#corpse x male reader

[inciting-chaos-series]

j can you please make a corpse x reader where they are both publicly dating and as all internet couples do, get a fair amount of hate. but one day a specific comment gets under the readers skin so they distance themselves from corpse (lots of angst but with a good ending ?)

I'm sorry this took forever, I couldn't get my meds and went a lil crazy agh, also idk if this is any good tbh I feel bad at writing lately. Hopefully you like it though oof.

-J The Ghost

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➢ Author: J The Ghost ➢ Pairings:  Corpse X reader | Corpse X y/n ➢ WC: ~4k ➢ Themes:  Hurt/Comfort? | Angst | Fluff | Happy Endings ➢ Warnings: Depression | Anxiety | Death Threats | Spiraling | Intrusive Thoughts | Cyberbullying? ➢ Summary: You and Corpse are publicly dating, you knew you'd get some hate, but you didn't actually think it would get to you like this...

Request: Hate Mail

You woke up from your nap to the sounds of several voices coming from the other room. He must be streaming… You thought groggily as you stretched and snuggled back into the covers enveloped in the scent of his cologne.  You pulled out your phone and checked the time, almost four… Jesus, he really had made good on his word, you didn’t even realize you could be that exhausted. As you scrolled through your socials you saw the notifications of most of his friends live streams. Sussy Sundays, of course, how did you forget? He really had taken it out of you earlier. 

You were grateful to have weekends off, allowing you to see him more than just any days you managed to get off work at a decent time, but you hated Sundays. You both took turns staying over at each other's houses and coming up with fun things to do together, but since he’d agreed to be a part of the Sussy Sundays, you had to find a way to entertain yourself. When he would stay at your house, it was easy to find things to do- dishes, laundry, and tidying up always needed done- but at his place, he mostly ordered takeout, and didn't really have enough stuff to ever accumulate messes, much less any laundry, so you were left to figure something else out. 

A few times he’d asked you to join in on games, or hangout and watch him, but if the viewers got wind that you were with him- everyone's chat would latch on and start blowing up about it. You hated the fact that you’d turn viewers' attention away from the streamers they were watching, which led to you feeling guilty for making even the slightest sounds despite both him and his ever supportive friends trying to actively involve you. 

Ever since the two of you had gone public, the internet had gone wild. In the beginning fans were pretty supportive and kind, but once Corpse started to post about you more and more, they quickly turned on you. It felt like the majority now was vehemently against the idea of your relationship. You knew that once it was public, you would get a lot of hate, but some of the comments were so hyper specific and vile- you couldn't help but be hurt. You always did your best to not read through them, or let him see when ones you did see affect you. You knew it was mostly young fans that were crushing on him and envious of you, but it all still seemed to leave you feeling drained, and anxious, an empty feeling of doom settling in with each critique. What if he saw merit in some of them? Sure most were shallow insults, but some seemed so spot on to you. 

Who even are they? They're nobody, why is he with them??

He probably felt bad- he’s just too nice…

He can do soo much better…

You weren't usually an insecure person, but it was hard to stay positive when you did kind of agree. You worked a normal job, lived an average life, and you weren't really into the world of streaming, even as a viewer. It was- at the least- confusing to understand why he would be with you over someone with a similar lifestyle, or had more in common with him. 

Tik Tok was your savior while he finished up with his friends. The algorithm only showed you the mind-numbing content you wanted to see, nothing about him or streaming at all. It was around 7:30 and you were halfway through a dinner recipe video when he finally entered his room again. 

“Have a good nap?” He smirked tiredly as he plopped down on the bed beside you. 

“So good…” You chuckled, saving the video before tossing your phone aside to snuggle up to him “How was the stream?” 

“It was fun. Everyone said to tell you hi…” He wrapped his arm around you and absently traced his fingers along your arm.

“Tell them I say hi too.” You smiled as you buried your face into his hoodie. “Your friends are so nice…” 

“Mhm… they really like you.” He chuckled. “Are you hungry yet? I'm starving…” You nodded and paused, still groggy from lying in bed. 

“Can we get pasta? I’m craving it so bad…” Your voice perked up at the thought of the recipe video.

“Of course,” he laughed at your enthused voice, “you better start getting ready though…”

“Were going out?” You looked up at him in confusion, it was rare he ever wanted to go out, especially so spontaneously. 

“Yeah why not? I mean… as long as you’re up for it?” 

“Y-Yeah, just surprised that you are…” You beamed up at him before mustering the energy to get up and get ready. You pulled your hair aside and headed to the bathroom to wash your face, peeking slightly in the mirror's reflection and catching glimpses of him changing from the bedroom. The cheeky blush across your face turned quickly to a hot embarrassment as you watched the black button-down settle across his lean shoulders. Your mind started flashing through images of all the comments deeming you unworthy of him. You turned your face away from the mirror and avoided eye-contact with yourself- knowing it would only cement those thoughts and sour your mood even more. 

You quickly brushed your teeth and headed back to the room, only to stare at the clothes you had brought in disappointment. Too loose you’ll look like a soggy cardboard box, too tight you’ll look like a shrink wrapped ham, too-

“You okay?” He chuckled from behind you as he fixed his shirt.

“Yeah… I’m fine.” You huffed out, grabbing at a random article of clothing and feeling yourself physically recoil at the thought of wearing it. 

“You don’t look fine- if you don’t wanna go out we can stay in…” He shrugged and examined your clothes with you. “You still have some other things in my closet you know… you don’t have to keep living out of your carry on bag. You can keep things here.” He laughed softly. 

“I- I know. I just… I don’t know- it's one of those days- you know?” You mustered up a small laugh. “Nothing feels right.” You shrugged it off. 

“I get it… let's just stay in.” He sat beside your clothes on the bed, offering a soft smile as he took your hands and pulled you closer .

“No, I want to go out…” You furrowed your brow a bit, irritated that you were letting it all affect you so much. “I’ll hurry up.” You pulled another few items of clothing out and headed back to the bathroom, not wanting to even think about him watching you change right now. 

You came back out after continuing to struggle through every aspect of getting ready while your mind attacked you. He sat up from scrolling his socials on the bed and quickly tucked his phone back into his pocket- a detail you wish your brain would find insignificant.

 “Ready?” He smiled and stood as you nodded. He grabbed his jacket and threw it on as you grabbed your things and started to head out with him. 

You were grateful for the comfortable silence as he drove to the restaurant, allowing you some time to try and change your mood. He’d put some softer lofi on the radio and let you silently watch as the streetlights flashed past your window. You weren't sure how he always seemed to know exactly what you needed, yet he always did. 

When you arrived at the restaurant you were surprised to hear he’d made reservations for the two of you. You couldn’t help but smile, despite the discomfort welling up that he’d chosen something more fancy than you had expected- or dressed for. 

“Wait, wait…” He hooked arm around your side, stopping you as you followed the host to the booth. He spun you into him in front of the elegant floor length mirror stood beside the entrance and pulled out his phone for a picture. You giggled at the quick cute gesture and posed with him, shutting your eyes as he snapped the pic to avoid any further mental spiraling. 

Dinner went by uneventfully, you stayed a bit more quiet as he excitedly told you about new songs he was working on, or vented about the issues holding up his new merch drop. It wasn’t entirely due to your bad mood, you loved seeing him enthuse about his passions and how animated he’d suddenly become. His whiskey toned eyes would light up and his excitement was palpable in the air, making even you more energized. It wasn’t until halfway through or so when you came back from the bathroom that things shifted. You caught sight of him looking up at you returning before tucking his phone quickly away again. 

“What’s that about?” You questioned lightheartedly with a laugh.

“Oh it’s nothing… Did you wanna get dessert?” He dismissed before swiftly changing the subject, but not before you caught a strange look on his face. 

“Okay Mr. Secretive… um, I think I’m full though.” You shrugged awkwardly as you looked down at your plate.

“You sure weren't saying that about the wine though…” He chuckled as he sipped his own glass.

“I- okay?” You rebutted, hesitating as you gave him a confused glance. “I was just trying to cure my bad mood…” You internally cringed as your voice came out more defeated and offended than you intended, seemingly proving his point that you’d had too much. It was only two glasses… am I really that bad? All that stupid pasta I kept shoving in my fat mouth absorbed it all- I don’t even feel drunk…

“Wh- no… baby I- I was just making a joke… I didn’t mean anything by it-” His face softened with concern. 

“No it’s fine… I probably have had too much- sorry.” You managed to squeak out, your face reddening with embarrassment. “Let’s just get the check…” I just want to go home now… Jesus Christ. You bit down on the inside of your lip as you heard the harsh, irritated sigh he let out. 

---

The drive back from the restaurant was insufferable, just as it had been for him to the restaurant. He wasn’t sure if even his knives could’ve cut the tension radiating from the passenger side. It was clear something happened but he didn’t know what. Before he’d gone to his office to join the stream everything was fine, but once he came back the mood had completely changed. 

“Are you- okay? Did I do something to upset you?” He asked as tentatively as he could upon getting back home. 

“N-No, I’m fine. I’m sorry I had too much to drink.” Your voice was still soft but had a bit of an edge to it. 

“I’m sorry I said that at the restaurant, I didn’t mean it like that at all. I meant it in like a- ‘it’s funny that you chose the wine over dessert…’ because I agreed- kind of way… I’m sorry baby.” He paused, taking your hands and tugging you gently closer as he kissed your forehead. “Y/n, If I did something to upset you, I wanna know, so I can fix it and make you feel better. You’ve seemed upset since I got off stream.”

“It… it’s fine, I’m just stupidly sensitive. I’m fine.” You ruined the entire night with him, great job. If he really wasn’t hiding anything on his phone earlier, he’ll surely start now. You huffed in frustration at yourself. “I should probably get home…” 

“W- Why? You always leave Monday mornings…” He asked, feeling his energy plummet as you continued to shut down. 

“I just have an early day tomorrow is all. I’m sorry…” You met his gaze, immediately wishing you hadn't as you offered a half smile to his heartbreakingly defeated expression. You pushed back the self-criticism as you went to collect your things, that could wait until you were alone in your car. He silently followed you back into his room like a kicked puppy and helped you gather your things, making your brain slew more insecurities about him wanting you gone. Once all your stuff was in your bag he walked you out to your car while you said your goodbyes. 

“Please drive safe…”

He’ll just feel guilty if something happens…

“...text me when you get home…”

He feels like he has to say that… you’re so fucking sensitive. He walks on eggshells with you.

“I love you…” 

No he doesn’t, why the fuck would he? 

The drive back home continued that way as you dissociated the entire time, only letting the tears fall once you were back inside your own house. After having a small breakdown over the bullying your brain had done, you texted him you were home before collapsing down into your bed- exhausted by it all. You were ready for any solace you could get from mindlessly scrolling your phone, though it seemed the universe had something else in mind. You opened your instagram to check messages from your friends but were promptly bombarded by a photo he’d posted of the two of you from the restaurant. He’d put some goofy angel and devil emojis over your faces that you tried to let yourself laugh at but couldn't muster at the moment. He’d captioned it ‘LOMFL 😍🥵’ that got a small smile out of you, but not without a scoff. It wasn’t really until you tapped on the comments, you felt your gut tighten. The first few were various heart emojis from Rae, Tina, and Sean- but below that it took a turn. His fans attacked everything about you, your outfit, your weight, even your personality- as if they even knew you. But it didn’t stop there, some crazed fans had gone as far as finding you somehow- despite him never tagging you- and DMing your personal account even more vile things, even death threats. You wanted to vomit. You wanted to scream and show them how awful you could really be, but mostly you wanted to make yourself stop believing them. You didn’t want any of it to be true… but you were now convinced it was. 

The next day you kept your phone completely off, even going as far as deleting all your socials before shutting it off. In the morning meeting with your boss you informed her your phone wasn’t working and email was how you should be contacted from now on, so you wouldn't even need it on for later. You went about your daily tasks at work completely numb, doing everything you could to keep yourself too busy to think. Of course, that only worked at work, at home it was entirely different. The next few days turned to weeks as you cleaned like you never had before, you rearranged furniture like you were suddenly trying to fit four Alaskan king sized beds in your home, you went to the store and meal prepped- full well knowing you’d have no appetite, you binged several of your favorite shows entirely. 

By the third week, you’d fully run out of tasks to keep the thoughts and anxiety at bay. You scrolled through Netflix, Hulu, and Amazon- finding nothing. Out of either habit or some subconscious cue about the anxiety of not texting the only person you wanted to at the moment, you opened up Youtube. You rolled your eyes and groaned softly but scrolled through the videos anyway, cringing as the recommendations of Sussy Sundays and various other videos with your boyfriend popped up. You felt incredibly guilty about not talking to him. It wasn’t like the two of you talked non-stop, or that he’d be mad, you were just sure with the way you’d left things he was likely worrying about you by now. As you continued to scroll you saw a live video pop up in your suggestions, of him. He’s live? Why is he live? He doesn’t stream anymore… You were already anxious, but after reading the title ‘we need to talk…’ you started to feel sick. You hesitantly clicked the video and his voice rang out from your TV. 

“...I really don’t give a fuck how you guys feel or what you fuckin think…” He paused, presumably reading the chat. “I know it’s not all of you… but those of you that are commenting this shit… I don’t wanna fuckin see it- I don’t everr wanna see this shit again… if you like my content but come into my chat, or friends chats, or on twitter.com or instagram and say that shit… fucking unsubscribe right now, fuck you. Get off the fucking internet, it's disgusting.” You took in a deep breath as anxiety welled up more, why was he doing this? “I’ll straight up never put out another thing ever again if this keeps happening. I know that people are always gonna be assholes, but if you’re a fan of me or whatever- and saying this fucking shit about my partner? Go fuck yourself. I don’t want your fucking support…”  

You stared at his animated figure standing in the rain blankly and opened up your laptop, starting a video call to him. You waited for a while as he went silent on stream before it was denied. Is he mad at me? It’s all my fault- fuck.

“Anyways- I just thought I’d get on here and reprimand you fucks… and to all my actual fans, being kind and supportive, thank you, and keep reporting these people- love you guys… oodles and oodles… keep being you- I’m sorry you guys had to hear this… love you.” 

 You tried again as the stream ended. Again denied. Fuck he’s pissed… Because of me he had to get on after not streaming anymore and do that- fuck… You took a deep breath and tried to not overthink. Maybe he’s just sick of your bullshit. If he was worried or he’d been trying to contact you at all, he probably would’ve answered. You fidgeted nervously at the thought. I’ll just start a new show- keep my mind off this… You shut your laptop and dejectedly threw it aside on the couch before getting up and grabbing some blankets for another night of Netflix. 

You were two episodes in when you decided to grab a snack but just as you paused the show and stood, there was a knock on the door. You looked over, and cautiously moved toward it. Peeking out the peephole you saw what looked like an outraged figure of your boyfriend standing outside. You felt icy panic run through you as you grabbed the handle and twisted, preparing yourself for the worst.

“You’re okay…” He sighed in relief as his whole body relaxed. 

“I- Y- yeah… I- I’m fine.. What are you-” You tried to play catch up, still in shock to see him at your door, let alone not yelling at you. 

“You haven’t answered your phone- for anyone- in like a month…” He seemed to pant out. “I tried to give you space and not worry too much when you weren't answering, but then you deleted your socials, and then didn’t answer Tina, or Rae… or me… I was… scared.” He paused and caught his breath. “When you video called me I panicked, I thought you were in trouble or- I- I don’t even know… I just rushed over.” He stepped in and yanked you into one of his enveloping bear hugs. You stood motionless, mostly from how tight his arms were around you, but partially from even more surprise. Here he was, yet again, proving that he knew you better than anyone- and certainly better than you knew him. The guilt of not talking to him only grew now. How could you have ever thought any awful things about the panic stricken, devoted, heart-of-fucking-gold man that was seemingly holding onto you for dear life? 

“I- I’m sorry…” You squeaked out, faltering under his obvious concern. He sighed again and released his hold but kept his hands gently on your arms. 

“Please don’t do that again… If you need space that's okay, but please just tell me… I- I didn’t know what to think- or do…” He knelt down to your level slightly, his face full of worry as he seemed to practically beg. 

“I’m sorry…” You swallowed hard, feeling your face heat as your voice wavered. 

“I-It’s okay… I- I’m not mad… I just wanted to know you’re safe- cause I worked myself into a panic not knowing- I’m sorry I just showed up out of the blue…” He took a deep breath. “If you still need space that's okay I just- I was really worried. I know I’m probably overreacting…” 

“No… I just… I don’t know-” You looked down at your feet, the guilt consuming you now as he continued to prove every horrible thought you had about him wrong. 

“Do you want to talk?” He questioned hesitantly as his mind began reeling in the same way yours had. You just nodded, looking up as he closed the door and looked back to you, eyes still full of worry. 

You moved back to the couch and curled up into the blanket, comforting yourself and trying to hold back tears of guilt over how you’d acted toward him. He slowly moved to sit by you. 

“What’s going on? A-are you upset with me?” He stuttered nervously, also anticipating the worst. You shook your head and shut your eyes as they welled up. It all felt so stupid now- but the constant harassment, death threats, and insults had done a number- and having him here, almost completely in the dark about it all but still so kind and loving was just too much all at once. 

“Oh- baby… shh come here.” He soothed melodically as he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you tightly again. “Please talk to me.” His voice was soft and quiet as he pressed kisses onto the top of your head. 

“I don’t wanna cry- it’s stupid…” You managed to mumble. 

“It’s not stupid- something is really bothering you… is it the comments and shit?” You nodded. 

“It’s all of it- I- I don’t know why you’re even with me…” Your voice cracked and broke. 

“Y/n, I’m with you because I’m in love with you- I wouldn’t ever let the opinions of fucking dumbass ten-year-olds with no internet supervision change or dictate that…” You cringed as you heard the offended tone in his voice. 

“I know… I just… I let my brain believe it all… and I feel shitty… and that just makes me wonder even more why- because I do shit like this- even though you’re nothing but amazing and loving to me…” You choked out between sobs. 

“You’re not shitty…” His tone softened even more as he pulled your face up. “I have no idea what it’s like to go through that, and how you can even deal with it. Most people don’t. I knew it was hard to see, and if I had any idea that you’d been this upset about it for this long I would’ve stopped it right then and there…” He kissed your forehead and wiped off your tears. “I’m so sorry baby… I should’ve known.” You shook your head. 

“I should’ve just told you… but I felt so stupid- letting it get to me- I wanted to just come home and clear my head and get over it… but then it got worse and I just I don’t know, I couldn't deal.” He pushed your hair from your face and let you continue after the sobs began to slow. “Now I just feel guilty and shitty for avoiding you- avoiding all of it, not telling you… especially when you are… like this- so nice, and understanding.” You scoffed harshly at yourself, making him chuckle.

“Don’t. It’s a pretty understandable way to react… I’m sorry honey…” He leaned in and kissed you softly. “Would it help if I pretend to be mad at you?” He joked lightly as you parted. You let out a weak but honest giggle and gave an exaggeratory nod. He laughed and tsked loudly. “I can’t believe it… how could someone so goddamn attractive, funny, kind, and lovable think that I’d be dumb enough to see any warrant to the words of fuckin dipshit kids? To think that I’m not already blindly and completely head over heels? I’m disappointed…” He mocked in a goofy tone.

“Shut up…” You laughed, wiping your face and pushing him playfully. 

“I love you dummy.” He chuckled and kissed you again. 

“I love you too, Corpsie.” 

[ficwriterwastakenalt]

Haunted Halls

on my Corpse arc bc he’s the root of my e-’girl’ ‘phase’ (and Gender envy) He/Him Prns!

Yn pushed his hair out of his eyes and turned to look at the empty walls of the mansion he had just inherited. "Thanks for the house, I guess Granny," Yn murmured.  Yn picked up a box off the dark wooden floors before climbing the massive stairs to where he sorta remembered the master bedroom was.  

When Yn pushed the door open, a king-sized bed covered in a dark purple blanket (pic at the bottom for ref!) almost seemed like it was waiting for him. Yn placed the box on the floor and ran his hand over the purple sheets before sitting on it and causing a dip in the bed. As he let his back rest on the plush covers, he wondered why Granny had never slept in this room.

Yn played with the canopy, smiling at the silky black fabric that almost felt like it was trapping him, but in a good way. Yn laid his head on the pillows and yawned. As his eyes slowly fluttered, he glanced at the door. A man with black curly hair and all-black clothing stood there, staring directly at him. One of his eyes was covered in a white eye patch and the other was blood red. The man almost appeared to smile at him.

Yn returned the smile before drowsily closing his eyes, then he opened them again to find the man was gone. Yn frowned and allowed his body to go off to sleep. A When a hand brushed across his forehead and a deep voice whispered, "Welcome back baby," Yn finally gave in and fell fully asleep.

---

The sun's warmth was on Yn's face when he awoke. Yn pulled himself out of the comfortable bed and dragged himself sleepily to the connected bathroom. The same man from the day before was standing at the doorway behind Yn as he looked in the mirror. Yn spun around but frowned when the man wasn't there, asking, "Mister?" Yn croaked out, clearing his throat, and then made another attempt. "Sir?" Asked Yn.

As Yn exited the bathroom, he glanced about before focusing on the man sitting on the bed. "Who are you and why are you in my house?" Yn inquired, narrowing his eyes at him. "I'm Corpse and I'm a literal Corpse." Yn felt lightheaded. "So you're what a ghost." Corpse smiled up at Yn, "yep" popping the p.

Yn mumbled out, "oh my god," before his legs gave out and he fell to the ground, going unconscious after hitting his head on the hard wood floor. Yn awoke on the couch and heard a soft humming coming from the kitchen. Yn pushed himself off of the couch and went to the kitchen, where Corpse was cooking happily while humming a song.

--- 3 weeks later ---

While searching the hallways for his new ghost friends, Yn yelled "CORPSE" as he walked up and down them. "Crops?" Yn frowned and slid down a wall as tears welled up in his eyes. He had been searching for Corpse for days he called out again, "Corpsey," but had received no response. "Maybe he's asleep ghost need sleep right?" Yn asked to himself as he picked at his now-chipped black nails. Yn bit his lip in an effort to contain the tears that were attempting to pour.

Suddenly, Yn was startled by a loud knocking sound echoing  throughout the mansion, which caused him to race to the front door. He took a deep breath and threw open the door before freezing there stood a man wearing black turtleneck and chain-adorned ripped pants. As his gaze wondered up to the face Yn was unable to speak "Corpse,"  He mumbled as tears once again welled up in his eyes. Corpse grinned at Yn and opened his arms Yn quickly jumped into his arms, giving him a hug.

Yn grabbed Corpse even harder, whispering, "I missed you, Corpsey." "Well, I'm Here now and I will be forever baby," Corpse said, bringing Yn impossibly closer.

[xuzuitengenx]

CORPSE BRIDE AU : Getou Suguru x Male Reader

Emily : M!Reader

Victor : Geto

Victoria : Gojo

A/N : SINCE ITS HALLOWEEN SEASON, I THOUGHT TO MAKE THISSS— ALSO I CHANGED THE ENDING A BIT BUT IT ENDS THE SAME AS THE MOVIE!!

"With this hand, I will lift your sorrows. Your cup will never empty for I will be your wine." Geto lifts the cup, making eye contact with the man before him, M/N.

"Now you." The skeleton gestured to M/N.

Smiling softly at the black hair man, he spoke his vows.

"With this hand, I will lift your sorrows.." M/N picking up a bottle of poison instead of a cup.

"Your cup will never empty.." Before M/N continued further, he pours the liquid into the cup that Geto was holding.

"For I will be–" M/N stops, seeing a familiar white hair man named Gojo Satoru who was watching the ceremony that involved his fiancée.

Stunned, M/N's eyes still remained on Gojo, repeating the last sentence once more until he draws the sentence out again.

"Go on." The skeleton urged as Geto held a slight confused look.

"Your cup...will never empty.." M/N looked at Geto as his eyes moved back to Gojo.

"For I will be..." M/N held hesitation, eyes snapped back to Geto.

"–For I will be your wine." Geto finishes for M/N as he lifts the cup to his lips until M/N places his hand on top of the cup, pushing it away which made Geto look at him in more confusion.

Whispers began at the action M/N just took.

"I can't.." M/N whispers to Geto.

"What's wrong?" Geto asks, going to look behind him as M/N has been looking there. M/N's hands prevented him on doing so as he held Geto's warm cheeks, moving his head back towards M/N.

"This is wrong...I was a groom. My dreams were taken from me.."

Geto listens as he watches a tear fell and roll down M/N's cheek.

"Now...Now I stolen them from someone else.." M/N took a breath, looking at Geto with a soft gaze.

"I love you Geto, but you're not mine.."

Geto looks at M/N as his eyebrows rose. M/N removed his hands off of Geto's cheeks and gestured his one skeleton hand out to Gojo.

Geto followed where M/N's hand was gesturing to and saw Gojo there.

"Satoru.." Geto whispers his name in shock as Gojo began walking to Geto, wearing his tux like the other two men.

Gojo laid his hand on top of M/N's and M/N grabbing Geto's and he entwined the couple's hands together.

The right couple looks at each other with smiles. M/N looks at them before he starts to walk away.

"Wait, I made a promise.." Geto says, walking towards M/N. M/N turns to Geto.

"You kept your promise. You set me free.." M/N lifts his hand that had the wedding ring that Geto accidentally proposed to M/N with and takes it off.

Holding the ring, M/N used his other hand to grab Geto's once more, placing the golden ring in his palm and making Geto's hand close.

"Now I can do the same for you.." M/N smiles, admiring Geto's beautiful features one last time before walking away from Geto forever.

Leaving Gojo and Geto to live their happy lives together.

[djljpanda]

Wally Darling Corpse Bride Inspired Au

Instead of being taken to the dead but instead you are taken to Welcome home after saying you vows infront of a replaying of an episode.

You than wake up in the colorful world of Welcome home as Wally is now your husband. The whole time you tried to get back home even tricking Wally making him upset.

"Little Ms/Mr/Mx. Living, with their rosy cheeks and beating heart."

Wally said as he cried just wanting to have your love as he did fall for you.

But in the end Wally understood he was being selfish in his own right cause he knew he had to let you go. He took you back as before he left he said

"I love Y/n but you are not mine", before he left.

[vamps-hmu]

A doodle for an au me and @monnyq-q are making called Broken Bolts <3

Its an au where the reader uses springtrap for illegal bot fights on a mutual agreement (written by Mike themself LMAO)

[sleepingdeath-light]

autistic male s/o hcs ; otis

requested by ; thatboymikey (09/10/23)

fandom(s) ; house of 1000 corpses / slashers

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; otis b. driftwood

outline ; “Hello :) can I request some Otis driftwood head cannons with a male reader? And the reader is autistic and sometimes goes non verbal at times if you’re fine with that, that would be amazing thank you so much.”

warning(s) ; brief references to canon typical violence, but mostly fluff!

otis is an asshole — a murderer, a kidnapper, someone who will torture anyone and everyone who he comes across with a smile on his face — but he does actually care about his family and about you as his boyfriend (even if he denies having a soft spot with everything he’s got)

after being with you for long enough he’s able to pick up on when you’re going to go non verbal and, having an adopted brother that is also non verbal, he’s more than able to communicate with you at times like that — he’s a murderer, sure, but he’s a murderer with a strong sense of community who practises sign language in his free time (he’s not the best… like, at all, but he knows just enough to scrape by during conversation with you)

he’s absolutely targeted people for being homophobic or ableist towards you — hell, he’s killed for far less so that shouldn’t be a shock — but he never uses them for his art because they don’t deserve to be preserved, so he just dumps them in the mass grave with the rest of the clan (he also makes their deaths much more intense and painful, but that’s par for the course with a partner like him)

alternates between calling you his ‘boyfriend’ and his ‘husband’ — he doesn’t give a shit about marriage as a concept, nor about anything else that’s legally binding, but he likes the possessive undertones of the title and will use it every now and then when someone just isn’t getting the hint (or if he knows you like it when he calls you that)

very physically affectionate in a sexual way, especially when you have ‘guests’ and one of them is looking at you in a way he doesn’t like, and that includes everything that you could think of: wet messy kisses to your temple, making out in full view of everyone, groping your body, pulling you down onto his lap, grinding his hips against your ass, turning your head to face him before kissing you very roughly, etc.

in short, it’s impossible for any visitors to not realise that you’re otis’ boyfriend (his man, his boy toy, his life partner, his husband in every sense except legally, not that either of you cared) and they’d have to be especially dense (or especially masochistic) to try and flirt with you after all of that

he doesn’t really get autism as a concept but he tries to understand with your help — even if a lot of his questions (usually asked when he’s high on several substances and when you’re cuddled up together in bed after a wild day or night) can be a bit blunt or strangely phrased

[unhonest-iago]

Goth Bunny

Male reader

'You kept complaining about there being no Easter baskets that fit your aesthetic so we're making some.' y/n explained to Corpse as they walked into his apartment, arms full of shopping bags. 'At least let me help carry it in.' He grabbed half of the load, ignoring their protests that it wasn't that heavy. 'You know I don't celebrate Easter, like ever, right?' Sitting at the table as y/n unloaded all the bags' goodies. 'I know but you said you were bored and I figured between streaming and making music, this could be fun little DIY project.' Corpse sighed, not needing another project on his plate. Voicing this, y/n replied, 'But it'll take a day, hell, few hours at most. I'll buy food.'

'Fine, as long as it doesn't permanently stain anything.' Glaring at them while also reminding them of the last time they'd used Corpse's bathroom to dye their hair. 'Already thought of that, bought containers!' Holding up the items in question. 'Fine, so how are we making these baskets exactly?' Looking at the spread of items; containers large enough to hold the white bunny themed baskets, black fabric dye, plastic gloves, pliers, scissors, rings, and studs. 'Well, first we have to dye them.' Corpse's movements lethargic as he got up to boil some water. The two not needing to reference the box's directions. Pushing the baskets down into the black liquid.

Y/n ran to open the door, thanking the delivery driver for bringing their food. Placing it on the table, the two ate while they waited for the basket to dry in the container's after having dumped the water once it ran clear. 'Give me your phone.' Corpse connected it to the bluetooth speaker he had in the kitchen, randomly choosing one of y/n's playlists. Watching them bop around as he pierced the bunny ears attached to the basket with rings. Opening and closing the rings with the pliers. A line of studs along the seams, Corpse attempted to make it look like a fleur de lis shaped tramp stamp. 'You want any?'

'Nah, that looks sick though.'

'Only took 3 hours,' exaggerating the time.

'Shut up, you had fun.' Y/n had taken a few photos of Corpse when he wasn't looking, deleting the ones he didn't like. Putting the pictures that got Corpse's stamp of approval into a hidden album.

[issdisgrace]

PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT

I know Otis Driftwood is a terrible terrible man but that doesn’t make me want to fuck him any less. Like I want to wreck the absolute shit out of him. I want to make him my fucking bitch. I want him screaming and crying out my name. I want him to beg for me to stop but also to continue. I want to make him forget everything that isn’t me. I want him to be a mess melting into the mattress when I’m done with him. I want him to not be able to walk or sit properly for days. I want his every movement to remind him of what I did to him.

[doomh3ad]

submissive slashers & dominant reader [including brahms heelshire, bo sinclair, otis driftwood] - nsfw under cut.

Brahms Heelshire

-c'mon, we knew this, he loves and will likely prefer when you take control. he'll call you whichever title you'd like if you're into that, whining it out in that pretty strained voice. he is LOUD, and you're more than happy to shut him up with a hand around his throat or fucking him so deep his face is buried in the pillow.

-brahms lives for your dominance over him, your commands, he can be a brat but that's just because he wants you to put him in his place. one stern look from you and a session of edging or overstimulating him (or both) and he's back to being your good boy. he LOVES praise and he wants to be told he's doing good for you, and you completely capitalise on that.

Bo Sinclair

-total brat. he's hesistant to let you have control, and one of his hard limits is bondage which you respect. he'll mouth off to you but when you have bo where you want him he's as sweet as sugar, his perfect hair tousled and splayed over the pillow as he begs you to go deeper, touch him more, speed up.

-bo secretly wants to have sex in public - well, what counts for public in ambrose. knowing that he has to keep quiet or else an unsuspecting tourist may stumble across you, him on his knees for you or you touching him as he bites back moans of your name.

Otis Driftwood

-also pretty bratty, but with a definite submissive streak. yeah, he'll give up control, but he wants you to work for it - pull his hair, talk down to him (he's definitely got a degradation kink), otis wants to play rough.

-when he's in the mood to be submissive, otis wants to be your bitch, not your boyfriend. he wants you to tie him up and make him bloody and bruised, left to admire the marks you leave on him (he's not too upset when they fade, knowing that you're always willing to give him more). you're always great at aftercare though which he appreciates! <3

[crossroadsserpent]

Beautiful Bloodshed

Otis Driftwood x Transmasc! Reader. (18+)

Chapter Two

(Chapter One below)

Same summary and warnings apply here. Please enjoy this absolute shit show of a book.

~~~~~~~~~~

(Chapter two starts two weeks after Chapter One, Baby and Y/N have been hanging out almost every day.)

Y/N's shitbox truck pulled up infront of the now somewhat familliar Firefly house, idling for a few seconds before finally turning off. Y/N got out and excitedly ran up to the door where Baby met them, equally as excited as they were.

"Y/N! I've got something really fun for us to do today!" Baby squealed excitedly, her blonde curls bouncing as she jumped around, looking like she drank several redbulls before coming down to greet them.

Y/N giggled at their friends giddiness. "Oh lord, what crazy plan do you have cooked up for today?" Baby's plans ranged anywhere from laying around her room and listening to music while they painted eachother's nails, to going out and luring unsuspecting men back to the house for Mama Firefly.

Baby grabbed his hand and pulled him inside the house like she always did, but this time she pulled much harder, dragging them to her bedroom, giggling and laughing the whole way. She stopped outside her door, turning to them with a crazed grin on her face.

"Okay, get ready, because this is going to be wicked cool!!" She put her hand on the door handle, turning it and counting to three before swinging the door open so hard it hit the wall with a loud 'BANG'. "Ta Da!!" She yelled as Y/N peered into the room. A brunette girl sat on a chair in the middle of the room, bound and gagged, looking terrified. "I thought you and I could turn her into a living doll today!" Baby giggled, pulling them into her room.

They spent about three hours dressing up the girl, doing her hair, and putting makeup on her. Baby seemed quite pleased with the work the two had done, looking over it with a proud smile.

"She looks great! But I'm hungry now, wanna go make lunch with me?" She asked as she walked out the door. Y/N nodded and followed her, walking out out into the hall, stopping, when they see that Otis's door is open. He could see some of the art Otis had drawn on the wall around the tv, mostly a bunch of small doodles around some bigger, more detailed drawings. He was really good at what he did, and they had to admit they really did love the art of his they were able to see. Baby noticed they weren't following her anymore and went looking for them, finding them standing in the hall infront of Otis's door, staring into the room in awe.

"Hey, whatcha lookin' at?" She asked curiously as she approached them. Y/N jumped and looked at her, trying to think up an excuse but coming up with nothing.

"O-Oh! Uh, nothing! Just got lost in my head..." they lied, but Baby wasn't fooled. "Yeah, sure, whatcha lookin' in Otis's room for?" She asked, playfully nudging them, attempting to relax them a bit. Y/N let out a defeated sigh. "Okay, okay... no matter how many times I see the art on the walls in his room, it's always so... amazin', I've actually been meaning to ask you about it." They clear their throat. "You know anything about any of his art?"

Baby crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. "why don't you just ask him, man? I'm sure he'll tell ya if you ask." The thought of talking to Otis made them nervous, not because they were scared of him, no, it's because they didn't want to bother him while he was busy (and they probably wouldn't understand the philosophical answers Otis has been known to give, and has given them many times in the past when they asked a question.) "N-No, it's fine! I'll ask some other time." He shook his head quickly, attempting to walk past Baby, but she caught him and guided him into Otis's room. "Otis! You got a sec?" She called out. Otis looked up from his book, about to say something rude or snarky in response, but stopped himself when he realized Y/N was there. "Depends, what for?" He asked, setting his book down on the bed beside him. Baby grins, gently pushing Y/N toward Otis. "They wanna know about your art, can you tell him about it?"

Hearing this actually shocked Otis. Y/N wanted to know about his art? Well shit, he'll tell them anything they wanna know!

He clumsily got off his bed, excited to finally spend more time with Y/N.

Otis mentally cussed himself out, he wasn't supposed to feel that way toward ANYONE, let alone someone of the same gender... but he couldn't help himself. The few times they hung out together (mostly drinking and talking shit about people) he'd feel his heart flutter when they laughed at one of his stupid jokes, and he'd get the feeling of butterflies in his stomach every time they looked at him with those damn doe-ish eyes or gave him even just a slight smile. Jesus, he felt like a teenage girl getting her first highschool crush and he hated it.

Baby left the room, happily leaving the two alone. Otis wasted no time in beginning to explain each piece to Y/N, getting less and less philosophical when he realized they didn't quite understand it as well as he did himself. Actually, he began to ever so slightly touch on the emotional side of it, allowing himself this one instance of vulnerability. Y/N listened intently, finding each piece and the meaning behind it extremely interesting. Otis found himself smiling as he answered Y/N's questions, feeling those same feelings he felt when he first saw them.

Shit, it's just gunna get worse....

Since Y/N was so interested in his art Otis decided to test just how far he could go before his art grossed them out or scared them. He first asked if they wanted to see some of his other art, and after they said yes (maybe a bit too excited) he pulled a few of the smaller bone sculptures from behind the curtain that hid the more grotesque pieces he'd done. He showed them one of the sculptures, one that was made to look like a bouquet of flowers, it was morbidly beautiful. Y/N let out a soft gasp, their jaw dropping in absolute awe.

"Holy shit, it's gorgeous! How the fuck...." the words left their mouth quicker than they could stop it, gushing over the tiny bone flowers.

Y/N's reaction made Otis's smile bigger. Someone loved his art, truely loved it, saw the beauty and emotion behind each piece....

There was no escaping it, Otis's feelings for Y/N were already too strong.

~~~~~~~~~~

End of Chapter 2.

Hope everyone enjoyed this shit! Chapter 3 coming soon. :)

[inciting-chaos-series]

REQUEST:

Hello chaos!

Can you do a corpse x reader where the reader is the oldest and most famous faceless YouTuber and during an interview they are both in, corpse talks about how much he admires and is inspired by the reader?

omg yes anon lmao so cute. I hope you like!

-J The Ghost

死 Requests Masterpost 死 Request Topics 死 Submit A Request 死

➢ Author: J The Ghost ➢ Pairings: Corpse X reader, Corpse X y/n ➢ WC: ~2k ➢ Themes: | One-shot | Youtubers | Fanboy! Corpse | Youtuber! Reader | Famous! Reader | ➢ Warnings: anxiety? ➢ Summary: You're a hugely famous faceless youtube creator. Anthony Padilla has both you and Corpse (and others ig) on for another interview and you find out Corpse is a HUGE fan of yours.

Request: The "Face" Of Youtube Horror

Corpse attempted to calm his nerves, his leg bouncing incessantly while he waited for everyone to show. He hadn’t done an interview in nearly three years, certainly not since he’d blown up this much. If you asked him then if he thought he’d ever be here again he’d laugh. In his mind, he was certain he would’ve been forgotten about by now- fallen off, gotten canceled, become old news- yet here he was, bigger than ever. 

“You feeling alright, bud?” Anthony entered the green room and handed him a water that he graciously accepted. 

“Y-Yeah I just… I’m still so anxious, you know?” Corpse spoke a little too quickly before catching his breath and taking a sip of water. 

“I get it… but it’s okay man, obviously I’m gonna blur out everyone's faces again, and no one is gonna dox you or anything.” Anthony sat by him and patted his back, trying to reassure him.

   “I know, I just- can’t help it I guess…” Corpse paused for a moment and took a breath, grateful that he’d become so close with Anthony now, “...has everyone shown up then?” 

“Yeah, Dark5 is here, Fascinating Horror, and y/n from The Graveyard Channel just showed up.”

“Wait… you’re interviewing y/n?  The Graveyard channel?” He questioned anxiously, his heart rate spiking at the mention of them.

“Yeah, we had a last minute cancellation and I was scrambling a bit…” Anthony chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I messaged a few other possible fill-ins. I was just as shocked that somehow they were available… that's showbiz though right?” He laughed again as he stood to head over to the set. “We're gonna get started though, if you want to watch before your interview.” Corpse swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded before following him out. 

The first interview with Dark 5 went well. Corpse stayed towards the back of the room behind the camera operators as he watched. He’d enjoyed watching but spent the majority of the interview talking with the creator behind Fascinating Horror, or scoping out for y/n of The Graveyard channel. He felt completely out of place. Every creator here today had heavily inspired his own content, but y/n had definitely been the biggest inspiration by far. He hugely respected the way they ran their channel, creating videos about the content they wanted to. They had really paved the way for him in terms of ‘faceless, dark/horror variety youtuber’ with their comedic horror game play-throughs, sarcastic reaction videos, and especially the creepypasta reads videos. He felt foolish for being so worked up but he couldn't deny the starstruck feelings running through him, and he hadn’t even seen or met them, yet. 

 

---

Next on the set was y/n after the first two interviews finished. They were cued to be on soon while they took a few deep breaths. They thanked the crew member and made their way to the set. They weren't really nervous per say, just unprepared. Because they’d filled in for someone else, they really didn’t have much idea of what really would be asked during the interview- or how this all would work. Anthony had given them a bit of a run-down of it all but they were still left with a feeling of being caught off guard by it all. 

They stopped off to the side of the set while waiting for Anthony to finish up the introduction bit. Once he gave them the cue, they took one last deep breath and stepped up to the set and sat beside him.

“Y/n! It’s so crazy- and fitting- to have you here today, what with you being the oldest, and largest horror content creator on the platform, and doing all of it faceless nonetheless.” Anthony introduced, almost humbly. They beamed back at the compliments he earnestly dropped, despite his “host” youtuber voice on full display. Corpse stood behind the cameras again and watched y/n settle in with a dumbfounded yet adoring expression 

“It’s great to be here! I almost didn’t answer your DM honestly, with all these “verified” accounts on Twitter I thought, certainly this can’t be the Anthony Padilla messaging me…” They joked easily, earning a hardy laugh from everyone.

“I’d say that’s a valid concern now- considering comedy is now illegal…” Anthony quipped back, pausing and looking at the camera before continuing- a move that was sure would be edited heavily with comedic burns, and or disclaimers. “But tell me, how does it feel knowing that you have paved the way into this new genre of content for- really everyone here? And done so with such wild success?” He asked more seriously as he turned back. 

“Oh god, um I mean- it is crazy, like you said. I never expected any of this really. I just wanted to see this content I guess, and I never really found much. So I started to make the content I was interested in and wanted to see. I guess I’m glad to have helped others do the same, but it really doesn't feel like I’ve done much honestly...” Y/n laughed, a bit embarrassed by the importance and influence he’d implied. 

“Oh come on, you’ve definitely done more than you’re giving yourself credit for.” He chuckled. “But it's interesting to hear that you didn’t see much of the niche for what you wanted, so you decided to create it yourself. Obviously being faceless hasn't restricted you too much, but has it made that more difficult to work around?”

“I don’t think so, no… I mean, obviously there’s ideas and concepts I can’t do because I chose to stay anonymous- but I have usually been able to find a work around for whatever idea I have that turns out better in the end.” 

The interview continued for a while. Anthony asked about several other topics and asked a few fan questions before y/n finished up. They thanked him before heading off to the side of the set, taking a seat and settling in to watch the rest of the interview. 

---

“Corpse! How are you doing man? It’s been a while since you were last on!” Anthony greeted happily. 

“Yeah, yeah it has…” Corpse chuckled nervously as he sat beside him. 

“You’ve really blown up since you were last here- you’re making all this music now- and playing Among Us…” 

“Yeah… it’s- terrifying.” He laughed dryly, trying to ignore the fanboy feeling from watching y/n be interviewed just before him. 

“I can only imagine, I mean- just before we started filming you were freaking out in the other room…” Anthony chuckled. 

“Well yeah, I mean- I’ve gotten a lot more followers since then… plus you brought up that y/n was here…” 

“That made you more anxious?” Anthony joked softly, his “host” act less obvious now since they’d become friends over the years between meeting. 

“Very.” Corpse stated emphatically. “I mean like you said they paved the way for the rest of us… I’ve watched their channel since the beginning and they were what really inspired me to start making videos…” Corpse quickly glanced over to where he’d seen them walk off set and sit before nervously continuing. “I really admire them, all their work is amazing.” His eyes trailed down to the floor while he nervously twisted his rings around. A habit he always found himself returning to when being watched.

“Oh so you’re fanboying hard right now?” Anthony joked with a chuckle.

“A little yeah…” Corpse chuckled along with him, “It’s just crazy, like I’ve blown up so much- but only because y/n carved out that path for us- and because I was so heavily inspired by their content…” He continued, rubbing at the back of his heated neck as he sat restlessly in the chair. 

---

Corpse was relieved to be finished with the interview, quickly making his way to the table in the back for a water while his nerves finally started to calm. 

“Hey… Corpse right?” Y/n questioned as they approached him. 

“Wh- um… Yeah?” Corpse stuttered softly, the nerves and anxiety all flooding back when he met their eyes. 

“Nice to meet you…” they laughed softly, flashing a kind smile “...what you said up there was really sweet.” 

“Oh- um, yeah.” He tried to slink back against the table with embarrassment. “Sorry for fanboying or whatever…”

“Don’t be! Honestly… I’m a fan of yours too- it’s crazy to hear that I inspired you…” y/n laughed nervously before continuing, “I wanted to ask though if maybe you would want to collab or something? I think we could make some really great videos together…”

“I- wh- wait seriously?” Corpse stuttered again, feeling his face heat up as he tried to collect himself. 

“Yeah, our humor is really similar- and it seems like we're into the same kind of horror topics…” y/n smiled and shrugged nonchalantly, “Why not?”

“I’m definitely down…” A huge goofy grin flashed across his face as he exchanged numbers with his biggest inspiration. He would absolutely need to thank Anthony later.

[lyssak09]

Masterlist & Things I write for

AN: I automatically write the reader as female so when you re quest please please tell me what pronouns you want the reader to have. Also if requested I will and can write the reader as part of the LGBTQ+ community

Key: Italics means to be posted/its a draft

Fandoms I can write for:

Supernatural

Corpse Bride (my favorite movie ever)

Brooklyn Nine-Nine

Night Court (1986)

Certain Stephen King movies: Just request one and I’ll tell you if I have seen it or not

Doctor Sleep

Charmed (the original one)

The Labyrinth (David Bowie movie)

Krull (1983)

Secret Obsession (netflix movie)

Day of the Dead: Bloodline

The Walking Dead (seasons 1-7) I get pissed with the show when I get to parts of season 7 so I stop watching and restart from the beginning of the show

Umbrellas Academy

Repo! The genetic opera

Z Nation

Warehouse 13

Repo! The Genetic Opera

Dead by Daylight

Adventure Time

The Big Bang Theory

Friends

Suicide Squad (both movies)

Futurama

Slashers: Ghostface (preferably Stu), Michael Myers, Thomas Hewitt, Jason, Brahms Hillshire

Star Trek: TNG, Voyager, Lower Decks

Nightmare on Elm Street: Movies 1 through 3 (I’m iffy on doing Freddy because he is a dick and child rapist in a lot of the movies. But I will do the other characters for sure)

My Bloody Valentine: Both 1981 and 2009 movies so please be specific with which one you want

Markiplier & Jacksepticeye egos

Masterlist

Supernatural

Yandere Dean hcs

Yandere Shapeshifter hcs

Yandere Sam hcs

Yandere Archangels request

Yandere Castiel hcs

Yandere Lucifer hcs

Yandere Casifer hcs

Yandere Casifer with Trans!reader request

Yandere Archangels soulmates request

Dead by daylight

Platonic Yandere killers reaction to child reader

Yandere Leon with Killer!reader request

Yandere Leon with Killer!reader pt.2 request

Platonic Yandere (HOY) Trapper & Huntress with tween!reader request

Platonic Yandere Huntress & Trapper request 

Yandere Nemesis hcs request

Yandere Killers & Survivors request pt.1

Yandere Killers & Survivors request pt.2

Yandere Doctor hcs request

Plantonic yandere (HOY) Trapper & Huntress pt.2

Brooklyn Nine-Nine

Yandere Jake Peralta hcs

Yandere Jake with Lawyer!reader request

Yandere Jake

Yandere Rosa

Yandere Amy

Yandere Charles request

Star Trek

Yandere Q request

Yandere William Riker

Yandere Data

Umbrella Academy

Yandere Five with Soft!reader request

Yandere Five hcs

Yandere Luther hcs

Yandere Diego hcs

The Walking Dead

Yandere Daryl with motherly!reader hcs request

Yandere Daryl motherly!reader hcs pt.2 request

Yandere Daryl

Yandere Rick hcs

Yandere Grown Carl hcs

Yandere Michonne hcs

Miscellaneous (Aka writing that doesn’t have their own category yet)

Yandere Brahms Heelshire (The boy)

Yandere Elliot Stabler (L&O SVU)

Yandere Mack Thompson (Z Nation) hcs

Yandere Emily (Corpse Bride) hcs

Yandere Black Mask/Roman Sionis (DC/BOP)

Yandere Pete Latimer (Warehouse 13) hcs

Yandere Homelander (The Boys) hcs

Yandere Joker (Suicide Squad)  hcs (Fight me on this)

Yandere Piper Hallowell (Charmed) hcs

Yandere Leo (Charmed)  hcs

Yandere Colwyn (Krull) hcs

Yandere Danny Torrance (Doctor Sleep) hcs I love Ewan McGregor 

Yandere Max (Day of the dead: Bloodline) hcs

Yandere Victor (Corpse Bride) hcs

Yandere Wilford Warfstache hcs

Yandere Antisepticeye hcs

Ocs

Tyler from my yandere song fic

Evan ( Yandere Landlord)

Daniel (Yandere Slasher)

Hudson (Yandere Cop/Sheriff)

Luke (Yandere Childhood friend/Bully)

Damien (Yandere Teacher)

Zachary (Yandere zombie apocalypse survivor)

Derek (Yandere Hypnotist/ Therapist)

Ashton (Yandere Neighbor)

Zeke (Yandere robot boss)

William (Yandere Prisoner)

Adrian (Yandere Asylum patient)

Devon (Yandere Priest)

Jason (Yandere Step father)

Max (Yandere step brother)

Anthony (Yandere slasher/homicide survivor)

Ryan (Yandere childhood friend)

Ewan (Yandere military man) 

Unnamed (Yandere boss)

Unnamed (Yandere AI robot house)

[freestyle-crocodile-trashpile]

hi again I was the one who lost the cadaver groom headcanons I wanted to know if it's not too much trouble for you to make mickey raph donnie leo 2012 them being the cadaver groom x reader (I hope it's not too much trouble)

A/n:I don't have a lit going on so your good. Thank you for requesting

Summary:the turtles are your cadaver groom

Version:2012

Leonardo

He was shocked your were shocked

But it worked

You weren't to excited about your arranged marriage

And he was a lonely groom

Who was to complain

Not you

But it was weird seeing a humanoid turtle corpse

Even more weird to marry one

But leo was really happy someone was finally gonna marry him

And if you didn't before hand but did later on

He would be glad a little sad but glad

And he would be a great husband

You just needed you accept the marriage

Michelangelo

He was hyped

Super happy when seen you

Surprised you were a guy but he didn't care about that

He made your days better

He would always be by your side if he could and give you tons of reasons you should marry him

Did you?

But even if you didn't he would still be by your side supporting you

If you did

He would so happy

If he was alive he would be shaking a little

And glad his suit finally has a purpose

He would be the best husband out of all his brothers

And yes he cryed would you guys officially got married

Raphael

He had lost hope

So he didn't expect to marry anyone

So yes would he emerged he didn't notice but when he did he said 'took ypu long enough'

And he would just watch you for a bit before agreeing to see if he would marry you

So he did

He was cautious before he remembered he was dead

Then he lightened up a bit since you can't do much

And if you did he could just bring you done with him

Then what? Now your dead.

But besides all of that it would be fun to hang around him

And yes he would be a good husband

Donatello

He would panic at first since he hasn't talked to someone alive for quite some time

So give him some time alright

He's got to get use to you

But when he does he's telling you about a lot of stuff

About his brothers, his projects, about his dad, etc

And when you get pretty close he tells you about how he died

Is it tragic? A bit

He's just under mikey with best husband scores

So yeah hes a good husband

He's a bit more talkative than his brothers

Just because he hasn't talked to a alive person in Years

And he panicked when you said something about your arranged marriage

But glad he didn't care for it

A/n:sorry it took awhile but I hope you enjoyed

[bluemoondust]

✧Corpse Party Characters as Yanderes✧

I have been binge watching a bunch of Corpse Party gameplay and this is the result! Characters are all 20+! (I mean, given the sequel and all,,,) Just wanted to write for some of these characters. I basically hand picked some either because they were main characters or I just really liked them.

If you'd like to see more or other characters for this, let me know! I might actually make a part two to this.

Character(s): Mochida Satoshi, Shinozaki Ayumi, Kishinuma Yoshiki, Nakashima Naomi, Kizami Yuuya, Kurosaki Kensuke, Ōkawa Tomohiro

Warning(s): Kizami is his own warning since,,, you know, Delusional Behavior, Obsessive Behavior, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Violence, Manipulation, Implied Stalking, Suffocating Behavior, Mentioned Breaking and Entering

✧Mochida Satoshi✧

Right off the bat, Satoshi is your typical textbook definition of a yandere, though with some unique traits. When he becomes obsessed with you, it doesn't occur to him that he is. At first he believes it's just him wanting to be a great friend towards you with his insistence on helping you out or being the shoulder you cry on whenever you need it. Eventually, he will pick up on the fact that his feelings for you are much deeper than he had initially thought. Unfortunately he does not see that his behavior is becoming unhealthy. The insistence turns into suffocation as Satoshi continues to pry into your life; seeking more attention from you. He makes up excuses to be around you. I will say, he is slightly delusional but also is aware of your personal boundaries.

Still, he'd like to be closer.

Satoshi as well all know, is a bit of a coward, but his time over the years has changed him. That being said, he isn't one to confront rivals.... Not immediately. I do remember something said (as a hc I believe?) along the lines of Satoshi not one to be violent, but is very good at it. He has high pain tolerance and is able to take down someone (that being Kizami as the anatomical model). Satoshi in the face of rivals will not become violent... But he does has a snapping point. It just takes a lot to get there. Besides, he isn't one to take the first swing.

✧Shinozaki Ayumi✧

Ah... Yeah. Ayumi is an extremely obsessive yandere. To the point where it gets really unhealthy on her end. She goes above and beyond for you as she takes every little thing into consideration. Ayumi always has you on her mind as she goes on her daily like. She wants to make a great impression on you and hates to be seen as useless or a coward by you. If left alone, this can get so bad that Ayumi pushes aside her own needs because she's so focused on yours. This can be pinpointed through her insecurity and fears getting the best of her. It is recommended to remind her to take care of herself, but it would bring immense guilt with herself for making you worry. Besides that, Ayumi makes it her goal to know everything about you. It starts off with getting your phone number, but soon escalates to her owning a small storage of items you own— a shrine basically.

Ayumi... Loathes rivals. They always give her a bitter taste in mouth as she bites her nails profusely. Again, this ties in with her insecurities as she believes she is lackluster compared to them. That you'll eventually chose them over her. It sends her into a panic. That panic will finally get to her as she makes the person disappear. Before then, she's passive aggressive towards them while caring when speaking to you. Erasing them from existence is her way of easing her fears.

✧Kishinuma Yoshiki✧

Acts like your protector. He's also probably the most lucid out of this bunch. These emotions start off simple enough; Yoshiki has this need to protect you and honestly deeply cares for you after what you've done for him. For a while, it doesn't get too bad but when it does, he's taken a back. Why the hell did he think of beating that person to death? Sure, he would be glad to turn them black and blue if they ever attempted to harm you, but man—the fuck? It wouldn't be a surprise if one day he just suddenly does go through with what he's thought of. Just... He'd make sure it was discrete. Yoshiki convinces himself that it was to ensure you were okay. You didn't need that problem in your life.

Even though he loves you, Yoshiki has this doubt that eats at his thoughts; that he doesn't deserve you. He mulls over how he couldn't possibly provide for you, given his job, plus he knows he isn't the most pleasant person on the surface. Sometimes he hopes you'll look past all that and just... Remember the good he's done for you. Still, even if he holds back on pouring his heart out to you, that does not mean he will let anyone else get to you. Not while he's here.

✧Nakashima Naomi✧

I wouldn't exactly call Naomi a controlling yandere despite the fact that she will display traits of such as time goes on, but she leans into smothering territory. She always insists on helping you out with whatever task that requires effort. Seems nice of her, in the beginning. Then it just gets... Irritating. It's almost as if Naomi isn't letting you do any work at all as she takes control of the situation. If you point out this to her, she'll feel guilty and it will show. You feel slightly bad as she says she was only trying to be helpful towards you. Trying to push away her aid multiple times will only lead her to becoming more stubborn; which then has Naomi getting forceful. She's only trying to help! Why can't you just see that?

In the case of rivals, she lets her emotions get the better of her. I will let it be known that Naomi, through this whole situation of her being a yandere, is delusional but at some points has lucidity. So when her feelings that caused her to act in a passive aggressive manner or potentially hurt someone that was getting too close to you, a sense of guilt washes over you. Naomi practically has to convince herself that what she did isn't as bad as she makes it out to be. You have to understand that she is the only one who takes your needs into consideration. Who else could know you so well to do so? You'll eventually know...

✧Kizami Yuuya✧

The absolute worst. Yuuya is a possessive and sadistic yandere. In the beginning, he can't even fathom why he feels this way towards you and probably misinterprets it. Luckily for you, that does not last long as he finally processing his emotions. It's a strange feeling but he looks further into it. In regards to approaching the fact that this is unhealthy, he could care less. Sure, Yuuya would be hiding his yandere traits extremely well, but in truth he absolutely hates having to do so. He deems it an itch that needed to be dealt with and you're going to have to face the consequences for bringing this upon him. Before that, he acts polite and charismatic towards you. He spends his time studying you from afar, picking up certain traits of yours and then eventually breaks into your home now and then. Of course, you're not aware of such, but he'd like to see what you would do—how would you react if you caught him.

This man chooses violence when it comes to rivals. Honestly, they give him an excuse to put his philosophy into practice. This is really thanks to you, darling. It's because of you that they're dead. And oh, he'll make sure to drive that into your mind when you have to face the truth. Yuuya absolutely loves seeing the look of terror you give and does whatever he can to bring it out. He'll invade your personal space, kill your loved ones (who he honestly believes would just kick you to the curve eventually), and play with your mind. Oh, you want him to stop? That's not how this works darling. You belong to him now. He owns you. Don't try to leave him or else he'll have to carve his name on your skin to prove a point.

✧Kurosaki Kensuke✧

Kensuke's feelings for you would be a very obvious observation, even to him. Everyone would find out one way or another, but what they don't know is what lies beneath it. He as well, does not process his yandere traits fully. It's very likely that you two will getting close due to his personality. He just has this way of talking to others, it's surreal. You feel like you can talk to him about anything without the fear of being judged because Kensuke is a very chill/accepting guy. His main concern is to make sure you're well and okay. As long as that's the case, he's happy. Before evening pursuing a relationship with you, he always does favors for you along with... Finding more ways to get to know you. It's something he isn't aware of, but Kensuke often asks your friends about you. It starts off with little things but the next thing you know he 'coincidentally' meets your family and pries information off of them. It was easy. They saw him as a charming friend of yours.

He doesn't really get jealous, well, not entirely. He just does not want to admit that he is feeling this way. Kensuke will sometimes on a whim, drive rivals away with his words. If they try to tell anyone of what he's said, no one really believes them. Kensuke? Threatening them? People brush it off since they would not believe that someone of Kensuke's character would do something like that. He brightens up any room he enters, is very diligent in his work, and always takes on any labor related work when he can. It's just unlikely.

Maybe... Some part of him is aware of how much leverage he has. It can even be used if you ever just attempt to bring light onto his unhealthy behavior. He's got everyone against you, so please just accept his love.

✧Ōkawa Tomohiro✧

Tomohiro views this whole situation like one of his videogames. He's a softer yandere but also more delusional and obsessive. He works hard to gain your affections by picking up on your interests and finding things you like. It requires digging around but he'll manage to reach his objective. Everytime he is successful in making you happy, the more he truly believes you're slowly but surely falling for him. Just like in the dating sims he plays. B-But this is real life! Though... Why wouldn't you love him after all he's done for you? He isn't the bravest, strongest, nor smartest, but he has his own qualities! Just let him show you what he can do!

He follows you around like a lost puppy. Sometimes without your knowledge. It's better to know where you live in case of anything. Tomohiro feels elated.

Jealousy isn't what he feels towards people who hang around you. It's envy. Tomohiro knows deep down, you only love him, so why be jealous? Even so... He envies the people around you purely because he thinks they're better than him. It's something he truly hates to think about; how dull he is in comparison to others. It grows to fear that you'll eventually lose interest and turn to someone better. Which is why Tomohiro pushes himself harder. It's all for you.

[obsessivevoidkitten]

An Interesting Safari

Yandere Male Gnoll Pack x Gender Neutral Reader (CW: Violent and painful noncon, gangbang, face fucking, gagging and slight suffocation due to face fucking, dacryphilia, spitroasting, cum swallowing, scent marking, piss marking, reader gets their insides piss marked, musk, spit as lube, kidnapping, non-sexual bondage, gagged and bound reader, escape attempt, chasing, shocked reader, broken reader, general yandere behavior) Word Count: 1.7k (I hope you enjoy this Halloween meal I have prepared for you all.)

You had wanted to go for years to see all the animals of East Africa and finally you had managed to make it happen.

But then at one of the rest stops you had spent a bit too long in the restroom and the vehicle full of tourists had just up and left without you.

Now you were stranded in the savanna with this little bathroom stop being the only structure for miles. You were about to make a U-turn back into the restroom to just hide in until the next tour arrived, but you heard a cackling laugh.

Thinking that someone was there you turned around and called out.

“Hello, is someone there?”

No response. You turned back towards the door and were pulled back suddenly. You were quickly gagged and bound before a large bag was wrapped around your head.

It felt as if you had been slung over the shoulders of someone very strong as your captor began hauling you back home. Even through the sack on your head you could smell his strong scent.

All you could perceive was a demented cackle but after a while your abductor spoke. Apparently he wasn’t alone. They spoke with frightening alien voices that were high pitched to match the laughing.

“I can’t believe we found a mate so easily!”

“Yeah! Normally when we smell a good one the humans get in that contraption and drive off before we can catch up.”

What were they? They spoke as if they were not human at all.

Then a third voice spoke up.

“I found 'em, I get to mate first!”

Oh god, they were going to rape you. They’d probably rape you then kill you and dump your corpse for some animals to rip apart. You couldn’t stop the hot tears from streaming down your cheeks, running as if trying to escape the fate you were sure you were about to experience.

“Hey, it smells scared.”

“I like it, it’s kinda cute.”

The one that was holding you stroked your back in what was probably meant to be a soothing gesture, but its claws lightly grazed you and only brought forth more fear.

“Don’t worry, we will keep you safe and warm and fed, and all nice and full of dick. What more could a little mate want??”

As terrifying as that last part was, at least it didn’t sound as if they were going to kill you.

But that night as they removed the bag around your head and the gag from your mouth you almost wanted to be dead.

You were outside of a cave. Terrifying hyena-like visages stared down at you. Tall and intimidating, muscular bodies completely covered in fur. One was black furred, one red, and one tawny and spotted. They wore only tattered loincloths.

They had rounded ears, hungry eyes, sharp teeth and claws. Clearly apex predators.

Gnolls. You never imagined that monsters such as these prowled the savanna in real life.

You were too shocked to even scream so you just cried silently. One of them leaned down and stroked the tears off of your face.

“No need to be scared, even if it is cute~ We won’t leave you behind like your own kind did.”

They all began removing their loincloths revealing large and strikingly thick cocks on each of them. You screamed as best you could through your still present gag at the sight. You didn’t want that in you.

They surrounded you, undid your binds, and took your clothes off. You didn’t bother with struggling, too scared of what their claws and teeth could do to you if you rebelled.

Then they did something you did not expect. They each grabbed their cock, aimed at you, and began pissing. Your entire body was drenched in the foul liquid.

One of them chuckled at your obvious disgust.

“Sorry, gotta mark our territory.”

They took you into the cave, drenched and naked, and finally removed the gag from your mouth. You knew screaming would do nothing to help you since there was surely no help nearby, so you resorted to the only option you had left available to you. Begging.

They ignored you and only laughed.

“Do you think we are stupid? When else are we gonna find a nice mate all ready to be taken?”

“Yeah, you’re ours and you can’t do anything about it.”

The spotted one, the one that seemed to love your dismay and tears, licked your cheek and placed you on what passed as bedding for these beasts. You were on your back with your legs on his shoulders, pleading and crying the entire time.

He didn’t go in dry, thankfully. He opted instead to sniff at your enticing entrance, giving it a few tentative licks, before going feral and lapping at it like it was the best thing he had ever tasted. Thick gobs of drool drenching your hole, his tongue twirling circles in you and stretching you out a bit.

When he couldn’t hold himself back anymore he jammed his dick right into you, hilting himself to his large testicles in one hard plunge.

You screamed as loudly as you were able as despite the stretching and slippery drool his thick member still opened you up painfully. You were sure you’d rip something.

With your mouth open from yelling, the black furred one took the opportunity to ram his sweaty dick right down your throat. You were dizzy not just from lack of oxygen but from the scent of his cock.

You gagged helplessly as your throat bulged out with each thrust, and you were sure your abused hole was bleeding by now with how hard the spotted gnoll was pounding into you.

They began using you like a two way fleshlight, establishing a rhythm. The spotted gnoll would pull you towards him by your hips and slam you down on his prick before the black furred gnoll would pull you the other way and impale your face and throat on his.

All the while the red one jerked himself off while watching.

You could barely cling to consciousness as you were so thoroughly abused on both ends but finally they both pumped into you. You were forced to swallow mouthful after mouthful of musky gnoll seed at the same time that a massive load was being dumped into you from the other end.

They both finally pulled out and you thought that your ordeal was finally over. You gasped for breath, shaking as you sobbed.

But you were not allowed much time to recover, you had forgotten about the red gnoll. His cock was slightly smaller, and he was less brutal in wielding it, going slow enough for you to manage to feel some pleasure in this whole horrible ordeal.

Though that was almost worse. At least when you felt pain you didn’t feel the guilt that came with your body betraying you.

You felt immensely dirty and ashamed as you came.

They all cuddled you and cleaned up the cum as it leaked down your soft human thighs. Running their hands over you and licking you affectionately as you cried yourself to sleep.

For over a week after that, you were on autopilot. Broken and in despair. The gnolls didn’t care, they were sure you’d come around eventually. As long as they had you there they were happy. They cooked for you, cleaned you, reapplied their “scent mark”, and cuddled you and told you how happy you made them.

And every few days they’d breed you again. Though they were a bit gentler given your weak human constitution. Bakari, the spotted one, was always the most eager to stuff you full of his seed. Kito, the gentlest one forced himself into you less often but cuddled you and babied you constantly. And the black-furred Akida behaved in a way that fell in between the other two.

But no matter who did what to you, you barely reacted.

But one day, you were no longer catatonic. But you didn’t let them know that.

Instead you waited until they were all asleep together one night. You carefully extracted yourself from their grasp. And you ran. As fast as your legs could carry you.

You had no idea what direction you were heading or where anything was, probably why they had put the bag over you when bringing you here, but that did not slow you down in the least. You didn’t care where you ended up or what happened to you as long as you were far away from your abusers.

But even that was too much to hope for. You were sure you had managed to escape but then you heard the cackling. You knew right away that there was no escaping them now. It was close and from all directions.

Suddenly you were on all fours, pushed into the dirt from behind before being forced into a face down ass up position.

“I thought you had learned to be good!” That was the unmistakable voice of Bakari, the most violent of the three, “I guess we have to REALLY show you your place.”

“You were being such a good mate for us, so well behaved.” That was Kito. He almost sounded hurt. Like you had betrayed him.

Bakari ripped your clothes off, shredding them into confetti, before lining up his dick with your hole and driving it right into you with no prep or lubrication. This was far more painful than the first time he had taken you.

He fucked you right into the dirt, thrust after thrust, taking a sadistic pleasure from your tears and pained wailing.

It was by far the worst thing you had ever felt.

He finally emptied his nuts into you and bit your neck hard as he did so. Blood welling up where he had bitten you. It would certainly scar so you would never forget who owned you.

But even then his cruelty wasn’t at an end. He kept his cock in you as he began draining his bladder into your pained hole.

“Gotta mark your insides as property too since what we were doing before clearly wasn’t enough for you.”

It burned all the sores and tears he had created from railing you so hard.

And he was just the first… you would have to endure the other two doing the exact same things to you before finally being given a break and taken home where they would nurse your bites and clean you up and treat you like their sweet little mate.

[agustdiv1ne]

telepathy (m) — cbg

pairing: choi beomgyu x fem!reader

genre: smut, strangers to ???, mind reader/telepathist!beomgyu, funeral home employee!beomgyu (it's for the plot ok???)

wc: 11.7k

synopsis: most people would abhor a packed subway car — but beomgyu, telepathist extraordinaire, relishes in it. with a career in the funeral business, he finds his morning commute to be the only thing that keeps him relatively sane. reading the mundane thoughts of mundane people maintains his tether to his humanity, but when he goes to read your mind...oh, things get a whole lot more interesting.

warnings: mdni!! 18+ only, ageless blogs dni!!!, mentions of dead bodies, embalming, and funerals (though not very descriptive — it's only bc of gyu's profession), reader is a freak that listens to nsfw audios on her way to work!, gyu is a perv so it's a match made in heaven (hell?), gyu's honestly a little strange + obsessive in this...anyways, dom!gyu, sub!mc, solo male masturbation, on my big cock beomgyu agenda, very brief mentions of daddy/sir/master kinks, explicit consent is given before anything happens bc consent is sexy <3, mind manipulation (he makes it feel like he's touching her), exhibitionism in a way (it will all make sense, trust 🙏), degradation, praise, pseudo-fingering (idk how to explain it, f receiving), gyu calls mc: pretty girl, sweetheart, slut, whore, princess, mc calls gyu sir like once...whew! that was a lot, lmk if i should add anything!

note: you know i have a terrible bout of brainrot when the warnings are all nsfw related...yeah. Yeah. *presses post and runs away*

☆ playlist ☆

masterlist

beomgyu’s commute to work is, by all means, uneventful. 

the train is packed as per usual, filled to the brim with businessmen and office workers and other miscellaneous passengers on their way to whatever the hell their destination is. like most days, he finds himself towards the middle of the passenger car, snatching a rare open seat between a stone-faced man adorned in a suit — his head buried in a newspaper — and a slumped over college student nursing a cup of coffee. the poor kid almost looks like death itself, sporting dark under eyes, rumpled clothes, and a prominent slouch to his spine. not that beomgyu could really blame him; he remembers how easily college living (if you could call it living) can chip away at a person’s mental well-being. 

people-watching like this is what keeps him sane, he thinks. being surrounded by corpses all day, every day is more than draining — it sucks the soul out of him, really, being the only person on shift most of the time that he’s working, having to embalm and clean and pretty up all those cold, gray bodies so that their loved ones can say one last goodbye. it’s quiet in their minds and it’s all too quiet in the funeral home, the only sounds being the clanking of the embalming tools he’s been trained to use, his footsteps echoing down the tiled halls, his sighs of contempt when something small goes wrong — yet the living, breathing, warm people on the train provide a sense of normalcy, something to look forward to every day. to hear their thoughts, as prosaic as they are, has become a sort of saving grace from the lifeless, cold building that he finds himself in five out of the seven days of the week. honestly, if he can maintain a little bit of his humanity via strangers among the subway, even if it’s just by hearing their thoughts, then he’ll take what he can get. 

yeah, that’s the thing: beomgyu is a mind-reader, a pretty talented one at that. not that anyone knew, of course — he wouldn’t risk the government finding out. beomgyu is not usually one for promises, but he has promised himself one thing: there’s no way in hell that he will ever become one of the government’s sick little science experiments, even if his life ever hits rock bottom. he has no idea how his powers work — just that they do, and he would like to keep it that way. it’s bad enough that he doesn’t know where he got such abilities; his parents never mentioned anything about it and only ever grew worried whenever he read back their thoughts to them, so obviously the existence of his powers is some statistical anomaly in the universe. normal people can’t read others’ minds. he was forced to learn that at a very young age in order to keep himself safe. 

“how do you know that?” he remembers his mother’s alarmed tone when he first did it unknowingly, repeating back her own thoughts to her without realizing that’s what he had done. he was maybe six at the time — innocent, curious, plagued by voices in his head that he didn’t quite understand. those voices weren’t his. rather, they were his friends’, his family’s, his dentist’s and his doctor’s and his soccer coach’s voices that ricocheted about his mind uncontrollably;it was overwhelming for the young boy’s mind. the day he first admitted that he could hear them was the first day he heard his parents argue, their yelling from downstairs colliding with their internal voices in beomgyu’s mind, their terribly poignant concern for him and this development louder than any of the venomous words that they spat at each other in the living room. all he remembers from that day was himself crying, unable to block out anything that they thought, let alone his own thoughts. too much for his young mind to handle.

he heard their fear when they took him to the doctor for the first time of many, their heartache when the doctor came back and said that he might have psychosis, but more testing was needed. he heard how they started to deny it — their little boy couldn’t have that, could he? no, no he couldn’t. there’s no way he could. 

although beomgyu was young at the time, guilt ate at him. he was the one hurting his parents, he was the one making them worry. despite his official diagnosis when he was seven, something inside him knew that the doctors were wrong. those voices weren’t just the result of the machinations of his mind at work — they were voices of the people he knew, strangers who passed him on the street. what they said wasn’t evil, it wasn’t out of the ordinary. usually, it was quite mundane. at some point, he started to practice with it, trying focus on one certain voice out of the buzzing hive in his mind, blocking out the others, switching and focusing and blocking out until the action was as natural as breathing. it took him about five years before he reached that point, and after nearly two decades of living with his abilities, he’s gotten quite used to it. his mind is usually quiet — besides his own stream of consciousness — unless he allows others in. or, rather, they allow him in, which they always do. he sees it like a set of doors; open one, and you can hear that one person’s thoughts. close it, and he no longer hears them. and none of them are ever locked since no one expects to their thoughts to be read, which simply makes his life that much easier.

if he’s being honest, he didn’t used to read minds as often as he does now, but there isn’t much he can do about that now lest he go insane. beomgyu could admit that his habit was a little creepy…okay scratch that, extremely fucking creepy. these people had no idea that their minds were being infiltrated, their mental walls bypassed and their privacy violated like a computer infected with a malicious virus. it’s borderline depraved, how nonchalantly he robs these strangers of their utmost privacy, sometimes of their deepest, darkest secrets that they would never want anyone to find out about. he could sequester quite a bit of money out of some of these people, now that he thinks about it.

and sure, that may sound immoral, but beomgyu has never considered himself to be of particularly virtuous character.

without a second thought, beomgyu taps into the mind of the kid next to him. he’s thinking about how he’s failing his statistics class because he just bombed his midterm. no, now his mind is full of what he’s going to eat after his 8 a.m. class. he shifts his focus on the businessman to his right. stocks, his cheating wife, how he’s considering leaving with his mistress in the coming days…

”what a prick,” beomgyu thinks to himself, smirking a bit. just a few more stops until he gets off, now. 

he pulls his phone from his jacket pocket, scrolling aimlessly just to keep his eyes busy. sitting on the opposite side of the college student, an elderly lady walks herself through the stew that she’s going to make for her grandchildren tonight, excitement coloring her words. it’s cute — he loves hearing things like that. wholesome thoughts are not easy to come by nowadays, given the state of the world. exhibit a: a teenager standing on the other side of the train car worries himself into a frenzy over whether the girl that he has a crush on likes him back. exhibit b: a middle aged man contemplates if he should quit his job. for a second, beomgyu thinks that he might be in the same boat as him, before realizing that he has nothing else to fall back on — exhibit c. he could keep going.

a clear, robotic voice overhead announces the subway’s arrival to the next station — his station. sighing, he sits up a little taller, slipping his phone into the pocket of his slacks. a vague sense of dread weighs down his shoulders, knowing that he has a service to set up for the moment he clocks in.

he’s not looking forward to today, and yet the train still slows to a stop, the doors still slide open, and he still grabs his work briefcase from the spot between his feet. like clockwork, beomgyu maneuvers through the crowd, out the doors, and climbs the stairs up to the chilly streets of seoul.

decompressing after a slow-moving shift can take beomgyu’s night in many directions. sometimes, he simply returns home and hops into bed after a long, scalding hot shower that removes the invisible layer of grime that lays heavy on his skin. other times — typically on fridays — he’ll stop by a bar and catch up with his friends, occasionally leaving with a woman hanging off of his arm if he drinks enough to lower his inhibitions. more often than not, however, his excursions at the underground bar that taehyun is partial to end in him stumbling home alone and waking up the next morning with a raging headache. nursing a hangover alone, eating breakfast alone, bathing alone…he has never really become acclimated to it. the monster that festers inside beomgyu’s chest craves for love, for connection, for somebody to hold when the nights are too dark and his thoughts match the shade of the sky. the lack of connection is slowly getting to him. is this what insanity feels like? he wouldn’t know, nor would he like to find out. he’s sane. he’s perfectly sane. 

beomgyu understands that his profession can be off-putting to potential lovers, but it’s not as if he had much of a choice in the matter — not when his one shot at the career of his dreams crumbled below his feet when the company filed bankruptcy, sending him tumbling back down to earth, to the reality that his college degree meant little to nothing to the vast majority of employers nowadays. though he applied to dozens of jobs, the only one he ever heard back from was from the listing titled “mortuary assistant,” and in desperation, he accepted the position without much thought. maybe if he had tried a little harder to find a different company where he could apply his skills, maybe if he had pushed himself to make connections in the industry when he had the resources to do so, maybe if he had pursued music production a little harder, had not given up so readily when things grew difficult…maybe things would be different. 

beomgyu often thinks about the maybes.

this particular night, he finds himself leaned over a bar counter, a glass of amber-hued beer in hand. he half-listens to yeonjun’s slurred account of his dance crew’s latest win while he stares down at the mahogany tabletop. some condensation has gathered on the wood, and he swipes a finger through it. a slap to his shoulder brings his focus back to his surroundings.

“gyu, dude, y’should totally try out,’’ yeonjun pitches as he sloppily swings an arm over beomgyu’s shoulders. “get out of that. that—” he stumbles over his words for a moment, expression warping into a confused grimace. “that gross ass dead people building.”

beomgyu exhales a laugh as yeonjun’s head lolls against his shoulder, quietly whining about how his head hurts. while yeonjun is substantially gone already, beomgyu is only on his second beer. scanning the spacious, dim-lit room, he shakes his head. it’s times like these where he does not feel the need to slip into people’s minds — being surrounded by his friends is enough. “nah, man. i don’t think i could keep up. it’s been a while.”

“sure y’could! you’re like th’second best dancer here!” yeonjun says as his torso slumps down against the table. the bartender eyes him from further down the bar top with concern, but beomgyu sates the employee with an apologetic smile, ensuring that he turns away before setting his attention back on his friend.

beomgyu scoffs. “and i’m assuming you’re the first best?”

“uh, obviously. i literally run th’thing,” yeonjun retorts as he glares at him with a single eye open, an ear now resting on top of his crossed arms on the counter.

“yeonjun’s right,” taehyun butts in from the other side of yeonjun’s collapsed body. though his glazed over eyes give away his inebriated state, taehyun’s tolerance tends to lean much higher than yeonjun’s; this fact is confirmed by the crystal clear enunciation of his words as he continues, “you’ve been acting differently ever since you started working there. it wouldn’t hurt to try something new.”

great, even his friends have noticed. exhaling deeply, beomgyu nods.

“yeah, i’ll think about it.” 

as the conversation meanders off into other topics, beomgyu sinks back into his own little world. curse taehyun and his acute perceptiveness. he knows that he’s been acting off, but maybe his friends are right; he once dreamed of being a choreographer, back when he was a teen, before he discovered his love for music production. perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to try.

unintentionally, he meets the gaze of a girl sitting at a booth with her friends. he quickly averts his gaze, and by the time he looks back up, she has been roped into what seems like a shot-taking contest. six other girls circle the table, one joining the first girl in taking rapid-fire shots, four others egging them on, and one laser-focused on her phone, occasionally sipping water through a straw. from what he can gather, she’s likely the group’s designated driver — though it seems her role has morphed into more of a babysitter. she’s pretty, he’ll admit. just his type. if he was on his third or fourth beer, he’d probably be over there trying to strike up a conversation with her, rather than any of her drunk friends. 

as she looks up and throws a cursory glance around the bar, she catches him staring, her kohl-lined eyes meeting his own. an eyebrow raises as her gloss-coated lips twist, as if to say “don’t even try it.”

oh, how terribly he wishes to slip into her mind and let her know that he has no intention to. 

the ear-piercing screech of yeonjun’s barstool to his right tears his gaze away from her. yeonjun now stands, one arm around taehyun and the other around soobin, the latter sporting a borderline disgusted grimace directed at the older boy hanging off of him while kai simply stands behind the trio of men. yeonjun’s head hangs low below his shoulders, chin nearly touching his chest, as he emits a pathetic groan. at least he’s not puking this time.

“we’re about to go grab some food. this one,” taehyun’s head nods to yeonjun’s sagging frame. “definitely needs it. you coming?”

unwilling to allow the night to end quite yet, beomgyu hums, quickly pays his tab, and allows the brief, silent encounter with the woman to fade away into the back of his mind.

the rest of the weekend passes without fanfare, and monday returns to rear its ugly head once again. monday is beomgyu’s least favorite day of the week; it brings a raging headache from his 5 a.m. alarm, a bone-deep fatigue that lingers for the rest of the day. it brings grumpy commuters whose knees and elbows uncomfortably bump against his own. it brings people who think that he should give up his seat, and silently tell him so with narrowed eyes and furrowed eyebrows. how selfish, they all think whenever he actually bothers to read their thoughts. what a fucking dick, some of them even snarl within the so-called impenetrable walls of their minds, walls he so easily breaks down. he levels those ones with a half-awake glare, pupils gloomy and lifeless. internally, their uneasy reactions make him want to laugh, hysterically cackle in their faces because wow, is he really that scary? he shouldn’t be, but maybe the dark under eyes are doing something for him.

surprisingly, the subway car he frequents is less crowded than usual. not as many people stand in front of him, and he’s actually able to see directly across the car for the first time in a while. doors shut, and he’s left to look around at the regulars and the new patrons that often don’t show up again. they’re easily less interesting than the regulars. really, what can he say? the daily life updates satisfy his nosy tendencies. 

still, he hates mondays. mondays suck. mondays make him want to crawl into a hole and eventually join the bodies at his workplace. they bring out the worst in his mind. all they do is remind him of the neverending cycle that he has trapped himself in — wake up, work, go to sleep, and do it all over again the next day.

mondays bring a lot of things he fundamentally dislikes, but this particular monday also brings you. 

it’s split-second eye contact. nothing more, nothing less. your eyes grow wide, your lips parting just the slightest bit in surprise. though he has not invaded your mind (yet), he can already tell what you are thinking. fuck, he isn’t blind — he knows that he is handsome.

your eyes shoot downward, your head hanging low with your phone clenched between your fingers. one of his eyebrows raises while a small smirk plays on his lips — you’re new, and even better, you’re cute. his dark, seemingly bored gaze trails over to the earbuds nestled in your ears, then to your crossed legs. you glance up at him again, eyes blowing wide again as your thighs press together just enough for him to notice the movement. his own eyes narrow slightly, evaluating the sight. 

you seem...interesting. prim, proper, sitting in a modest-length skirt and a plain blouse and coat that paint you as an unassuming character, just another random person in this sardine can of a train car. yet there’s this glint in your eyes that tells him there is so, so much more to you than what meets the eye — that the innocent, put-together little front that you display to the world is a complete and utter lie. it’s intriguing. new patrons come and go from this particular subway car every day, but you and your fresh face have caught his interest — and so has your odd behavior. 

then, without warning, realization punches him square in the gut.

you were there the other night, with those girls at the bar. the one sitting at the end of the table with the small glass of water as you scrolled through your phone. the one who shot a piercing glare at him as you looked out for your inebriated friends. your current behavior is a far cry from the strong front he first encountered that night, small and oh-so meek and lacking the sharp, piercing edge to your gaze that initially piqued his interest in you. the change, for some reason, intrigues him more. what happened to that feisty glare, that confident air to your posture? he wants to know why you seem so meek, so he taps in to your mind and—

“you’re my dumb little slut, aren’t you? fuckin’ say it—”

beomgyu flinches in his seat, the door to your mind slamming shut as he sits there in shock. did he really just hear that? are you listening to fucking porn on the subway? what the fuck?

he’s never had this happen to him before. he’s accidentally stumbled upon the occasional horny thought before, sure, but listening to porn on the subway? that’s a new one. he decides to give you another glance; your lips are pressed together now, eyes pointed towards the floor as you further shrink into yourself. fuck, you’re so cute, but now he knows you’re also awfully perverted — and for some reason, he feels himself getting hard in his trousers at the thought of entering your mind again. 

he should do something about this little development, shouldn’t he?

yeah, he thinks that he should. a sick sort of curiosity wins over the more logical side of his brain, the side that tells him that he should feel guilty for even thinking about what he’s about to do. he can’t, can he? no, he can — he wants to, he really fucking wants to. opportunities like this don’t just present themselves on a silver platter like this on the regular. if he doesn’t take this chance, then he’d be an absolute fool. 

the subway slows to a stop, the weirdly cheery, robotic voice calling out another stop. not his, thank god. he takes this opportunity to open that pesky little door to your mind again, now fully expecting the depravity echoing in your brain — and rather than do anything drastic too quickly, he simply sits there and listens. he listens through an entire audio alongside you, ignoring the twitch of his cock as he listens to the woman be degraded and praised, in missionary and in doggy, her moans mixing with the man's in a cacophony of pleasure — he loves the way you jump when the sound of a hand striking flesh sounds through your mind. your fleeting sigh of “god, i wish that were me,” causes him to bite his lip. you like being treated like a slut, huh? like a stupid little whore only made to take cock? that’s music to his ears, really — because he likes treating girls like that too. 

as sick and disgusting as it is, he continues to listen as if mindlessly tuning in to a podcast, subtly adjusting himself in his pants as he fights off a raging boner. he wants to be the one to do those things to you. he wants to make you scream and sob and beg for mercy as he completely ravages your body, fuck you until you’re brainless, perfect little slut for him. you’d love that, according to the audios you consume for the remainder of his commute — to be fucked so hard you legs give out from under you, to be owned, fully and completely. he likes that sound of that as well.

a few minutes into the second audio, you take another glance at him, eyes squeezing shut right away once you catch his gaze — and suddenly, your thoughts are full of him. he’s encountered countless strangers who can perfectly visualize their streams of consciousness, and you seem to be yet another one of them. images of you on your knees between his thighs and sucking his cock in the middle of this subway car flood his own mind, switching to one of him fucking you from behind against the wall while everyone else watches, then to him finger fucking you with a hand around your throat…what the fuck. what the fuck? how do you just do that? how do you think of such terribly shameless things while looking so pretty and demure, as if you’re a shy little thing rather than some fucking whore? he shifts his briefcase over his lap again. fuck, he’s so hard it’s starting to hurt. shit, fuck. 

he should be appalled by you, but fiery, ardent lust is the sole emotion that floods his veins. would it be a bad idea to talk to you? no, you want it. you want it so fucking bad. just look at your mind — and he can make all your dirty little fantasies come true, if you would let him. 

just as he’s about to actually do something about you, the subway slows to a stop once again, the same cheery voice announcing his stop. god dammit. pushing himself up to his feet, he finds that you’re doing the same, wide eyes flitting around nervously as you move towards the door and stop nearly right next to him, those earbuds that hide your biggest secret in plain sight still stuck in your ears. he can still hear those degrading words and moans and slapping sounds that still echo through your mind, loud and clear as if those white earbuds are sitting snug in his own ears. 

the doors slide open, and soon enough, he loses sight of you in the surging crowd. stepping out of the subway, he looks around once, twice. you have completely disappeared; nowhere to be found, your mind has grown too far from his own for him to locate nor access, the tether between the two of you frayed to the point of snapping in half. with a brief purse of his lips, he sets off up the stairs. it’s fine, there’s always another day. it’s fine, he tells himself over and over again. there’s nothing he could have done in such a short time, anyway. 

the sun sits high in the sky today, but the bone-chilling air cuts through his puffy coat like tiny needles puncturing his skin, or millions of scalpels slicing open flesh nearly to the bone, cold and sterile and far from comforting. autumn shouldn’t be this cold, and his slightly soured mood isn’t helping his case right now. he should have done something back there, he should’ve opened up the channel between the two of you and taken the plunge. it wouldn’t have hurt to try, but no. no, he let that opportunity go like every other one he’s had in his life. with his jaw set, he promises himself that it won’t happen again. it won’t, because if he keeps living like this — allowing all these opportunities slip through his fingers like grains of sand — he’ll never be able to forgive himself.

and honestly, beomgyu is no clairvoyant, and he should brush off the tickle in his brain as a stupid, naive hunch…but he has a compelling feeling that he’ll be seeing you again tomorrow. 

when beomgyu returns home, the sun slowly sinking towards the horizon, he doesn’t unwind like he usually does. today’s shift was a slow one, with no bodies to preen and primp and no services to set up for, so most of his time was taken up with cleaning, filing documents, and sitting around aimlessly. no matter how much he tried to fend them off, thoughts of you bounced around in his brain for the entire eight hours he was on shift. fuck, he doesn’t even know your name, much less anything else about you, yet he wishes he could travel back in time and redo this morning all over again. he’s not sure how it would have panned out, exactly, but he has a few tricks up his sleeve that would’ve made it exciting.

he shakes his head. the current moment presents much more pressing matters than ruminating on this morning’s terrible decisions; the strain in his trousers proves to be a pertinent issue, a tent formed in the black fabric and aching to be touched. now that the public eye no longer holds his gaze, his apartment door locked shut behind him, he allows himself to give in to his most base instincts. a hand comes down to cup his hardness as he imagines his fingers as yours, you on your knees below him, those adorably wide eyes staring up at him in desperation. you’d wait for permission, right? you’d beg so prettily like a good little slut should? fuck yeah, you would. you’d be good, you’d take what he would give you — and you would love it. 

groaning, he crashes onto his couch, head throwing back against the back cushion as he gropes his cock harder. he’s forgone slipping off his dress shoes and has barely even slipped his coat off before he’s giving in to the pulsing ache in his groin that’s nearly unbearable, the white hot need swirling in his stomach that demands his immediate attention. his belt quickly unbuckled and his trousers pulled halfway down his thighs, he slips his cock from his boxers, gasping at how sensitive he has become. 

“oh fuck,” he breathes out into the quiet air, a shuddered sigh following when his thumb swipes over the angry red head, the bead of precum that has gathered there spreading across his skin. he brings his hand up to his lips, gathering some spit beneath his tongue before letting in loll into his palm. bringing it back down, he drags his hand up and down his shaft, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as pleasure rushes through his veins. he pumps his cock steadily, hips rolling up into his hand as if fucking your throat. eyes fluttering closed, his free hand grips the couch, fingernails digging into the worn leather and leaving half-moon indents in their wake. “fuck. god, fuck.”

would you be able to take him? he’s been told he’s big, most women barely able to take him even after extensive prep. he imagines how you’d keen as he enters you, your back arching so prettily and your walls stretching to their limits to accommodate his size. how you’d choke and gag on his cock if he decided to use your throat, tears streaming down your cheeks as you peer up at him pathetically, fingers digging into your thighs as you resist the urge to touch yourself. would you like to be slapped around a little, punished with spankings and little taps to your cheek? 

“focus,” he mumbles to no one. to you. “focus, slut. be good for me.” 

he’s delirious at this point, has dived so deep into his fantasies that he barely registers that he’s fucking his fist and not your mouth or sweet little cunt. that doesn’t stop his fingers from tightening their grip, squeezing the head before gliding back down again, then back up, the rhythm of his hips growing frenzied as his high inches closer. his free hand smooths up his stomach, taking his button-up with it as he clenches it with desperate fingers. he bites down on the fabric, pumping himself once, twice, three times before his high hits him, his cum spurting out in staccato ribbons. he’s making a mess, but he can’t bring himself to care when this is the best orgasm he’s had in months. the shirt falls from his mouth as he moans unabashedly. 

“take it,” he groans, his hips canting upward. “fuckin’— fuckin’ take it. shit. such a perfect little whore for me.”

he cums and he cums, spilling all over himself until he’s milked dry. eyes closed, his contracted muscles melt into the couch, hot pants replacing his moans and groans. a few minutes pass before he fully comes down from his headspace and returns back to earth, only for him to realize just how much he came, staining his clothes and coating his skin in creamy white. he blinks. 

reality crashes down on his head. 

he just…jerked off to you. he just came so hard he saw stars just from the mere thought of you. oh, he’s in deeper than he first thought. too deep, too quickly, he can barely breathe. 

“fuck,” beomgyu murmurs as he stares down at his cum-covered abdomen, his sticky hand. “fuck.”

beomgyu was right: you do come back the next day. and the next. and the next.

over the remainder of the work week, he watches you — well, more so listens to you, but he can’t deny himself the little glimpses he allows himself to take, drinking in how you worry your bottom lip, how the muscles in your throat contract each time you gulp. the poker face that you don crumbles oh so easily whenever he meets your stray gaze. it’s exhilarating, knowing the power he, a complete stranger, has over you. your microscopic slips in expression remain undetected to the rest of the passengers, but he sees every single one. they’re a perfectly entertaining backdrop for your explicit musings. 

he knows he could approach you like a normal human being would, but where’s the fun in that? he’s not quite a normal person in his own right, anyway. instead, he’s decided to keep you in his sights, learning what exactly you enjoy, what you like to hear, preparing for the day where he again gathers the courage to toy with you within the walls of your mind. he’s in deep, and at this point, he’s accepted it if only to justify his sadistic obsession with you. actually, on second thought, he wouldn’t quite call it an obsession, perhaps a morbid curiosity more than anything. yeah, that’s all it can be.

it’s almost as if the universe has sent him a little present in the form of you, an apology for the trials and tribulations that whatever is above has rained down on him this past year or so. of course he’s going to savor it. who wouldn’t? so he sticks to his plan, and keeps watching you, listening to you, observing you, identifying your little quirks and deepest, darkest desires. they’ll be quite useful later, he’s sure. 

over his…research period, he’s found out a lot about you. you like to be bullied, to be called a slut, a whore, but you also enjoy a little praise mixed in: good slut, good whore, pretty girl is so obedient for sir, for daddy, for master. you’re also not too picky in what you listen to, as long as it contains a male dominant in some capacity. couple’s content, threesomes, gangbangs are all on the table, as are solo audios that usually have some sort of plot to them — coworkers to lovers' first date that ends in sex? check. hot librarian who fucks over a table you after closing? that too. he could go on about what he’s heard in just the solo audios you consume, but even that list would be exhaustive. 

by the time friday rolls around, he doesn’t even have to try to search for your mind; call him crazy, but it’s almost as if you, on some subconscious level, know that he wants in and are more than willing to let him. as if you keep the door cracked open just for him. 

at least, he likes to think that you do. 

staying close, but not too close, to you proves to be difficult today. fridays bring with them a surge of new faces that crowd the subway car, which is generally quite annoying, but at the moment, he also finds it to be frustrating. no seats are open when he boards, he can’t even see you through the dense crowd, but you’re there. your mind is there, open and waiting for him to enter.

though he won’t be able to see your cute little reactions, he steps through that mental threshold. 

“it’s okay, baby. shh, don’t cry, you can cum. cum for me, just let go,” a gentle voice coos. aw, you must be having a rough morning, how sad. the only other day you listened to these kinds of audios, you looked absolutely miserable, the corners of your lips pulled down and a deep, pathetic furrow to your brows — it was wednesday, that’s right. two days ago, when you seemed frazzled and completely out of it. a little digging resulted in him learning that you had spilled your coffee all over the concrete on the way here, you thought your hair didn’t look right (even though, to him, it did, it looked perfect — he wished he could’ve told you that), and worst of all, your boss emailed you late the previous night to admonish you for your performance, demanding a meeting first thing that morning. 

still, he wishes he could take care of your boss, eliminate that weight off of your shoulders. if it were up to him, your boss would be sitting in the morgue at his place of work, gray and comatose and unable to admonish you for things that beomgyu is sure you had no control over. because that’s how offices work, right? sink or swim, big fish eat the little ones, blaming those below them for everything they should be taking responsibility for. your boss has to be one of those. he was pig-nosed and donning a constant sneer when you pictured the verbal berating you’d be getting once you got to your workplace. 

that day, he found himself thinking about how he’s become pretty talented with a scalpel. 

“good girl. doing so well for me, pretty girl,” the same voice soothes, soft cries and sniffles from the submissive mixing with the gentle words. he could treat you all sweet too. he could be anything you want, if only you knew him. 

he wants you to know him — needs you to, really.

there’s no clear cut reason for your current sour mood, your thoughts too jumbled together for him to properly decipher. are you picking apart your appearance? did you wake up late? is this all because of your boss again? he might just kill the bastard if that’s the case…if only he could approach you, tell you that everything will be okay, but he doesn’t want to knock down the house of cards he’s spent such precious time building over the course of the week. you’re too special for that. it’s the very reason why he tries to blend into the crowd, why he tries to keep eye contact to a minimum. the last thing he needs is for you to run away from him when you’re one of the only things holding him together.

when the car slows to his and your stop, disappointment nips at the space between his eyebrows. he didn’t even get to see you today, and the end of the work week means that he won’t be seeing you for two entire days. sighing, he falls into his typical routine: move towards the doors, wait for them to open, and follow the other exiting passengers out. where could you be? you’re still here, he knows that much since he’s still connected to you, still hears those soft words and moans, but where the fuck are you? you, as in your body. that you.

with a single cursory glance around, he swears he catches a glimpse of your figure before the crowd swallows you whole. as he’s shoved towards the stairs by the crowd, his chest grows heavy.

friday has just begun, but monday couldn’t come any faster. 

“so, are you gonna try out?”

yeonjun is far more sober compared to last friday night, his eyes lacking that fatigued droop they always get whenever he’s had too much. beomgyu tears his glazed-over gaze away from the television screen to look at the yeonjun, sinking further into the couch below him. he points to himself. “me?”

yeonjun rolls his eyes, a knee swinging over the arm of the armchair he sits in. “who the fuck else would i be talking to?”

scoffing, beomgyu shoots him a glare. “i don’t know, man. y’don’t have to be a dick about it.”

the open bottle of beer in beomgyu’s hand chills his fingertips, so he switches it to his other hand before taking another sip. meanwhile, soobin plops down next to him with an already open bag of chips, offering some to him. he shakes his head, and soobin shrugs, beginning to munch on them by himself. 

“i’m serious though,” yeonjun continues. “you should really try out. there’s not much to it, just dance to one song and you’re done. i’d probably pass you even if you sucked.”

“that’s nepotism,” taehyun chimes in from the floor, eyes trained on the screen as he shoots a player down in the game him and kai are currently obsessed with. the sound of gunfire fills the living room of soobin and yeonjun’s apartment, the murmurs of the two boys a low drone beneath it as they figure out their best strategy to win. 

he almost wishes he lived here with soobin and yeonjun, or with the other two. yeonjun and soobin, taehyun and kai — only beomgyu lives alone. alone doesn’t necessarily mean lonely, but in beomgyu’s case, it does. maybe that’s why he’s latched onto you so hard: to cure his loneliness. he swats that thought away like one would a pesky mosquito. he hasn’t latched onto you, he admonishes himself, he’s simply curious. yeah, curious. 

just a little innocent curiosity. 

disregarding taehyun’s comment, yeonjun raises an eyebrow towards beomgyu. “i know i was drunk when i said that shit last week, but you really have been acting weird since you started at that job. we’ve all noticed.”

“yeah, it’s like you’ve gotten more reserved, or something,” soobin says, words muffled by his chewing. beomgyu grimaces, shifting closer to the arm of the couch. 

“you’re the most introverted one here, you can’t say shit,” kai snorts. soobin throws a chip at his head.

“anyway,” yeonjun butts in with a scalding glare before an argument can begin. soobin and kai blanch, mouths closing. “we’re just…concerned about you.”

“is this some kind of intervention?” beomgyu laughs, disbelief apparent in his tone. he’s fine. he has you now.

“no, we just want you to know that there’s other things you could do that would make you happier than work at a fucking funeral home,” taehyun says, eyes still not straying from the tv. 

“like joining my dance crew,” yeonjun tacks on. 

beomgyu sighs. they’re kind of right, if he’s being honest with himself, but is he ready to put himself out there again? is he ready to face the potential of rejection, of failure? he’s had his life fall apart in front of his eyes once already, what if it happens again?

“...i guess.”

“c’mon.” yeonjun shifts around until he’s leaning on his elbows, focus solely on beomgyu. “tryouts are next saturday. i know how fast you can learn choreography. hell, you could probably learn something in a couple hours and be fine.”

“honestly, you’ll never know if you don’t try,” soobin chimes in. “it might end in something good.”

“yeah,” beomgyu says before taking another large swig of beer. “yeah, i know.”

and so another weekend passes, and monday returns once again. 

soobin’s brief, sage advice plays through his mind again and again. although he understands that soobin meant for it to apply to his current career situation, beomgyu has adopted it for his situation with you instead. he should try, he’s going to try, eventually. 

it might end in something good, he tells himself over and over again. he has to try.

mondays are a bit less excruciating now that you’re around. he has only known you for a week, but it’s been long enough to know that you make his day-to-day routine bearable — hell, he’ll stay at his terrible job as long as you keep showing up each morning. the day that you don’t will be the nail in his coffin — he chuckles at his stupid joke. yeonjun is rubbing off on him too much.

the sky is overcast today, and endless expanse of gray that contrasts the warmth of the changing leaves that line the sidewalk. it might rain soon, he surmises, but he hopes that it won’t. he’s forgone an umbrella today. digging his hands further into his coat pockets, he ducks into the subway station, descending the stairs and weaving through the crowd until he finds his usual platform. when he gets there, you’ve already arrived, ears vacant of those white earbuds, but it’s not a foreign sight to him. you typically put them in once you sit down. the fact that you get on and get off at the same stop as him…he almost likes to think of all of this as fate. 

maybe the universe really is trying to apologize. 

the subway arrives at the platform a few minutes later — minutes in which he tries not to stare at you. he’s not a creep, he swears that he’s not. he’s not a creep, he’s not a creep — he repeats this to himself as he follows behind you into the subway car the two of you frequent, he finds a seat across from you a few feet to your left. he can’t be too obvious.

and most importantly, he’s not a creep. 

you dig around in your bag. ah, here come those infamous earbuds, he’s sure of it — but then they don’t, and then the digging through your bag grows a degree more frantic, your lips parting as you continue shoving whatever is in there aside in search of your most precious possession.

you feel like crying as panic surges through your veins. oh god, you forgot them. how could you have forgotten them? what are you going to do now? 

beomgyu decides to tap into your mind in that moment, finding you in an unbelievably frazzled state. his heart clenches in his chest, he wishes he could help somehow…

wait. he could…oh my god, he could. no, that’s sick, he’s not a creep — well, no, he could. he definitely fucking could, and you’d probably end up liking it…

he could be your temporary replacement for today — no, he could become your constant source, the one you need to get through the day. he could become your audios. he wants to. they’d be far more…interactive, if he did, after all. you’d love what he could do to your pretty fucking body just with access to your mind. reading thoughts isn’t the only thing he can do — and soobin’s right: he’ll never know if he doesn’t try. how could he sit here any longer and not give in to his burning desire to ravage you? you know what? fuck it. this is the perfect opportunity, served up once again on a silver platter, waiting for him to take. he’s not going to let it slip away again — and oh, you just look so devastated right now, how terrible would he be if he didn’t help you?

in a split-second moment, beomgyu decides that today is the day. deep breath. focus. okay, he can do this. one, two, three…

“hello, pretty girl.”

you flinch before you look up and around, only to find no one is looking at you — well, he is, but through his peripherals. wouldn’t want to get caught, would he? suppressing a smirk at your reaction, he shifts in his seat.

“was someone just talking to me?” you ask yourself, brows furrowing as your eyes continue to dart around. your hand comes up to your ear to see if you accidentally remembered your earbuds, your frown deepening when you register that they are, indeed, not in your ears. glancing around again, your eyes skirt over his form. he shivers at the thought of what’s to come, biting his lip as he avoids your gaze. “is this some sort of prank?”

“calm down, sweetheart, this isn’t a prank. now, stop looking around, you’re the only one who heard me.”

your brain flits from thought to thought so quick he can barely keep up, the volume of them rising as you panic. your fingers clench the strap of your purse as if to ground yourself. “am i hallucinating right now? what the fuck? this has to be a prank. should i go to the doctor’s? no, my boss would kill me if i called out, but fuck, i should really go if i’m hearing things—”

beomgyu chuckles, the sound echoing through your mind as well. freezing, your muscles lock up as you look around again. your distressed stream of consciousness stops for a moment, before resuming at a much more rapid pace. “what the fuck, i need to call out right now, where’s my phone—”

sighing, he leans back into his seat and closes his eyes. so cute, how easily you spiral. “quiet that pretty little head of yours, pretty girl. you’re not hallucinating, this is all real. very real.”

a few moments pass before your internal freakout quiets down. for once, silence fills your mind…and rather than him break it, it’s you: “someone’s…talking to me through my mind? this is real?”

“such a smart girl. you figured it out so quickly,” beomgyu taunts, resisting the urge to coo again. adrenaline rushes through his veins, urging him to continue. you need him. he can make you happy. he just needs to hear you say it.

your thighs press together at the praise, fingers digging into the trousers you had chosen to wear. you shouldn’t be feeling like this. this is strange, terribly strange, and even a little frightening, now that you are aware that someone — that a complete stranger, at that — has full reign over your conscious. yet, at the same time, you’re curious to see how this will play out.

“and you can speak to me, too, if you focus hard enough…” his voice trails off. okay, you can do that. allowing your eyelids to flutter shut, you begin to breathe deeply until even the mechanical noises of the subway and the murmurs of passengers vacate your senses. mind empty, you exhale a shaky breath. focus. stay focused. 

“hmm, impressive. you’re a natural at this.” god, he needs to quit praising you like that with his deep voice. by the way he laughs, you know he heard that too. fuck. 

“who are you and why the fuck are you in my brain?” you decide to ask. straight to the point, no fluff to it, it’s reminiscent of your attitude at the bar where he first laid eyes upon you. this is the wall you put up towards strangers and any other threat to your life, but little do you know, beomgyu’s breached that wall already. this is just a little front. “answer me, you fucking asshole—”

“woah, woah, watch the language. why would i tell you who i am? it’s much more exciting this way, don’t you think?” the smile in his voice is unmistakable, but he purses his lips to keep them from curling upward. 

you start to gnaw on your bottom lip, biting hard enough for pain to bloom across your nerve endings. this is stranger you’re talking to right now, a stranger who you’re talking to through your fucking thoughts. this is weird. you never signed up for this. “get the hell out of my mind before— before i—” 

“before you what? can’t kick me out, you don’t know how to do that, pretty girl.”

fuck, he’s right — wait, if he’s in your mind right now, can he also control it? is he going to hurt you? is he going to make you his puppet and go on a murder spree? is he in this car with you, or somewhere else? what if…what if…

beomgyu can almost feel your panic swelling in his own chest. fuck, he needs to put a stop to your spiraling before it gets out of control. if you freak out now, then all of his work over the past week will be for naught. after all, he’s not going to do anything without your permission. the last thing he wishes to do is scare you off completely before he can have his fun. with great urgency, he cuts off your ramblings, “hey, now, relax for me, princess. i’m not going to hurt you. i’m as human as you are, just a bit…different, i guess. and i am in the same car as you right now.”

rather than respond, you look around again, eyeing every single man around you with suspicion, even him. he stares at the floor, maintaining what he hopes to be a neutral, borderline bored, expression. he needs to keep it together. he’s gotten this far, he can’t ruin this. “looking around again, huh? if i were that easy to spot, then this game wouldn’t be very fun, would it?” 

“game? fucking with my mind is a game to you?” 

the corners of his lips twitch up before he’s forcing them back down. this is it, the moment he has been waiting oh so patiently for. keep it together.

“well, not really — i actually have a proposition for you, if you’d hear me out.”

scoffing, you urge him along. “just get on with it.”

“so impatient. that’s okay. i can work with that,” he smirks. “i know what you listen to every morning, you know.”

your heart drops to your stomach. he what? oh god, you think you’re going to be sick. your arms wrap around your stomach, squeezing hard. this is bad, this is really fucking bad. “do you want money, or something? are— are you trying to blackmail me right now? i’ll have you know, i’m actually kinda broke right now. i really don’t wanna end up homeless, can you just. pick someone else to fuck with? there’s like twelve different businessmen in this car, i’m sure they’re rich and corrupt—”

beomgyu’s brows raise imperceptibly. jesus, are you always this flighty? “woah, chill. i’m not here to judge you — or blackmail you, for that matter. i’m not evil. aw, don’t look all shameful now. i told you i’m not here to judge — i actually wanna help you, if you’d let me.”

“help me?” you dumbly echo. “help me how?”

“well,” he starts. “i noticed you forgot your earbuds today, and you just looked so sad and lost without them. how else are you going to get through your commute? and then i thought maybe i could do something about that. y’know, help you out, get you through the morning.”

“so you invaded my privacy just to tell me that you wanna dirty talk to me for the rest of my commute? is that what you mean? ‘cause if so, that’s pretty weird,” you reply, though your stray thoughts that dart around tell him that you’re actually considering his offer — it’s tempting, isn’t it? to give in, to let his deep voice get you all squirmy and needy, knowing he could be anyone in this subway car. still, your words make him laugh, because of course you’re deflecting right now. it’s okay, he hasn’t given you the full story quite yet.

“that’s only part of my offer, princess,” he starts. “i can read minds, yes, but i can also do…other things.”

oh, you’re really considering it now. maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to let him. his voice is nice, and maybe, just maybe, it’s kind of making you horny. after a deep, long breath, you gulp once, then, with curiosity dripping from your tone, you ask, “...like what?”

jackpot.

beomgyu’s high on a mix of adrenaline and dopamine, utterly giddy because he’s got you right where he wants you, where he needs you. he’s played his cards just right, shoved your worries to the side and drew out your curiosity enough that you’ve taken his bait. perfect, oh, this is perfect. he knew you’d be good for him.

“it would be much easier for me to show you.”

“then show me,” you immediately reply, heat flooding your cheeks at the sheer desperation in your voice. god, calm down. he hasn’t even done anything yet.

chuckling at your internal conflict, he decides not to comment. “tell me if you don’t like something. i’ll stop.” he watches as you slightly nod to yourself, a soft “okay,” echoing through your head and into his — thus, he sets his plan into action. 

something warm caresses your calf, but when you look down, there’s nothing there. your eyes widen — was that a hand? it definitely felt like one, the way it creeped up the back of your leg, calloused fingertips pressing into your skin. a shiver races down your spine. that had to have been him. 

“it was,” he confirms, then his voice is growing impossibly deeper, adopting that gruff edge that you love so much. “you want more, princess? i can give you more.”

another phantom hand skirts over your waist, dragging down over your hips to your right thigh, just to stop there. biting your bottom lip, you nod, hoping that whoever is in your head right now sees it, wherever he is. the hand moves to your inner thigh; despite how tightly pressed together they are, it skirts over your skin with ease, seemingly beneath your trousers. “i need words, pretty girl, or i might just stop right now. and we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

no, you wouldn’t, not at this point. the unbearable ache currently building in your core makes you want to cry; you haven’t felt this level of desperation in a while, and you need to be touched. you need it so fucking bad. 

“please.” the single word comes out meek, quiet. shame flushes your face, a fiery heat that spreads up to your ears and down your neck. 

you hear the way his breath shudders, causing your own hitch. “fuck, you’re so cute, but i need more than that. beg. beg for me to touch you.”

his voice — fuck, his voice is so deep, so dark and wanton. you wonder what he sounds like when he’s moaning, how he would sound if he fucked you, pounded you into the mattress so hard you saw stars. the image of a faceless stranger fucking you from behind, your back arched behind you and your face buried in the sheets, as he holds your wrists behind your back flits across the big screen of your mind. you shake it away, but the man in your head is already tutting. “use your words, sweetheart, not pictures — though i’d love to do that to you too. you’ve got quite the imagination on you.” 

beomgyu’s cock twitches in his boxers as you whine, frantic pleas bubbling up from the deepest, darkest recesses of your mind once he takes the sensation of his hand away from your thigh. you sound halfway dumb already, begging for his hands, his cock, his tongue — anything. you’ll take anything just, “please, sir. please touch me. need you to touch me so bad.”

you don’t even know who he is, yet you’re being so obedient, calling him sir, begging so sweetly for him — it’s like you’re begging straight into his ear. his heart swells at the thought, as does his cock. you sound so pretty, but he finds himself wishing he could hear these words come from your lips instead. 

“yeah? my little slut needs more?” he prods, laughing meanly when you whimper out a yes. “aw, ‘course she does. desperate whores always need more, don’t they? so greedy.”

you have to swallow down a whimper at that, focusing so intently on keeping quiet that your nails have dug into your palms deep enough to almost break skin. the pain seems to help keep you grounded — that is, until you feel the sting of a palm against your backside. you flinch in your seat, gasping sharply. the man sitting next to you glances over, but you only hang your head and shrink into yourself. he looks away. 

“focus, whore. you’re drawing too much attention to yourself.”

two hands are touching you now. one cupping your pussy, the other wrapped around your throat, pressing into the sides of your neck so you start to grow dizzy. the hand on your throat releases its grip to slide down to your chest, circling around one of your nipples before a thumb swipes over the pebbled flesh. your back arches off of your seat when the sensation morphs into that of lips, plush warmth enveloping your tit before the sharp bite of teeth interrupts. you inhale a shaky breath from your nose as lips return to soothe the sting. despite the hard press of your thighs, the hand on your pussy drags up and down your folds, dipping down to your entrance before dragging up to your clit. a tiny squeak sneaks up your throat before you’re masking it with a cough. 

“aren’t you just a sensitive little thing? so wet too,” he coos, shifting his briefcase over his lap to gain some semblance of friction. his fingertips tingle as if your wetness coats them right now. fuck, he’s hard. if it were up to him, you’d be taking his cock right now, moaning so prettily as he presses you up against the wall and fucks up into you, your legs giving out from under you because he’s just making you feel so good, isn’t he? never mind that, he has a job to do. “how about i just…”

two lithe fingers breach your walls while a thumb continues to slowly circle your clit, barely brushing over the sensitive bundle of nerves. you feel like you’re going insane, trying your best to hold still as his fingers begin to move inside you, curling up into your walls. searching, he’s searching for that spot inside you that will get you crying—

then he finds it. 

your knee jerks up, your legs falling open slightly before you’re pressing them closed again as he abuses it over and over again, crooking his fingers just right to find it with each thrust. your hips roll up into the sensation, stilling as soon as you realize that you’re squirming too much, being too obvious. people are starting to stare, calm down. calm the fuck down.

god, you don’t think you can. it’s too difficult to keep still with the way he’s finger-fucking you right now. with the way there’s lips suddenly circling your clit, sucking the pearl in so that his tongue can play with it. little kitten licks that make you want to scream and cry and beg for mercy because you don’t know if you can keep up this front of normalcy with the way he’s touching you.

it’s like he’s speaking directly into your ear right now, warm breath fanning over your earlobe, your cheek. “wanna see you fall apart, wanna see you lose it in front of all of these people, baby. bet you wanna cum right now, yeah? just wanna feel good, don’t even care if you quake and cry in public? you’re that fucking desperate for it?” 

you nod to yourself, eyes squeezing shut. you’re so close. oh god, you’re going to cum. you’re going to cum like a brainless whore in the middle of a fucking subway car. you’re sick. you’re fucking sick for enjoying this.

you’re just as bad as him, beomgyu decides. he knew you’d like what he could give you, he knew you needed him. it was just a matter of time before you realized that fact. that’s okay, because he needs you just as badly. it’s a carnal need, white hot in the center of his stomach — fuck, he’s obsessed with you. he wants you to be his forever. 

and beomgyu knows you’re close, but he’s not quite ready to give you what you want. 

“please, oh god. please let me cum. fuckfuckfuck— no, please don’t stop!” you cry as he slows the pace of his fingers. “please no, ‘m so close! no no no—”

“you drive me crazy, it’s only fair if i return the favor. makes it more fun.” ripping the sensation away from you completely, he watches you bottom lip tremble as you blink back tears, your body melting into your seat as the pleasure fades away. “now, now, don’t cry, sweetheart. i have something even better for you.”

a few seconds pass before something breaches your entrance, your walls stretching to their limit, yet the sting of pain never arrives. filled to the brim, you throw your head back against the window behind you. to others, you seem to just be resting your eyes, but the way your mouth falls open is not lost on beomgyu. he knows you can feel him everywhere, knows you can feel the way the head of his cock nearly touches your cervix, how it presses into every single sensitive spot inside you. he knows he’s big, but you take it like a champ, your hips grinding down into the seat, as if to bring him deeper inside you. what a little whore, his little whore. 

“y’feel that, pretty girl? feel my big fucking cock inside you?” he asks as your chest heaves, a feeble attempt in holding yourself together. “calm down, now. i’m gonna start moving, okay?”

he doesn’t wait for your response before he’s spoon-feeding you the sensation of his cock pulling out until nothing but his cockhead remains within your walls. a few seconds pass, then your begging returns. tearful, this time, fucking pathetic. he basks in the power that rushes through his entire being. you need him. you need him in order to feel good, and he loves that you do. he brings a hand down to adjust himself in his pants, hissing quietly at the ache that the action brings. he needs to fuck you right now. physically fuck you, none of this thought manipulation bullshit — but no, he has to be patient. he can be patient as long as it’s you. 

the subway is slowing down again, and he comes to the gross realization that he only has a few minutes before both of you must depart. dammit, he has to make this quick. 

meanwhile, you’re already halfway to your high just at the mere feeling of him inside you. as soon as his cock begins to move again, you’re choking back moans, head hanging low as your muscles tense and your hands press into your lap. you can feel him in your throat each time he thrusts back in, his thrusts growing faster and faster until he’s pounding into you. 

“fuck fuck fuckkkkk!” you wail, encouraging him to continue. in reality, your walls clench around nothing, but your mind paints a different picture. you almost beg for him to cum inside, but you cant find the words, too fucked out to think about anything else but the knot in your stomach that grows tighter with each passing second. “fuck, please. please, fuck i’m, nghh—”

imaginary fingers swipe across your clit, and you’re a goner. 

thighs quaking, your release coats your panties, walls fluttering, but the movement of his cock doesn’t stop until you’re begging for mercy. beomgyu almost cums in his pants at the depraved wails you emit, half-baked sentences pleading for him to “s-slow down, please. i can’t, no, i can’t — shit!”

finally — finally — he grants you reprieve from the onslaught of pleasure. your body slumps into your seat, your eyes shut as you begin to float back down to earth. the clack-clack-clack of the subway slows until it stops completely. the usual robotic voice announces his stop, but you seem so out of it that you don’t even register that you need to get off. 

“good job, baby. you put on quite the show for me,” he praises as he rises to his feet. luckily, he decided on wearing a longer coat today which he uses to cover up his raging hard-on. this has to be fate.

no response. with an excited gleam in his eye, he disconnects from your mind and moves towards you. looming above you, he drinks in the beads of sweat that have formed along your hairline, the wrinkles in your trousers where you gripped the fabric a wee bit too hard, your dreamy eyes and how they blink down at his black loafers before raising to meet his own. concern has painted itself across his features, his head tilting as he holds your bleary gaze.

“are you alright, miss? you look a bit ill.”

you blink once. twice. god, how are you so cute even after getting fucked so hard? he can barely control himself from blurting out who he is.

“what—what stop is this?” you ask him, eyes wide and red-rimmed from your earlier tears. he tells you, and he watches those same eyes widen. “oh shit, this is my stop!”

attempting to stand, you stumble straight into his chest. he catches you with gentle hands before he’s helping you steady yourself. your legs tremble like those of a newborn fawn, sexy yet terribly adorable. he gulps at the image of you unable to walk, legs so sore that you’re forced to let him dote on you, that forms inside his mind. later. that can come later, don’t get too hasty. 

“oh, you’re a bit shaky there,” he murmurs, a hand curling around you elbow when you stumble again. “are you sure you’re alright?”

“i’m f-fine, sorry for the trouble,” you reply with a polite, yet jittery, smile, stepping away from him. he wants to tell you to come closer again, he wants to smell your sweet perfume again, feel your warm skin beneath his fingertips. 

but good things come to those who wait.

“no worries.” with a charming smile, he shuffles beside you, until the two of you have exited with the rest of the crowd. he catches your wrist before you can get too far, and you turn to face him once more. afterglow looks wonderful on you. “it looks like we’re getting off at the same stop today, so would you like me to walk with you until you’re feeling a bit better? i’m sure some fresh air will do you good.”

you pause for a moment, hesitating. have you seen him somewhere before? you feel like you have. “i…that would be great, actually. thank you.”

“of course,” he nods, holding back a smirk. he can’t help the words that escape him next.

“lead the way, then…pretty girl.”

the way you look back at him with alarmed realization — even a hint of fear — causes a grin to split open his lips. you begin to sputter as you back away, but he merely follows with light, casual steps. “w-what, who—who are you—”

his smile grows knife-sharp. the door opens — it always does. 

“aw, c’mon, sweetheart,” he coos inside your mind, biting his lip as he watches your knees buckle. “who else could it be?”

© to agustdiv1ne. do not copy, repost, steal, and/or translate.