#Yandere! serial killer

[scremogirl]

☾✧꥟ 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 ✧✰☀︎︎

𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐧

Yandere! Serial Killer x Reader

Mentions of blood! Mentions of Death! Mentions of mutilation! Mentions of Murder, GN! Reader, NReader/Diolouge uses a lot of black colloquialisms/AAVE *slightlyyyy black coded but only for the speaking bits. NO APPERANCE MENTIONED!* READ THE NOTE AT THE END PLZ! (●’◡’●)ﾉ Part 2 here Part 3 here

Halloween.

The day where people grasp the fact that the summer's over and the seasons have finally changed. Corny decorations on front porches, masks in windows to scare unaware customers, and people dressed as slutty cartoon characters.

You loved the last one. You’ve always worked hard on your costumes; from a small cameo in the school yearbook to entering contests and pageants. You loved fashion, everything about it. The different fabrics, colors, patterns; you cherished it all. So, it’s no wonder that’s what you’ve chosen as your destined career path. You somehow managed to get into the third most prestigious fashion school. I say third because the first one you applied for, was full of egotistical French exchange students who do nothing but compare their lives at home to their lives in America. The second… well, you don’t want to talk about it. Regardless, you’re so grateful your talents have been recognized.

That leads us to now. At the biggest fright fest of the year. Your professor decided that if everyone got at least a 95% or above on the unit test, he’d take the whole class on a field trip to the annual Freak do Shek Carnival. A free trip and creating a new costume? You’ve never studied harder in your life. You spent days working on your costume; hoping to win the annual costume contest.

“Breaking news! The killer know as the “Mask Maker” is still on the loose and is currently suspected to be in the Witchwood area. It is recommended for all residents to stay indoors travel in groups-,”

Your heart sinks.

No, no, no! Why does it have to be now? Why here? The area you lived in was one of the safest in the city! Police patrolled regularly, security systems were available to all, and most people have been traveling in groups these days. So, why? You look at your friend, Malika, who no doubt received the same alert as you did, judging by her face.

“Well what the hell are we supposed to do now!?” She yells in frustration. You all have arrived at the festival and the bus has already taken its leave. Unless you call an Uber, there’s no way out; but then again, with a killer on the loose, no person would be dumb enough to let any stranger in their car. You tell your teacher your concerns, but does he listen? No.

“We’ll be fine,” , “just travel in groups,” , and “make sure you check in with everyone at least every 15 minutes,” is all he says to shake your worries. Great job by the way. With that, he goes ahead with another one of the chaperones, probably on their way to get drunk on cheap beer and look at young girls. Pig.

“I know I ain’t stayin for damn sure,” you chuckle at Malikas abrasiveness and nod your head in agreement.

“Who’s gonna pick us up though? We all came here on a bus and no Lift driver is stupid enough to let strangers in at this time,” you both sigh and end up agreeing that she’d call her boyfriend to come get you. The only downside is he lives in the next county. That means 3 whole hours plus some that you two have to try and rid your paranoia.

“How ‘bout we go check out the costume display for the upcoming show? Maybe scope out some the competition?”

“You know what Malika, that sounds like a great idea,” she holds out her arm and you take it , laughing your way down the hay covered dirt path wearily dodging scare actors. Unbeknownst to you the glowing eyes of one of the masks are filled with anything but fake intent.

“Hey, Mal? Is he on the way yet?” You two have already viewed the display, concrete knowing you’re gonna knock everyone at the park. So you decided that maybe a little sightseeing wouldn’t be that bad.

“Ugh! He said he’s on his way but knowing him, that means he just got in the shower,” with a deep sigh she puts her phone back in her pocket.

“Look,” she continues

“ How about we go get something to eat and enjoy what we can. I mean, we did wait all year for this,” you’re a little hesitant but you end up caving; fried oreos do sound good right now.

The walk to the concession stands is filled with jump scares from actors, Jack, o lanterns illuminating your path and the laughter of children and adults a like. The environment reminds you of why you came here in the first place, maybe there is nothing to be worried about.

Oof!

“Oh I’m sorry! I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going,” to wrapped up in the scenery and nostalgia, you failed to notice one of the actors scrambling by. You hear the muffled laughter of Malika and try your best not to strangle her to cover up your embarrassment. Fortunately , it was just the water that spilled on them; Unfortunately, your oreos lay spread eagle on the ground. However, even with a soaked costume and powdered sugar all over their boots, they remain in character. Only giving you a tilt of the head, a grunt, and tightening their grip on their axe. The eyes that lay behind the papier-mâché mask boar deep into your soul, the white contacts holding something deep and dark. The feeling of guilt is slowly washed away and replaced with anxiousness. Man, they're getting employee of the month. Still, you feel bad so you grab the napkins from your back pocket and gently wipe their mask, some of the fake blood coming off along with the water. Hmm, these effects are off the chain too.

As you clean them up you can’t help but to think that they’ll join the costume contest, definitely giving you a run for your money. You're snapped out of your thoughts when Malika pulls you along the road, whining about how upset she is because she didn’t get to snag one of your Oreos. Making your leave, you look over your shoulder one last time, only to find those same white eyes trailing your figure.

My god, you're even more beautiful up close.

“Personally, if that happened to me I’d kill myself,” once again, your friends laughter snapped you outta your own mind. You just giggle and brush it off.

“Shut up! It’s not like I did it on purpose! Besides he was kinda fine not gon’ hold you,”

“I know right! the way he titled his, had a tear running down my leg not gon’ lie,”

“Girl… don’t you gotta man? Like… on his way here?”

“Shhhh don’t ruin the fantasy,”

Two hours have officially passed, the same old texts between Malika and her boyfriend, this time however he was actually in the car. She had pressed him to turn on his location for safety, you could never be too sure now can you? He should’ve been here by now but with how crowded the festival is getting, you can’t blame him. Thankfully, the contest is just about to start! Going against your better judgment, you and Malika thought that being apart for about 15-20 mins wouldn’t hurt. She’ll be waiting in the audience while you go change anyways.

Rushing to the changing rooms you fail to notice another contestant coming towards you just as fast. For the second time this night you managed to bump into someone.

“I am so sorry! I didn’t mean I-,”

“Watch where you’re going bitch! Y’know how long it took me to make this thing?” You look to the left and then to the right trying to figure out who the fuck they think they’re talking too.

“Look I didn’t mean it, I’m sorr-,”

“Yea yea whatever, just stay outta my way next time. Besides, it’s not like you're gonna win this thing anyways,” just before you were about to give them a piece of your mind, the manager stepped in and separated you two. Jeez now this is gonna take even longer than you expected. You thought it was only fair to let Malika know shoot her a quick text. “No worries, babe! Gill's location says he’s here already so Imma grab us a quick bite to eat before I look for him and we head to you. See ya soonnn❤︎︎!!!”

Good; that buys you just enough time. After getting changed and checking your reflection for the hundredth time, you step out feeling as confident as ever. Just as you exit the stall, you hear the worst blood curdling scream of your entire life. You look over to your right and see that asshole from early and that guy with the really nice axe murder costume. Your eyes have to be deceiving you! One of their legs is completely severed, blood dripping from the stub left behind. Slash marks, deep and crooked, adorn their arms and remaining leg. They Look as if their limbs could snap off at the slightest breeze. They cry and groan as they reach out to you. Following their eyes the crazed murder shifts his eyes to you. Their weapon of choice freezing in their hands mid swing. Their victim continues to moan in pain and crawl away, begging and pleading for someone to save them. But…you just laugh.

“I see what you're trynna do here, and it ain’t workin’. Your costume is good but it isn’t better than mine. Assholes,” the last part is mumbled under your breath as you walk away. Even though you presented yourself in this prideful manner, you can’t help the feeling of disappointment that bubbles inside you. You tried really hard this year, let’s just hope that everyone else thinks you did too.

CHOP

Finally. Holding up the severed head he smiles, crooked and eerie. The bitch wouldn’t stop screaming, but at least he gets to see the look of fear in their face forever.

“Hey! What the hell’re you doing!?” hm? Turning around he sees the manager from earlier, standing before him with wide eyes filled with shock and anger. He can’t have his plans be ruined by a little slip up! He didn’t mean to act so impulsive but he couldn’t help. Nobody talks to you like that; not if he had something to do about it. Swinging his weapon of choice up on his shoulder, he’s about to take a step before he’s interrupted.

“Didn't I tell you guys to keep all spare props in bags because of the fake blood?! It gets everywhere and I’m the one who has to clean it up!” They shoved him to the side before grabbing a large trash bag from the cart they lugged behind them; simultaneously grabbing a mop and bucket. Continue to grumble about how “they don’t get paid enough for this” and “all the newbies are irresponsible”. But hey, free disposal.

“Sh, sh it’s okay; it was never your fault,” you tried comforting her but to no luck. All she can see is red as the burning hot tears streaming from her eyes ruin the makeup she spent so long on

“Okay?! It’s not okay (Y/N)! He said he was stuck in traffic all the while he was toungin’ down some bitch in a slutty cat costume. Very unoriginal btw!” You try to keep your giggle in for her sake. You kept trying to tell her this idiot wasn’t any good for years but nooo “the dick was too good to let go,” and apparently, someone else thought so too. Her weeping continues before she builds up the courage to speak again.

“All I wanna do is go home; fuck this competition,” you smile seeing her personality shine through her sadness just a little.

“Yea, fuck this competition,”sure you’re sad about to being able to participate this year, but with your best friend in distress and a serial killer on the loose, you can’t help but to think that maybe you could wait until next year. Ordering the Uber, you suggest that before it gets here, you should check in with your teacher first. Of course you don’t have his number and you're sure your other classmates are not worried about their phones unless they’re snapping pics and recording for their stories . You send them a quick text to your classes group chat and look for the exit.

“He really is a dick, you don’t need him,”

“Yea, I know. Besides, maybe that axe guy will take care of him for me,” she giggles but you don’t find it funny at all.

“What?”

“Yea, I saw him outta the corner of my eye when I walked in on he who shall not be named about to fuck that other girl,” she rolls her eyes and continues walking but you remain stationary.

“You gotta be joking,“ she turns around and gives you a quizzical look so you continue further.

“He and another dickhead I bumped into put on this whole show to get me to drop outta the contest. Lost limbs, fake blood and everything. I don’t know what his problem is, but he needs to leave me the fuck alone before I get the manager, on some Karen shit”

“Now that I think about it, he has been high-tailing us ever since we’ve got here,” she freezes before looking at you dead on. She wipes away the tear stains and brushes her nose against her sleeve before scanning the area.

“You don’t think it’s Kee-,”

“No! Don’t. It’s not him. It couldn’t be,” she holds up her hands in defense before pulling you along to get the hell up outta here. It goes dead silent, tension filling the air. It couldn't be him! It’s just some rando whos jealous of your skill! But…your mind was just playing tricks on you. That feeling of paranoia started to rise again and the flashbacks felt like they were hitting you in waves. She saw this and decided to speak up before it got worse.

“Hey, I’m sorry for bringing it up. I really didn’t mean to-,” this time it’s your turn to cut her off. You offer her a light smile and hold her hand in yours before squeezing.

“It’s alright. Besides, who needs men anyways. You’re all I need,” she gives you an even brighter one, her usual self returning, before squeezing just as hard, laying her head on your shoulder while you walk.

“Yea, fuck men,” you two laugh in sync before changing the conversation to what you’ll do when you get home; maybe a Horror movie marathon and some junk food will cheer you up. Who cares, the night has just begun for you and there’s no way anything was gonna ruin it.

Watching you walk away a gloved hand slams into a tree. Dammit! You won’t get away so easily. You’re his. Nobody else’s. He’ll make sure of it. Starting with her.

Hello everyone!!!! Hope you enjoyed the first part of my Halloween special. I’m breaking this down into 3 parts because I’m afraid people will think it’s too long if I put the whole thing on tumblr. I will be making an Ao3 and the whole fic will be posted without any split up. When it’s created and up I’ll let you know. Hope you enjoyed Loves!!! ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎.

-Love, Sosa❤️

#Yandere! serial killer #yandere x y/n #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere #✧✩🜚𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐈𝐂 🜸𖤐✰

[cold-kitty]

The winner of this week's poll was... Yandere Murderer/Serial Killer!

Includes: murder (not darling), nsfw (not with darling), stalking, a little fluff, cameras

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Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer that had planned to kill you as his next victim.

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who stalks you to figure out your routine to find when you're most vulnerable, but he ends up finding you cute.

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who doesn't kill you right away just for his entertainment, he wants to figure out what makes you tick and use it against you. you're so cute when you're angry!

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who starts to see you as an actual person and not just someone for him to kill, which is a first.

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who starts to really like you, who waits until you're not at home before installing discreet cameras in your house.

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who watches you in his free time, every second of it.

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who touches himself when you do, zooming in on your hand on your genitals.

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who starts to leave you little gifts. your favorite candy bar? you suddenly have one. you like a certain animal? you have a new plushie. you wanna watch a movie? you suddenly have the DVD. he loves seeing your face light up every time you get a gift.

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who feels enraged when someone picks on you. how fucking dare they! they should be hung on a meat hook like the animal they are!

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who feels his heart sink when he sees the look on your face when you find the body of the person, he wanted to comfort you. he would be more careful hiding the bodies now. there's also an onslaught of gifts the next day.

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who finally, finally decides to take you. he makes sure he's gentle with you, he doesn't dare inject you with anything, he uses a simple cloth dipped in chloroform. he doesn't want to restrain you, but he's scared you'll run off.

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who holds you until you wake up, rocking you gently.

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who's genuinely so happy to have you now, even if you're scared or don't like him.

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who showers you in gifts and love, who cuddles you while still respecting your personal space. he doesn't dare to force you into anything with him, he loves you too much.

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who doesn't stop trying, who waits patiently for your love even if it hurts him.

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who stops killing people for you, he knows you don't like it and he doesn't like how scared it makes you.

If you end up falling for Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer, he immediately starts breaking down in happy tears. he's clinging to you, burying his head in your neck or chest, desperately kissing anything he can. he's so goddamn happy, he's waited so long for this.

If you don't end up falling for Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer, he'll just wait, he needs you to love him back.

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How was this for my first fic? Feel free to ask for expansions of this idea, like darlings that act in a certain way. Mean, willing, scared, etc..

~🐈‍⬛

#yandere x male darling #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere #yandere murderer #yanderefanfic #yandere serial killer #male yandere

[ozzgin]

A nice character with a yandere split persona. The Yandere persona was born out of the abandonment of the character by a loved one, maybe mom. Did he kill her just so she could stay? Maybe. Only the Yandere persona knows, the character is oblivious, he just knows his mom left him. But he oddly feels ok about it as though the situation has been reconciled... which is weird to him.

Now he meets and falls in love with yn. She must not leave. It's f around and find out

Btw I love you ❤️❤️❤️ The Yokai series is my fave

Oooh, I’ve been thinking of a context for your idea and I somehow got stuck on a serial killer who is unaware of it most of the time. Since you mentioned abandonment and obsession, my mind wandered to some of the typical habits, such as collecting trophies. I’ve also been wanting to try my hand at writing a serial killer, so hopefully it turns out to your liking. (Sending back the love, always a pleasure to see your comments ❤)

Although let me include a little disclaimer, because I am aware many things in the sphere of true crime are problematic: this in no way glorifies or romanticizes serial killers. Just a reminder that this is a work of fiction and all behaviors displayed are for the sake of an interesting story, not to be admired in real life.

Yandere! Serial Killer x Reader

You're temporarily staying with a kind, quiet man renting out a room in the house he inherited. It's just the two of you, and a locked bedroom he claims to be vacant. Yet as night falls, you hear the whispered arguing of a voice you don't recognize. Is anyone else there?

Content/TW: female reader, mentions of murder, obsessive behavior, horror

You must break the pattern today, or the loop with repeat tomorrow

He stares at the locked drawer of the bureau. The clock ticking in the background fades into an irritating buzz, drumming against his ears at irregular intervals like a swarm of insects. Once again, he cannot remember where the key is. Yet he does not feel compelled to search for it. It cannot be anything of significance, he tells himself. Forgotten knick-knacks, perhaps. Despite the apparent lack of curiosity, he is drawn here every morning. He wakes up, carefully folds the sheets, and goes to sit in the office. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Until, at last, the noon hour strikes, and the hallways are flooded with ghastly chimes.

Lately, however, other sounds have taken over the usual silence that envelops the house. The main door rattles faintly before opening with a creak.

“They were out of our bread rolls. I got a baguette instead.”

It’s you.

He stands up, as if startled from deep slumber, and hurries downstairs to greet you. He takes the grocery bags from your hands, flashing a smile of gratitude. Somehow, the idea of another person living here is still foreign to him. He’s gotten so used to the solitude, the quietness of the house. Time stands still when there’s no one else to remind you of it.

You glance up at the tall man, noticing his slight frown.

“Another brain fog?” You ask, worried.

“Don’t mind me. It’s a morning routine at this point”, he jokes. “More importantly, what would you like for breakfast?”

He always cooks for both of you. Initially, you were rather hesitant to go for his offer. You’d been looking for temporary accommodation and stumbled upon his advertisement. A cozy, vintage house the man had inherited from his lamentably departed mother, with one too many spare rooms. He had no need for all the space, he said in his description. You paid him a visit and were taken aback by his appearance. A massive, muscular frame that did not fit the rest of his mannerisms and features. He was soft-spoken, polite, and terribly shy. His eyes reflected the kind of gloom to be expected from anyone in his situation.

A sweet, gentle soul looking for company. On top of that, if you are to be technical, he’s a housemate difficult to compete against. Well-kept, mannered, organized, and thoughtful. He keeps to himself. You’d learned, soon after moving in, that he suffers from the occasional brain fog and memory loss. He goes for walks at odd hours to clear his mind. Enjoys reading in his office, although you’ve caught him just staring into space many times. Terribly inconvenient for the poor lad, you imagine.

The house itself is also not a bad deal by any means. Old fashioned, littered with trinkets and paintings. “My mother liked to collect many things”, he’d told you. It certainly has personality, to put it mildly. Some belongings are more bizarre than others: portraits of faceless people, with features smudged or distorted, doll heads in pompous, feathered collars hanging in clusters across the musty walls. Peculiar, but manageable.

Only at night does it become unsettling.

“Going for a walk?”

You’re curled in one of the armchairs, flipping through a magazine you found. It’s been hours since your little breakfast together and now the sun is beginning to set. The man is buttoning up his coat, standing in the doorframe and gazing at you with a smile.

“Yeah. I’m starting to detach a little. Maybe some fresh air will help.”

It’s nice, he thinks, having you here. He didn’t expect much when he ventured to rent out a room. He just wanted to hear the murmur of life again. Ever since his mother has passed…when did it happen, again? Better yet, how did it happen? Christ, he can’t remember. The last memory he has of her is not something to cherish. She was angrily shoving him out of the way, visibly annoyed by his cries and pleading. “Please don’t leave me”, he kept croaking in a pathetic tone, dragging his knees like a beggar. Then it’s all black. Black, like the cover they kept over her body at the morgue, to hide the mutilated remains. Black, like the tie he struggled to knot before her funeral. At that time, the sheets of her bed were still scattered, as if she never left. He could almost see her there, reflected onto the mirror’s surface – rather dirty as a matter of fact, he should wipe it soon – sitting melancholically on the edge of the mattress.

To think he’d be hearing footsteps again. A soothing voice. Even if it’s temporary, your presence in the house has been a blessing. Even if you must leave eventually. His lips purse involuntarily.

You hear the door close, followed by the key twisting inside the lock. You’re alone now.

With haste, you get up and sprint upstairs. You pull out a hairpin from your pocket and discreetly insert it in the cylinder. Today you find out if the spare bedroom truly is as vacant as your housemate claims.

When you first viewed the house, he mentioned that only this room will remain locked. It was his mother’s and he’d rather not look at it, he said. Let it gather dust, for all he cares.

Only at night, you’ve been hearing someone else’s voice. It didn’t happen immediately. Weeks after you’d moved in, you woke up thirsty and tiptoed on your way to the kitchen for a glass of water. On your return, you were surprised to see dim light coming from underneath the door of the forbidden bedroom. Visitors of your housemate? You hurried back into your bed, not wanting to intrude. But the following night you jolted up from the same mumbled voice. Strange that he’d invite someone over this late - twice in a row! - without saying a word to you. Even more, they were arguing like this. Curiosity got the better of you, so you snuck out and placed your cupped ear against the wall.

“No, no, no, no. I’m telling you, it’s different. She’s different from the others.” A deep, ragged voice retorted angrily.

Suddenly, there was a loud thud, a fist smashing against something, then glass shattering over exasperated, shouted curses. You ran back to your room, baffled. Who on Earth was there? You could feel your heart throbbing inside your chest.

Morning couldn’t come quick enough. You marched over to your housemate, demanding to know who this stranger was. He stared at you, wide eyed and incredulous. “There’s no one else here, dear. Just you and me.” Nonsense. You knew what you heard. You’d been wide awake! He gently placed the back of his hand against your forehead. “Could it be that you’re sick? Weather has been dreadful lately.” You scanned his face with hitched breath. Was he mocking you? Yet his features betrayed no such intent. The man seemed genuinely worried; face twisted in a caring frown.

Then what? A ghost? An intruder that fancied having a chat in a dead woman’s bedroom?

You fiddle with the pin until you hear the click. Finally. Surely whoever has been frequenting the place must’ve left some clues behind. You carefully open the door and peek inside. A broken mirror and some furniture covered in webs. There’s a lingering rusty smell that tickles your nostrils, and soon enough you find the source. Next to the old bed lays a cloth splattered red. On top of it, a leather folder from which scalpels and other surgical tools fell out haphazardly. Blood? Your mouth curls in disgust. You crouch to the floor to inspect the odd items and notice a jar glistening from underneath the bed. You pull it towards you and give it a rattle. Nothing heavy. You lift the jar into the light for a better look and gasp.

Fingernails.

“Oh, I forgot to put those away.”

It’s the same deep voice you’ve been hearing at night. Your stomach drops and you turn, slowly, towards the entrance. Horror is swiftly replaced by confusion once you realize it’s none other than your housemate.

“Y-you’re back from your walk?” You blurt out.

“Walk?” He inquires. “Ah, that’s what he told you.” He steps towards you and lowers himself to your level with a grin.

“Have you come to say hello?” He points towards the tall, shattered mirror. “This is (Y/N), mother. See, I told you she’s stunning. You didn’t believe me.”

He ruffles your hair with a boldness completely unfamiliar.

Nausea overwhelms you and your ears ring in panic. Whatever is happening right now is beyond your understanding.

“I’d like to go to my room now.”

“I recognize that speech all too well. You want to run away.”

Within seconds, he grabs one of the scalpels and points it towards your throat, poking your skin with its cold tip.

“Now, don’t embarrass me in front of her like that. Do you know how hard it is to convince this bitch of anything? I told her you’re not like them, (Y/N). Don’t prove me wrong.”

“Them?” You whisper, lungs devoid of air.

“Come, let’s put this with the others first.” He pockets the scalpel and lifts you up by the hand, tenderly kissing your fingers in the process. “Then we can talk.”

You follow him into the office, and he unlocks one of the desk drawers. Against your better judgment, you stretch over his shoulder and glance inside. ID cards of various women, jewelry, lipsticks. Teeth. Fingernails.

You want to cry.

He nonchalantly dumps the contents of the jar into the drawer and slams it back shut, then throws himself in the chair and pats his thigh, eyeing you. With a sob, you clumsily climb onto his lap.

“Back to our matters. What were you planning on doing?”

“I just wanted to lay in bed.”

He takes out the scalpel and draws a line across your cheek. It stings.

“Don’t lie, (Y/N). You have nothing to gain from being naughty with me.” He coos, placing a kiss over the fresh wound.

“I wanted to run away.” You confess, petrified.

“Good. Do you now understand what happens if you try to run away?”

You briefly look at the drawer and nod.

“I knew you would. You’re so smart.” He strokes your hair fondly. “Not an easy decision to make, mind you. I love you more than anything in this world. Who’d enjoy killing their one and only?”

The man ponders his next words with a hum.

“Don’t count on getting away while he’s awake, either.” He taps his temple and chuckles. “He has no idea and won’t stop you, but I can easily find you again.”

The eggs sizzle in the pan as you stare at your plate, background sounds melting into shapeless static. After a couple more minutes, the man turns off the stove and places the food on the table with a cheerful whistle.

“Eat up!” He encourages you.

You hold onto your fork with faintly trembling hands.

“This might be the last breakfast I cook for you, after all. You’re leaving tomorrow, aren’t you?” His last sentence trails off and he smiles, dejected.

“Actually, I was wondering if I could…stay here instead.”

He gazes at you in disbelief.

“Truly? I-…That’d be fantastic.” He laughs awkwardly and scratches the back of his head, a deep red blush spreading over his cheeks. “Do excuse my rudeness. To be honest with you, I’ve grown quite fond of our arrangement. I really do like having you here.”

You return the smile without responding.

“Most exciting news. I’ll get the documents from the office after we eat, so we can draft a new lease.”

“That’d be lovely”, you answer curtly.

“Say, have you by any chance stumbled upon a small key around the house? I wanted to finally unlock the drawer upstairs, but I can’t remember where I could’ve left it.”

The knot in your stomach tightens.

“Not at all.”

“Don’t sweat it. I’m sure it’s nothing important, anyways. Old memorabilia, most likely.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere fic #yandere imagines #yandere imagine #yandere scenarios #yandere male #yandere killer #yandere male x reader #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere serial killer #yandere original character #horror #split personality #tw yandere

[oct0bra1ns]

Yandere killer offering cannibal y/n his victims?

Delicious Prey

pairing: Yandere serial killer x cannibal reader TW: gore, cannibalism, yanderes, violence against others, against self (from the yandere's side ) notes : My brain is so fried from physics i had to come out for my hiatus to breath, also, can you tell i was kind of inspired by dead plate? LOL Please let me know if you want me to add anymore tw to the tags please.<3

reblogs and comments are appreciated!

♡ Yandere Serial killer who's had his eyes on you for a very long time, who memorised your entire routine, waiting for the chance to strike, only for him to see you drag a body in from the back into the place you work.

♡ Yandere Serial killer who breaks in at night, curious to see what you did with the body, only to find it stuffed inside a freezer. It didn't take a genius to figure out you were making meals of the victims.

♡ Yandere Serial killer who applied to your restaurant, just so he could spend more time with you, he doesn't care what work you assign him, he'll gladly do it as long as he gets to hear your monotone 'Good job' or 'well done'.

♡ Yandere Serial killer plans a way to catch you in the act, to find something to hold over you so you can stay with him.

♡ Yandere Serial killer who's surprised when his plans quickly backfire on him when you pull out evidence of his crimes, threatening to leak it if he doesn't shut up and go back to work.

♡ Yandere Serial killer who makes a deal with you. He'll do all the dirty work and you can enjoy your passion of cooking. He'll bring you anyone however and whenever you like.

♡ Yandere Serial killer who presents everyone to criticises your dishes or restaurant as ingredients to use in your next dish.

♡ Yandere Serial killer who gets jealous when you eat someone in front of his. It's agitating to hear how well they cooked or how it's nice to chew on.

♡ Yandere Serial killer who presents a part of him as a meal during your anniversary, I mean, since he's become a part of you, the two of you are bound for life.

♡ Yandere Serial killer who flushes when he comes home covered in blood and you kiss the blood of, making a comment on how it tastes before tending to him.

♡ Yandere Serial killer who although is used to seeing you eat people, it not used to it himself, so when you first offer him a part of yourself, he's beyond honoured but at the same time, almost emptied his stomach the first time.

♡ Yandere Serial killer who learn your favourite dish and makes it for you on the daily, even if it meals he has to start getting risky with his victims. An offhand comment of imaginings how someone will taste end up with him bring them to you.

#octo answers #yandere x darling #tw yandere #yandere x reader #octo writes #yandere scenarios #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere x willing reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere serial killer #tw cannibalism #tw blood

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Have His Cake And Eat It Too

Male Serial Killer Yandere x Gender Neutral Immortal Reader (CW: Noncon, blood, violence, murder, death, cannibalism and reader forced into cannibalism, kidnapping, general yandere behavior, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, cursed immortal reader) Word Count: 500 (This is really bloody and dark compared to what I normally write, but it is also a drabble and does not contain the usual level of detail my other fics do, if you have played boyfriend to death and its sequel you may recognize some similarities between those characters and my Serial Killer Yandere, he is a bit of a mix between Strade, Ren, and Lawrence, though I still feel he is unique.)

Imagine there is a serial killer loose in your area. He finds people that meet his criteria, the specific personality and aesthetic that he desires in a partner, and he falls head over heels in love with them. He kidnaps them, doting on them, feeding them, clothing them, bathing them. But his love for them grows and grows. Serial Killer Yandere rapes them, forcing himself inside so he can feel them surround his cock. Serial Killer Yandere starts to cut them more and more, enjoying the sight of beautiful red blood on their otherwise flawless skin. But Serial Killer Yandere needs them to be a part of them. Serial Killer Yandere needs to be closer to them. Serial Killer Yandere really can’t help it, his love is just so strong. Serial Killer Yandere cuts them open and grips their heart, feeling it beat in his hand as they slowly bleed out. He consumes it, he held their very life in his hands and made it a part of him. But now he is alone again and needs a new darling. Serial Killer Yandere meets you for a date. You are exactly what he wants, even better than the ones that came before you. He kidnaps you like all the others after drugging your drink. You wake up with a chain on your ankle, dressed in delicate clothing. He dotes on you. He bathes you. He feeds you. He soothes you. He fucks you so hard just to see those beautiful tears stream down your face, the prettiest tears he has ever seen. Serial Killer Yandere loves you more and more, very quickly. Serial Killer Yandere can’t help himself, he knows he will miss you but he must be closer. His hand is in your chest, gripping your heart. Your blood leaves you as everything fades. You die. While you are dying he has never felt more in love, but once you are gone the familiar emptiness is quick to fill him. But you are not like the others. You don’t stay dead. In the morning when he comes to take care of your corpse and appreciate your beauty one last time before burying you with all the rest of his loves he sees that you are fine. You aren’t human. Not anymore. You were cursed to never be allowed to die hundreds of years ago. Serial Killer Yandere is shocked. He thinks he is losing it. Serial Killer Yandere kills you over and over, taking your heart for himself each time. You’re always back the next morning. Serial Killer Yandere becomes thrilled. Serial Killer Yandere force feeds you your own heart and shares it with you sometimes the day after he has killed you again. The curse transfers to him, and he discovers after dying due to an accident one day that he is unable to die. Now Serial Killer Yandere can have his cake and eat it too~ Forever <3

#yandere x reader #violent yandere #yandere boyfriend #gender neutral reader #male yandere x reader #My OCs #My OC Serial Killer Yandere #yandere imagine #yandere imagines #yandere drabble

[bunny-yan]

Masterlist

Total written works: 58 not sure if i'm going to add the imagines or leave them as little treats for those who find themselves bored and decide to scroll through ;) Bully Friends Cyborg Warmth

Delinquent ~ Sax Savior Chase Headshot Fight Duke Different Second Son Fae ~ Aereon Runaway Headshot Names Gently

Fan ~ Harper Number One Secret Bedroom

Giant Heart Privacy Needs Storytime

Hacker & AI ~ ? & Eve Blocked Greetings First Meeting(?)

Hero ~ Tasman Selfish Dreams Fears Silent Treatment Fool Propose Desert Fix You

Incubus ~ Ambrose Sleep Stamina Wet Fever

King ~ Idris His Possession Fears Sane Sorry Your Highness Stockholm Positive Fiancéed

Priest Faith Picnic Prayer

Serial Killer ~ Ellis Saw Hugs Monster

Soldier ~ Winter Kidnapped Captive Headshot Notice

Stalker ~ Valentino Valentine's Day Headshot Careless Popular Greetings Mask

Telepath Ex

Sharing is Caring ~ Series Fears (Hero & King) Greetings (Hacker, AI & Stalker)

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere x you #male yandere #yandere x gn reader #yandere x reader #masterlist #yandere xyou #yandere bully #yandere cyborg #yandere delinquent #yandere duke #yandere fan #yandere fae #yandere giant #yandere hacker #yandere hero #yandere incubus #yandere king #yandere serial killer #yandere priest #yandere soldier #yandere stalker #yandere telepath

[yanderemommabean]

My dearest butterfly, 

I usually pride myself on having a way with words, never having my tongue tied, never having to stutter or stumble, and yet, with you, I find it hard to even breathe let alone speak. Ever since the day you stepped into my clinic, stepped into my life, I’ve found myself in a fog, never able to say what I feel, to speak with confidence, like without you I'm some sort of shell of myself. 

As a doctor, I assumed I was ill, sick, perhaps coming down with something that would pass with rest and time. However, I found out the truth- I was sick of course, but nothing that would be cured with needles and antibiotics. 

My dear butterfly, I have come to find out, my ailment is love sickness. As cutesy as that sounds, what I mean to say is- I'm utterly obsessed with you, and cannot rest or feel alive until I see you in my sight, or feel you by my side. 

The fact I am blessed enough to touch you, to examine every area, intimate or not, to be trusted with your darkest medical secrets-It fuels me more than any other patient has. With you, curing you and your health just has more meaning to me, has more depth and humanity. You have that way about you, making me feel deeper than any human ever has, reaching my core and burrowing deep within the walls of my heart. 

This letter is nothing but a love filled ramble, but one I simply had to write. I can no longer hide how I feel, how I crave. I don't expect you to know what to do with all of this information right away, so, I’ll give you a few good rules to go by while everything sets in and has time to process. 

This is all true. I adore you, deeper than anyone could ever adore you, and more intense than any past lover could ever dream 

I refuse to let you try and deny me. You can be coy, you can be shy, you can even need time and space, but you wont be with anyone else but me in the romantic sense. I’ll take whatever precautions I need to ensure this rule is followed. 

I mean you absolutely no harm, however, as mentioned above, I’ll do what I must. Just sit back and take in what you need, but know, I’m utterly sick for you darling, there’s no way you can turn me away, be your attempts silly or desperate. 

I’ll be sure to send this letter over the weekend to give you more time, but, if by chance the postal service messes up, a few days letting your mind wander at your work wouldn’t be awful either. 

I’ll see you soon, my love. We’ll discuss this more in person, where my words are sharper than the pen I used, and my voice will convey just how serious I am about all of this. 

All yours, only yours, 

-Doctor Lee.

(-Mommabean, hope you liked!)

#yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #my ocs #doctor lee my oc #dr lee my oc #yandere doctor #yandere serial killer #yandere oc #yandere letter #yandere male #yandere prompts #mommabean

[yandere-writer-momo]

Tooth Fairy?! LOL! What they gonna do?! Sucker punch everyone in the face for us, and leave a bag of teeth under our pillows for us to cash in and pay off our debt?!

Imagine if each tooth was only worth a dollar or a quarter, and when we opened our residence front door, teeth just start flooding out everywhere like some sick utube prank!

I say this all with love I think your character idea is fantabulous!

It’s a gothic serial killer who collects teeth of you from people you either complimented or people who have upset you in some way, shape, or form 🖤

We love Zahn, that goth boy with macabre interests

#Yandere of #yandere original character #goth Yandere #Yandere serial killer #Yandere killer

[merakiui]

[viii.] ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵘᵗᶜʰᵉʳᵉᵈ

serial killer!jade leech x female!reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, kidnapping/captivity, descriptions of murder/death, violence, strangulation chapter vii│chapter viii (you are here)│chapter ix

Today’s Thought - As biology would have it, the moray eel is cowardly by nature. Somehow this facet doesn’t apply to a certain someone. What he lacks in cowardice, he makes up for in cruelty.

The three days that follow the first feel like a blurred eternity, and you only know it’s been three because Jade’s explained your daily horoscope thrice now. The first: Do your best and your days will be fortuitous. You’re walking the path to success. The second: You may feel gloomy with the shifting skies. Rainfall may evoke sadness, but the secrets you hide from that important someone will seem even sadder. And the third (today’s prediction): There’s a chance you might find luck in uncertain situations.

These horoscopes might have provided you with a shred of relief if it weren’t for the fact that your slumber has been mostly dreamless ever since that last obscure nightmare, and so you don’t have anything to compare them to. No jellyfish. No strangers sitting at dinner tables. No blue hues for you to contemplate.

You’ve read through A Hiker’s Guide twice in the span of forty-eight hours, committing fungi facts to memory as if they’ll serve any purpose while you remain shackled in captivity. But it keeps you occupied and smothers any morbid thoughts threatening to spill into your skull. Which is what you really need right now—the sweet sense of comfort and contentment.

Jade upheld his end of your bargain yesterday when he poked his head inside the bathroom, presenting the white suit coat Azul had worn the night he faux-proposed. You kept your complaints to yourself, silently scorning him while he draped it across your shoulders. It’s an expensive brand sewn from luxurious fabrics you’d never be able to afford no matter how many extra shifts you pick up at The Devil’s Delight.

Out of habit, you’re attempting to calculate how many times you’d need to sleep with Azul in hopes of convincing him to buy you an outfit of equal grandeur. Your logic tells you multiple times for every pretty button and precise stitch, but your heart tells you it would only take a simple question and a sincere smooch to string him along. He opens his wallet for you as easily as you open your legs for him. 

But that’s just part of the agreement, you remind yourself, petting the silky sleeve like it’s a cat. Stop thinking about him. Focus on other things.

You lift your gaze towards the door.

I wonder what Riddle’s up to. We were supposed to meet up on Saturday. He’s probably angry I couldn’t make it. Or maybe he’s worried I’m not showing up to work. Shaking your head, you scoff bitterly. No, he’s not worried. He’s Riddle. He never worries about distractions like me. He has everything laid out so perfectly. You toy with one of the exquisite cuffs on the jacket, twisting it between your fingers. I guess when you’re that meticulous you never have to worry about anything because, no matter what happens, you’re following a familiar schedule. So even if things don’t go to plan, you can just move to the next item on your list.

You slouch against the wall and sigh.

Maybe it’s better to live repetitive days. It’s boring, but it’s safe.

Before you can start weighing the positives and negatives to that thought, a noise from below resounds. You scramble away from the sink, mindful of your bandaged ankle, and force yourself flat like a pancake, your ear pressed against the tiles. The air is still, your breath is hitched, and then there are footsteps. Four in total. You assume he’s taking off his shoes because there’s a disconcerting quiet that follows. Seconds later, you strain to hear the door as it shuts and locks with a click. 

And then there is more silence. 

Something’s not right, you think, chewing your lip. Anxiety bubbles in your blood, volcanically volatile. He’s not coming upstairs.

You push yourself up onto your arms and retreat to the space between the bathtub and sink.

He always comes upstairs to check on me when he gets home. Right away. So why isn’t he? What’s going on? You shake your head and dig your nails into your arms. Don’t panic. Maybe he’s preparing another meal? But he usually eats before work. At least, that’s what he’s done with me ever since the first day. Maybe he didn’t have work. Maybe he went out to do something. But what? Cover his tracks? Kill someone? Make sure there are no witnesses from that night? Kill someone? Your grip on Azul’s jacket tightens. Relax. Take a breath and think about it logically. He can’t do anything rash. Not when he’s just kidnapped me. Someone must have made a missing report by now, so he has to be careful.

Your eyes slide about the room, inspecting the framed sketches once more. What if it’s the afternoon? He could make up any time he wants and I’d have no choice but to believe him. He could’ve gone out for lunch, or he met up with Azul for the daily walks we usually do. Right. Azul. He has to know something’s up. He has to… Wait.

The realization is glacial, stabbing through your skull mercilessly: He won’t suspect anything because disappearing like this is a routine he’s all too familiar with. In his eyes, I’m just—

Footsteps on the stairs shake you from your theorizing, and you brace yourself for the sight of him. You hope to shrink yourself to a size so small and imperceivable that no one, not even the most keen, cutthroat killer, could find you. You succeed in huddling in on yourself, a ball of tightened nerves just waiting to unfurl at the slightest hint of danger. Sweat beads on your brow and slithers down your spine. The hair on your body stands on end, as if expecting the swift strike of a terrifying tragedy.

Something’s not right.

The knob turns. There he stands in the sliver of space between door and bedroom, backdropped by dim lamplight. He’s dressed plainly in a black hoodie and sweatpants of the same color. It’s arguably the most casual you’ve ever seen him look. And in his arms, held bridal style and slumped like a boneless fish, is a woman. 

Your gaze is drawn to the way her shirt stretches tautly over her abdomen—over the rounded dome that is her stomach—and dread crystallizes your blood. Suppressing a shiver, you meet his stare. A smile slowly crawls onto his lips, and then he steps deeper into the bathroom, pulling the shower curtain aside and lowering the woman into the tub. Tape is plastered to her mouth, and her wrists and legs are bound with expert knots. Just looking at her and the state she’s in makes you sick with discomfort.

“Who… W-Who the hell is that?”

“A roommate,” he replies, all too smooth. “It’s only temporary, so you needn’t get so territorial.”

There’s no way. He’s actually planning to… 

Bile rises in your throat, and before you can stop yourself you’re leaning over the toilet to retch. Saliva dribbles down your chin, landing in the bowl below in a downpour of gross, acidic rain. A petrifying tremor shudders through your body, and you steady yourself against the toilet, coughing until tears gather in your vision and your throat aches. You smack your hand against the handle to flush the physical manifestations of your horror away. Down it goes, never to be seen again.

“Your little parasite doesn’t seem very fond of her,” Jade remarks, standing over you like a patient reaper of death. “There can only be room for one, no?”

You crane your neck to peer at him. “F-Fuck you.”

He smiles thinly, his eyes creasing with manufactured mirth. “It’s just a coincidence.”

“Coincidence, my ass.” With a dark scowl, you wipe the spit from your mouth with a shaky hand. You drag yourself away from the toilet, tasting residual vomit on your tongue. “You can’t hurt her. She… She’s pregnant, Jade. There’s no way you can—”

“She isn’t you. If I recall, I only agreed to keep you alive.” Jade slips his gloves off, drapes them in the basin, and then lathers his hands with soap. His movements are mechanically meticulous, as if these motions have been preprogrammed. Even the way he dries his hands is unnatural. Too prim. Too perfect. “As far as I’m concerned, she’s nothing like you.”

“Why? Because she didn’t kick your ass when you showed up to kidnap her?”

Jade exhales an amused breath. “Of course not.” His eyes frost over when he turns his stare on you. “She never got the chance. Besides, if my ass had been sufficiently kicked, you wouldn’t be here right now.”

“I hope you choke on a fingerbone.”

“That would be most unfortunate. I’ll be sure to eat carefully.”

Peering at himself in the mirror, he smooths his hair down. You didn’t realize it was tousled to begin with. Now that you’re looking, his entire person seems…messy. Even that stray strand falls on the wrong side.

He definitely didn’t go to work, you conclude, studying his features from behind. He’s too casual. It’s hard to imagine Jade in anything other than uniforms. Did he go out with that lady? Maybe not. He seems like the type to dress nicely for dates. So a sweatshirt and sweatpants… They’re both easy to move around in, and he’s wearing dark colors to blend into the night. Did he grab her when she was least expecting it? He said she wasn’t given a chance to fight back, so a struggle was nonexistent. 

You shake your head, unsatisfied with your deduction. I’m missing something. His appearance is messy, but he’s always so clean. So why is he messy? This isn’t making sense.

“How’d you find her? You must’ve planned this in advance.”

“I assure you I’m not seeing other women behind your back.”

“Like hell I’m jealous, you creep.”

He chuckles and leans against the sink, his arms folding easily. “A magician never reveals his secrets.” “Magicians and murderers are two different things.”

“Aren’t they skilled in making things vanish? Both captivate their respective audiences as well.”

“Do you not see how vastly different the two are?” Groaning, you rest your head against the wall. “Did you seduce her?”

“Someone’s curious.”

“What’s her name? Do you even know where she’s from or what she’s been through? You’re taking an entire life away, Jade.”

“Two, actually.”

“That’s even worse! Do you hear yourself right now? You’re insane!”

“Has it ever occurred to you that your morals might not have any influence on what I do?”

He’s doing this on purpose. He could’ve brought anyone home, but it just had to be a pregnant lady.

“You’re sick.”

“Do you truly think so?”

“No sane, healthy person would do this.”

Jade feigns a sad pout and wipes nonexistent tears from his eyes. “To hear you say such things… My heart breaks.”

I hope someone chops you up, you lunatic! Then you can know what it’s like!

“So what’s the plan? She’s stuck here like me?”

“Not for long.”

“You’re really going to kill her?”

“Is that not obvious?”

You glance at the tub. I have to do something. But what? You look around the bathroom, eyeing the frames, the sink, the toilet, the walk-in shower, the tiled floor… Can I kill him? Shatter one of the pictures, grab the biggest shard of glass, and then—

Jade bends down to your height. “You needn’t look so pensive. There’s nothing you can do, and if you try anything I’ll be sure to slaughter you in the most gruesome way at the end of these nine months.” He smiles like it’s not the most sinister threat. “And I’ll watch you bleed out slowly while I cut your skin away in delicate slivers. So if you value a quick, painless death, do yourself a favor and keep your hands to yourself.”

You drag your legs into your chest. You sick freak. His eyes crawl down your face to observe your bandaged ankle. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.

“That should be enough of a reminder.”

“I’m not stupid. I’m not going to do anything. I can’t.”

I want to, though. I have to.

But there’s the shackle and the chain, restricting your movement and trapping you in the bathroom. There’s also the very heartless serial killer, who values your life as much as one does a meal. Voraciously. That’s as far as his sympathy extends. He doesn’t care about you or your nonexistent baby. You’re not even a person.

To him, you’re just supermarket meat plucked from the street. The most dangerous game he’s ever hunted.

“Good to know.” Pleased with your submission, he rises to his usual height and makes for the door. “Does it hurt?”

“A little.”

“Allow me to retrieve some painkillers.”

“If it puts me to sleep—”

“Rest assured. I have no intention of doing that. Too much and you may never wake again. That, and I’d prefer a meal without unnecessary baggage.”

“Then don’t drug me if you want fresh, healthy meat.”

He says nothing, merely smiling in reply, and departs through his bedroom. You listen to his retreating steps and then, after determining he’s made it downstairs, you drag yourself over to the tub. You yank the tarp-turned-curtain aside and peer down at her.

“Excuse me?” You reach in to nudge her arm. “Miss, are you awake? Please wake up.”

She doesn’t stir. Your gaze sweeps over her face. She doesn’t look bruised or battered. In fact, she’s in much nicer shape than you were when Jade took you.

It couldn’t have been a date or any sort of formal event. Not by chance either… So what is it? What am I not seeing?

You stare at her bump and frown. I’m pretending to be in her position, but she’s actually pregnant. If anyone deserves to get out of this alive, it’s her and her baby.

You shake that thought out of your head next, replacing it with something detached. You have to be logical. In tragic situations, it’s everyone for themself. What if your roles were swapped? Would she feel the same? You’d hope so, but maybe she’d be just like you—someone who’d do anything to survive, even if that was at the cost of another’s sacrifice. It’s not fair, but there’s nothing you can do. She’s doomed.

“Fuck,” you mutter, curling your fingers around the lip of the tub.

I can’t watch an innocent woman die. I have to do something.

Footsteps draw near. You scramble to your corner. Jade returns with two tablets and a glass of water. You down the painkillers in one gulp.

If it knocks me out, at least I won’t have to see anything.

You rest your forehead against your knees. “I wish Azul was here.”

Why am I saying that? Do I really want him here? Maybe Cater would be better. Or Riddle. Anyone but Azul.

“My apologies. The withdrawal must make you feel immensely itchy.” He peers at the tub. You realize you forgot to pull the tarp back to its original place. “Consider this the beginning of your detox.”

“You’re selfish, you know that? I have my entire life ahead of me. I have—” you rub the cold sapphire set into the ring on your finger— “I had a wedding to look forward to. Someone I was going to marry. A baby! And you…” Before you can stop yourself, the tears are falling. Weeks of pent-up emotions overflow. You wipe hopelessly at your face, feeling pathetic for crying in front of him when he could care less, but the rivers continue running. “Y-You fucking took that away from me! And I can’t—it’s all so you can feed yourself.”

You dig the heels of your palms into your eyes and weep like a child. The voice in your head soothes you: You have time. You can still get out of this.

When you pull your arms away, you find Jade gazing at you. “If I’m as selfish as you say, what does that make you?” He pulls his sweatshirt up and over his head, and then you see it. The dress shirt.

A pit opens in your stomach. You feel sickness scraping at your throat again, and the sensation persists when he shucks his sweats next.

All this time, he was in formal attire…

“I have no interest in your affair with Azul. Rather, I find the entire thing quite circular. You were loosely attached once, but now you’re engaged. And then what? Are you going to run away when he does something unfavorable? You have the makings of a most atrocious bride.” Casually, as if this is a conversation held over afternoon tea, Jade folds the clothes and sets them on the towel rack. “I suppose that is just the nature of love. You return like the leashed pet you are and you let him love you because you are just as foolishly fond.”

That’s not true. You’re wrong. I don’t love him. I’ve never loved him.

“Ah, but this is just mere speculation based on what I’ve witnessed.”

“Stalker.”

“Not quite. Do you know how many times I’ve helped you—drunk, dazed, vulnerable you—and you never thought otherwise? I put you to bed. I did your laundry. I stayed by your side and cooked breakfast in the wake of your hangover. For so many years, I’ve beheld the (Name) who thinks she’s loved by all because she doesn’t love herself enough.” At your horrified expression, he laughs. “You like to babble when you’re inebriated. It’s very entertaining… What was it you told me a few months ago? That you’re a nothing human with an empty, ugly heart who isn’t worthy of Azul’s boundless generosity. That you pawn it for lust disguised as love because you can’t afford the real thing. That you—”

He sidesteps the glass you throw at him. It hits the floor and shatters with a splash. Glass shards slide across slick tiles. He watches you silently, his countenance unreadable.

“Shut up!” Odium darkens your face. You inhale a ragged breath, collecting what’s left of your tattered ego, and add in a shaky voice, “You don’t know me. You’ve never known me.”

“Perhaps not.” Jade leans down to smile at you. He’s close, but he doesn’t touch you. You challenge him with a mean scowl. “But I will soon.”

Before you can question that, a soft groan interrupts your discussion. Your head snaps over in the direction of the tub. Jade does much the same, only he moves slower. There’s a pregnant pause, tension crackling in the air, and then there’s movement. The woman struggles in the bath, her screams muffled against the tape. You wince, understanding her horror.

I know what that’s like.

Jade helps her sit up. She resists, shaking her head desperately and shrinking away from his hands as if they’re something monstrous. They are, technically. Her eyes meet yours then. Even though it’s a wordless exchange, everything you need to know shines on her tear-stained face. Her brows are pinched together in stressed disbelief. She’s trembling.

“If you promise to be quiet, I’ll remove the tape.”

Upon hearing that familiar phrase, you shudder. It seems to have the same effect on the woman. She looks at him and whimpers.

“P-Please listen to him,” you speak up, nodding encouragingly. “Don’t fight. It’ll make it worse.”

She spots your bandaged ankle and gazes at Jade with new terror shining in her brown eyes. They’re very pretty. Big and beautiful, almost like marbles. To think the last things she’ll ever see with such doll-like eyes are a hungry monster and a hapless captive.

Jade peels the tape off slowly and, unlike you, she keeps her mouth shut. A wise decision. You don’t want to think about what he might do to keep her quiet.

“There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Jade sets the sliver of tape aside. “Now then, I believe introductions are in order.”

“I… I don’t understand,” she whispers, pressing herself against a corner of the tub. “Why am I here? You told me you’d take me to a doctor. Y-You said you’d help me—”

“He’s a liar.” You fold your arms over your chest and huff. The woman’s expression falls. “It’s not your fault. I thought he was good, too.”

“So then—I’m just—why am I here? W-Why are you here?”

Jade steps in front of you to block your view of the distraught woman. “(Name) is my housemate—”

“Not by choice.”

“Still a housemate nonetheless,” he continues. “You’re here because I’m in need of a meal.”

“You’re…hungry? Is that… You’re serious? Is that really what this is about?” She shifts awkwardly in her restraints. You feel bad for her, even more so when you catch the hope bleeding into her voice. “Then, if that’s the case, I’ll cook something for you and you can let me go!”

Jade shakes his head.

You peer past his legs at her. “He’s going to kill and eat you.”

He frowns at you. “And I was intending to bask in the suspense…”

“You’re the worst. Genuinely.”

“I don’t understand… You’re…” She looks between you and Jade. Her eyes gloss over with fresh tears. “You’re going to kill me…”

“Indeed. Ah, but don’t look so disheartened. So long as you continue being good, I’ll grant you a painless death.”

“N-No way… I… I don’t wanna die. Please. M-My baby—I can’t—”

She breaks off with a choked sob. You watch her crumble without a word. It hurts to see her shoulders shake with every rattling inhale. It hurts even more knowing you’re just as stuck but temporarily spared. You glance at Jade to gauge his reaction. Like always, it’s impossible to read him. He’s always been like that, even before you found yourself trapped here. Smiling so sweetly, as if he isn’t a murderer, he would speak to you like a normal person, tease you like a friend, care for you when Azul couldn’t. You were so certain he was your friend—not just by way of association through Azul either.

He hid it—this massive, life-altering skeleton—like an expert. How did you miss it? What did you fail to catch?

Nothing. Because he never gave any indication of what was locked up behind unassuming closet doors.

Now you know better. So does this woman.

“I won’t tell anyone. I promise I won’t, so please let me go. Please, sir. My baby…”

Jade remains unfazed. “(Name) already tried those lines. Care to guess how well they worked?”

Landed me nine months on death row. 

She hangs her head in defeat. “I can’t believe it… I’m actually… This is it.”

You rest your head against the wall and sigh. Jade stares a moment longer before striding to the door.

“I’ll give you time to get acquainted.”

With that, he shuts the door. It’s very obviously a test. He’s probably waiting on the other side, listening in to learn what sort of incriminating information you might share. Not that it matters if she hears it. She’ll take all of this new knowledge to the grave or, in more literal terms, Jade’s stomach.

“I’m sorry you’re caught up in this,” you murmur, tracing invisible circles into the floor. “What’s your name?”

“M-Marisa.”

You glance at her. “It’s beautiful just like you.”

“Oh. Well, t-thank you.” She offers you a shy smile. “My mother named me after the sea. It was her favorite place to visit whenever she needed inspiration. She was an artist, and the sea was her biggest muse.”

“That’s sweet. I wish I knew the lore behind my name.”

“It’s still pretty without the backstory.”

“I guess so.”

I never really put much thought into my name. Does it matter if it’s pretty or ugly?

“Actually… It’s kinda ironic. I don’t like the sea. It scares me, so I stay away from it.”

“The sea itself or what’s in it?”

“Both?” She attempts an awkward shrug. “There are scarier things out there, but there’s something unsettling about the ocean. Maybe I’m silly for thinking that.”

“You’re not. It’s normal to be scared of things we don’t understand.” Like right now. But you keep that part to yourself. “I can’t relate. I love the sea. The lost history, the creatures, the mysteries… It’s all so fascinating.”

“Really? You’re braver than I am!”

“I’m just way too passionate. That’s all.”

Am I? I said I’d be a marine biologist and that’s what I’ve been studying all this time. But…

Marisa sighs. “You’re lucky. I’ve always wanted to find something I could be passionate about.”

“I’m sure you’ll find something one day.” And then you pause. “Or… Um.”

She pastes another hollow smile on her face. “I thought I could be passionate about school, but I couldn’t do it. I dropped out and tried a few jobs. Everyone told me it’d be easier to get married instead of running around like a headless chicken, but that didn’t feel right. I thought I’d be passionate about things like motherhood and babies, but I dunno. I’m already so far along, but I haven’t felt anything yet. No excitement or anxiety. Just emptiness. And I know that’s a terrible thing to feel and think—we’re supposed to love the things we create! I don’t even think I truly love my boyfriend. I’m horrible—I know!”

“You’re not horrible. The truth is—” You stop yourself before the words can slip out. I don’t love Azul. I’m not even pregnant. “I don’t know if you’ll ever figure any of that out, but I know you’re a good person. You obviously care about these things. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be so worried.”

Marisa sniffles. “Thanks…”

“I can help you find your passion. There’s so much to do in the city. I’m sure something will catch your interest. Oh! Have you ever been to Siren’s Heartache? It’s a karaoke place. My friend and I used to go all the time.”

“I’ve been there once!”

“It’s amazing, isn’t it? My friend would order the craziest stuff off their menu. He hates sweets, but he’d get all kinds of sugary drinks and snacks for the hell of it. Said it didn’t matter because it’d look cute on camera, so no one needed to know if he enjoyed it.”

“He did it for the pictures? That’s it?”

“Yep! He loves photography. He’ll do anything to make sure he gets the best angles and lighting.”

“Wow… I don’t think I could be that dedicated.”

“No? Then what about schedules? My other friend used to be on these super rigid schedules. I’m sure he’s still on them now, but back then it was really suffocating. He’s always been so organized, though. It’s impressive.”

“Isn’t that too restrictive? Doesn’t he have any time for fun?”

“Would that be better? A free life filled with ups and downs or a rigid life you can plan around?”

“Both sound just as bad.”

“Isn’t that just life?”

She breathes a sardonic laugh. “From a pessimist’s perspective, sure.”

“What kind of life would you want?”

“Is it bad to say I want something easy?”

“No fair. You totally stole my answer!”

“Then maybe we’re both bad.”

“Yeah…” You stretch your legs out and flex your toes on your good foot. If that’s bad, then I’m the worst. “I guess we are.”

She giggles. “You’re supposed to disagree!”

“Oh, oops. Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I don’t think it’s so bad to want an easy life. If it were up to me, I’d want it to be like one giant tea party. That way everyone can come together for tea and tiny cakes.”

“And you wouldn’t have to work, so who cares if you’re rich or poor!”

“Exactly! There aren’t any expectations. You can be good or bad. Empty like me or passionate like you. It’s all just conversation at the end of the day.” She gazes at you, and her features relax into a real smile. “I wish we could’ve met sooner. You seem like a fun friend.”

Am I really? I feel like I’ve been nothing but trouble for Riddle and Azul. Even Cater…

You hum your acknowledgement before nodding towards her belly. “Have you thought of any names?”

“Nothing yet. I’m not very creative and I don’t want anything basic either. Something memorable would suffice.”

“Like your name.”

“Right! Only nothing connected to the sea.” Marisa chuckles sheepishly. “It wouldn’t mean anything to me.”

“Maybe it doesn’t have to mean anything significant. As long as it comes from the heart and you like it, it should be fine. At least, I think that’s how it works.”

“I have no idea. This is my first time.”

You nod. Somehow it feels like I’m indirectly lying to her…

“You’ll find a name that sticks one day. When you do, let’s get together and celebrate.”

“At the Siren’s Heartache?”

“Wherever you’d like.”

She gasps. “How about a tearoom? There’s this really cute one just outside the city. I go there all the time. The owners are the nicest people I’ve ever met! If we go, we can have our own tea party. You can bring your friend who likes photography. I’m sure he’ll get lots of pretty pictures.”

That’s impossible. We both know there’s no chance of—

“Marisa!” She startles at the urgency in your tone. You look and sound as if you’ve just cracked a cold case. “That’s it!”

“What is?”

“Your passion! Tea parties!”

“I always thought that was more of a hobby…”

“You can be passionate about hobbies. I’ve never gone to a tea party myself and I don’t know what that involves aside from drinking tea and eating snacks, but it sounds like a good time.”

“Oh, it’s the best time! I love dressing up for it, too. On nights when I knew I’d be going the next day, I arranged my outfit in advance. What jewelry I’d wear, what makeup I’d put on, what purse I’d bring… I could spend hours trying on my clothes and picking different pieces. And their afternoon tea sets—they’re everything! You have to try it if you go! I love their egg sandwiches. Well, everything they serve is delicious.”

Your lips quirk up in a playful grin. “See? You’re not empty.”

Stunned, Marisa sits there in the bath. “You’re right,” she mumbles. “I never realized it, but I love tea parties. I love talking with people over food and drinks. I guess it came so easy to me and I did it so often that I didn’t think anything of it.”

“Maybe we can add ‘socialization’ to the list of passions?”

She laughs, her hair bouncing with the movement. It comes right from her chest—authentic amusement—and it’s a musical sound. You wish there was another way. Jade may have shown you mercy, but you’re certain it won’t be the same for her. Even with these unlucky odds, you’re determined to try. It’s the only thing you can do. Try and hope that something goes well.

You gesture for Marisa to turn around. She almost questions you, but you hold your index up to shush her. She stares at you, her lips pressed in a tight line, and nods her understanding. As quietly as she can, she shuffles in the tub until her back is facing you. 

“Hey, what’s this tearoom called again?” you ask as you reach for the biggest glass shard.

“It’s called Portobello.”

“Like the mushroom?”

“Mhm! It’s forest-themed. They’re famous for their chaga tea.”

“Huh…”

Of course it’s mushrooms. You glance at the door. Do you hear that, you freak? Sounds like the perfect place for a mushroom fanatic like yourself.

“Do you like mushrooms?”

“They’re okay. I don’t eat them often. I have so many other foods I prefer…” You trail off as you saw through thick rope with the jagged glass. “Actually, there was this one time I got fried chicken from the city. I was stupid drunk and nothing was open, so my fiancé took me to a convenience store. It was cheap, but it was so yummy! I guess everything is when you’re that gone… Anyway, he was so mortified when I woke up the next morning wanting more. That was the only thing I remembered from that night.”

“Why was he so embarrassed? I think convenience store food is great!”

“Right? You understand it.” You sigh and shake your head, recalling that memory with startling clarity. “Azul is… It’s hard to explain.”

“But you’re engaged?”

“I’m crazy, aren’t I? Marrying a man who gets flustered over fried chicken from the convenience store. He ate it in a fancy suit, too. What a weirdo.”

“He sounds funny.”

“The funniest. It was our first year together as…contractual obligations. He was so determined to make a good impression that he banned junk food from his life. We broke that dumb rule that night. I think that was the first time I saw the real him. He’s cute when he blushes.”

“Contractual obligations? Why not partners?”

You cough awkwardly. “J-Just an inside joke. He’s a businessman.”

“Ah, that makes sense.” She flexes her fingers just as you manage to cut through the first knot. “That’s sweet.”

“What?”

“You and him.”

“What about us?” Your hand hesitates, gripping the shard with new force. Any tighter and you might slice your palm open.

“You must’ve been so hungry, and he went out of his way to make sure you were fed even if it meant breaking his rule.”

“That was just—he hates having to owe people stuff. He was just repaying a favor.”

“My mother used to tell me a good man will visit for your best, but a great man will stay for your worst and everything in between.”

“I…guess.”

No way Azul likes me at my worst.

You shut your mouth and resume your previous motions. With her hands now freed, you lean over the tub to work on the rope binding her ankles.

“What about your boyfriend? You said you’re not sure if you love him?”

“I don’t know what I want. We’re happy being together without any rings or ceremonies, but I feel like that’s not enough. I feel like I’m not enough.”

“Maybe you should take your mother’s advice.”

“I will when you do.”

“H-Hey!”

She giggles. “I’m kidding. I think… I’m glad you have someone who cares. It’s no fun being alone all the time. Sometimes it’s good to share your peace with others, even if that’s getting fried chicken from the convenience store with a weird guy on a chaotic night.”

You laugh, but it comes out choked.

Yeah, Azul’s weird.

And then the first tear lands on her foot. It isn’t long before more rush forth, blurring your vision. You manage to cut her free from the rope just before it becomes impossible to see clearly. When you meet her stare next, she smiles. It’s strained with sorrow.

Why are you crying? She’s just a stranger.

You throw your arms around her and sob quietly into her shoulder. She runs her hand along your back. It’s meant to soothe, but all it does is remind you of the limited time you have with her.

I’m crying because she’s a stranger. Because she’s someone I’ll never be able to know more than this.

“Escape,” you whisper as you pull away, pressing the shard into her hand. “And when you do, wait for me and we’ll have our giant tea party.”

She nods, her eyes shimmering with sadness. “You can count on it.”

When Jade returns, syringe in hand, it’s to a room of suffocating silence. You’ve no idea what its liquid contents are, but it can’t be very pleasant or safe. Regardless, you don’t intend to find out. He steps through the door, looks squarely at you, and smiles. Your skin crawls.

Calm down. It’ll be okay.

“You took your time.”

“Did I? My apologies if I kept you waiting.”

“Have you ever had mushroom tea before?”

He pauses. “Mushroom tea?”

So he wasn’t listening in. Either that, or he’s just hesitating for effect.

“I’ve never had it before, but I’d assume someone with your palate would’ve tried it.”

He laughs humorlessly. “Is there a reason for this assumption?”

“You like mushrooms. Sounds like something that’d be right up your alley.”

“You would be correct.” Jade taps the needle, eyeing the liquid within the plastic cylinder. “I’ve had it before, yes.”

“Was it good?”

“Quite.”

His gaze drifts towards the empty tub and you panic. “W-Will you bring some for me to try?”

He blinks at you. An amused smile pulls his lips apart.

You can’t stop the scowl that forms on your face. “I can’t control what the baby wants.”

Just a little longer… Keep your eyes on me.

“I’d love nothing more for you to try it.”

“But?”

“But there isn’t nearly enough credible information detailing whether chaga is safe to consume while pregnant. It would be very unfortunate if you injured your parasite on account of my negligence.”

“Someone did their research.”

“Indeed.”

“So what’s a good substitute? I want mushroom tea.”

“Pouting about it won’t fix anything.” He reaches to pull the curtain away, and you lurch forwards. The chain rattles. You pause with outstretched arms. Jade watches you with a frown. “Is something the matter?”

You lower your arms. “No… N-No, sorry. Nothing’s wrong. I’m just…hungry.”

“As am I, so if you could stop stalling for her sake I would appreciate it.”

A bone-chilling cold blankets the bathroom.

Your laugh comes out brittle. “Who’s stalling?”

It happens so fast you wish it was slow motion. Maybe then your reaction time would’ve been better. Marisa springs out from behind the door just as Jade turns to view her. She shoves him with as much strength as she can muster, swiping at him with the glass shard. Somehow she manages to drive it into his arm. Taken by surprise, he grunts and shakes her off. The syringe clatters to the floor and you dive to snatch it before he can. With Jade temporarily thrown off, Marisa flees from the room as quickly as she can. You look on with wide eyes, the syringe clutched in a tight fist.

She’s doing it… She’s actually escaping!

Jade curls his fingers around the glass lodged in his skin and rips it out. Blood spurts from the cut, crawling down his arm in a red slither. The chunk rests on the tiles in front of you, and it fills you with a proud satisfaction knowing he’s injured, if only partially. By the time you’ve blinked, he’s already hurrying towards Marisa. She’s about to wrench the bedroom door open, her freedom just beyond the confines of his home, but he seizes her wrist and yanks her away.

Just like the syringe in your hand, your heart drops.

She yelps and twists in his hold, flailing blindly. The scene is eerily reminiscent of your scuffle with Jade—the one you’d gotten into when he revealed himself as the intruder in your apartment. You were drunk then, wholly incapable of fending him off, but Marisa isn’t. She has a chance. She can escape. There has to be a way for—

You watch her fall, cringing at the resonating thud as her back makes contact with the floorboards. Jade’s hands are around her throat before you even know it.

“N-No… Wait. Wait, stop!” You lurch towards them, but the chain only allows you to go so far. You strain against the pull, grabbing at the door frame in hopes of breaking out of the shackle’s restrictive hold. “Jade—”

Marisa’s choked gasp cuts you off. You stare at her hands as they claw at Jade’s in animalistic desperation. Her eyes are so wide you see white; her mouth is open in a silent scream. With Jade on top of her, pinning her to the floor and squeezing her neck with ruthless precision, she can only kick her legs out and produce a haunting garble of sounds as she battles an impossible enemy.

“Stop! Let go of her!”

You grit your teeth and tug against the cuff. It digs into your skin and leaves you aching from the sting. Tears sprout along your lash line, and you cry out in pained frustration. Your agony doesn’t reach Jade’s ears. Or maybe it does and he’s just tuning it out. You’re unsure until you catch sight of his expression. A blank, empty slate—that’s what he is. There’s something murderous smoldering in terrifying two-toned eyes, but his lips are pressed in a firm pout and his brows are pinched together. Not from any sort of distress but, rather, from the physical exertion. His forearms flex, every muscle riddled with tense adrenaline, and his fingers dig into her throat to cut her circulation.

From where you stand, struggling against your restraints, you think his pupils are blown wide. He looks predatory. Unhinged in a feral sort of way. Like a wild animal who’s just pounced on his prey…

A wild animal. That’s what he is right now. Something unbound by human morals and law. A creature led only by instinct—by the intrinsic desire to slaughter and feast.

“Jade!” You give another determined tug to no avail. “Jade, please—you can’t do this! She’s pregnant! She has a boyfriend—a life! You can’t!”

Your voice is shrill, scratching through your vocal chords as if it intends to shred them to ribbons. You’ve never heard yourself sound so panicked before. Never known the crushing devastation of being so close and yet so powerless.

No matter how much you scream, Jade continues to strangle her. You can’t bear to watch any longer. Sinking to the floor, you lean against the wall and press your hands to your ears. You don’t want to hear Marisa’s wheezing breaths. You don’t want to see her struggle. You don’t want to see Jade as he kills her in front of you.

You don’t want to be a witness. You want out.

After minutes of torturous asphyxiation, her thread of life is snipped and she finally fades away. Moments later, urine soaks through her shorts and pools beneath her in a puddle. You look up just in time to see him release her and rise to his full height. Heaving a sigh, Jade tucks his dark hair strand behind his ear. Marisa lies lifeless, a husk of the once bright, bubbly woman you interacted with before this. Now she’s gone.

“Y-You’re a monster…” you manage through thick, anguished sobs.

He killed her. She’s…dead. Jade killed her. I just watched her die and there was nothing I could do and I…let it happen.

“This could’ve been avoided. I was going to give her an easy death, but you forced my hand.” Jade steps around you to pick the syringe up. “Let’s add another rule to our list. Seeing as I’m not allowed to touch you, it’s only fair that you keep your nose out of my work in return.”

Dead… She’s dead. Marisa is…

“Does that sound agreeable, (Name)?”

There’s a ringing in your ears—the warning tick of a clock or the foreboding chime of a death knell. Amidst every overwhelming sensation and haywire emotion, self-preservation echoes in your head: I’ve got to get out of here.

You blink through blurring vision. Are you crying? Numbly, you touch your face. The tears are there, wetting your cheeks in copious amounts. Something’s scratching at the back of your eyes. It’s not enough to feel like sleep, but it’s a familiar sensation. You’re certain you’ve felt it before. But when?

You can’t stop crying.

She’s dead. She’s dead. She’s dead. She’s dead.

You suck in gulps of air.

I should’ve done more. I could’ve done more! There had to have been something—logically. You have to look at it logically. She was doomed to die the moment Jade brought her here.

You dig your nails into your arms.

We were going to have a tea party. I was going to help her find more passions. We were going to be friends…

You watch Jade bend down to her height and press two fingers to her neck. Suddenly, there are two Jades and both are tilting. He glances at you, but his words don’t reach your ears.

I was going to save her.

Your head hits the floor with a thump. The world goes dark.

Unlike previous times, the dream aquarium is bursting with life today. Moon jellyfish float peacefully behind sturdy glass. A manta ray glides smoothly through the water in laps. Fish of all colors and shapes are caught up in the current. The glow from the tanks dyes the hall in a cool ultramarine.

It’s quiet here. Safe. Comforting.

You’re lying on the floor, dressed in a clean hospital gown, and there is an entire galaxy of jellyfish above you. They’re set into the glass ceiling, their translucent bodies bobbing up and down in hypnotic patterns. You blink once and the blue brightens as if breathing alongside you. You blink again and this time a woman pokes her head into your visual field. Her milky-white eyes, though piercing, don’t frighten you. She blinks one eye at a time and her irises explode with color—now a vibrant green. Her long, black hair is tied back in a braid that sweeps over her shoulder. Tiny stars are twined throughout.

When she speaks, she has the same voice as the woman from the intercom.

“Today’s color is blue. As vast and wide as the sky and sea, as deep and dark as water’s soul, blue is the color of trust and sincerity. It is the color of bruises and sadness. It is the color of loneliness. It is the color that has finally led me to you.”

You stare at her, spooked speechless.

“Hello again, (Name).” She smiles and offers her gloved hand. “It’s been a while. Many years, in fact. I thought I’d never be able to catch you.”

You hesitate. Can you trust her—the woman you’ve spent so many dreams pursuing? There’s no one else here in this hall. She’s your only option. Swallowing your fears, you grab her hand and allow her to hoist you to your feet.

“My name is Marmoris. Ah, I must inform you that I’ve taken the form of someone familiar, so please note that this isn’t the current me. My true form is…not very pleasant. I wouldn’t want to startle you with it.”

“The current you? Your true form?” You draw away from her and bump into the tank behind you. Turning around, you gaze at the image slowly forming within murky waters. It’s…Jade’s bathroom. And there’s Jade, stooped over Marisa’s corpse. He’s looking at you next. You place your hand against the glass, but the scene doesn’t disappear. “W-What is this? What’s going on?”

Marmoris joins you at the tank. Her reflection warps with a myriad of aquatic traits. At one point, you think you see fins where her ears ought to be—shadows of wispy tendrils where her lab coat once was. “You’ll have to forgive me. There was no other way. You’ve already seen too much.” She shuffles closer to you. Her hands cover your eyes next. “Please don’t look. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.”

You squirm out of her hold. The picture presented in saltwater clouds in and out of clarity. “Protect me? I don’t understand. What do you mean by—”

“There’s not much time. I can’t keep you in here any longer than I already have.” She grabs hold of your hands and squeezes them. She looks sincere enough, but you can’t get past the fact that, though she claimed to take on the appearance of someone familiar, you can’t recognize this woman’s features.

She’s a stranger.

Before you can protest further, Marmoris leans in close and presses a kiss to your forehead. Her lips are frigid. The transient security of the desolate dream aquarium melts away, taking you with it.

“I promise I’ll explain everything the next time we meet. When we do, look for me. I’ll be waiting.”

You jerk awake with a gasp. Your hands fly to your throat on instinct. Slowly, while catching your breath, you peer around the bathroom. Marisa has been moved to the tub and Jade’s in the process of cleaning the floor. He glances at you. His arm is bandaged.

“Welcome back.”

You shoot him a withering look. “Eat glass and die.”

“Wouldn’t that please you?”

“It would,” you whisper weakly, more tears spilling over. “It really would.”

For the first time in a while, you can’t recall any slivers of your dream.

#yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere jade leech #yandere jade leech x reader #yandere jade #yandere jade x reader #death row undertow #death row undertow chapter eight #serial killer jade

[saturncodedstarlette]

Ghost, walks up to them slowly : Everything I’ve done I did to keep you safe.

Ghost, tosses the dead body away : I killed all those people so you didn’t have to.

Y/N, hearts beating fast : I [never] asked you to do that!

Ghost, backs them to a corner : But I did it anyways.

Y/N, eyes frantically looking anywhere except him :

Y/N, tries to breathe : W-why? Why…w-would you do that for someone you—

Y/N, legs gives out to the floor : F-for someone… you barely know?

Ghost, with his bloodied hands :

Ghost, softy cups his darling’s face, stains them with blood : Because even if you don’t remember me—

Ghost, with a total untameable lovesick look : ——us, I still love you.

Bonus

#Cod #Call of duty #Call of duty incorrect quotes #Call of duty x reader #Cod Ghost #Simon Ghost Riley #Simon Riley #Cod Ghost x male reader #Cod Ghost x fem reader #Cod Ghost x gn reader #Simon Riley x reader #Simon Riley x you #Simon Riley x oc #Original : promptdumpster #original : tumblr #Yandere!Ghost #No I am not ok 👌🙏 #I’m in my Yandere era ❤️‍🔥🙏👏 #Just finished reading a serial killer!Ghost #Yandere [2] #⚠️I do not condone this kind of actions irl⚠️ #⚠️If you are like this irl | pls seek professional help ⚠️ #⚠️This is for only fantasying⚠️ #I need more obsessive/possessive cod men! #why is it so hard to find Yandere!cod contents #1k notes

[scremogirl]

☾✧꥟ 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 ✧✰☀︎︎

𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐀𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝

Yandere! Serial killer x Sadistic Reader (final part)

GN! Reader, Mentions of blood, Mentions of mutilation, Sadistic behavior, Mentions of Stalking. y’all ik I ask you every post but PLEASE read the note at the end! Part 1 is here part 2 is here. Enjoy!

“What…”

You mean to tell me your best friend of ten years has secretly been conspiring with your stalker!? After all you’ve confided in her, all you trusted her with, the secrets you’ve shared, have been relayed to another person in the twisted name of love!?

“He’s- I-…” she sighs, attempting to regain her composure.

“You remember in 4th grade, when I liked that boy? Evan Daniels? I had the hugest crush on him,” she giggles a bit, snotty and nostalgic.

“I was convinced we’d be together forever; get married, have five kids and two dogs. But that all changed when I confessed. He told me… he told me he liked you. My best friend,” you gotta be joking. All of this just about some guy in elementary school that you don’t even remember!?

“It’s not about that!” she explains harshly, her gaze shifting from sympathetic to something much darker.

“When he told you he liked you, you agreed! You knew how much he meant to me. I got over it sure, but the years after that… nothing ever seemed to change. So I became popular but you did too, I started wearing makeup and so did you, I found my passion and you just so happened to like it too. You were always better than me; hated it! You liked all the attention you got, the praise and looks of adoration. So when I found out what Keegan was doing… why would I try to stop it?” she smiles to herself before looking back up at your glossy eyes. The bright lights of police cars spread through the area and loud voices call out for you.

“How long has this been going on?”

“How long have we been friends?” She smiles. That bitch!

“You were my best friend so it wasn’t hard to give him the information he wanted; killing Gill was just a plus,” she walks closer to you, pushing down on the dirt. Keegan tightens his hold on the axe and narrows his eyes but stops when he sees you glance over to him. “All I’ve been doing was working behind the scenes and guess what, it paid off,”

“I’m sorry things had to turn out this way,” she looks at you one more time before heading into the opposite direction as Keegan advances towards you. There's no way you're letting this slide. Your first move is to jump towards her and push her to the ground, hitting her face in as hard and fast as you can. Despite Keegan's attempts to retrain you, you grab a loose clothes pin from your costume and stab the area near his eye. In the midst of his screams, you sprint through the woods more quickly than ever. Yeah, it's dumb, but with Malika blocking the way of the police and a psychopath standing before you, you had no choice.

As you rushed to hide behind a tree, it felt as if you had been running for years. It's better not to look back, not to make a noise, to remain silent and out of sight, you think to yourself. It makes no sense how you've gotten here. I mean, you know how you got here, but you can’t rack your brain. It does explain why she always tried to sway you from going to any authoritative figure. Why she would grin to herself the handful of times you’ve lost competitions, why she all of sudden had a thing for Gill after you mentioned how cute he was. The blood on your hands fills your nose with the scent of metal and plastic. The air in your lungs has long left and your legs ache from how you sprintied every which way. This is all your fault. Just when you think you’ve reached the end, you hear bright lights shine your way and a voice calls out but when you turn your head Keegan stands before you.

“Found you,” a hand grabs at your ankle and you take the last clothes pin you’ve kept clutched at your side and stab it straight through. They howl and pain and you take this opportunity to dash your way into a different hiding spot. He regains his composure and brushes off the wound like it’s nothing. Following you into the dark before screaming out.

“You can’t hide from me forever, darling. I always know where you are,”

………………………………………………………………………………….

You were his muse.

Ever since freshman year he knew you were the one. It was love at first sight really, you’ve just been placed in Hon Visual Arts Program, seated right next to each other. How could someone be this beautiful! He would always be scribbling in his little sketch book pictures of you in all of your glory. He’d always try to talk to you but that witch you call your best friend took up all your time. You’d talk every once in awhile but never noticed who he truly was and nothing could ever satisfy the craving he had for your love. So, he took it upon himself to fill up various different pages of you; from enjoying your time around campus to painting upon paintings lining the walls of his basement in more lewd positions. However, his favorite artistic liberty was creating faces. I know it sounds weird but the way he could replicate one’s features down to a T was incredible! From paper mache masks, to clay, to porcelain dolls and to your horror, skin.

“Hey, (Y/N)! I was wondering if you could help me with a project of mine? You're the greatest fashion designer I know and I can’t think of anyone else to do this for me,” aw how sweet! Of course you’d help him.

You two worked like dogs the next couple of days, working so much in sync, his movements felt like your own. You felt so comfortable around him and became so close throughout your sessions. Eventually, after the project was done he asked you to hang out after school, no work involved. Coincidentally, that’s when the same eerie notes popped back into your life. You were shocked. How could this happen? You thought this was all over with and pushed it into the deepest part of your mind. You became so paranoid and Keegan picked up on it lighting fast, wonder why.

“Sh, it’s okay. Look at me, baby, look at me. Shh it’s okay, I’m here. I’ll protect you,” you ignored the baby part, to wrapped up in your own anxiety to actually be paying attention to anything other than your safety. It's ironic now that you think about it; the person you trusted the most is now the person you’re currently pulling a Usian Bolt on.

Oof!

You’re tackled to the ground and before you could react, your hands are tied behind your back and his axe pins your shirt to the wooden stump behind you. He’s out of breath and panting, hands coming down to rest on your waist. He straddles you and you struggle before he knocks you out cold. He sighs hauling your body over his shoulder and dragging his weapon behind him. His large frame somehow goes undetected through all the chaos he’s created.

“Why are you always running from me, Darling?”

………………………………………………………………………………….

It’s dark and cold and the only thing you can hear is the sound of your own heavy breathing. Fuck! Why is this happening?! What did you ever do that deserves this? The weighted sounds of boots from the floor above grow closer as someone descends down the stairs. Soon, your blindfold is ripped off but the gag in your mouth remains. It’s him. He looks at you sympathetically, like a puppy who knows they’ve done something bad but couldn’t stop itself. Right next to him stands Malika, battered and bruised from your assault. You take in your surroundings, and as she flicks the light on you see it. A shrine filled with you, and I mean that quite literally. From your hair to used panties and explicit photos. Some are from the earliest years of highschool and some are as recent as last week.

However, what really catches your attention is the mural on the old brick wall behind them. A empty mannequin standing front and center waiting to be dressed. There, the faces of all you once knew lie. From Mr. Sicowutz- the teacher that lead you to this death trap- to the freshly scalped features of Gill and his side piece.

“I’ll admit, you really did a number on me. I never would’ve expected that from you,” she says, snapping you out of your thoughts. Stepping closer she winds her hand back and hits you as hard as she can, rendering you even more less concise than you were before. Again, Keegan fits the handle of his weapon at the sight of her touch but does not say anything.

“I loved you, (Y/N). I really did. But after all, you’ve took from me? I could never forgive you. Goodbye,” with that said the axe swings down on her back, slicing straight through the skin and muscles. Oh, you didn’t think this was the end did you? She lays on the ground and does nothing but watch as you're freed from your binds. Keegan rubs the bruise she left on you face and attempts to massage your tender wrists but you brush him off.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. You really had me questioning myself for a second, Malika. I didn’t know if I could go through with this but, we all need a reality check every once in a while,” She stares wide-eyed before croaking out a small “how?”

“Oh c’mon, you really think I didn’t know? Just like you said, I’m better than you; always two steps ahead. I’m not stupid. I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt, I really did,” she still looks confused attempting to crawl away but Keegan picks her up and places her on a hook attached to the wall. She looks even more confused so you give her the explanation she rightly deserves.

“It all clicked to me when I realized how much you encouraged me to go to my that last school. How, when I brought up the letters again you acted like you didn’t know what I meant. How you smiled like a Cheshire when Gill rejected me,” Keegan scoffs at the last part but all you do is smile.

“I dug a little deeper and found out the truth. He told me everything. Neither of you are good liars. So like the good puppy he is ,” you say, grabbing his chin bringing him down to rub his head, kissing his cheek lovingly.

“He helped me with a plan. I was the one who dragged you here. Who made you think you had the upper hand, let you carry on with this delusion of yours,” you snatch the axe from his hands before swinging it above your shoulder.

“I loved you, Malika. I really did. But after all, you put me through. I couldn’t ever forgive you. Goodbye,”

………………………………………………………………………………….

“The anniversary of what is now being called the “ Mayham Massacre” at the annual Freak do Shek carnival is this coming Halloween night. (Y/N) (L/)- Victim and former schoolmate of the killer known as “The Mask Maker” speaks about their experience with the crazed lunatic and how they feel with the reopening of the festival. Here’s Jim Saltovy reporting live”

“Thank you Carla’s. So, M(r/rs/s/x) (L/N) how did you know him?”

“Well it all started in highschool when me and my dear friend Malika were transferred to an art class. I-“

This channel is boring. Hm… is there anything else to watch? Oh I know, some good ol cartoons! As he lays his head in your lap snuggling closer, you finish the last details of your mask for this year. Albeit a little slimey, it’s just how you remembered to be. Somehow managing to make it out of his grip, you stumble down into the basement . Placing the mask in the finnish costume, you smile.

“Perfect,” you say shutting off the lights and making your way back up straits where your crazed lover awaits. She may have always hated being I second but this year she’ll definitely be first.

Hey y’all! I wanted to start off by saying I hope you enjoyed my Halloween special! It took a lot outta me. I did become lazy at the end so… yea. I wrote and edited this part all in 1 day 😭. I also recognize that the dynamic between reader and yandere isn’t touched upon as much besides backstory and that’s on purpose. I was experimenting with a third party character that’s not the main or y/n for future story’s. This was based off the movie Hell Fest, so go check it out if you want to; I think it’s on Netflix still idk.

-Love, Sosa ❤️

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #☾✧꥟ 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 ✧✰☀︎︎ #yandere! serial killer #✧✩🜚𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐈𝐂 🜸𖤐✰

[cold-kitty]

can I maybe request a willing (and maybe really affectionate) reader with the serial killer yandere? I love your writing!

Of course! Thank you by the way!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Contains: Fluff, Stockholm Syndrome

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who expected you to be scared, pissed, just upset in general, so he made sure that he held you close while you were still unconscious so that he could savor what he thought would be the last moments of closeness with you.

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who isn't surprised when you're scared, he expected it.

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who tries to make himself the least threatening as possible, nervously handing you a cute little teddy bear he found with shaking hands. and, to his surprise, you take it.

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who watches as you take hold of it with your own shaking hands, nervous for your reaction.

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who watches you accept it, a shaky attempt at a smile twitching on your lips. he's relieved, to say the least.

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who keeps getting you small gifts, happy that you're quickly becoming comfortable with him.

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who decides to risk it all one night.

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who waits until a stormy night, one with lightning and thunder and all that, and he comes into your room. his voice shakes in fear as he asks you the million dollar question. "can I sleep with you tonight? I have a phobia of storms..."

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who almost lunges at you when you say he can, but he forces himself to stay calm and slowly climb into your bed.

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who itches to snuggle up to you, fingers twitching with the want- the need -to hold you.

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who jumps out of his skin when you say that he can get as close as he wants, how did you know!?

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who latches onto you like a baby monkey, spooning you as gently as he lets himself.*

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who notices how nonchalantly you act around him, and soon you're living with him as if he hadn't kidnapped you.

(BONUS: he doesn't care about spooning positions. you want to be the big spoon? hell yes. you want to be the little spoon? hell yes.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He is such a sweetheart <3 (he has committed ATROCITIES)

#yandere x reader #yandere x male darling #yandere x you #yandere #🐈‍⬛ answers #yandere murderer #yandere serial killer

[misstycloud]

Yandere Slasher

Yandere!slasher who is your long term boyfriend of five years and absolutely loves you to death. He can’t imagine himself with someone else.

Yandere!slasher who has a secret hobby, something he can’t tell you or he’s sure you’d leave him. It is rather….different after all.

Yandere!slasher who reassures you that nothing bad will happen to you, like those other kids you often see in TV. He wouldn’t be entirely truthful if he didn’t say he enjoyed the moments when you tremble in anxiousness and he could be there to comfort you.

Yandere!slasher who has teamed up with another student of his collage to kill the people going there. But he has of course made sure the guy knows you’re off-limits. Otherwise, he’d find himself next to be on the news.

Yandere!slasher who knows you’d be horrified and heartbroken if you realised it was him all along who was causing this havoc, your sweet lovely boyfriend. So that’s why he needs to make sure no one will ever get the chance to snitch.

Yandere!slasher who got a real scare when one of their victims nearly got away while having accidentally seen his face. In a struggle they had managed to rip off his mask for just a second, but it was enough to connect to dots. Luckily he succeeded in getting rid off them before they could tell anybody.

Yandere!slasher who hates imagining your reaction to his special fun, he couldn’t help it though, something in him wouldn’t let him stop. It told him to continue. This thing had been in his mind as long as he could remember; growing as he did, getting stronger. The only person he didn’t feel this way towards was you. You, his darling little girlfriend.

Yandere!slasher who gets a fine opportunity to do some killing, because for some stupid reason decided to host a party despite the recent increase in murders- like what? How dumb can you be? They’re basically asking for it, the killer laughed. A house full of unsuspecting and intoxicated teenagers; it’s perfect.

Yandere!slasher who is surprised and a little nervous when you tell him you want to attend the party, even when you preferred staying in your dorm ever since teens had started turning up dead. Apparently your friends had convinced you to go anyway, they thought you needed to loosen up a little and could use some fun.

Yandere!slasher who let’s you go, but initially tries to talk you out of it; reminding you how jittery you’d been the last weeks. He didn’t manage to persuade you and went together with you. He was gonna go anyway but wanted to convince you that he had work that night and would come by later, after slaughtering his victims.

Yandere!slasher who with reluctance made sure you were knocked out on the couch. When he began his atrocities a lot of people had already started making their way home, and there wasn’t too many inside the house. The ones still there became his victims for the night.

Yandere!slasher who quietly slips away unnoticed to put on his disguise and curses his partner for dissing him without warning for the night and let’s him do it himself.

Yandere!slasher who knew no one would pay attention to his actions because of the raging alcohol and drugs. Which was good, it only gave him the advantage.

Yandere!slasher who has a chase with his prey through the house. When they notice you laying on the couch, they take you for a drunk who doesn’t have the capacity to run away. Distressed they choose to be a good person and tries to wake you up by shouting and shaking you, but ultimately fails.

Yandere!slasher who somehow lost sight of the victim. He wanted to punch himself, how could he let one escape! Then he realises that he hadn’t failed, because he suddenly hears loud screams from downstairs.

Yandere!slasher who immediately becomes aware of their intentions. They were trying to wake you up! Regardless of his intervention, he wasn’t sure you wouldn’t wake in case of someone screaming their lungs out right beside you.

Yandere!slasher who rushes downstairs and quickly ends it, with no conscience to their crying. It doesn’t matter how much they beg, it won’t change anything.

Yandere!slasher who winces when he sees that some dirt has splattered on your shirt. He then picks you up in his muscles arms before bringing you back to your dorm.

Yandere!slasher who hides his costume well and takes off your shirt, quickly throwing it in the laundry. What would you say if you discovered that stain? It’d undoubtedly raise questions. Tomorrow when the bodies were found, he didn’t want the police to suspect you if you turned up with blood on your shirt.

Yandere!slasher who cuddles you until you groggily open your eyes. You ask him what you were doing home, the last thing you remembered was being at the party. Your boyfriend tells you that you drank a little too much and ended up passing out, that he then carried you home pretty early.

“I’m worried, what if I’m the next victim-or worse, what if the killer targets you?”>

<“Whoever it is they won’t be able to lay a single hand on me, and not you either. Trust me.”

“How can you be so sure?”>

<“I just know….”

#oc #male yandere #obsessed #toxic #yandere oc #bad relationships #yandere #short story #possesive #yandere boyfriend #slasher #horror #scream inspired #slasher yandere #slasher boyfriend #yandere slasher boyfriend #yandere slasher #serial killer #murder #killer #killer boyfriend #killer yandere #yandere killer #yandere serial killer #victims #girlfriend reader #collage #party #headcanon #HC

[yanderemommabean]

See my needy ass kicking down the door to Dr Lee's torture room demanding he take a break bc it's 'head pats o'clock' and I want attention

He just freezes, the drill in his hand still whirring as he looks over to see what was the matter. You, with your cute little pout and demanding expression stomp over and tap on your phone screen, that was currently showing the time.

“It’s been three hours. I made snacks and everything and watches two whole episodes without you!”

Lee just gasps, dropping the tool as it lands right into the eye of the person on the table. He’d gotten so lost in playing with his toys he completely forgot to come back up and have his sacred time with you! Oh dearest butterfly don’t be upset!

“How could I?! Oh love, how can I make this up to you? It wasn’t on purpose I promise!” He exclaims while taking your hands and pulling you towards him, his lips coming to kiss your forehead as your fingers interlock. “You know me. I obsess over the smallest details sometimes that I can’t quite escape until someone shakes me loose”

“Oh I’m aware” you say dryly, but don’t fully turn away. Admittedly you liked being a bit of a spoiled brat, what’s the harm if Lee seemed to like to play into it too? “I can’t believe you left up alone and worried all this time because your more interested in someone dying”

Lee clicks his tongue, forcing you to look at him as he holds your face between his fingers. “Ah ah ah. Don’t even joke about that, you know damn well that isn’t true. I’d sooner pull my own tongue out than think anyone else is worth more of my time than you”.

You knew he was serious. You couldn’t help the smile on your face hearing that, knowing he wouldn’t ever truly leave you high and dry. You weren’t even really upset, you’re just a cuddly little tyrant sometimes is all!

You gently kiss the palm of his hand as he cradled your face, looking up from under your lashes. “So you’re almost done then?”

“I’m finished darling, I’ll head up there with you right away. This one is more or less comatose anyway, they shouldn’t be a problem for a while”. He gently kisses your head again, taking your hand to lead you up the stairs as he shuts the heavy metal door. “You know, since I was so naughty, you could think of a way to punish me” he flirts, smirk on his features.

“Yeah, I could. And I am” you say as you two get comfortable on the couch, his hand coming to rest on yours. “Oh? Do tell me then, I love when my little minx is demanding”

The smile on your face only brightens when you see the light leave his eyes at your next statement. “I invited Jasper over for game night tomorrow. Hope you like suffering with his favorite board games”

((This was fun and silly, I hope you beans like it! -Mommabean ))

#doctor Lee my oc #Dr Lee my oc #my ocs #mommabean #yandere serial killer #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere doctor #yandere fluff #yandere male

[explicit-tae]

Sweet Serial Killer

Masterlist | Part 2

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (italics = past events)

Genre: smut, Serial Killer! Jungkook x Reader, yandere themes

Warning: mentions of death/suicide, dark themes, mentions of rape/sexual assault, blood, oral (m receiving), facial, voyeurism,

Word Count: 5,604

Description: The city is shaken up by the sudden murders going around - all by a man who claims he is doing so in the name of justice. People are divided - those who agree with the mysterious serial killer to do what the justice system has not; and those who disagree and want him captured and sent to prison.

Your hands are doodling along the scrap piece of paper, your mind not on the professor in the front of the class. You can hear the students around you murmuring, but your mind doesn't process what they're saying. Not even when there's gasp entering the room and then sudden silence. You're shading the doodle of a cat when you hear the professor say your name from the front of the large class room. Your eyes glance up to see your professor, a puzzled look on her face. Her glasses hang dangerously low on her nose. Besides her you can see two officers, their eyes trailing your way.

"Y/N Y/L." one officer says as he climbs the stairs to get to your seat. You drop your pen from your hands, swallowing. "You're under arrest for the conspiracy of being associated with the serial killer Yeonma."

Gasps fill the room, as well as hushed murmurs and whimpers. The police officer is standing beside you, the cuffs out and ready to cuff you. You don't bother fighting - all the fight left in you long gone. You stand, your hands stiff. The officer cuffs you. You can feel the students watching you as you are escorted out of the classroom. A few students littering the halls stop to stare at you being escorted out.

You sit in the back of the police cruiser, your eyes watching the surroundings pass by like blurs as the police drove past. You swallow, your throat feeling dry. Your life in the last few months went down hill - starting with the sudden death of your sister by suicide. You pondered if she was in a better place - outside of this horrid world that did nothing but tear her down while she was alive. Was death easier for her? Surely life was too hard to handle with a judicial system who caters to wealthy men.

You lean back into the leather seat of the police cruiser. Your mind wanders to the past events, starting with the trial you were forced to endure to find the justice your sister never received.

"I'm not sure if I can keep facing him." your sister murmurs, a shake of her head. She has her arms wrapped closely around her, visibly trembling as she stands outside the court room. You're seated behind her, patting her shoulder soothingly. 

"You need to." you try to assure. "So he doesn't do this to anyone else."

The trial your sister endured was a long one stretching out for months now. She abandoned her studies at University, her dreams of being a veterinarian dropped. She instead worked at a resturant as a waiter to help with the bills you and her created around the home. 

You didn't enjoy seeing your sister like this. She was a shell of her former self - not smiling like she once did. And when the one chance you did see her smile, the sparkle in her eyes was never seen again. She rarely left the house unless it was for work - only working the morning and lunch shifts. The once social butterly you had of a sister was now a recluse and frightened victim. 

Soon the court room is filled. You sit besides your sister, your eyes trailing to the man in the expensive suit seated with his lawyer. He sat back coolly, not a care in the world. It made your fists clench, but you weren't going to act outside of character here. Your sister needed you. 

You sat with your sister, holding her hand as the lawyers went back and forth between the case. His lawyer tried anything to make him appear innocent - claiming that your sister must've been a fan of the popular boy. "Why else would she allow herself to become intoxicated?" he questions. "You mean to tell me she willingly went to his bedroom?"

You could feel your sister breathing heavily. You squeeze her hand, your eyes glancing at her. You can see the tears threatening to fall. You turn towards the judge who was about to make the final decision. You take a deep breath, feeling your sister squeeze your hand in her own.

"We found the defendant..." your eyes watch the jury read off of the card. "Not guilty. Due to lack of evidence."

Your eyes widen. You hear the cheer from your left, the group of friends that accompany him all stood to clap their hands. You witness a few woman on his side, all smiling ear to ear at the man who raped your sister. The accuser, Chung Ji-Ho stands and bows to the judge, his eyes glancing your way. You see the tiny smirk form onto his lips. 

You stand, fists clenched. You stalk his way, ignoring the calls from your sister. You land a slick punch to his face, the gasps erupting from around the room was evident that you were now seen as the abuser. "Fuck you!" you hiss at him, feeling your arms being restrained. "You're nothing but a rapist!"

You were escorted out. The Chung family were going to press charges against you - but Ji-Ho had assured that it wasn't a need. Your anger peaked when you saw him the following week at school. It was as if nothing changed - girls flocked around him as if they weren't bound to fall victim to his attacks. Boys were forever envious, and hung on his every word. You couldn't understand the reasoning of everyone turning an eye to his behavior.

Of course, the Chung's came from money. The college wasn't going to risk their reputation going down hill with a trial - news never reached outside the college walls of your sisters accusations. The trial was never publicized and the only one who suffers was your sister. 

You didn't have many friends from university - and now you were never going to. It didn't bother you much. You didn't go anywhere expecting to have friends in general. You were deemed unapproachable - especially after what has happened to your sister. You didn't have time to entertain anyone.

You hear a few snickers as you enter the large classroom. Your eyes flicker to the noise and soon your eyes are narrowing. Not far from your seat is Chung Jae-Ho - older brother of Ji-Ho. He's returning the glare you're sending him, but the cocky smirk on his lips tells you that he's going to be a problem in your life.

"Y/N."

Your head snaps to the left at the voice. The seat besides you was never taken. It was petty, of course, but it was appreciated. You had a place for your bag afterall. 

Jungkook glances at the seat where your bag sits. You take the hint and move it, allowing the man you rarely speak to sit down. "How are you?" he murmurs.

"Do you care?" you respond, the question comes out rudely. You mentally swear at yourself. "I'm sorry." you whisper back. Jungkook was never rude to you - he was the only one at the University who remained speaking with you after the incident with your sister. 

"No need." Jungkook gives you a small smile. "I know things are rough for you. And I want you to know that I'm always here for you."

Your mind is telling you that it was a lie - a ploy to get what he wanted for himself. But Jungkook's eyes told you a different story. As you look at him, there's a glint in his eyes that makes your heart leap to believe him. Jungkook never gave you a reason to be doubtful of his words. He was kind to you. He spoke to you freely, rarely steering the conversation to the uncomfortable topic.

"Thank you." you mumble out a response. 

"I would stay away from this one, Jungkook."

Jungkook's eyes lift to Jae-Ho. He's looking your way, a disgusted look on his face. 

"Flirt a little too much you might end up getting accused of rape." Jae-Ho snickers, as does a few of his friends. 

Jungkook isn't a fool to see you're blinking. The tapping of your fingers against your knee tells him you were uncomfortable, trying your best to remain quiet and not let your emotions get the best of you. 

You aren't expecting Jungkook to respond, so when he does you're surprised. 

"If your father raised your brother to know the difference between consent and simple flirting then maybe he wouldn't be in a situation like that." Jungkook responds, his eyes narrowing at Jae-Ho. "One day, he'll meet his match."

You sit in the interrogation room, your foot tapping against the floor. You don't know how long you've been here. What you do know is that the officers don't believe a thing you have to say. You're being accused of being Yeonma - a vigilante around the nation. You laugh at the thought - but if you were them you would also think the same.

Yeonma made their presence known almost a year ago. The string of murders they committed - all criminals - was enough to shake the nation. Those were scared to commit a crime that could end them dead by the mysterious vigilante. However, since his (or her) presence, the amount of theft died down. The random acts of violence against citizens by those in law enforcement came to a halt - and though the sexual assault cases were minumum, you haven't heard of one since your sister.

"I'm a Yeonma supporter." you shrug at the police officer. "Does that make me a criminal?"

Whoever Yeonma was, they did have your full support. They did what the judicial system had not - serve justice to those who deserve it. The amount of criminals who were found not guilty just because of the wealth they attained was beyond you.

The interrogator stares deeply at you, but you don't budge. You lean back into your chair, fingers tapping against the wooden table. You had no respect for anyone in law enforcement - they've done nothing but dig a grave for your sister. They weren't the ones who had to see the tears stream down your sisters face when her rapist was found not guilty. They weren't there the many nights you sprinted to her room at her screams, the night terrors harrassing her.

Nor were they there to identify the body of your sister - an act they determined to be a suicide. They were present for your questioning, however, to ask where you were at when your sister's body was recovered. However, they made themself scarce when the mortician tells you that your sister was pregnant by the rapist who law enforcement allowed to walk free.

"You're free to go." was what you heard after 6 hours of being holed up into interrogation. You scoff before leaving.

You don't go home. The sky is dark and the surroundings are quiet. There's a cold breeze that makes your cheeks go numb. You cross your arms as you wait in the shadows for the person you're waiting for. Your heart is thumping outside your chest and your mind races with the possibilites of what you're about to do.

You're unsure how long you were waiting before you see the man walk out of the building. He makes his way towards the alley way you hid in, eyes on his phone. He's walking towards his car, his day being done for the night. You clench the knife in your hands, trembling with anticipation.

You attack without much thought, bringing the knife deep into is neck. You twist it and remove the knife, the blood squirting out rapidly. The man coughs, a gush of blood spitting from his mouth. You stab him again and again - unsure of the total amount. But you do know that when you're done, he's left in a puddle of blood. Your gloved hands places the note between the man's fingers before you walk away from the dark alley way.

You recalled the amount of vomit that released itself from your throat when the mortician pulled back the white sheet to reveal your sister. Her skin was a pale grey color, all the life sucked from her skin. You couldn't hold back the tears that day, knowing that the mortician was left in an uncomfortable position. You don't return to the University for the week in preparation for your sister's funeral. It was costly, and the part-time job you had could barely cover anything besides cremation.

The University was notified of your sister's sudden death, yet you don't expect much from them. None of your teachers give their condolences to you, nor do any of the students. There was one person, of course, that was Jungkook. He had arrived at your apartment with flowers, sporting a long sleeve black shirt. What catches your eye is the gold band around his wrist - it appeared expensive. But you don't dwell on that because it was what's in his hands that intrigue you. It was a large arrangement of white roses that makes you cry all over again at his kindness. It was rare for you in the presence of another person, a man at that, but Jungkook's little act of kidness - even if it was just sending you roses - was rare. 

Jungkook stays that night in your apartment. Most of the time he hears you crying, but he doesn't speak. He gently rubs your back, not going farther than the upper to not make you any more uncomfortable. The silence is pleasant to you. Knowing that you had someone there for you in a world of such terribly cold people was enough. Your eyes soon find themselves falling until you're asleep - the first time you were able to in such a long period of time. Jungkook allows you to snuggle into him unknowingly. He's glad you're able to rest after the tea he's given you - he laced it with chloral for you to get a fulls night rest.

Once Jungkook knows you're in a deep sleep, he lifts you into his arms and takes you to your bedroom. He tucks you into your bed, his eyes lingering on you. You were peaceful when sleeping. He notes your cheeks are puffy, red and tear stained and it makes the blood inside him boil. His thumb rests upon your cheek lightly, giving a feathery rub before he turns away from you. 

You wake the next morning feeling like you've been out for months instead of hours. Your legs can barely register to walk when you stumble out of your room and into the bathroom. You sit in front of the mirror for about ten minutes, throat dry and head pounding. You don't remember going to sleep or going to bed in general. Your mind tries to replay the events of the night prior, but everything is hazy after Jungkook comes with the arrangment of roses. 

Within the next hour, you've managed to shower and freshen up. You hear a buzzing noise coming from the sitting room. You've left your phone on the coffee table. It buzzes non-stop, an array of notifications coming through. You hum and unlock your phone, your eyes reading the notifications from various news outlets. Your heart skips a beat as you open one - a video sounds. 

"Late last night the body of Chung Ji-Ho was found. The man was brutually murdered and stabbed over 100 times." you release a gasp, your hand slapping against your mouth. "Law Enforecemnt believes it is the work of mysterious vigilante, Yeomna. A series of murders spancing the last years has occured, all by the same vigilante claiming to cleanse the nation of evil. It has left everyone baffled in fear of who could be next."

You drop your phone in your lap, breathing going heavy. The reporter's voice died down within the background of your mind.

Ji-Ho was dead.

Chung Ji-Ho, the man who raped your sister and got away with it was dead. He was murdered by Yeomna - the same mysterious vigilante who had murdered a dozen other criminals who were sent free. Of course, it could've been a coincidence. But, who else would kill such a high profile man? The Chung family came from wealth and only someone such as Yeomna could get close enough in doing so. 

You release a laugh. Then another. Now you're laughing with glee and joy at the news of Ji-Ho's death. The old you would never laugh at one's death, yet this wasn't one of those cases. Ji-Ho had ruined your life. Your sister was dead because of him - and now so was he.

Jungkook returns that night, bringing you the assignments from University. He orders a pizza for the two of you. He notices your change in demeanor. You're more talkative. You smile more, and it's as if you're glowing. He's content in seeing you smile and laugh with him, even when your life was growing difficult by the day. 

"Have you heard of Ji-Ho?" you asked him hours later. The pizza was long gone and the movie you put on had finished. Jungkook sits next to you, your head on his shoulder.

Jungkook shifts. "Yeah." he murmurs. "Sad. Everyone's saying it was..."

"Yeomna." you speak, finishing his words. Many people didn't like to say the name, in fear of conjuring the vigilante. You weren't one of those people. 

Jungkook licks his lips. "What do you think of it?" he ponders when you don't speak again. 

"Of Yeomna?" you ask him, your head tilting to look up at him. 

Jungkook nods. 

You hum again. You lift yourself from his shoulders and look into his eyes. "I think I love them."

Jungkook is taken aback. He tilts his head to the side at your response. 

You giggle to yourself slowly, cheeks flushing. "I mean in the same way you may love a musician." you explain. "Yeomna is the only person who does what needs to be done."

Jungkook's eyes scan your face for any hint of deception. He finds now, and now he's intrigued. "You don't think what he's doing is going against everything good?"

"Killing criminals is good." you deadpan. "Getting people like Ji-Ho off the streets makes Yeomna like...a God."

Jungkook's eyes are glinting again, you note. You aren't sure why, but you don't dwell on it. You hoped you didn't sound like a crazy fanatic to him - he was becoming the only friend you had in your life. Your sister gone and having no parents to fall back upon was enough to make anyone go mad. 

When Jungkook smiles at you and shakes his head, you glance away. "You're different from most, Y/N."

You've never killed someone before. No one says anything about the act of killing a person - and the aftermath afterwards. The sleepless nights and constant paranoia. The look over your shoulder every few seconds to see if the person is right behind you. The night terrors where you see the life you took be sucked from them right before your eyes.

But you told yourself you did this for a reason. You weren't yourself any longer - you were now a shell of what you once were. You had no one except Jungkook, and even he wouldn't be able to look at what you've become now. Your interest with Yeonma had only peaked; becoming an adoration and now an obsession. You didn't tell anyone - not even Jungkook - of your ways.

You recall when you heard of the dark web. It was mumblings of Yeonma being on there and murdering the people live. You weren't sure if it was true or not - but that didn't mean you couldn't check. You paid enough - too much - to make sure you wouldn't be tracked as you ventured onto the dark web. It took weeks, but you made it. And what you found was true.

You came across the masked figure of Yeonma - he wore an all white venetian mask and each video and live you were a part of, his clothing remained the same. An all black tight fitted shirt with the same dark pants. You could see the wavy dark hair he had. His voice when he spoke was what entranced you - it was deep and smooth, yet you questioned if it was truly his own. What you came to notice was the tattoos that inked his skin, nothing standing out as of yet.

You watched the disturbing videos of Yeomna torturing and soon killing the criminals - all men of various brings you great joy and satisfaction - as ominus as it may sound. However, all of these men were criminals and you refused to feel sympathy for them. What catches your eyes is an old video - the live stream of the same night Ji-Ho died. You don't feel anything when you see the man tied and screaming for his life. It brings nothing but joy. What catches your eyes is the gold band around Yeomna's wrist that you swore you've seen before.

Within the next week, the news of the fallen police officer catches everyone in a frenzy. The reporters had insight of the letter left behind - and they knew that whoever killed the officer was not Yeomna, but a supporter of his. You left behind the note - a coded note that surely only someone calculated would understand. It was shown across news stations, but yet and still - no one could deciper it.

You were patient when it came to Yeomna. You had no reason to kill anyone else unless it was to send out another letter for him. This was the only way you'd get in contact with Yeomna - to thank him personally for avenging your sister's death. Maybe the idea was ludicris and could get you in serious shit - but you had no care in the world. It's a plan you've come up with after witnessing the man kill the amount of criminals in the act of justice.

When weeks pass and there's no sign of Yeomna, you grow restless. You're pondering if you have to get rid of another officer, but decide that it would be useless to send out another letter when you know he's seen the first. The streets are now more strict - a curfew is set for 9 pm every night and everyone caught out without a written permission is issued a fine.

You decided that your chance now would be to search now for any updates via the dark web. To your surprise - he was alive. You saw nothing but the man walking through a wooden area, the outside area dark. He didn't show his masked face like he usually did but instead showed himself walking, his feet tapping against the ground.

You hear a loud bang on your front door. Your eye brows furrow as the banging got intense. You make your way from your room, poking your head out to see just who in the hell it could be.

"Open the door, Y/N!" the banging gets louder.

You gulp at the voice. It was Jae-ho.

"What do you want?" you call from the other side of the door.

"Open the door." Jae-Ho demands. "I know you're the one who killed my brother."

He sounds hurt, but you can't bring yourself to care.

"I know it had to be you. Ji-Ho was innocent!" Jae-Ho was screaming now. Surely your neighbnors would be concerned for a screaming man past cerfew.

You opened the door slightly to look Jae-Ho in the eye. He appeared tipsy, eyes blood shot and red. "Your brother was nothing but a rapist that got what he deserved." you spat at him, and before you can force your door closed he kicks it in.

You fall on the ground roughly, scraping your elbow against the carpet. You yelp, glaring up at him. Jae-Ho hovers above you and you send a kick his way when he comes too close. "Get the hell out!" you hiss at him, hands clenching into fists.

Before Jae-Ho can respond, he feels a sharp pain erupt through his temple. He's thrown to his knee's and behind him he hears the door slam shut.

You release a sudden shout at the blood pooling out of Jae-Ho's head. You're then stunned when the masked intruder takes the same knife to slice a deep cut along Jae-Hae's throat. The blood squirts out, splashing in your face menacingly. You release a few gags and gasps, trying to wipe the blood from your face. Your eyes flutter to the familiar masked man. The white venetian mask staring down at you. You inch away, heart thumbing. You notice he's holding a camera in his hands - probably the same camera he is live streaming with now.

You're quiet when he drops the camera by your feet. You are unsure of what to say. Jae-Ho is bleeding all over your foyer as we speak and you're in the presence of a serial killer.

"Thank you." you murmur, unsure what you were thanking him for.

The masked man saunters to you, His glove hand wraps around your throat, but he doesn't squeeze it. You're ultimately frozen before him, far too stunned to move a muscle. Your eyes trail down to his feet, the large combact boots he wore were as familiar as the gold braclet he wore.

"Jungkook." you say his name. The man squeezes your neck at the sound of it, but it doesn't startle you. "Why didn't you tell me it was you?"

You watch as Jungkook takes his hand from your neck to lift the mask. His eyes stares into you, examining your reaction before he speaks. "And tell you what?" he murmurs.

You lick your lips. There was something about Jungkook that changed - maybe the lip ring he recently added not long ago. But now you seen him in a new light.

"You listened to me say how much I loved you for killing Ji-Ho." you advert your eyes away from him. You were growing embarrassed. "And you never told me you were..."

"Yeomna." Jungkook tilts his head. He brings the knife to your neck. He wasn't going to hurt you - he never would. But he desired to see your reaction to the new found information. When you don't look the least bit worried, he snickers. "Maybe I enjoyed listening to you go on and on about how much you adored what I do." Jungkook trails the blood stained knife along your collarbone. "You were devoted to me without realizing it was me."

You hum a response.

"It's quite funny if you think about it, Y/N." Jungkook peeks into your eyes. "You killed to get my attention. But you've already had it this entire time."

Jungkook drops the knife besides you and again wraps his hands around your throat. He's rougher now. He engulfs you in a kiss, not caring your face was nearly covered in blood.

Jungkook moans when he disconnects your lips. "You're so devoted to me, aren't you?"

You nod your head as if in a trance.

"Tell me. You have my attention now. What did you want from me, Y/N?"

"I wanted to thank you." you murmur against him. "For killing Ji-Ho."

Jungkook hums. "And you aren't scared of me?" he ponders. You shake your heart frantically. "I see. What makes you think I wouldn't kill you?"

"You would've already." was the response that makes Jungkook smile at you. Because you were correct.

Jungkook knows he chose the right person to be his - and he found that in you. The amount of times he had to sit through you speaking of Yeomna without knowing it was him was priceless. You were a fanatic, completely obsessed. You were biting your tongue around him to not sound utterly entrance with him.

"I want you to get up." Jungkook demands, leaning up as you stand to your feet. "And take off your clothes."

You do as you're told. Jungkook being Yeomna - though you had your suspicion for a bit - made you want to do nothing but obey him. In your eyes, he was a deity. You've grown obsessed with the idea of Yeomna that him being Jungkook - someone who's grown to be your best friend over time - was something you were grateful for. One you stand fully nude for him, Jungkook smirks at you.

"Get on your knees." you once again follow the order. Your eyes watch as he undoes his pants and pushes them down. You don't wait for him to tell you. As soon as you see his cock spring out, your tongue is rolling against the tip of it. You moan, eyes fluttering close. The sudden need to please him is great. You suck and pump his cocks, his moans and grunts feeding you the satisfaction you needed in knowing you were pleasing him.

Jungkook's eyes turns towards the camera on the floor. The show you were putting on for his viewers - the same viewers who were as sick and twisted as you - was amazing. Tangling his hand into your hair, he thrusts deep into your throat. You gag, but refuse to allow him to stop. You were in bliss, tears streaming down your cheeks and all. His moans were enough enjoyment for you.

Jungkook watches the way you take him so heavenly, the saliva dripping down your chin to the tears rolling down your face. The blood had since dried, but you never appeared so beautiful - and demented - for him. He was glad he would have this moment saved forever with the camera rolling.

Jungkook removes himself from your lips and sends a slap upon your face. "Get up." he hisses, grabbing you by your hair and forcing you to stand. He kisses your lips before forcing you down to the ground once more. He's behind you, hand tangled into your hair. "Look at the camera. Wave to all of our fans."

You're so caught in your trance that it is Jungkook that you don't find this new information alarming. Neither of you are wearing a mask, and surely you'd be caught dead if this got to the wrong hands - especially the police. The blood on your face and the dead body in the background was enough to be jailed.

You wave to the camera. Jungkook chuckles darkly. He positions himself at your hole. "I'm going to show everyone how I fuck whores like you." he spats, thrusting deep inside of you.

You gasp, clenching around him. He gave you no time to prepare for him - but you didn't need it. You were already wet enough for him.

Jungkook yanks your head back as he fucks you. His eyes are filled with lust, as are yours. Your breast are bouncing in the camera as he fucks you - he can't wait to go back and rewatch it.

"This isn't just any common whore." Jungkook speaks, his abdomen buckling into you at such an amazing speed. "She's my whore that belongs to me. Isn't that right, Y/N?"

You nod your head, stomach churning.

"I said," Jungkook increases the pace. He slams your head down to the floor close to the camera. "aren't you my whore? Don't be shy now, baby. Tell them."

"I am!" you huff, eyes clenched shut. You've never been fucked this good. Jungkook was animalistic. Your infuriation with the man doesn't help. "I'm your whore."

Jungkook chuckles. You feel his hand remove itself from your hair and soon he slaps you roughly across the face. It does nothing but you cum. You're leaking onto the floor now, much to Jungkook's surprise (and enjoyment). "Whore's like her love to be fucked." he hisses, his own high coming. He could fuck you all night if you'd let him - and you would.

You're unable to speak and could only release hushed whimpers. Jungkook was overstimulating you and before you know it, you're cumming all over again. It hits you intensely. So bad that your eyes are rolling back and your mouth is agape.

Jungkook removes himself from you. He shoves you back and turns you around. He cums on your face, rubbing it in fully so you (and the viewers) know just who you belong to.

You fall to the ground in exhaustion. You could feel how wet you still are from the juices dripping down your leg. You don't care, however.

Jungkook grabs his camera and shuts it off. He turns towards you and clicks his tongue. "You're so beautiful, Y/N." he marvels at the sight of you. He wraps both arms around you and lifts you up. He makes his way to your room and places you onto the bed. He manages to clean your face a bit before tucking you beneath the covers.

"Where are you going?" you mumble out a response as your eyes adjust.

"I have to get rid of Jae-Ho's body." Jungkook says.

"Can't you do that later?"

Jungkook sighs. He may be a serial killer (he prefers the term vigilante) but he was still a man with a heart. He couldn't leave you, not when you appeared so needy for him. "I suppose I can do it later." he says, removing the combact boots and coming beneath the covers with you.

Part 2 (Lethal Lovers)

#jungkook x reader #btsmasterlist2022 #bts smut #bangtanwritershq #btswritersclub #explicit-tae #sweet serial killer #bts yandere #bangtan smut #jungkook yandere #jungkook smut #bangtanwriters net #btswritingcafe #btswriterscollective

[merakiui]

Hi merakiui! For the lunar love hotel if it's alright can I get a cherry wine and red velvet cupcakes with floyd leech with an AFAB reader, please?

yandere!floyd leech x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, non-con, cunnilingus, brief mention of pregnancy, serial killer floyd au note - thank you for checking in, dearest guest! enjoy your order! [lunar love hotel]

Your back slams into the floor with a harsh, spine-cracking thump, and pinpricks of pain explode within your skull. The kitchen knife is centimeters from your face, driven into the wood flooring so deeply that it splinters from the sheer force, and you surmise he’s put it there intentionally. It’s a very easy trap. Unfortunately, you’re too petrified to fall for it.

You stare up at a face bathed in shadows, nerves alight with fight or flight, and watch in muted horror as he tugs the surgical mask from his face to show you his needle-toothed grin. Though his hair is dyed Stygian and he’s wearing colored contacts—twin pools of the prettiest blue—this is undeniably Floyd Leech. You’d recognize that creeping, crawling lilt in his voice any day because it’s stuck with you ever since you first met him, carved into your being like a terrible tattoo or a melody you can never forget. And it’s remained in the corners of your brain ever since news of his escape shook the city, a constant reminder that one day his voice wouldn’t be so far away.

Today is that day.

“S’no fun if you let me catch ya right away,” he says, peering around your dimly lit bedroom. “Your place’s reeeal nice. Much nicer than the cell. Shame ya never invited me.” He’s pouting now, scuffing his sneaker against the floor as if he’s a child whining about a lack of dessert. “Shrimpy’s so mean, excludin’ me from your life like that…” 

You’re at a loss, opening and closing your mouth like a beached fish, eyes blown impossibly wide. He doesn’t look particularly livid, but then there’s manic glee shimmering in his azure hues and that’s far more terrifying than any anger he could harbor. 

I have to call for help. I have to run away. I can’t let him kill me. I have to—

“Hey, hey. Whatcha thinkin’ about?” He bends down to inspect your eyes as they travel towards the handle of the knife. “You wanna kill me, Shrimpy? Put me back in that cold, cramped cell?” He tilts his head, amusement waltzing across fearsome features. “Have fun tryin’. I ain’t goin’ back now that I got ya all to myself.”

“F-Floyd… How did you—” You swallow thickly, flinching away when he drops to his knees to trap you between sturdy arms. You scoot away, propped up on your elbows, and the gears in your brain are turning in an attempt to work out a hasty escape. “W-Why are you here?”

Keep him talking. Pretend it’s an interview. Silence leads to stagnation, and Floyd loves talking when he’s in the mood.

“I told ya, didn’t I? Soon as I’m gettin’ out I’m comin’ to find ya.” His fingers curl around the handle of the knife and he yanks it up from the floor. “Ya never answered my question, y’know.”

“Your proposal?” You stare at him in disbelief. All of this…just for a reply to a yes-no question. He can’t be serious.

“Ah, that’s the one! Shrimpy remembers!”

He is. Very serious, apparently.

“What happens if I agree?” you ask slowly, taking great caution to structure the sentence just right, lest you offend him and find that blade stabbed through your skull. “We can’t get married the normal way.”

“Normal’s borin’ anyway.” With that same dopey smile, he narrows his eyes, reels his arm back, and throws the knife directly at the wall beyond. You don’t see it burrow into the wall, but you hear it. It's explosive in the stifling quiet of the bedroom. Floyd gazes at you, smiling sincerely. “See? No more knife. I’m gonna be good for Shrimpy if Shrimpy’s gonna be good for me.”

“Right… R-Right. Okay. I’ll be good. Can I… Can I stand up now? The floor isn’t very comfortable.”

“Okaaay!” He pulls away, rises to his full hulking height, and offers his hand. Gingerly, you place yours in his and he lifts you up. “S’nice to touch ya without the cuffs.”

“You didn’t answer my question, Floyd.” Like always, you speak directly, firmly, gently. He stares at you, a strange shadow passing over his face. “What happens if I agree to marry you?”

“You’ll become Mrs. Shrimpy. Duh.”

“Okay… And you won’t hurt anyone? If I become Mrs. Shrimpy, you have to promise.” Floyd’s gaze strays. You lift your hand to his face to guide him back to you. His hand closes around yours, and there is an uncanny softness to his face that reflects something tame. He’s almost…innocent like this, leaning into your palm like an oversized puppy desperate for affection and attention. And to think this is the same man who could be so mercilessly cutthroat. “You have to promise me, Floyd. No hurting others. No matter how difficult it gets—no matter how angry or upset you become—you can’t hurt people.”

He frowns as if it’s an unreasonable plea.

“Promise me.”

“Yeah, yeah.” 

“Floyd.”

“I promise,” he mumbles and then exaggerates an obnoxious sigh, his shoulders drooping. “Shrimpy’s really wringin’ me dry here. Then if I’m promisin’ to be a goody-goody, you gotta promise to marry me, ‘kay?”

“I promise.” You force a wobbly smile as your stomach churns. 

This is sickening. There has to be some way out of this. Maybe it’s possible to distract him long enough to make a run for it…

Floyd lights up at your acquiescence and wraps his arms around you in an embrace that would have felt bone-crushing if you hadn’t already prepared yourself for the brunt of his aggressive affection. You consider the situation while he buries his face in the crook of your neck, humming his happiness. 

Surely he wouldn’t come here without a plan. What happens if I do manage to get out or call for help? Or is he planning to take me somewhere else? Is he even here to kill me? But then he was so focused on the marriage proposal and—

Your thoughts come to an abrupt halt when Floyd, still hugging you, drags you over to your bed and shoves you onto the mattress. It depresses under his weight when he climbs onto it next, hastily kicking his sneakers off and shucking his hooded sweatshirt in the process to reveal well-toned musculature. The once joyous glaze in his eyes mellows into something predatory, and it occurs to you that he isn’t here for a response to a question. Upon recognizing this, your heart plummets into your stomach. 

There were two things Floyd pestered you with when you’d visit him for interviews. How you managed to blot the second demand from your brain is beyond you, but it becomes abundantly clear when he seizes your ankles just as you attempt to crawl out from under his looming shadow. 

“W-Wait… What are you—”

“Don’t go anywhere, Shrimpy!” He squeezes just hard enough to warn you, and even though it doesn’t hurt the implication that it eventually will should you defy him has you wincing. “Aw. Don’t be scared. I’m not scary, yeah?”

You stare helplessly at him. He’s smiling, face flushed with wicked excitement. “Floyd, I don’t want—stop! Let go of me!” A rough hand traces its way up to the waistband of your shorts, and his fingers curl around it. Your eyes widen with newfound terror. “No, no, no! Let go of me! Stop! Stop, stop, stop—”

An unknown darkness passes over your face for a fraction of a second, and then his hand is covering it entirely, squeezing ruthlessly. His nails dig into the plush of your cheeks, and through the crack between his fingers you spy his hateful expression. It’s murder and death all at once, so frightful you wonder if this is the same face he showed all of his past victims.

“You promised to be good,” he says, voice devoid of the warmth it once held. “I like Shrimpy’s voice, so don’t make me take it.” Those last few words are spoken in low, threatening octaves. 

“Please don’t do this,” you whisper, voice cracking. “P-Please, Floyd…”

“Why not? You’re my wife now, and when you’re engaged you gotta show your love nice and proper.” 

Your eyes find the knife lodged in the wall. It’s impossible to get to it without Floyd’s quick interception, and even if it was in your grasp you’re not sure you’d have the courage to hurt him. As much as you despise him, he’s still human—a foolish excuse, for he’s a serial killer on death row, and therefore it shouldn’t matter whether or not you hurt him. After all, he’s hurt dozens. And he’s hurting you.

But despite that…

His hand withdraws from your face, and the intimidating aura that surrounded him earlier vanishes at once. “I got lotsa practice at lunch. It was lame to do it on fruit, but I pretended it was Shrimpy and it became really fun!” He giggles at the recollection, shaking his head as if it’s a silly topic. And it would have been if it weren’t for the circumstances. “I’ve wanted ya so bad. Always. So fuckin’ bad it hurt.”

He tugs your shorts down to your ankles, leaning down to press a kiss just above your navel. You catch his eyes as he does this and a sly smirk curls onto his face. 

“And now I get to have ya.”

“Please don’t…”

But he may as well be deaf, for your pleas never reach his ears. Floyd kisses his way to your hips, tugging your panties down as he goes. You stiffen at the way the cool air settles on your bare skin, and he laughs breathlessly, exhilaration reflected in wide, eager eyes. As a last-ditch effort you attempt to shut your legs, but he grabs them and throws them over his shoulders to lock himself in place between your thighs. You squirm restlessly beneath him while he studies your pussy, his warm breath ghosting over it. 

“Aah? Shrimpy’s so cute, shavin’ just for me.” Mirth-filled eyes flick to yours. “You don’t hafta, y’know. I don’t mind if Shrimpy’s hairy. No matter what, Shrimpy’s always gonna be pretty to me.”

“Don’t look!” Shakily, you slide your hand down to shield it from his view. 

And I didn’t shave it for you! you want to add, but the words just won’t come. 

His fingers knead your thighs encouragingly, and he leans in to nose your knuckles. “Aww. But it’s really so pretty.” He winks at you, playful. “A pretty pussy for my pretty Shrimpy.”

A potent concoction of embarrassment and shame flares red-hot under your skin. There’s a sick part of you that preens under his filthy praise. You strangle fistfuls of the sheets in your other hand to ground yourself. He’s not attractive. He’s a criminal. But even with those reminders you find yourself clinging to his words out of some carnal instinct. 

“Stop… Stop talking.”

He giggles and leans in to lick a wet stripe along your fingers, enticing you to separate them. You shake your head at him, mumble another objection, but he refuses to have any of that. Floyd pinches your thigh and you grimace at the sharp, stinging pain. It’s enough of a temporary distraction because his tongue slides past the part in your fingers to prod at your clitorial hood. The warm muscle flicks, almost like a snake catching a scent, and presses up against the hood to lap at the nub that resides there. The breath sticks in your throat and you retract your hand, your heart skipping one too many beats within your ribs. 

He braces himself against you, hands splayed across your inner thighs to keep you perfectly spread. Floyd angles his head in a way that allows him to affix his lips to your slit, and at first it feels like a wet, sloppy smooch when the flat part of his tongue laves across it. But then his tongue is sliding away, slowly circling your clit, sucking with just the right amount of pressure, and you throw your head back against the bed, the breath punched out of you. He pats your thigh in what you think might be a consoling gesture, and you respond with a shiver. A subdued groan just barely manages to slip past puffy, bitten lips, and it occurs to you that you’ve been chewing them this entire time. Iron thickens in your mouth, and you swallow both blood and moans as Floyd’s enthusiastic ministrations draw more reedy sounds from the depths of your throat. 

Tears gather upon your lash line, and for a moment all you see is the ceiling as salty liquid obscures it. But then you blink them away and hazard a glimpse at Floyd, whose head is still between your legs. Salacious squelches of tongue on flesh join your soft, needy gasps, mingling into a duet so lewd it fills your brain with thoughts of pure obscenity. And at the very center of it all, Floyd is all you can think about. 

It’s your fingers carding through his hair that momentarily breaks Floyd from his rhythm. He doesn’t stop; rather, he hums his delight against you after realizing you’re touching him and the vibrations fill you much like the thick tongue forcing its way inside tight, gummy walls. You’re tugging on obsidian locks, battling chagrin and pleasure all at once, and he seems to enjoy the rough treatment, for he groans into you, digging his fingers into the softness of your thighs. 

At some point, amidst every enjoyable sensation that crashes into you, his thumb finds your clit to massage harsh circles against it while two slender fingers curl up inside you alongside his tongue. You’re trembling now, digging your fingers into his scalp to brace yourself, as you rock against his face and sob as if mourning. It feels so, so good—much better than when you’d do it with your own fingers and toys—and all you can manage is incoherency as his fingers work you open and his tongue slurps up your slick. Every little touch, hum, and stroke has something building in your gut, a ferocious, coiling sort of heat that’s pulled unbearably taut.

And with one particularly rough grind of his thumb it snaps, and you howl your relief as you gush all over his handsome face. Floyd licks you through it, laughing against your pussy, before drawing back to inhale deeply. His fingers slide out of you with ease, but you lament the emptiness. Bathed in the amber glow from the bedside lamp, Floyd’s features shimmer with wetness.

He licks his lips slowly, savoring the taste of you in his mouth, wipes your juices from his brow, and sighs dreamily. “Shrimpy’s much better than a grapefruit!”

You have a retort for that, surely, but it never leaves your swollen lips. Floyd lowers your legs onto the bed and you remain sprawled, unable to do much other than watch. He’s quick to slip his sweatpants and boxers off while you recover from the high of your orgasm, your chest heaving. And before you can even think to stop him, the soft, fleshy head of his hard, leaking cock presses against your slick folds, and you, delirious with mounting lust, peer up at him through glazed hues. You don’t have the energy to protest because in the back of your mind you know he won’t listen and you’re too boneless to put up much of a fight.

Floyd beams like the brightest sun, serrated teeth on full display in that boyishly toothy grin he does so well. “Hope you’re ready for triplets cuz that’s what I’m givin’ ya!”

You’re not ready—not in the slightest—but you’ll have to be.

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