yoongi, poking at a bowl of fresh strawberries. You’re still dressed in your pajamas, sitting on a stool by the kitchen counter.

The sound of a small dog can be heard in the background of your line. It dawns on him that you’re not at your place or Jungkook’s.

Yoongi is silent for a moment. Then, he grabs the phone and asks, “What do you mean? Where are you?”

You don’t feel safe in your own home. And that day, while you were in Jungkook’s car, Taehyung called to check up on you. He was always good at reading people, and he warned you that he had a bad vibe about Jungkook.

And you’re starting to see what he meant.

“I didn’t know where else to go.”

When you turn your phone, you reveal Taehyung busy in the kitchen, cutting off the crusts from his sandwiches. He looks over his shoulder and gives a sheepish smile at the scandalized expression on your best friend’s face. “Hey Yoongi.”

“Can you please explain what’s going on? Why are you at your ex’s?”

So, you do. You tell him that Jungkook wouldn’t leave you alone, that you needed some space to cool off but he wouldn’t let you breathe. It was becoming overbearing and overwhelming.

Against your better judgment, you call Taehyung. He invites you to stay over at his place until you’re ready to talk things out with Jungkook. Because even if you’re not together, he still cares about you. Because a part of him will always love you. And at the time, it seemed like a good idea.

“I didn’t want to be alone, especially with a killer targeting women like me out there,” you explain quietly. It feels like the murders have increased in a shorter period of time. If the town wasn’t on edge before, they certainly are now. “But I was still mad at Jungkook, and he was starting to scare me.”

“So the first person you go to is your ex-boyfriend?”

“There’s nothing going on between us.”

That ship has sailed. You know it has when you walked in and saw his engagement pictures hanging on the wall.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“I’m sure he would’ve figured out that I’d be with you,” you tell him with a frown.

“I just wanted to help her, hyung,” Taehyung adds as he stands behind you. “I worry about her too. That guy gives me and Tan a bad feeling.”

Yoongi sighs. “Listen, I don’t think this is a good idea either. You shouldn’t stay with Taehyung. It’ll just make things look a lot worse.”

“I guess you’re right,” you reluctantly agree. Taehyung grimaces, but he can see Yoongi’s point too.

“I’ll pick you up after my shift. You can stay with me until you’re ready to talk to Jungkook,” Yoongi tells you, looking rather serious. “Don’t do anything stupid in the meantime, okay?”

Hey. It’s Jungkook.

You stare at the message on your phone. Three dots that indicate that he’s typing something, but he keeps erasing and re-typing them again. As if he’s trying to properly convey his words.

Are we breaking up?

You stare at that message even longer. It feels childish to break up with him without trying to talk to him. For the first time in a week, you pick up your phone and type back.

You scared me, Kook.

His response is immediate.

I thought you weren’t scared of anything.

You huff when you realize he’s teasing you, even now.

Movie-wise, I’m not. But this. This is different, Kook. You were really scaring me.

Again, you see the dots appear and disappear before a handful of responses appear.

I know, babe. I’m sorry. Can you please come over? I want to show you something I’ve been working on.

You think about it.

I miss you. Bam misses you too.

Yoongi said not to do anything stupid.

Please, baby. We can just watch a movie, if you want.

But, like in every horror movie, the protagonist finds themselves making a plethora of stupid decisions.

Okay, Kook. I’ll come tonight.

Movie nights with Jungkook was one of the things you always looked forward to throughout the week. Nothing appealed to you more than a night-in with your boyfriend, food delivered at your door, and checking out new shows and movies.

You have your list of favorites, but nothing quite holds a place in your heart than a good ol’ horror movie. Tellings of urban legends, supernatural forces, paranormal activities, true crime, and slasher films. 

As you step into Jungkook’s house, it almost feels like you’re in one of those movies.

His place is dark, almost pitched black. You could barely see what’s in front of you.

“Come inside,” Jungkook says, grabbing your hand. He pulls you in and deadbolts the door behind you.

“It’s so dark,” you remark, gingerly stepping forward. You have a bad feeling about this. You almost pull back toward the door, thinking of waiting for Yoongi or going back to Taehyung instead.

But Jungkook has a firm grip on you. “I thought you weren’t afraid of anything.”

“This is different, Kook,” you try to reason. “You’re really freaking me out.”

He pulls you further inside. In the living room, nothing but the TV is on. The screen is paused on a homemade film.

This must be the project that Jungkook is talking about.

Everything is set. The living room is clean, a bowl of popcorn and a couple bottles of alcohol sits on the coffee table, the lights are off, and the show is ready to play. He sits you down in the middle and keeps an arm around you.

“You know, when we met, you were exactly what I was looking for,” he starts as he presses play.

The tape shows you. Bam lying on your lap as you affectionately pet his face and kiss the top of his head. You, holding Jungkook’s hand and leading him down a busy sidewalk. You, in the kitchen, trying to swat his hand away as he steals your ingredients. You and Jungkook, peering into the camera lens, and your bashful face as he kisses your cheek. 

A smile tugs on your lips as you watch yourself on the screen. Jungkook leans over, copying his onscreen self and kisses your face.

One thing you liked about filming is seeing things from a different perspective. In this case, seeing yourself through Jungkook’s eyes. You look so happy, so incredibly in love with him.

Like with Taehyung, you fell for Jungkook hard and fast.

But Jungkook fell for you harder and faster.

Your smile fades as the next scene shows.

The camera points to the bed, and a couple walks in. It’s you and Jungkook, stumbling in together after drinks at a bar. You’re laughing and trying to wrap your arms around him as he leads you onto the bed. The kiss you share is messy, heated. You tug off his clothes to feel more of him.

You remember that night, but…

“Jungkook. When did you record this?”

You had no idea he was filming you then.

You don’t realize it then, but he makes eye contact with the camera, as if to check that it’s on. He maneuvers you to get a good angle of your body as you busy yourself with your own clothes, wanting him to touch you more as well.

“Jungkook, stop. I didn’t—” 

You feel so sick to your stomach.

“Don’t cry, baby. Here, I’ll fast-forward.”

But you don’t want to watch anymore. You want to leave. You shouldn’t have come here.

The screen shows you and Yoongi. The two of you are at the bakery he works at, and you’re wearing an old cardigan that you got rid of . You smile and eagerly reach for one of the coffees in his hands and take the bag of cookies he’s holding between his lips. He rolls his eyes at something you say before he takes his first sip of his Iced Americano. It’s a typical hangout between you and him.

It looks like it was taken across the street. Your heart plummets even further when you realize that the old cardigan you’re wearing was a piece of clothing you got rid of before you met Jungkook.

The scene changes. You’re sitting at the fountain at your university, looking over a script you wrote for an assignment. Taehyung comes to take a seat next to you. He greets you with a boxy smile and a kiss. The two of you were still dating at the time.

How long has Jungkook known about you?

How long has he been targeting you?

It’s you and Taehyung again. This time, it was filmed from the other night. When Taehyung came to pick you up from your house. He helps you carry some of your things into his car and hugs you when he sees the distressed look on your face. 

“Jungkook, what the fuck?”

It dawns on you that you don’t really know your boyfriend at all.

You try to stand up, but Jungkook has a firm hold on you. His grip tightens when you try to resist him, and his hand seizes your neck as he pushes you down. Your heart hammers against your ribs when you quickly realize you can’t escape him. Jungkook is much stronger and faster than you are.

More images flash through the screen. It’s Jungkook this time, taking a mirror-selfie of himself dressed in all black. He has his hood up and a Halloween mask covering his face. 

It cuts to his feet walking across the sidewalk. Carefully, the camera tilts up, showing that there’s a woman just ahead of him. She’s about your height, her hair the same as yours. She doesn’t notice him as she listens to music playing in her earbuds. 

The scene cuts again, and the same woman is bound and gagged on a chair. Fear shines through her eyes as a shadow of a knife reflects from her body. Behind the camera, Jungkook demands, “Say your line.”

He removes the gag from her mouth. Her voice pitches in a high shrill as she quickly says, “I-I love you. I won’t leave you.”

You recognize her as the latest victim of the latest killings.

And the realization hits you like a truck. Jungkook and his night shifts, the increasing deaths, his interest in filming, having you as the star.

“I practiced, you know. I’ll get it right this time,” he tells you, pulling out some rope he had hidden behind the cushion. You’re trembling as he wraps them tightly around your wrist. “I’ll make sure you don’t leave me again.”

“You’re so bad,” the Jungkook on the screen says, showing what looks like an abandoned warehouse. It’s dimly lit, but you can hear someone running from him. But he doesn’t seem worried, his heavy footsteps casually echo across the concrete. In his hand is a sharp and bloody knife. Mockingly, he asks, “Where did you think you’d go?”

The victim has been let go, but she isn’t free. Ahead, she finds herself cornered as Jungkook catches up to her. Terrified, she holds her hands out in front of her, as if that would stop him.

It’s like seeing your own fate on the screen.

The woman begs and screams before her blood splatters across the floor. You find yourself quoting her, staring up at his darkened eyes. “No, please. Don’t hurt me.”

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asks, staring right at you. His mouth twitches, fighting a smile. “I thought you liked horror movies.”

Thank you for reading ♡ Comments & reviews are greatly appreciated!

[merakiui]

angel/angler.

yandere!azul ashengrotto x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, nsfw, stalking, non-con, non-consensual photography, chikan/groping (train molestation), obsession, kidnapping/captivity, drugging, violence, blood, death (or is it??), azul's insecurities and low self-esteem, azul’s not-so-subtle breeding kink, implied disordered eating, reader's height isn't described, but it's written that azul is taller note - to obsess is to hunger like an angler from the deep sea. living his entire life in pitch-black solitude, entranced by an angel's halo; his only purpose is to find the body that will become his lifeline and, one day, his cemetery.

entry 1: 18 April, 20XX.

For anonymity’s sake, I’ve chosen to write using a vague pronoun. Additionally, this diary will be a record of my thoughts so that I can keep my mind and senses intact. In my youth, I was prone to terrible fits of self-destructive rage, and as a result they suggested I write my feelings down to prevent any outbursts. I’m not very physical towards others. Rather, it was the harm I posed to myself that fostered concern.

But this space isn’t for my own views on myself. It’s about someone else. 

I have a confession: I’ve fallen in love with you from the train, and I’ve been in love with you for the four months I’ve come to know you.

You wear perfectly pressed suits, heels of a modest height, tights, and pencil skirts that cut just at your knees. I want to touch you, but if I do you might stop wearing skirts altogether and then I’ll never see your legs again. I suppose trousers aren’t so unattractive. They’re appealing in their own right. Everything looks good on you, though. (Nothing would look even better.)

You work in an office building. I’m not sure which floor, but I’ll know soon enough. I wanted to follow you inside, but there’s a security guard in the lobby. He always greets you, and you always smile and chat with him. You’re a kind person, so I let this pass without incident. But I can’t lie to these pages and say it’s not troublesome when I watch his gaze linger longer than it needs to. 

I’d kill him, but then they’d employ a new guard and you’d make friends with him because you’re so kind. I don’t admire kind people. Rather, I find kindness to be a double-edged blade (Is that the correct phrasing? It’s different in my hometown. We say kindness is like pufferfish—harmless until it’s provoked and then it becomes poisonous). It’s not that I look down on kind people. I just think you shouldn’t be so quick to befriend the world in its entirety.

After plenty of observation, I’ve learned that you often leave your building to get lunch by yourself. This is what you’ve eaten in the week:

Monday - A salad at a popular café. Iced tea because it was a sunny day. A tiny cheesecake for dessert. It was blueberry.

Tuesday - A wrap of some kind. Chicken? Or was it vegetarian? Sweet potato fries. Water.

Wednesday - You didn’t leave your building. Were you at work today? 

Thursday - Another salad. Water. Same café. No tiny cheesecake.

Friday - You went to lunch with that guard. I only remember my irritation and so I’m afraid I can’t make note of your meal for today. He looks at you like an obsessed puppy waiting for its owner to give it attention. I want to pluck his eyes from his sockets so he’ll never look at you in that way again.

You lead a healthy lifestyle, but I can’t help wondering if you’re eating well. Did someone say something about your figure? I’ll eviscerate them for you and then they can see how much it hurts when unnecessary scrutiny is thrown around.

It’s quite late. I want to sleep, but thinking about you has my body wide-awake. I wonder if your mouth tastes like the moonlight shining in through my window. I wonder if your body is soft like mine… Of course it is. A silly, irrational thought. You’re much warmer than me. This is just a theory. I’ve yet to feel and confirm for myself. I will in the foreseeable future.

Before we part ways, I want you to know that I’m not very good at cooking. I’ve picked up a few books and hope to learn. I’m going to practice so that I can feed you better meals one day. Salads are the worst. Fried chicken is the true meal of heaven. I’m certain you would share this sentiment.

If I were to be condemned to a last meal like those serial killers on death row, I’d ask for fried chicken. Knowing you, you’re too good to kill anyone. In this hypothetical, supposing you’re a heinous criminal, your last meal would be something healthy. Do you even like those salads, or are you forcing yourself because you must? I understand calorie-counting well enough, but if there’s one thing to enjoy in life it should be food.

I suppose that makes me a hypocrite. I ought to take my own advice.

Oh. I’m starting to grip my pen with more force and the lines have become shaky. I usually break my writing utensils if my focus strays. I’ll stop here for today. Ink is a pain to clean.

AA.

The morning rush is your greatest enemy.

Jack Howl, the lobby’s security, has suggested giving you a ride on numerous occasions. “It’s part of the reason I got my license,” he explained once, “so that I can protect those who work in this building from the rush. Not like you have to accept my offer. It’s just…convenient for both of us. Again, I don’t care what you do.”

(He does. You see through his gruff surface.)

According to him, the morning and night rushes bring out the worst kinds of characters.

But isn’t that everywhere? you think as you peer out the window, watching the city come into clarity.

Like every morning, the train car is more crowded than a sardine tin. You’re used to being pressed up against other commuters, pinned to the window or between people. You’re flattered to know someone’s concerned, but nothing has happened yet. And why would it? It’s bright outside. No one would dare do something during the day. At least, not in a crowded area where anyone could see and hear.

I wonder what I should have for dinner. I still need to go shopping. My fridge is way too empty, you think, sighing. And I need to follow up with that one author. They’ve yet to get back to me about my edits. Perhaps we should meet in the office instead of through video call… And I also need to finalize that other style sheet after the last round of editing. And then another conference… There was something else. Was I scheduled to have lunch with an author? Or was that next week? I should check before—

The train shudders as it slides into the station. Someone brushes against you from behind. Their hand is pressed against the window just near your head. They steady themselves, their body so close to yours you can hear their staggered breathing.

“Ah. S-Sorry…”

It’s next week, right? I really should check once I get to my stop. This is going to eat me alive all day.

“Mhm,” you hum, waving dismissively.

The stranger standing behind you peels his hand away from the window. A sweaty palm print is left in its wake.

“We will be approaching the next stop shortly.”

Just one more and you’ll be getting off.

A pair of bright eyes blinks back at you in the reflection, watching the city just as you are.

entry 5: 22 April, 20XX.

I’m not a social person by any means. If I can avoid crowds, I usually do. An introvert’s paradise is best spent in the comfort of their own room, after all. But if you prefer outdoor dates I can become extroverted for your sake. There are lots of things I’m willing to do for your sake.

Which is why I’ve forced myself to tolerate the train. I loathe it. It’s cramped and uncomfortable. Most days I’m not even near you, and so all I can do is stare longingly from afar. I content myself with imaginary scenarios like in the books you edit. I’ve mentioned it sparsely in this diary, but you’re a brilliant editor. Most of the novels you work on aren’t exactly my taste, but there’s something to appreciate about them. Reading through them knowing your very eyes pored over these pages dozens of times before publication… I admire your work. Immense time and effort goes into all professions, especially ones that involve meticulous touches. 

With this discussion of careers, you might wonder what I do for a living. I manage my own restaurant chain off-site. It must be shocking news for you to realize: your secret admirer is actually quite successful.

If I’m not able to provide an adequate life—no, more than that. If I cannot drown you in all of life’s luxuries, I should sooner throw myself on the beach and let this soft, wriggling body of mine dry out than settle for the barest of minimums. You deserve only the finest.

In fact, I have a room in my home dedicated to you. A private office in which you can write and edit in peace. It’s furnished with everything you’d ever need. I hope to gift it to you one day.

Remote work is very relaxing. (You’ll know this once you try it here.) When you’re boss, you work your own schedule. That’s why I’m able to fit our secret meetings into my weekly itinerary.

Today’s meeting was quite fortuitous. I felt like I’d won the lottery. Mostly because I was finally given the opportunity to be close to you. So close, in fact, that you didn’t even notice when I slid my phone under your skirt to take a few photos. Your undergarments are unexpectedly plain. Truthfully, I’m somewhat disappointed. I was hoping to learn your lingerie preferences. At the very least, I know your tights are sheer enough to show me the color of your panties.

I consider myself a connoisseur of many things, and I’ve done enough interior decorating in my time to become well-accustomed to color palettes. A fool would say your panties are red, but they’re actually maroon.

That same fool wouldn’t take another breath after glimpsing such a private side of you.

If you must know, my dear, I am excessively avaricious when it comes to the things I like. I have always been this way. I am a collector. A hoarder of secrets. I refuse to let others touch or take the things that belong to me, especially when they are wholly undeserving…

I’ve broken another pen. Thankfully, the mess wasn’t so extreme. Not-so-thankfully, I’ve lost my train of thought.

Ah. Right. Trains.

Today I rode the train, and I was standing right behind you. You were looking out the window, lost in your thoughts, and so you didn’t notice me. You must have seen my reflection, but I wear a mask and a hooded sweatshirt when I go outside. Perhaps it’s a touch embarrassing to admit, but I am very self-conscious of the way I look. Firstly, my eyes are too tired. I’ve read that many people are not fond of eyes with dark circles under them. Secondly, my face is average—unworthy of your love by my lofty standards. My hair never cooperates. My smiles never fit properly. My skin is too pale. My eyes are too blue and my pupils are abnormal. My weight is just a few kilograms above the average. I will work hard to bring it back down for your sake and for my own so that it won’t show. I prefer a slim waist, so I must stomach all manner of healthy foods for the weekend. What a pity… Wouldn’t it be wonderful if you could eat whatever you wanted without having to worry about caloric intake and numbers on a scale?

That aside, there are times in which my glasses sit crooked on my face and it’s a horrifying thought to imagine I walk around looking like that! As if I’ve rolled right out of bed with no regard for my appearance whatsoever!

Perhaps the both of us share one similarity. We are vain creatures who care too much about how we present ourselves to others.

Thus, I conceal myself so that you won’t judge me harshly should you look upon me. Not like you’d do that. You were so immersed in your head that you hardly paid any attention to your surroundings. You should be more careful. What if something were to happen and I wasn’t there to protect you?

The train stuttered to a halt at the first stop, and some fool bumped into me. I should thank them because I got to brush against you. You gasped softly. I watched your breath fog the window. I placed my hand just above your head and apologized softly, and you weren’t bothered in the slightest. Oh, how I envy your carefree nature.

As a result of that stranger’s mishap, I’ve learned something new. You wear perfume. Even with my mask, I could smell it. Strong and flowery, overwhelmingly sweet. Maybe you prefer these scents? I’m more partial to mature scents, but I admit there’s a certain charm to the scents you wear. I wish I knew the exact brand. There are dozens of perfumes with the same notes as the ones I picked up, but none can compare to the one you use. I want to be able to hold the bottle knowing it’s your favorite.

I’ve prattled enough. With the length of my entries, you’d assume I was this chatty beyond the page. I’m not. I only say as much as I think is necessary.

Once again, I’m having trouble falling asleep. I can’t stop thinking about you. I’m looking through the photos I snapped and the outline of your lips against your panties is lovely. I’m sure you’re just as soft and sweet inside as you are on the outside. If only I could experience it right now. My hand can’t replicate the softness or the wetness or the way you’ll probably clamp down when we finally make love.

I can only fantasize for now. What a pain. 

AA.

“It’s going to rain today,” Jack tells you the minute you step through the lift doors into the lobby. He stands straight like a soldier, his shoulders squared and features set into something serious.

“Looks like it, huh?” You glance at the darkening sky outside, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Hopefully it rains after I get home. I didn’t bring an umbrella.”

“I’ll drive you.” He falls into step beside you. “It’s dark out and the station is—”

“It’s only five minutes away. I’ll be fine. I take this way all the time.”

Jack’s lip twitches into a grim frown. The beginnings of a sharp, pearly-white canine flashes at you as his mouth curls. “Fine,” he concedes with a huff. Awkwardly, he scratches the back of his neck and looks elsewhere. “Do what you want. I’m not forcing you or anything.”

You smile at him. “You’re very considerate, Jack. I appreciate the concern.”

He’s like a puppy. It’s really sweet.

“W-Wha—who said anything about concern?” His face is growing warmer by the second, thawing his external ice.

“I’ll be okay. It’s not even that dark out either.”

“Still…” He sighs and cards his hand through his hair. “You haven’t noticed anything weird lately, have you?”

“Anything weird?” You furrow your brows, suddenly confused.

“On your way home. Nothing out of the ordinary? It’s the same every day?”

“Mostly, yeah. Why? Did something happen?”

“No. Just wondering…” Jack looks past you then, searching for something you can’t seem to see. “You sure you don’t want a ride? I can walk you to the station. Protect you if anything or anyone—”

You force yourself to laugh. “Come on. You’re trying to scare me on purpose. This is because I told you I’m editing a horror novel, isn’t it?”

Jack doesn’t share in your humor. Instead, his frown tightens on his face.

“While I’m grateful you want to help, I really don’t want to put that on you. It’s not your job to chauffeur me around. I’d feel bad if I made you do that. So thank you, but I’ll have to decline.”

You turn swiftly on your heel before he can protest, striding out the door into the gloomy night.

When is it going to be summer? It’s way too chilly.

You burrow into your jacket as you beeline for the station. A brisk breeze blows through busy city streets. Even though there are still people out and about, it feels strangely desolate.

Jack’s heart was in the right place, but did he really have to phrase it like that? 

You wrap your arms around yourself and hurry along. Your steps are in time with your pounding heart. A cold sweat beads along your forehead. 

Relax. It’s nothing to get worked up over. I’m fine.

Crunch.

You whirl around, clutching your bag between your arms. There’s no one in sight. The city seems eerily quiet tonight.

Stop scaring yourself. Nothing’s there.

No, it’s not something that could make that sound—a noise akin to a footstep. That belongs to someone.

Is someone following you?

You aren’t going to wait around and find out. Now you’re jogging the rest of the way, your heels clicking against the pavement. Your breath comes in shaky heaves, and by the time you finally step into the station’s blinding fluorescents, adrenaline still vibrating through your veins, you notice the time.

My train—it’s already here! Thank you. Oh, thank you so much!

You rush through the station in a flurry, and the relief is tangible once you’re safe and sound inside the train car. You squirm through the throng of late-night commuters towards the window.

“Sorry. Excuse me. Pardon me,” you murmur as you navigate the crowded space.

You make it to the window just as the doors slide shut. Moments later, the train squeaks into motion.

I worked up such a sweat. I can’t believe I got so frazzled over something as small as a snapped twig…or whatever that was. It wasn’t a footstep. And if it was, it was probably my own.

You shake your head at your reflection.

Look at me, losing my mind all because I let someone’s words get to my head. 

The stranger standing behind you sighs alongside you. You’re about to turn around, but it’s their hands on your waist that stop you. Your blood freezes. Your spine goes rigid.

“Excuse me? Um… C-Can I help you?”

You gasp, horrified, as the hands creep higher until they’re wrapped around your chest. The stranger squeezes almost curiously. Their breath catches on an eager hitch. You peer helplessly at the window. Two blue eyes blink back.

“Wait… Hold on—”

“It’s okay.” A man’s voice. Sweet and silky-smooth. A reassuring whisper. Only you can hear it with this invasively close proximity. It might as well be a drop in the ocean that is the rickety din of the train on the rails. You reach to grab his arms, hoping to pry him off. “I’m not going to hurt you. As long as you’re quiet…”

“No, you can’t. Please, sir. S-Stop… Don’t touch there.” Your fingers curl around his wrists. You squirm against him, your brain blanking.

This can’t be happening… There’s just no way…

Something stiff prods at your ass from behind. You yelp softly when he rubs himself against you. You try to catch sight of his features when you crane your neck, but all you get is a faceful of a dark hoodie. He’s tall enough to block you from the other passengers, his body caging yours against the window. One hand slides away from your chest to slip under your skirt. He gropes at your inner thigh; his fingers draw dangerously close to private territory.

“Sir—”

He inhales a dreamy breath. “Perfect,” he babbles, his words muffled by his mask. “So perfect. Warm… And soft. Just as I thought.”

There’s nowhere for you to run. Nowhere to hide. You’re trapped here with this fiend until you get off at your stop.

“We will be approaching the stop shortly,” the woman on the intercom says, but it doesn’t give you the relief you’re after.

Three more stops and then you’ll be at yours. Three more. Three. Your stop might as well be years away.

Two fingers trace the outline of your pussy through your panties. You’re grateful you’re wearing tights.

His breathing is heavy. He’s mumbling filth in your ear. You hardly register it over the static in your brain.

Gross. So gross. Stop it. Please stop. I don’t want this.

A whine bubbles low in your throat when he presses down against your clit. He caresses you through the fabric of your panties. You slump against the window with your palms on the glass. Your heart is in your throat. You feel sick and dizzy. It’s too hot in here. Everything is spinning. Your heart is picking up its pace. Your hands are starting to shake. 

And there’s nowhere to go. No amount of begging will stop him. He’s all over you, pressed impossibly close—so close you think he’s trying to fuse his body to yours, becoming one mutual unit.

You want to scream, but you can’t find your voice. You can’t do anything. You can’t even think.

“Don’t be scared,” he murmurs, twining his fingers around your trembling ones. “It feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Mmh, no… No—stop. P-Please, sir, please stop.” You shudder against him, and a choked, broken sob rattles through your ribs. 

He chuckles and squeezes your hand. His other circles your tender, sensitive clit, and the contact elicits a whimper from you. “Even though you’re making the cutest sounds? Aah, I wanna be inside you so badly… I’m sure it’s even softer there.”

You bite down on your bottom lip so hard that your teeth pierce the skin. A thin ribbon of blood dribbles down your chin. You refuse to give him that satisfaction. Even though your attempt to snuff your voice is successful, your body doesn’t seem to agree. It shakes in fear and arousal. When he presses against your panties next, he feels the growing damp spot. 

That’s just a natural reaction, right? I’m not actually aroused by this. There’s no way!

Just when you think he might pursue further, he pulls back. His hips are still flush to your ass. You can feel his cock straining against the fabric. It’s gross and demoralizing. You’re nothing but a doll for him to get off to. Less than a person.

The train glides to a halt and the doors open. People exit and enter in a busy fashion. You stare out the window at your blurred surroundings.

When the train eases back into motion, you realize tears are welling in your eyes. They don’t fall. Not yet.

It isn’t until you get off at your stop, sprint the rest of the way home, hurry up into your apartment, and lock the door that the horror of it all finally catches up to you. You collapse to your knees and wail like you’ve just lost something precious—something you’ll never be able to get back.

You’ve never felt more dirty before.

entry 36: 4 May, 20XX.

I did it. I finally did it.

My hand is shaking; I’m so happy. No, I’m more than happy. I’m absolutely overjoyed!

You don’t know this about me yet, but I’m terribly envious. I suppose that’s why I could muster the confidence to touch you and hold you… Your body is so soft against mine. Every inch of you is beautiful. I wish I could have felt beneath your shirt, lifted your bra to see your bare breasts in the window’s reflection. This is quite the shameless admission. Even I, despite admiring you for so long, am loath to admit it.

You mesmerize me. I’m already flustered just thinking about the way your hand fit in mine when I held it… And you were aroused! I was so close to such a precious area, and you were wet for me and only me. I feel so overwhelmed. It’s a dream come true. You’re such an angel. My angel.

My dear, darling angel, I’m sorry for startling you. That was the only way, you see, and certain circumstances led me to that point. You must understand.

To be unfiltered about it, it was annoying seeing that security guard pester you. I had the strongest urge to kill him, but that’s not something you can do on a whim. Murder is like running a business, in a way. One misstep, a bad investment or a sliver of evidence left behind, and it might spell the end.

That’s besides the point. It’s hardly worth the time. 

Regrettably, while on the train into the city, I noticed you were wearing trousers today. I was right. Last night was a once-in-a-lifetime event. A pity. Your legs in those sheer tights is a vision to behold. Luckily, I have enough pictures to satisfy the craving to see you in them. When you live with me, I’ll buy plenty of tights for you to wear around the house. That way you won’t have to worry if I rip them.

That aside, you’ve started looking over your shoulder more. You talked to that security guard longer than you normally do. It’s irritating. Quite frankly, it pisses me off.

I don’t want to be childish. I understand you’re stressed and nervous. Anyone would be. That’s normal. But I’m not going to hurt you. I even told you those exact words! I’m certain you would have calmed down if you could see my face. Unfortunately, I’m not very blessed in that department. I assure you my personality is far prettier…despite the ugly truths I’ve penned here.

But then those don’t matter when it comes to love. Even in love, couples are supposed to recognize and accept each other’s flaws. So it’s fine if I’m an ugly person. It’s fine if I’m a devil or something grotesque from the deepest trench in the sea. At least, in spite of such darkness, your halo will continue to light the way and I will always be lured in by your luminosity.

I can’t do much of anything right now and that has led me to feel increasingly itchy. I want to feel you again. Smell you. Touch you. I’d like to taste you next time. Part your legs or tear your skirt off and indulge in the space you keep hidden from me. I want to sink into your depths and know the shape of you just as you twist yourself to take the shape of me. 

It’s just not enough. I desire more of you. 

AA.

entry 40: 8 May, 20XX.

It’s been a few days. You haven’t taken the train since. Now you’re driven to and from work by that pest. I was overcome with such frustration yesterday that I slammed my hands down upon my desk and fractured my wrist. For the time being, until my wrist heals, I must wear this unsightly stabilizer-brace-thing and write carefully with my non-dominant hand. I like to consider myself ambidextrous, if only because it’s a talent I’m sure will impress you, as you seem to surround yourself with successful, talented people, but I must admit my lettering is rather…subpar.

It’s not as neat as I hoped it would be. Something to practice while my wrist heals, I suppose.

There’s only so much strain I can take, my angel. Are you really so afraid of me that you’ve chosen to rely on someone else to protect you? If it was funny, I’d laugh. But it’s not. It’s annoying. Must I chain you up by the throat so that you won’t run away? Must I cuff our wrists together so that neither of us can part ways? What must I do to ensure you’ll never leave me?

Every day I spend in solitude, you grow closer to everyone but me. It’s infuriating.

However, there are always silvers of hope to be found and exploited in misfortune. As a businessman, I know this well enough.

I can plan around this. I’ve taken a few photos of your house at every angle. It’s important to think ahead when making a calculated risk.

When you go to kidnap the love of your life, you must dress appropriately, no? Now should I wear a formal suit or something casual?

I have some time and plenty to look forward to.

AA.

Like always, early as usual, Jack is waiting for you below your apartment. You see his car from the window and light up at once.

It’s been two months since the incident on the train. Jack insisted you go to the police when you confided in him a week after the fact. But what could they do? A story isn’t evidence. Evidence is evidence. So to combat that, you’ve avoided public transport altogether. Jack drives you to and from work and anywhere else you need to go. You never knew him very well before this mess, and you regret not starting a friendship sooner. He’s everything you need right now: a friend, a listener, and someone you can trust and rely on.

Like always, he unlocks the door so you can put your things in the back. “It’s my turn to treat for lunch today, so let’s go somewhere you like.”

You shut the door and open the passenger side, sliding in seamlessly.

“There’s no need for that.”

Your heart skips. Your breath stumbles in your lungs. Your body tenses.

You finally look at the driver.

He’s wearing what appears to be an expensive collared shirt with a tie, but the top half is covered by the soft hoodie he’s thrown on over it. He has a mask like before, but there’s no denying his eyes. Bright and blue, deep and deceptive like the ocean, they blink back at you.

The door locks with a click.

You throw yourself at it in a useless effort to escape. The masked stranger seizes your wrist. You scream.

“There’s no need to be afraid. I-It’s only me! I won’t hurt you.” He tugs his mask down to his chin so that you can see the wobbly smile on his face. “Please don’t be scared…”

“Let go of me, you pervert!” You rip your arm free and reach for the door once more. “What the hell are you doing here?! W-Where’s Jack? Why are you—”

You choke around the rest of your words when he wraps his arms around you and yanks you over the seat towards him. You kick out like a deranged animal, breathing heavy and frantic, your eyes darting to and fro. The stranger manages to manhandle you into a chokehold despite the struggle. With his arm wrapped around your neck, he grabs a plastic water bottle with his free hand. Clumsily, he unscrews the cap and presses the lip of the bottle to your mouth.

“I’m sorry for being so rough, but I need you to drink this. Can you do that for me? Drink all of it.” As he says this, he tips the bottle and the strange liquid fills your mouth. You fight against his hold, doing everything you can to resist. He tightens his grip on you, dragging your body closer to his. “Swallow it, or I’ll slit your throat.”

Against your will, very shakily, you gulp down the solution. It tastes bitter and vile like medicine. A little salty.

“I didn’t want to frighten you, my angel, but this is the only way you’ll listen.” He swipes the tear threatening to spill from your eye. “You don’t have to cry. I’ll take you home and keep you safe. Just drink the rest of this and take a nap until we get there. That’s it. You’re almost done. I know it’s disgusting, but you have to drink it all, my love.”

“Why…” you sputter, coughing. “Why are you doing this?”

“Why?” He blinks at you as if the answer is obvious. “Because I love you.”

You can’t understand the logic there. You don’t want to.

Slumping against the seat, boneless and disturbed, you tremble when he leans over to buckle you in. And you continue to do so until you’re pulled into sleep. 

Two blue eyes follow you in your dreams, sticking to your body like old gum under a school desk. In sleep, you feel his hands on you—clinging and cloying like tentacles and the stench of brine, all-enveloping.

entry 179: 24 September, 20XX.

Summer is winding to a close. The last few vestiges of warmth are slipping away. Today’s weather was crisp. Autumn is approaching. 

It’s been a difficult few months. I’ve catalogued my process in the time you’ve spent with me, locked away in our bedroom. I must keep you chained to the bed for the time being. It’s long enough to lead into the bathroom. Until I can trust you, this is the arrangement at present.

They’re still searching for you, albeit not as frantically and frequently. I hope they assume you’ve met some grisly end so that I can finally shelve that anxiety and move on with my life. While I’m relieved it wasn’t as messy as I thought it’d be, I’m just a touch disheartened. I would have loved to watch the light fade from that guard’s eyes.

But that just wasn’t feasible or smart. Besides, what else am I to use my current fortune for, if not the props needed for that day? You call it kidnapping, and while that term is technically true I prefer something sweeter. A reunion of sorts. 

There’s nothing of note to discuss. You haven’t accepted your new home or me yet, so I will continue to wait. I can be patient. I must be if this relationship is going to work (and it will). 

I don’t particularly believe in soulmates. Rather, I find the concept to be foolish. Fate does not dictate an entire life. It is the decisions you make along the way that shape your paths. Just like in my favorite board game. I’d like to play it with you. Although I must admit I already know how our life goes. I have a few routes in mind.

You look at me with such scalding contempt when I imply we ought to start a family, and even though I’ve been victim to that look so many times it doesn’t burn any less. You just can’t see how good this is for you yet.

What else are we to do with our time if not use it to fill quiet halls with the pitter-patter of tiny feet? I have a few names in mind, but for now we’ll take it one day at a time. I’m a patient man despite my temper.

AA.

entry 257: 11 December, 20XX.

Exciting news! Though it may seem small, we’ve reached an understanding. Or so I suspect. You’re not so averse to me anymore. In fact, we take baths together, eat meals together, watch TV together, play board games together… There are so many things we do together as a couple and so, despite the encroaching winter frost, my days have become warmer! Just last night you allowed me to sleep beside you on our bed, and I held you close and you kissed me and I felt like the luckiest man alive.

Finally! Genuine progress!

I won’t delude myself and say that you may finally love me in the way I love you, but a start is a start. I admit I couldn’t help myself. I returned your kiss tenfold, all over your face, down the column of your throat to your collarbone. I was gentle and careful. I didn’t rush.

I like to play experienced in all fields, but even I can’t act perfectly. How should I describe our first time without all of the shameless vulgarity? Perhaps it doesn’t matter. Sex is sex no matter how you try to embellish it. Filthy and imperfect, sweaty and sticky, more effort and exercise than I realized.

You pulled me in close, pursued my mouth with the same want in mine, and it was more cathartic than anything I’ve ever known. Oh, to be kissed by the love of your life! I wasn’t aware such joy existed.

You palmed me through my pajamas and told me you wanted a family—that the idea of raising a little one was perfectly charming. I admit it’s an alluring thought I’ve had long before you lived with me. I’ve always thought you would look very enchanting while pregnant. I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands to myself. Even though it isn’t official yet, it doesn’t hurt to call myself your husband. In my mind and heart, we’re married. It may not seem so to you yet, but it will be.

Back to the matter at hand. Hearing that you wanted a child with me made me happy. I can’t remember if I cried. I must have because you pulled me in close and you, lying beneath me, wiped at my face and told me you wanted me to give you a child. And who am I if not the most doting, most benevolent husband? I’d do anything for you.

This must be what a predator feels when they tear into prey: a rapture so absolute and all-consuming that it covers their brain like a cotton shroud and renders every other action a hazy instinct.

It was a blur even though I was sure I moved slowly. Clothes weren’t exactly shucked. They were in the way and we had a singular goal, far too focused to remove them completely. Thus, they were pulled up, down, to the side, in whichever way provided easiest access. I closed my hands around your breasts and they feel so much softer without the obstruction of clothes.

Perhaps, rather than humans, we’re just anglerfish. Hungry for each other, using the other, a voracious relationship full of mutual benefits. If I could, I’d love to live inside you. I want nothing more than to press myself close enough to feel your heart beat alongside mine. To feel rushing blood. To turn myself inside-out just to satisfy you. Give you every little thing I can offer—brain and body—and we’d cleave through sunless waters as one, together forever.

The word ‘love’ is not large enough to truly encapsulate all that I feel for you.

My forehead pressed to yours. You kissed me once. I felt sloppy. I was sloppy. Inexperienced. We both are. Your hand wrapped around me. I told you it was okay, to do it at your own pace, to tell me if it hurts. But you kissed my every anxiety away, and in just a few strokes we were connected. Perhaps I died then and I’m still dead now.

Maybe I’m writing this from the moon or the deep, dark sea. Maybe all of this is just a long dream and I’m not even human. Maybe I’m the anglerfish stuck to your side, latched on with my sharp teeth, our lives forever intertwined. You taste of fruit and blood and every beautifully painful thing in this world.

For the first time in the many months we’ve lived together, you called me by my name. You gasped it as you curled your legs around my waist and clung to my chest, your arms draped over my neck, nails in my back. You chanted it like a song. I must have done the same with yours.

However, no amount of carnal euphoria can change the fact that I still have my reservations about unchaining you.

A deliberation for another day. It’s time to cook dinner. I’ve improved lots in the time we’ve known each other. You help around the kitchen as well. Harmless things like stirring batter or mixing a salad. I can’t trust you with actual food prep for reasons I’m sure are obvious and understandable. I try to create balanced meal plans. Now that I’m no longer eating alone and surviving off of misery, I want to show you that I’m both a great chef and a conscientious eater.

AA.

You watch the seasons shift outside the bedroom window and there’s nothing you can do.

You live life chained like a prisoner and there’s nothing you can do.

You eat off paper plates with the same utensils made for toddlers and there’s nothing you can do.

You let the same man whose touch was once so covetous pet you all over with his hands and mouth and there’s nothing you can do.

You’re stuck here forever and there’s nothing you can do.

There are highs higher than the clouds and then there are lows lower than the sea. You oscillate between these temperaments, a body thrown around on rocky waves. How you’ve yet to sink and drown for good, you’re not sure.

Today’s low has brought Azul to his knees. You stand over him, gripping the knife in a shaky hold. Chopped vegetables scatter in a rainbow on the floor. He had been chopping them so methodically, so wrapped up in pleasant conversation with you, that he hadn’t been expecting the retaliation. The blade is freshly sharpened. The perfect weapon. The perfect opportunity. Freedom just after this final hurdle.

Freedom that comes with its burdens—with a child and the law and the media and… And then what? A life of loneliness. A life spent working through mountains of trauma. A life in which you can never look at the train again.

Two blue eyes blink up at you. For the first time, Azul looks scared and weak—a small, pitiful thing. For the first time, you have him trapped beneath your thumb.

You want to bring the knife down and put an end to these cyclical days. You want to crush his spirits in the same way he crushed yours. You want him to know pain so brutal it rots him from the inside.

But you can’t. You want to and in an ideal scenario devoid of fear you would. But you can’t.

You dig your heel palms into your eyes and sob. “I can’t! I’m sorry. I… I can’t do it!”

Azul deflates with a deep sigh. “Oh… Oh, my angel, it’s all right. I forgive you. You’re just a little confused. A little emotional—I get it. We all have emotional moments. I’m not upset.”

“But I—I almost… I was going to—”

“You didn’t. You didn’t, my love, and that’s what matters.” 

He beckons you to his height; you lower to your knees. The knife is still clutched in your hands. He looks between it and you, as if weighing which is more dangerous. Volatile emotions or a blade. Maybe both.

Azul wraps his arms around you and rubs your back consolingly. “It’s okay. I’m not angry.”

You sniffle, but the tears won’t stop flowing. “Still… I almost did such a horrible thing to you. I could’ve hurt you—k-killed you!”

“My dear, it’s okay.” He kisses the top of your head, tucking you beneath his chin. “I forgive you.”

Your fingers tighten around the handle. “You do?”

“I do. I always will.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“Angel—”

You turn the sharpened point inwards and slam it into his side, just below his rib. It pierces through soft flesh. You pull away just in time to see hurt and betrayal flash across his face, hot like the tears you’re now drying.

Shakily, his movements unsteady, he reaches for the handle. His fingers dance across it, assessing the reality of the situation. You stabbed him. You did it.

He hisses through his teeth when he tears it out. Blood spatters the kitchen floor in a brilliant, vermillion arc. Azul, knife in hand, staggers to his feet and lunges.

You stumble away in a blind panic. 

“How dare you…” He clutches his side with one hand while the other slashes through the air. You narrowly dodge before the knife can slice your arm. Blood seeps through Azul’s shirt, staining his palm red. His expression is twisted in a dark concoction of agony and anger. “I’ve shown you nothing but love and care… I’ve been nothing but patient. I’ve done everything! You were beginning to warm up to me—to this life—our life! I was wrong to trust you. Get back here—”

“You’re crazy! You assaulted me, kidnapped me, threatened me! Do you really think I’d love you after all of that?!” You yelp when his slick, blood-stained fingers wrap around your wrist to drag you down. “Stop! Let go of me!”

You elbow him in the ribs, which causes a shockwave of pain to travel through him, and it gives you enough time to wriggle free. Ripping your arm from his hold, you try to get away when he, aiming to subdue you, grabs hold of your ankle next. You feel the blade sink into your calf before you see it. A terrible cry frays your throat, torn from the depths of your chest like a flower pried from the soil.

“If I’m going to die…” He flops to his knees, wheezing. “If I’m going to die, you’ll die with me.”

“Like hell I will!” you hiss through your teeth, thrashing wildly.

Stupidly, you pull the knife from where it’s wedged in. Blood spurts from the wound, trickling down your leg in a thick, steady stream. You wince and limp towards the door. Closer… You’re almost there.

Azul reaches out with a bloodied hand, his expression utterly shattered. “Wait… Don’t go any further. Please… I need you. We need each other. My angel, my love, please don’t go!”

You tear your eyes away. He’s a monster. You’ll never sympathize with him.

Just before you can get to the front door, Azul picks himself up and wraps his arms around your waist. He pulls you down and your head hits the floor with a harsh smack. You see stars. The ceiling spins above you. You try to get up, crawl away, escape—whatever it takes to lose him—but he clings to your side, holding tight. His blood is warm and wet against your shirt. The pain in your calf is sparking up your leg, joining the ache at the back of your head in duet.

Pressed so closely, the flow of blood slows. Your shirt soaks up what the rest of his already drenched shirt can’t hold.

You watch the ceiling. The light looks like a halo; it shines brightly. Azul blinks up at you, hopelessly, sickly enthralled. The tip of the knife prods at your stomach. If it pierces, you don’t feel it. You’re sore all over. Bruises are already beginning to bloom.

At the bottom of the sea, clothed in frigid darkness, there is no sense of direction.

That’s the sweetest relief while you wade into unconsciousness with a parasitic angler.

[lovebugism]

ok what about virgin!eddie x reader -- "when he wears THAT flannel" i just want to see him getting showered in compliments and fawning over the attention, he deserves it !!

thanks for ur request angel :D — eddie tries to wear something new and you can't stop ogling at him (established relationship, fluff, part of the tcar universe, 0.8k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Eddie attempts to hang ghost lights on the ceiling of the living room. It’s made only slightly difficult by the rickety step stool he stands on. It’s damn near impossible with the thick flannel constricting his arms.

“Fuck…” he grumbles like a storm cloud, face scrunched in a subtle pout.

You squint up at him from where you untangle the string lights. You watch him rotate his shoulders in distant discomfort, still trying to get used to the new shirt Uncle Wayne bought him.

“You okay, Eds?”

“Yeah, it just… fits weird.”

He squirms in his skin again, and you bite back a laugh. 

Your gaze falls to his pale tummy when his arms raise to pin the lights to the wall. His skin is milky white, powder-soft. A tuft of chestnut hair peeks out from the hem of his sweatpants. It suddenly becomes dreadfully difficult to look away from his happy trail.

“I don’t know…” you hum, shrugging as your fingers work a knot from the tangled wire. “I think it fits perfect.”

His chocolate eyes narrow down at you. He playfully jerks at the inch of string lights you give him, tugging down the bottom of his flannel with his free hand. “Keep it in your pants, freak,” he mumbles, a crooked smile hinting at his lips.

You pull yours between your teeth to conceal its brightness.

Eddie keeps working but grows bitterly aware of the fabric weighing on his torso. He’s not used to wearing something so heavy, so dreadfully un-lived in. It’s thick and itchy, so overwhelmingly overstimulating that it���s almost impossible to move in.

Then he feels your eyes on him, and there’s nothing he loves more than your attention, but he still feels a bit like a teenage boy. He’s lanky and clumsy and insecure in just about every aspect, but especially in his body.

It’s weird to have someone who loves him and thinks he’s pretty. It’s good, amazing even, but weird nonetheless. It should make him feel better about himself, and it does a lot of the time, but it also makes him extremely hyperaware of what he looks like and how you must see him.

So when he lifts his arms too high and his pale, pudgy midriff flashes for a second, he huffs all dramatic and stomps down the ladder. “Alright, I’m gonna go change—”

“What? No,” you whine instantaneously, pouting more sincerely than he’s ever seen you. “You look so cute, Eds. Don’t take it off.”

“I look like a lumberjack,” the boy scoffs.

“A very sexy lumberjack,” you correct with a pretty smile.

Eddie grins back, all wide and rosy. He cups your face with warm, calloused palms. “You’re real cute when you lie to me, you know that?” he teases with a scrunched nose.

“I’m not lying! I wouldn’t tell you that if it wasn’t true!”

“No?”

“Nope,” you answer, popping the ‘p’ and shaking your head in his hands. “I’m obsessed with you, and I’m a terrible liar. So you’d definitely know if I wasn’t telling the truth.”

Eddie hopes his cheeks aren’t as red as they feel. “Fair enough,” he mumbles with a curt shrug.

“I, for one, think you look very, very handsome.” You grin and lean forward to kiss the very tip of his nose. It’s warm and pink like the rest of his crumbled-up face. 

“Thanks, mom…”

“And I think you look super cozy, too,” you confess, spreading your palms along his covered stomach.

“Cozy?”

“Yeah. You know, like soft— nostalgic. Like a house—”

His chin falls to his chest as he flashes you an incredulous, deadpanned look. “You’re saying I look like a house?”

“No, dummy! You don’t look like a house! You… I don’t know, you feel like a house,” you stammer, then inevitably start to ramble. “Like, you look like where I wanna come home after a long day at work and throw down my keys and take a nap, you know?”

You feel safe, is what you’re really telling him. You feel like where I wanna spend the rest of my life.

Eddie grins so brightly his blushed cheeks start to ache. He can’t help but tease you, anyway. “You got… all that… from a flannel?” he jokes slowly.

“No!” you scoff with the roll of your eyes, perhaps too quickly to be true. “…Not totally. But I do love the easy access, though.”

A tingle rushes up Eddie’s spine when your fingers migrate beneath his flannel. Your touch is soft and cold compared to the warmth of his belly. Your nails scratch at the sparse tuft of hair of his happy trail. He swears his vision goes white for a blink.

He doesn’t get the obsession you have — with his stomach or with him at all — but he revels in it, anyway. He feels like he should. Most people don’t get to find their soulmate, and he gets an entire lifetime with his.

“You’re crazy,” he says, shaking his head and beaming wide.

“For you,” you croon, lovesick and honeyed.

He laughs. “And cheesy."

You shrug and smile, his hands on your cheeks. “What can I say? You bring out the worst in me.”

And if this is the worst, Eddie can’t fucking wait for a lifetime of evil.