#male killer

[urbigsockssmell]

I could just picture the moment. Me, with a knife in my hand, about to kill her while she stood frozen with a look of horror on her face. She'd scream through broken sobs for me to stop, that she loved me and would do anything to survive. "Please, C-Caspian, I'm be-begging you! Stop!"  Begging wouldn't help her, nothing and no one in this pathetic world would. It would only make it more fun for me. Fun for when I raised the knife in the air, "C-Caspian please-", fun for when I bulged it at her, "No, no, Caspian-", and especially fun for when I'd feel her blood soak my hands. She'd be dead quiet by the time my knife, my clothes, and her body were all dripping wet from fresh blood and she'd be permanently stuck with a face of terror. The only thing she'd remember before facing death, was what, better yet, who brought it to her.

But, alas, I can only imagine it for so long before I become an impatient man and make fiction reality.

(Idk when my writer-ussy shit turned on but God damn)

(Also this isn't to anyone specific just uhhh yeah funsies)

[strawsojuberry]

[meo-eiru]

I most likely won’t be able to post a good night drawing tomorrow so I hope this will keep you guys fed for the time being

throws him at you guys

[ozzgin]

Omg i love your Yandere serial killer with a split persona so much 😭😭, can you do more headcanon about him?? Like does he aware of his other persona seeing reader kinda scared to talk to him normally thank u

Yandere! Serial Killer Scenarios

Featuring the kind, quiet man who has no idea why you look at him with terror in your eyes. This time with an official character design!

Content: female reader, mentions of murder, obsessive behavior, horror, dubious/non-consent

[Main Story] | [More original works]

You only attempted to escape once.

His frequent warnings had begun to wear off, and your mind dared to wander towards hope. One day, during his evening walk, you ran to your bedroom and pulled out a train ticket you'd hidden earlier inside a drawer. The small piece of paper weighed heavy in your hand. Come, now, you scolded yourself. It was weeks of careful planning: anticipating his schedule, erasing your tracks, preparing the essentials. You could already smell the worn leather seats, and hear the jarring whistle of departure. Then you'd be far away from this maniac, all but a terrible memory to be locked away.

There was no time for hesitation. You grabbed a small bag and sped towards the station, frequently looking over your shoulder, muttering silent prayers. Once you made it to your compartment, you exhaled in relief. A relief you hadn't felt in months, washing over your body and relaxing your tense muscles. You climbed the stairs, and searched for your seat. Has someone misread their ticket? You found your spot occupied by a stranger.

"What did I tell you about running away?" his deep voice echoed across the empty hall.

The walk back home was silent. You were convinced this was your end. You'd arrive at the house, and he'd cut you into pieces. Your lips curled in a horrified grimace, mind flooded with foreign feelings: your nails plucked apart with pliers, a burning sting after each detachment. The roots of your teeth grinding and screeching within the bone of your jaw, until all that's left is a fleshy, gaping wound. Plop, plop, as each little souvenir falls into the jar.

He slammed the door shut and stared you down. You looked at the floor, but all you could see were the grimy ID cards of all the women who never made it out of this damned house. You were next.

His large hand ruffled your hair, and you glanced up in disbelief.

"This stays between us. Mother better not hear that her soon-to-be daughter in law tried to run away. Especially now that she's warmed up to you. Are we clear?"

You nodded desperately. God, how pathetic of you. But being trapped was better than rotting underground like the rest of them. You just wanted to live.

You can always tell whether it's him, or him. It's the silence. Or lack of, for that matter. He likes the quietness, the muffled ticking of the clock, the busy rattling in the kitchen, your laughs, your chatter. You'll sit together and listen to the rain, or read your books across from each other. There's no need for words, you know you can be at peace.

He likes music. When you hear the record player, you know it's your cue to perform. You exit your room - it's better if he doesn't call you down himself - and descend to the main area. The stairs creak louder, the wallpaper begins to yellow. It's almost as if the house ages with the music, and you tumble back in time.

He's been waiting for you, naturally. How's a man meant to spend his evenings, if not with his adored wife? He'll reach out for your hand, and invite you to a slow dance. Those are the worst moments. The tight, suffocating hold, his deranged stare drilling into your very soul, the whispered promises: that you're forever his, and you'll never find happiness anywhere else. He knows it. It's the same for him, really. Everything he's ever needed lies within your embrace.

Some days, the charade doesn't last long. You simply won't be in the mood to be kissed, to be stripped naked and fondled by his murderous hands. So you'll just pout and gaze ahead. It angers him terribly.

"Wretched whore. Do I look like a beggar?"

He'll shove you aside and make his way out, taking his tools with him. He hates asking for your affection and would rather take his anger out somewhere else. You know he won't hurt you, or force himself on you, which means someone else will have to pay for your disrespect. And yet, it's the only freedom you have around him - the privilege of refusing him and living to see the next day. The rest aren't as lucky. You'd rather not think too deeply about it.

My honey, I know With the dawn that you will be gone But tonight, you belong to me Just to little old me.

What a bizarre thing, to harbor such hatred towards the one you love. You've never met anyone kinder. He's thoughtful, patient, caring. He knows everything about you and lives to serve you. He's your best friend and your lover. He's the one you want to marry one day. But he's also...well...him. And you can't have one without the other.

"No, Mother, it isn't tacky," he barks at the shattered mirror, adjusting your necklace. "And you know what? It's up to (Y/N) to decide if she wants to wear your wedding jewelry."

"It's nice", you respond curtly. You look into the empty reflection and nod. He likes it when you take his side in front of Mother.

"I knew you'd agree. We're a match made in Heaven, aren't we?" he smiles and zips up the old dress. You shiver: wearing a dead woman's gown was not part of your wedding plans. The corset is tightened, and you gasp. His hands are tense.

"I know he proposed to you. And what a stupid grin you had on your face when it happened! You never act like that around me."

He doesn't call me a bitch, for starters, you think to yourself. You shuffle on the bed, trying to loosen up the garment, but he swiftly pins you down onto the mattress.

"Not that it matters. Would you like to know why?" he inquires with a familiar glimmer of jealousy in his dilated pupils. "Because I'll always be your first. You know it, I know it. He never will.

At the end of the day, you belong to me."

To compete with oneself. Nonsense. Utter madness, all of it. The house; the drawer filled with gory trophies; the nightly talks with Mother dearest, whose bones have most likely turned to dust by now; the bloodied scalpels; the embrace of a man who fills you with warmth and terror.

You're part of it now.

[rainrot4me]

TW: Overstimulation, sexual torture, vibrator, feet?

A/N: In my brain, Jack can't become overstimulated. He just... rages.

𐚁₊⊹

Jack regretted his decision from the moment he made it.

It was his own fault, curiosity tugging at his interests to land him tied to his own desk chair, heaving for breath.

The demon was more of a traditional fucker, using his own devices to make you both feel good. He deemed his claws, tongues, and dick good enough to please you, so why would you need more?

So, when your mysterious toy appeared as he was kissing along your neck, he should’ve known better than to ask. Should've known better than to question what could be so good about a buzzing little wand.

But now here he was, claws tearing into the leather of his chair as you sat on his desk, pushing your foot against the vibrator strapped to his cock. The rumbling was driving him insane, feet digging into the hardwood as he hissed, the rope you had found tied surprisingly well against his limbs.

“Fuckin’ turn it off…” He snapped, hips digging up into your foot as you pressed harder, his length aching and sensitive to the touch. You smiled, your legs straightening to push up, and the demon’s hitched whine sent chills through your body. Strings of cum decorated his lower abdomen, staining the waistband of his jeans tugged around his thighs. "I get it- my turn now-" He jumbled, clenching his jaw. He had already come more than he wanted to, balls aching and cock swelling with sensitivity, the toy relentless.

Shaking your head, you smiled, pressing your toes down to get a better press on the toy. "Every time we have sex, I always end up crying because of how rough you are. I think this is a good repayment." You chirped back, your other foot pressed on his knee to widen his legs, shifting him further into his desk chair. The demon growled, eye sockets tensing and squinting with every jerk of his cock.

Jack kicked his feet, trying to angle his hips away but could not. The vibrator was tugging at some guttural feeling, some instinctual reaction he knew he wouldn't be able to handle, especially you. "Y/N-" He groaned, head falling back against the back of the chair as you slid your foot up and down his length, stimulating his cock to push precum from the tip. The toy was achingly sweet, the demon feeling his grasp on himself slipping the more it strained him. He was going to cum again, and he didn't know if he could restrain anymore.

You watched carefully, his cock twitching and writhing as he whined, Jack's claws tearing shreds of leather from his armrests as he felt his cock pulse, head shooting up. "Y/N-" He snapped. He was so close, the toy making him reach orgasm a lot faster than usual, but it messed with his senses, messed with his urges. He didn't know what was happening, but the sensations in his gut told him the frequent cumming was tricking his brain into a forced rut.

His brain repeated the same sentence... 'Grab them, fuck them, eat them, breed them, take them...'

Strings of cum were whipping from his cock, the tip red and angry as he gnashed his teeth, sharp tips cutting into his lip. Jack felt like he couldn't breathe, his senses becoming too full and stimulated as he watched your face, vision swirling between clear and unfocused.

That's when he lost it, your little smile flipping the internal switch he was so desperately holding onto, letting himself fall apart.

His jaw went loose, the demon's shoulder craning in and jerking his body, growls and whimpers echoing from his throat. "Fuck..." He snapped, the thick black substance leaking from his eye sockets doubling, dribbling down his cheeks and onto his shirt, dripping from his chin.

You kept your foot still, the vibrator continuously rumbling and jerking his cock, but it was almost like he couldn't feel it anymore. His attention was too focused on his slack jaw, his mouth hanging open as you watched his sharp teeth gleam, seemingly extending and contorting in his mouth, desperate for something to latch onto. Likewise, with his claws, the nails well-torn through the leather and desperately grasping in your direction, digging at the rope snugged onto his wrists.

"Jack...?" You questioned, letting your foot slip from the toy and onto his legs, leaning forward. Your boyfriend looked dazed, body aching and twitching as the toy rumbled, thighs clenching with every shock. The demon urged you to take the bait when his tongues finally slipped from his lips, lulling and slithering against his jaw, collecting the black liquid dripping onto his clothes. You watched, leaning closer and closer, curiosity tugging you in.

You felt the warm claws gripped around your throat before you heard the rope snap, the demon's body propelling on top of yours and shoving your back down into the desk, the wood cracking. "Jack!" You shrieked, pressing your hands against his face as his mock tears dripped onto your face, running down your cheeks. The demon just laughed, sharp teeth gleaming as he snapped, nipping at your skin. "What? Little thing doesn't want to play anymore?" His chest heaved, panting against your skin as his fangs gleamed, hungry and ready.

His voice sounded deeper too, more grumbled and primal, possessive. His claws sunk into your skin, their length doubled as his hand wrapped around the entirety of your neck, a gasp ringing from your lips before abruptly snapping off. "So cruel..." Jack tsked, pursing his lips as he ran a digit down to your jaw, pressing against your flushed skin. "You were so mean to me..."

Apologies rang, desperate hands pushing against his chest as the vibrator was long forgotten on the floor, the toy still buzzing as you felt a swelled cock rutting against your clothed crotch. "My turn." He chuckled, leaning down towards your face to swipe one of his tongues along the side of your face, circling your ear and sending chills. You whined; legs forced to separate as you glanced down, the base of Jack's length already swelling. A forced rut. The ribbed cock, red and angry, hanging heavy between his legs was evidence of that.

"Fuck." You whimpered, watching the length bob and grind against you, your thighs aching and abdomen fluttering with every press of his hips. Something about ruts just made Jack so much bigger, his body converting into this thing like he really was becoming a demon. You'd done it now for sure.

"Open up, little thing," Jack growled, jaw hanging open as his tongues swirled together, pressing against your lips and forcing their way into the warmth of your mouth, aiming to fill your throat. You gagged, whining when you felt your pants forcefully shagged off of your thighs, the demon humming his eagerness into your mouth.

"I'll show you how to really cry..."

[cold-kitty]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~🐈‍⬛

[deadghosy]

☆MASTERLIST OF

HAZBIN HOTEL☆

(Color sorted)

Edit: I DONT DO REQUESTS OF HAZBIN HOTEL NO MORE.

“SWAG! *sends pic in hospital*”

Hazbin hotel x Jeff the killer! Reader

“I think I killed someone on accident mom/dad”

How they react to teen! Reader learning how to drive

Hazbin hotel x slenderman! Reader

LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR X READER

Friendship hcs with the hazbin crew

ALBERT/FLAMINGO! READER X HAZBIN GANG

Cat! Reader x Lucifer

Hazbin hotel x elder! Sister of Lucifer Morningstar

Elder! Sister meeting others

Lucifer Morningstar x gn!reader

Younger sister! Reader of Lucifer Morningstar

H.H. Cast react to penguin’s reader mouth

platonic Lucifer Morningstar x gn! Child reader

VEES MEETING MY VERSION OF Y/N

Hazbin hotel x Bendy! Reader

“Dad/mom, I got a headache”

Dogday!reader

Dogday!reader getting hurt

How they react to you throwing up

HAZBIN HOTEL X MOTH COTL! READER

HAZBIN HOTEL X NOOB READER

HAZBIN HOTEL X RACCOON! READER

Hazbin hotel angels x trailblazer! Reader

Hotel hazbin x Caelus! Reader

“Cracked out”- Alastor x male stoner! Reader

TWIN READERS X HAZBIN HOTEL

Platonic Alastor x gn! Reader

How they react to child gn! Reader being bullied

ST. PATRICKS DAY WITH HAZBIN GANG

HELL/HEAVEN X GARDNER! READER

Hazbin hotel x Ben drowned! reader

“Would you love me if I was a worm?”

JELLYFISH! READER X HAZBIN HOTEL

Hazbin hotel x penguin! Reader pt 1

Hazbin hotel angels x penguin! Reader pt2

RETURN OF PENGUIN IN HELL pt3

COURT FOR PENGUIN/PENGUIN!READER PT4

Where the Penguin! Reader will live: pt.5

Catnap!reader

Enderman! Reader headcannons/imagines 

CATNAP! Reader hanging out with the VEES

Enderman! Reader

Hazbin hotel x fem! Catnap reader headcannons

“MOM/DAD LOOK WHAT I CAN DO!”

ENDERMAN! READER GETTING HURT

Angel Dust platonic x gn! Reader

Hazbin hotel x Kirby! Reader

Cute chibi! reader headcannons

How they react to child gn! Reader getting hurt

“Mom/dad! I had a nightmare!”

Hazbin Hotel x Wally Darling! Reader

HAZBIN HOTEL X CHIBI! Reader

[moonlightsdream]

A Killer Paradox 살인자o난감 (2024) — ep.04

[yanderemommabean]

My dearest butterfly, 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All yours, only yours, 

-Doctor Lee.

(-Mommabean, hope you liked!)

[br0kenangel]

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐲 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀

Pairing: Serial Killer Aegon x Victim Reader

Summary: you just wanted to enjoy the night with your best friend and getting fucked. But what was waiting for you was much more scary than anything you had ever expected...

Warning: kidnapping, blood, abuse, unwanted touch, murder.

˚꒰♡꒱‧ Hi there! Before you read this, you should know that English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

Original Gif by @lady-alicent ♡

The mirror gleamed back at Y/N as she carefully applied the finishing touches to her makeup, the sleek red dress clinging to her curves in all the right ways. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders, the silky strands catching the light of the vanity. Tonight, she was going to be unstoppable. On speaker, her best friend Emily's voice filled the room, excitement buzzing between them as they planned their night out.

"Girl, I swear, tonight's the night. I will get laid" Emily laughed, the sound infectious, pulling a giggle from Y/N.

"Are you sure, though? You've been talking about this for weeks. Are you finally going to get with Tom?" Y/N teased, brushing some highlighter across her cheekbones.

"Hell yeah! I'm gonna fuck his brains out!" Emily declared dramatically, causing both of them to erupt into laughter. "But what about you? Don't think I didn't see how Oliver was staring at you last time. That man is ready to risk it all."

Y/N smirked, lining her lips with a deep crimson. "Oh, Oliver won't know what hit him tonight" she winked at herself in the mirror, confident. "By the end of this party, he's going to be begging."

Emily cackled, making another inappropriate joke that had Y/N snorting, her mascara brush shaking slightly in her hand. "God, Emily, you're gonna make me mess up my makeup."

"I cant help it, you're gonna make himー"

Suddenly, Y/N froze mid-laugh. In the corner of her eye, she caught something ーa shadow shiftingby the window, just out of her line of sight. Her heart skipped, an eerie prickle crawling up her spine.

"What's wrong?" Emily's voice came through the phone, concern creeping into her playful tone.

Y/N blinked, her eyes darting around the room. Everything was still. Quiet. The only sound was Emily's distant voice on the phone. She let out a breath, forcing smile as if it could push away the unease settling in her gut. "Nothing, I just thought I saw something."

"Probably just your nerves. You've got Oliver on the brain too much!" Emily teased, bringing the conversation back to its lightheartedness.

"Yeah, you're right," Y/N muttered, trying to shake off the strange feeling. She continued applying her makeup, but every now and then, her gaze flicked back to the window. That uneasy chill hadn't left, a quiet whisper in her mind that something wasn't quite right. But it was probably nothing.

At least, that's what she told herself.

The night was pitch black, the only light coming from the dim glow of Y/N’s headlights as they cut through the lonely, desolate road. Trees stretched out on either side, their branches twisting together to form a canopy of shadows. The once lively conversation with Emily had died down to a nervous exchange of directions as Y/N found herself completely lost in the maze of unfamiliar back roads.

"Are you sure this is the right way?" Y/N asked, her voice tight with frustration, gripping the wheel a little too hard. The GPS had stopped working a while ago, leaving her utterly reliant on Emily’s instructions.

“I swear, Y/N, it’s the right way! Just keep going straight, and you’ll see a sign soon, I promise,” Emily’s voice reassured her, though it did little to calm the rising anxiety bubbling in her chest.

Straight. That’s all she had to do. But the road seemed endless, stretching out in front of her like a void, each passing second growing thicker with unease. Y/N glanced around, her stomach flipping as the dark woods loomed over her. It felt like something was watching from the trees.

"Emily, I don’t see anything—" Y/N began, but her words were cut off in a scream as a figure suddenly appeared from the darkness, leaping in front of her car.

THUD.

The impact jolted her entire body forward, the screech of brakes cutting through the stillness as the car skidded to a halt. Y/N’s heart was racing, pounding so hard she could barely breathe. The world outside was silent again, but the deafening thud of the hit echoed in her ears, over and over.

“Y/N? Y/N! What the hell just happened?!” Emily’s voice was frantic, but Y/N barely heard her.

She stared ahead, wide-eyed, her hands trembling on the wheel. What just happened? Did I hit him? Did I just… kill someone?

Her throat was dry as she swallowed, trying to steady herself. "I… I think I hit someone. I’m not sure." Her voice was shaky, barely above a whisper.

“What?! Are you okay?! What happened?” Emily’s voice was nearly drowned out by the ringing in Y/N’s ears, her panic rising with every passing second. Y/N’s hands moved to unbuckle her seatbelt, her body feeling as if it was moving on autopilot. "I need to check. I’ll call you back."

“What? No, wait—” Y/N hung up, her mind spinning with terror as she opened the door and stepped out into the suffocating darkness. The wind was cool, but her skin prickled with cold sweat. The night was unnaturally quiet, save for the rapid beating of her heart in her ears.

Her eyes landed on the crumpled figure lying in the road just ahead, and her stomach lurched. She could barely see him in the dim light of her car’s headlights, his body twisted at an unnatural angle. Every instinct screamed for her to run, but her feet moved forward, her breath shallow.

She knelt beside the man, her hands trembling as she reached out. "Hey… Hey, are you okay?" Her voice cracked, almost pleading. She shook his shoulder gently, her breath catching in her throat. Please don’t be dead. Please, God, don’t be dead.

He didn’t respond, his body limp. Y/N’s heart plummeted. For a horrifying moment, she thought she’d killed him. I hit him, I really hit him. What if he’s dead? What if I—

But then she noticed it—his chest, rising and falling slowly. He was still breathing.

Y/N let out a shaky breath, a wave of relief crashing over her. "Oh, thank God…" she muttered, her hands moving to check for any sign of consciousness. "Hey, can you hear me? You’re gonna be okay, I’ll get you help. Just hang on."

Her voice was trembling as she stood, rushing back to the car to grab her phone. Her hands fumbled with the door handle, her pulse pounding in her ears. She had to call for help. Get him to the hospital.

But just as she reached into the car for her phone, something hard and solid slammed into the back of her head.

Pain exploded through her skull, white-hot and blinding. Her vision blurred instantly, the world spinning as her body crumpled to the ground. Her mind scrambled to make sense of what was happening, but all she could register was the unbearable, crushing pain.

She tried to blink away the darkness closing in around her, her breaths ragged and desperate, but the force of the blow had knocked her senses loose. Through the dizzy haze, she saw him—the man she had just hit, standing above her with a rock in his hand. The sickening realization crashed into her like a freight train.

It was a trap.

Her heart raced, adrenaline surging through her, but her limbs felt heavy, numb. She wanted to scream, to fight, but her vision was dimming, the pain dragging her under. The last thing she saw before everything went black was the man’s cold, emotionless face, looming over her as she slipped into the abyss.

Y/N's consciousness flickered like a dying flame, dragging her unwillingly from the void. The pain in her head was the first thing she registered-an unbearable, spliting agony that pulsed in time with her heartbeat, making her feel like her skull was about to crack open. She groaned, but the sound came out muffled, trapped behind something in her mouth. Panic started to set in as she realized she couldn't open her jaw; the taste of dirty fabric filled her mouth. A gag.

Disoriented, she blinked slowly, trying to make sense of where she was. Her vision was blurry, her surroundings a nauseating haze of darkness and shadow. Everything reeked. The stench hit her all at once- thick, putrid, suffocating. It was a mix of urine, sweat, blood, and something far more decayed. The smell clawed at the back of her throat, making her gag against the cloth. She fought back the urge to vomit, knowing it would only choke her.

Her body felt... wrong. Heavy. Aching. Every muscle was sore, every inch of her skin stung with a dull, throbbing pain. When she tried to move, she realized why: she was tied up. Her arms were bound tightly behind her back, the coarse rope biting into her wrists and cutting off circulation. Her legs were bound too, her ankles tied together so tightly she could barely wiggle her toes.

Where the hell am I? The last thing she remembered was... the man. The man she had hit. Her heart jumped into her throat, the memory rushing back to her all at once一the impact, the body on the road, the moment of relief when she realized he was still breathing. And then... then he had attacked her. Everything went black after that. And now I'm here.

Her breath quickened as she took in her surroundings. The room was small, cramped, with walls so grimy she could barely tell their original color. Blood smeared the walls in splatters and streaks, both fresh and old, the sickening reminder of whatever horrors had taken place here before. There were stains on the floor, dark, sticky patches that made her skin crawl. And then she noticed the other things一flesh, torn and hanging like trophies from hooks. Bones, carelessly strewn on the floor, cracked and splintered. She wanted to scream, but the gag silenced her, the terror building in her chest until it felt like she might suffocate on it.

But she wasn't alone.

In the dim light, she saw them-other women. At least five of them, maybe more. All of them were bound like her, gagged, naked, their bodies bruised and filthy. Some of them were barely conscious, their heads lolling weakly, while others stared at her with wide, terrified eyes. There was something about their expressions that sent ice shooting down her spine-those hollow, desperate eyes, like animals resigned to their fate.

One of them, a woman with tear-streaked cheeks and a gag so tight it had rubbed her mouth raw, met Y/N's gaze. She shook her head slowly, almost imperceptibly, her eyes full of warning. It was as if she was trying to tell her something, something Y/N didn't yet understand. Don't move. Don't fight. Don't make a sound.

But Y/N wasn't like them. She couldn't just sit here and wait to die. Fear surged through her veins, but so did adrenaline. She had to get out. I have to get out.

Slowly, carefully, she began to squirm, trying to shift her weight without making too much noise. Every movement was agonyーher wrists felt like they were being sliced open by the ropes, and her muscles screamed in protest. But she didn't stop. She couldn't. If she stayed here, she was dead.

As she inched her way toward the door, the other women watched her, their eyes filling with fresh tears, their bodies trembling as they silently begged her stop. But she couldn't stop. She had to get free. She had to.

The closer she got to the door, the more hope flickered inside her-until she fell. Her hands slipped, and her body hit the floor with a dull thud. She landed in something wet and slimy, the smell assaulting her senses immediately. It was a disgusting mix of rotting food, excrement, and something else- something thick and foul that clung to her skin and made her gag. Her stomach churned violently, the bile rising in her throat, but she swallowed it down, focusing on the door just a few feet away.

But then the door creaked open.

The sound was slow, deliberate, and it filled the room like a death knell, Y/N froze, her heart hammering in her chest, her body tensing as the dim light from the hall spilled into the room.

He stepped inside.

The man. The same man she had hit with her car. He stood in the doorway, his silhouette tall and menacing, his face twisted into a sickening grin. His eyes scanned the room, and when they landed on Y/N, his expression darkened. Rage boiled just beneath the surface of his face, twisting his features into something monstrous.

"What do we have here?" he muttered, his voice low and dangerous.

Before Y/N could even try to scramble away, he was on her. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her up, dragging her across the filthy floor as she screamed against the gag. Pain shot through her scalp, white-hot and unbearable, but the terror that gripped her heart was even worse. He was going to kill her. He was going to kill her right now.

"You stupid, stupid girl" he hissed, his voice thick with venom as he dragged her back to where she'd been. "You thought you could just leave? You thought you could escape?" He threw her down onto the cold floor, kicking her hard in the stomach for good measure.

The breath was knocked from her lungs, and for a moment, everything went dark. She gasped for air, her body convulsing in pain, but she couldn't get enough oxygen. Her vision blurred, her mind spinning with fear and panic. This is it. I'm going to die.

"You should be thankful l'm not going to punish you further;" he spat, kneeling down beside her, his breath hot and rancid against her face. "You're new. I'm feeling generous today."

Y/N's body shook uncontrollably as she lay there, too weak and terrified to move. But then, just as quickly as the anger had come, his expression changed. The rage melted away, replaced by something far more sinister. His hand, still tangled in her hair, began to stroke her scalp gently, his voice softening as if he hadn't just brutalized her.

"I'm sorry" he whispered, his tone dripping with faux concern. "I didn't mean to hurt you. You just made me so... angry. it's your fault, you know? If you hadn't tried to leave.." His fingers trailed down her neck, his touch lingering on her skin as he murmured, "You're so beautiful. So.. perfect."

"Soft," he murmured, as though admiring the texture of fabric instead of skin. He leaned in closer, inhaling deeply as he buried his face in her hair, his breath warm and sickening against her skin. "You smell so good... You're going to make the perfect doll."

Y/N's mind spun with confusion and horror. Doll? What did that mean? She wanted to scream, to thrash and fight, but her body felt like it was frozen, paralyzed by fear and exhaustion. Her tears welled up, spilling down her cheeks as she trembled beneath his touch.

Y/N's breath caught in her throat as his hand slid lower, caressing her naked body with possessive, almost reverent strokes. His fingers traced the curve of her breast, the dip of her waist, the swell of her hips. He was taking his time, savoring the touch, the control, the power. Y/N felt sick, her stomach twisting in knots as she lay there, helpless, her mind screaming for it to stop. But she couldn't Scream. She couldn't move.

"You're going to be perfect" he whispered, his lips brushing against her ear. "Just... perfect."

She wanted to disappear, to sink into the floor and never exist again. But all she could do was lie there, paralyzed by fear and disgust, as he continued to touch her. His hands roamed over her body, his breath hot and heavy against her skin. Every touch felt like fire, burning into her flesh, marking her. She could feel his excitement, his anticipation, and it made her want to vomit.

Then, suddenly, he stood up.

“Not today" he said, smiling down at her with a look of twisted affection. "Today isn't your day."

Y/N's stomach lurched as she realized what he meant. Not her day. But soon. Her tears blurred her vision, her entire body shaking uncontrollably as she tried to scream through the gag. She couldn't stop the sob that broke through, muffled but desperate.

He laughed softly, brushing her hair out of her face with a gentleness that felt like a mockery of kindness. "Shhh" he cooed, "don't cry. You'll ruin your pretty face. And I love your face."

Before she knows it, the man turned his attention to one of the other women-a blonde who had been sitting silently in the corner, her eyes wide with terror. Without a word, he grabbed her by the hair, yanking her to her feet with a sickening cruelty. The woman's body convulsed in terror, her eyes filling with tears as she let out a muffled scream behind her gag.

She struggled weakly, her limbs trembling, but it was no use. He dragged her toward the door, pulling her like a rag doll, her body limp with fear. She was looking at her. Like a lamb. Wide eyes. Begging for help. But Y/N couldn't do anything.

Y/N watched in horror as the door slammed shut behind them. The remaining women in the room sobbed softly, the sound of their crying mixing with Y/N's own frantic breaths.

Then the noise began.

The sound of metal on flesh, a sharp, wet thwack followed by a crunch that made Y/N's blood run cold. The woman's faint cries echoed through the walls, but they were quickly drowned out by the sickening sound of the ax splitting flesh and bone. The rhythm was steady, methodical, like someone chopping wood ーonly it wasn't wood. lt was human.

Y/N closed her eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks. She couldn't move. She couldn't breathe. All she could do was wait, knowing that soon... it would be her turn.

Should I make a part 2?

@ 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

[strawsojuberry]

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Have His Cake And Eat It Too

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

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

[ozzgin]

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

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

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

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

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

Yandere! Serial Killer x Reader

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

[Part 2] | [More original works]

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

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

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

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

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

It’s you.

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

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

“Another brain fog?” You ask, worried.

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

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

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

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

Only at night does it become unsettling.

“Going for a walk?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fingernails.

“Oh, I forgot to put those away.”

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

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

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

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

He ruffles your hair with a boldness completely unfamiliar.

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

“I’d like to go to my room now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You want to cry.

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

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

“I just wanted to lay in bed.”

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

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

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

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

You briefly look at the drawer and nod.

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

The man ponders his next words with a hum.

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

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

“Eat up!” He encourages you.

You hold onto your fork with faintly trembling hands.

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

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

He gazes at you in disbelief.

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

You return the smile without responding.

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

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

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

The knot in your stomach tightens.

“Not at all.”

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

[rainrot4me]

Eyeless Jack General Headcannons

Summary: Basic, SFW, and NSFW head-cannons. My personal thoughts, feelings, and opinions about Jack as a character.

TW: NSFW below the cut, minors dni! Above the cut is sfw! Mentions of gore

Words: 2.3k

Basic:

- The definition of nonchalant doesn’t convey his emotions very well at all so he lets his actions do the talking.

- Even though he may put on a front of being calculated and detailed, everything he does is purely instinctual or off the top of his head. He’s never made great plans or thought further on a problem than he had to, relying solely on time or for everything to work itself out. Ben calls it ‘thuggin it out’. He may seem all cool, calm, and collected- but really, he just doesn’t care.

- Drives a brown 1989 Ford F-250. Found it discarded on some old hunting grounds and spent the next 3 years learning about truck parts just to fix it up. It’s nothing pretty and the A/C doesn’t work half the time, but that doesn't stop the proxies from either stealing it for missions or Jeff cruising it to gas stations.

- Loves his alone time. If ‘Do Not Disturb’ was a living being.

- Incredible sense of smell, a blessing and a curse.

- Even though he doesn’t really feel emotionally tied to anyone or reliant on anyone's attention, he would never pass up a good conversation with Jeff or Toby. Finds their problems interesting (and funny).

- Even though he doesn’t have any eyes, he can still see. How? Who even knows? The demon would describe it as more of a viewing like he can detail everything that’s happening, but he can’t physically see it. Cryptic stuff even he’s too dumb to figure out.

- Despite everything, probably the most upkeep and clean member of the mansion. While eating organs and harvesting them can be messy, he doesn’t like the grime and prefers to clean off as soon as he can. The same goes for his clothes and room/office. Surprisingly tidy.

- Not as smart as he likes to present himself. Sure, he’s a medical student with more experience than anyone in a 50-mile radius, but that doesn’t mean he knows what he’s doing all of the time. Whenever the proxies roll in with serious injuries, the demon shoots them full of antibiotics, cauterizes the wound, and prays it doesn’t get worse from there. He knows what he’s doing, but that doesn’t mean he knows it’ll work 100% of the time.

- A silent panicker. Will absolutely tear his brain to shreds worrying or fighting with himself, but keep a stone look on his face the entire time. Gauging his emotions is like conversing with a brick wall.

- Dry humor. Absolutely will answer your long, emotional paragraph with a thumbs-up emoji.

- In some sick way, slightly prefers the life he’s living now. It may be grotesque and depressing, but his knowledge of the medical field and human bodies is infinitely more broad than it would’ve been. He quite enjoys the freedom he has now.

- Never happier than when winter is fizzling out and the first signs of spring show up. The warmth, the colors, the vibrancy coming back. He can’t get enough of it. Absolutely will get lost just studying the snow melting from the new flower beds.

- Locked in the basement of the mansion at all times. Only comes out to eat or on the rare occasion he’s assigned a mission. The only place he truly feels comfortable.

- Will get oddly emotional when light reflects on the lake just right or the fog settles on the ridge just perfectly. You’d never guess, but he’s a big poetic bum.

- Purrs. Like a cat. Ears flick around like one too.

- With music, he’s a big lyric listener. The song could sound absolutely terrible, but as long as he resonates with the words, will enjoy it anyway.

- Unorganized organization freak. Everything has a place, even if you don’t know where that place is.

- Seriously underestimates just how overtowering he is. He’s nowhere near Slender’s height, but the demon easily doubles in the average human’s vertical. When he was human he was taller, but never like this. He’s still getting used to it.

- Lanky but quick. Limbs and features are longer, but the muscle index makes up for it. He’s seriously fit, but everything is evenly distributed. Serious muscle definition in his arms and back, though. What he lacks in strength, he makes up in speed and agility.

- Enjoys Radiohead, Cigarettes After Sex, Paramore, and Three Days Grace. Will also never admit it, but really enjoy the Twilight soundtracks.

Dating Him/SFW:

- Gift-giving love language. Loves to make you things unexpectedly and watch the surprise on your face. Steals jewelry or clothing from his victims to gift to you.

- It takes a lot for the demon to even consider you a friend let alone a potential love interest. But you best believe once he’s decided he wants you, that’s it. You take precedent, anything and everything else in his life takes a step back and you become the focal point. Heaven help if you ever change your mind about him.

- “My pretty thing… my lovely little pet… all mine…”

- Physically can not get enough of your smell. Whether it be sweet or sour, whatever emotion you dwell in, this demon will bury his nose into the crook of your neck and waste away there. It’s intoxicating to him, like an emotional tie he’s bound to.

- Like to study you. Your movements, your voice, the way you react to certain stimuli. Everything about you and your personality just intrigues him to no end.

- Possessive in the, ‘If they look at you, I’ll kill them’ way, but also is sure enough in himself and you to know he doesn’t need to go that far. Would rather lock you away for only him to see, but respects you too much.

- Has a deep-rooted fear of hurting you, so any fight or disagreement turns him distant. He’ll come back eventually, but that doesn’t mean he’ll be comfortable enough to get all touchy-feely again just yet.

- A lot like Edward from Twilight, he wants to taste you the most. It’s seriously a bad habit to nip at your skin or get lost in your scent because he knows how easy it would be just to take a chunk out of you. Has to be very aware and cautious of himself.

- Even though it took a long time for him to be comfortable enough to take his mask off around you, he still gets wildly conscious about it whenever you’re around. Loves nothing more than when you’re caressing his face or kissing his skin because he knows it's genuine.

- For a cannibal, he’s an insanely good cook. Will only cook for you, however. He says it's out of love, but really he knows deep down he wants to control what you eat so you have good organ health. You best believe he’ll have you hitting those core diet needs.

- Doesn’t sleep often, but when he does it's for long periods. The problem is, he likes to completely swallow you with his body and wrap around you, keeping you there until he eventually wakes up. Really enjoys the body heat you provide. Lowkey a small spoon.

- Slouches to your height.

- His favorite time is after a long day, curling up in a big chair with a book and you in his lap. You cocoon in his arms as he leans back, a blanket draped over the two of you. He’s naturally cold-blooded so he would stay there forever if he could.

- “You smell so good, pet… So good…”

- Talks in short, mumbled sentences. The mansion residents started using you as a translator because he would only say more than 3 words at a time around you.

- Absolutely never cared about how he looked before you. You taught him decent clothing styles and now he rocks the ‘dark academia/soft boy’ aesthetic like a champ.

- Made you your own special corner in his lab just because he couldn’t deal with having to be away while working.

- An intense kisser. It’s never soft pecks but full-on mouth-consuming makeouts. He’s a hungry guy who can only be satisfied if he feels like he’s swallowed enough of your tongue and lips with his own. Your lips and chin are absolutely soaked with slobber afterward.

- Firm believer in carrying you. No matter where or how far, he likes to bridal-style haul you around or have you latch onto his back.

- “I could eat you up. Just kidding… yeah…”

- Goes ridiculously insane when he can see the chubbiness on your thighs or stomach. You sitting down or lying out, you best believe he is fighting every demon internally not to take a massive bite on your skin.

Dating Him/NSFW:

- Again, skin. No better than a man during the dark times when you flash just a little too much leg or abdomen. He’s on you in seconds and clawing your clothes off to see more.

- You will never leave an encounter without cum dripping out of you. Refuses to get off anywhere else but deep inside of one of your holes. Call it a breeding kink but his animalistic tendencies just won’t let him pull out. Grunting and panting against your nape as he slams inside as far as he can to keep you from squirming away

- “You can take it, I know you can… Need you full of me… All of me…”

- A greedy kisser. Grabbing your jaw and fucking his tongues into the warm wetness of your mouth, teasing to just push them further past the tightness of your throat. Even when you squirm and gag, he just pushes them deeper, testing your resolve.

- You reach your breaking point longggg before he does. A couple of orgasms deep and he hasn’t even put his cock in yet, just milking your body for all it’s worth. It may be because he has a high sex drive, but it’s mainly because he gets off best when you’re pliable and numb to his touch. It’s a domination thing.

- A pussy worshiper. Much like his adoration for any organ, he really appreciates all of his knowledge of the female anatomy and how good he is at eating you out. If he can, or if you can take it, he’ll press all three of his tongues deep inside and spread your plush walls to his content. Likes to swap between focusing on your cunt and your clit, but mainly both at once.

- Bite marks galore. Has to be careful with how much blood he draws, but you’ll never get by without at least one good bite mark on your shoulder. Likes to possessively mark you all over just for others to see. Same feeling with claw marks.

- There’s some cognitive switch in his brain that flips when he gets to a certain point of desperation, like after not seeing you for a long period or after a particularly difficult day. It’s like a starved creature hungry and desperate for anything. He’ll ravage your body and mind, fucking you both to pure exhaustion or until he physically can’t cum anymore.

- On that note, ruts. They’re seasonal, usually coming around the first two weeks of spring and fall. He can’t control when they show up, but once started, they usually last 3 to 4 days, each day getting less intense. Since it’s such an animalistic ordeal, he loses all restraint or moral compass on how to treat you. Bites, blood, wounds, and injury are all possible. They’re not intentional, but he physically cannot control his mental or physical, blinded completely by lust. Thank god his sperm isn’t compatible with human anatomy, because that’s the only place he’ll cum.

- “I’m sorry- sorry, pet- Just one more time- just one more- Fuck- I promise-”

- Both ankles wrapped in one claw. Two claws overlapping around your waist. Yeah…

- Starts slow, so achingly slow you want to rut your hips and get him deeper. He likes the feeling of entering you, of spreading your plush cunt around his cock and finding its home deep inside. He’ll get faster eventually, but for now, he just wants to drink up the sights and smells of your desperation. That first gasp gets him every time.

- Mating press or nothing else. If you want to try something new, he’ll happily oblige, but the only way he’s truly happy is if your legs are pushed back to your shoulders and his hips are slamming down into yours. He’ll take the occasional doggy style, but only if his teeth are latched on to the back of your neck and holding you docile.

- Could watch your face come undone all day. Loves to see your eyes roll when you come, or the sweat and tears dripping off your cheeks. The dark flush of your skin gets him so hungry he has to physically restrain himself.

- “You’re so gorgeous- so fuckin’ pretty- Ah- Look at me. C’mon, don’t get shy now…”

- One time, after a particularly messy organ harvest, he couldn’t wait to get to you. He was so livid, body practically shaking with excitement when he snuck into your room that he didn’t even have time to clean himself off. Blood (not yours) stained your sheets and skin, messy claws dragging across your stomach and chest to coat you in dark red, his tongues quick to shoot out and lap at the stuff. You, covered in blood and his mess, sent him spinning. That was the fastest he’s ever came.

- Growling, panting, snarling, huffing, chittering, teeth gnashing, LOUD ASF

- Has a size thing. Comparing your hand to his makes him so horny and eager to just pick you up and fuck you. Admires how small and easy you are to just throw around like a doll.

- Absolutely has had sick fantasies of fucking your organs like a fleshlight. He’d never tell you, but the thought of cutting a slit in your abdomen to push his cock into the tangle of intestines and muscles makes him drool. He can almost imagine how warm it would be.

- Gets a high when you squirt. Feels accomplished to be covered in your juices and having you completely ruined for anyone but him.

- “You can take it for me, yeah? Go ahead and make a mess… It’s alright…”

Thanks for reading!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

[cold-kitty]

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

Of course! Thank you by the way!

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Contains: Fluff, Stockholm Syndrome

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[theres-a-body-here]

Sable: "When meeting new people remember to keep it light and casual. Use our conversation starters if you get in trouble"

(Y/N), nodding along: "Light and casual, got it"

~~~~

(Y/N), throwing themselves at the Killer's feet: "I LOVE SWEATY, EVIL, AND VIOLENT MEN, PLEASE GO OUT WITH ME! PLEASE! PLEASE! PLEASE!"

Screams and yells echo through the realm as the killer frantically attempts to shake off (Y/N) from their thighs

~~~~

Sable, panicking and holding her head: "He's pulling the freak-off card THIS EARLY?"

Mikaela, looking through binoculars: "If he u-turns the topic back to the Mori Rework we might clutch this"