Yandere!Ghostface

Yandere!Ghostface

Warnings: NSFW A/N: Slashers are probably always going to be NSFW default unless asked for SFW or a mix because,,, ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Ghostface realizes how perverse it is to be stalking you, to search around your place when you aren’t there- it’s all so twisted and he can feel guilt bubble in his throat but given his line of work, he also realizes what a hypocrite he is. He murders, goes around stalking victims and toys with them before their final demise and yet with you- he can’t help but feel shameful when he peeks at you changing into sleepwear.

You’re so sweet. Just the cutest, sweetest thing he has ever had the chance to see and he won’t ever harm you. You’re so sweet and oblivious. Walking around with a smile on your face and he’ll call, he’ll call and hear you say hello and he’s fisting his hand around his cock and jerking off to your voice- the filth of all it makes him whimper and thrust into his own hand, imagining yours. And then you have the audacity to ask what’s wrong and keep on the line for a few extra moments before hanging up.

He’s following you around, inching closer with each day, watching as you buy groceries, standing inches from you and he’s learning more and more about you. He’s figuring out your favorite scents, the detergent you use, the perfume that you buy and he’s placing it in his basement. He spritzes his pillows with your perfume, inhaling as his eyes water and he’s rocking his hips into it as he can hear you say “hello” when he calls.

He wants to have a regular conversation with you but it needs to be perfect. It’s weeks of planning it out, trying to figure out what you would say, writing scenario after scenario in his head, on paper, on a computer and growing angry when it just doesn’t sound like you. He’s following you, he should learn more about you, he should know who you are and yet, you still elude him.

It’s accidental. He bumps into you, heavy steps and a lean, muscular body that topples your much weaker on and he’s panicked, watching as you rub the side of your thigh and hurriedly grab at your things and he’s frozen in place. He can only watch as you mumble a sorry under your breath and walk away and he’s broken out of his stance and he’s chasing you, grabbing too roughly on your forearm and he’s spilling words, not waiting for your response, just talking and talking, and you give  him this sweet, pitiful look and you tell him its fine and your voice is just so smooth.

There’s only so much he can take. He longs for you, needs you to know who he is and he’s grabbing your phone and god, it fills his heart knowing that you don’t have a lock on it, and he’s giving you his number and he’s leaving without buying you anything. He’s busy with a victim when you message and he replies instantly, japping a nice into the calf of someone and typing with blood stained gloves.

He’s delusional. He thinks you love him. He knows that you do. He’s coming around more often, calling you through his cellular, talking to you and hearing you talk about your day, the hesitance laced into your words, the soft gasps when he laughs a bit too loud, the giggles that you give and he can’t help but laugh along with you, to drag his nails across his thigh, salivate in his mouth while he talks to you.

He continues to stalk you and he grows bolder. Nearing you, finding you in places he would never visit, offering to buy the stuff in your cart, walking you to your car. He’ll filter through your things when you aren’t home, grab at a pair of underwear and a shirt, smell your perfume and jerk off in your underwear. The longer it goes on, the riskier he gets. He’s hiding under bed, rising when you fall asleep, going above you body and wearing his mask as he nuzzles into you- pressing his crotch against yours, letting his hands wander through your body, pinching at your sweet bud, and feeling himself leak and he’s so close to inching his hand past the waistband of your underwear and see if you’re wet.

If you happen to wake up to his less-than-innocent nuzzling- he promised to himself that he won’t hurt you, but if you decide to scream, he has no choice but to cover your mouth and bring a knife out and trace it around your jaw and the thought of seeing you covered in blood, is enough for him to spill above you. He’s only there for his release but then he’s gone. He comes back often enough, that you know to lie there and let him hump against you.

He’ll continue to call, ask to meet up and see that you’re shaken, heavy bags under your eyes and you skin losing your shine and he places his hand above yours, ignoring how you flinch, and prodding you until you tell him what’s wrong and he’ll offer to protect you, to sleep in the same roof or have you move in with him- just for the time being and it’s so easy to drug you.

He wants you to know who he is so he lets you wander, has to lock his basement to start your curiosity, have you cry on his chest and make sure that you see him, let him do your laundry, fuck himself on your clothes and get this sick satisfaction when you wear the underwear that was stained with his seed. When you start to walk closer and closer, inching into the basement, that’s when he pulls out the mask and slips in after you and pushes you against the wall and he calls you a pet name and removes his mask.

Ghostface loves you. He won’t hurt you. He could never put a knife against you, but pets have to be trained and he’s sure that negative reinforcement works. You have no real say to it, you’re dependent on him, you’re learning and nodding along, letting his hands wander and thanking him when he lets you release.

Only In Nightmares

Kinda based on me having an actual nightmare last night and waking up with a bump on head (I’m fine i think i just hit my head board in my sleep)

Word Count: 2,032

warnings: noncon nsfw, dark themes, teratophilia, animal torture and death ( This get’s very dark very quickly do not read) Yandere

Dead Dove Do Not Eat

Note this is Reaper x Reader but Reaper is like a complete monster read the tag ‘teratophilia’.

My ask will also be open after this for requests, you can request male over watch characters, bucky barnes and steve rogers! 

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Georges Hobeika ‘The Ritual of the Spring Moon’ Spring 2021 Haute Couture Collection

Ghostface/Reader - Haunted House

Word Count: ~2k

Warnings/Description: NSFW, Gender-neutral Reader, Mostly a flimsy excuse for horror smut, Explicit Language, Mirrors, Blood/gore mention, Dub-con, Fearplay, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Possessiveness, Yandere, Overstimulation, Penetration (receiving), Name Calling/Degradation, DBD Ghostboi

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The broom hits you in the chest with more force than necessary, and when you take it in hand you rub the sore spot it left behind while glaring quietly at your pissant of a boss.

He shoves a finger against your sternum, uncaring of the wince you let out in response, and huffs, “I better not see your sorry ass until the whole place is swept through twice, or I swear to god you’re fired. This is your very last chance.”

You want to roll your eyes, but you manage to keep yourself in check, “I’m sorry, Mr. Romano, I’m a little sick and I overslept-”

“Last chance,” he interrupts, eyes narrowing as he steps away, running a chubby hand through his thinning red hair, “Make sure you lock the place up before you leave. You can get your check after you return the keys.”

You frown at the back of his head as he retreats through the cornfield leading out to the first half of the attraction and the main staff lounge. You flip him off when he’s far enough, and make a few dumb faces while your at it. What a jerk. 

You sniff and rub your nose on your sleeve. God, you still can’t smell anything and your head is throbbing. You really shouldn’t even be out here. Yeah, you were late by a couple of hours, but it’s not like you wanted to get sick and leave your co-workers high and dry on one of the busiest weekends of the year.

Halloween is just around the corner, and in the scary attractions business, there’s really no better time to make money. And you really need the money.

With a sigh, you turn towards the haunted house and prepare for the worst.

It’s a two story building, and you have no idea how that asshole expects you to sweep it all by yourself on a normal day, let alone on the half-juiced battery you’re running on now, but you count your lucky stars that’s all he asked you to do instead of insisting on something dumber like resetting all the props, or whatever. At least with sweeping you can lie about it. Who’s really gonna know? The place is usually dark, anyway.

As you walk in, you’re immediately spooked by a Ghostface who set themselves up directly in front of the door, nearly blocking you from entering. You immediately assume it’s one of your co-workers trying to get you back for skipping out of them, and scoff quietly to yourself, “Ha-ha, very funny, dude…”

But of course, no one laughs, not even you.

Your co-worker tilts their head to the side, eyeing you casually, but before they can do so much as respond, you breeze past them with another wispy sigh. You don’t have time for stupid games. You just want to disappear in the back for a few hours and go home.

You don’t notice the way the Ghostface stares after you, or how their knife glints a little too brightly for a plastic prop.

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Akdbxianxysisby MY HEART 🥺💓💓

Somewhere an article read that if Dio survived long enough to know about Giorno he would have killed his mother and step father and taken Gio in, may I please get a small scenario where Dio takes Gio home and a Gio is terrified Dio’s wife won’t like him but she (kind bubbly caring and motherly) immediately throws her arms open and cries “MY BABY BOY!” And won’t stop kissing his face and steals her attention away from Dio whom becomes a pouty baby please and thank you sweetheart!

[ Oh my god please little Gio.  Little Gio and reader as Dio’s wife?  Little Gio with a better childhood?  That is all.  Yes please. ]

Giorno Giovanna did not - or perhaps he could not - remember much of his early life.  The farthest back his mind could reach was to a dark, rainy evening, one where thunder had rumbled so loud it shook the ground as though an earthquake and lightning struck the ground in dizzying patches of heat, bolting down throughout all of Italy as the winds of the Mediterranean pushed the storm onwards, deeper into the country, growing a mile a minute.  He’d been trying to sleep.  With his favorite plush animal, he’d pulled the covers up over his head, trying his hardest not to let the rash sounds overwhelm him but trembling nonetheless, eyes wide open, seeing nothing but black save for the occasional illumination that sparked from the clouds.  Nobody had come to him.  Not his stepfather, nor even his own mother.  As for his real father...well, he’d never met the man.  At least, not until that night, when, as the storm picked up, violently thrashing rain against the windows with such strength it was a wonder they didn’t shatter to pieces, an unfamiliar voice had resounded softly within his ear.  

“You’re alright now, Giorno.”  It was deep, commanding, but with a strange twinge of care just barely noticeable.  As he was still under the covers, now completely and absolutely terrified, clutching at the fabric with desperate hands and wishing he was anywhere else but there, all he could tell was that the man had moved to his bedside by the sound of increasing footfalls.  “Nothing will hurt you.  Not while I, your father, am here.”

And thus began his new life.  His mother and father had gotten lost from work on the way home that night, but Dio - Giorno’s father - had finally returned.  Now he resided with his father in a spacious, expensive home, straight in the middle of a prosperous portion of Naples.  Through their years together, Giorno had learned that his father had been a wealthy lawyer in both England and Japan.  The profession still provided for him now, albeit Giorno rarely ever heard his father talk about his work.  The boy couldn’t ever catch a glimpse of the cases Dio was supposed to be arguing on the television.  But he had learned quickly that although his father did love him, he was even more strict, sometimes seeming domineering or occasionally outright mean with scolding, should his son find himself in places he wasn’t supposed to venture, or performing activities deemed punishable.  Giorno loved Dio.  But he would be lying if he said that he didn’t miss his mother.  So, when one day, his father began speaking of a woman and her captivating beauty, he naturally grew curious.  He asked, over and over, what the woman was like, how his father had met her, how she looked, what she liked, how well the two of them knew one another.  Over time the questions became more and more incessant, with each query resulting in nothing but commands or reprimands from his father.  But equally over time Dio was home less and less.  Sometimes, he would be gone for hours, or a day.  Often he would vanish at night, while Giorno was asleep, but often strayed well into the afternoon.  Giorno grew worried.  What if another storm happened, like the one that had caught his first family, and his father was lost, too?  Who would take care of him then?  This fear only tripled as days turned to weeks.  But finally, upon asking one day, gathering up the courage for a scolding, after managing to catch his father, he had asked where the man was going.

Something about Dio’s nature appeared to have changed, or at least been altered to some degree.  Giorno had always known his father as a logical and focused man, but as of late he had begun to forget things, or seemingly get lost in his own thoughts.  All that Dio replied with was a dismissive, “Go back inside,” before his voice softened and something like - was that a smile? - formed on his lips.  “I’ve a present for you tomorrow.  Don’t make me postpone it.” 

The next day, the two of them spent all cloudy afternoon and evening going shopping.  Giorno felt it was a rather odd present, but nevertheless enjoyed the times where he’d point out something he liked and his father would purchase it for him.  Perhaps these were the gifts?  He was content with the idea that they were as the both of them made their way back to the car, especially as his father let him ride shotgun, but shortly after the car was in action this idea was debunked. 

“[Y/n] is waiting for us at home.  She really wanted to meet you today, Giorno.  After all, she is your new mother.”

Giorno’s eyes flew open in shock.  [Y/n]?  As in, [y/n] [l/n], the woman that his father had always talked about?  That [y/n]?  A-and wait, did he just say she was his new mom?  Despite how hard he bit it back, the question escaped him.  “My - my mom?”

Dio nodded, eyes never leaving the road.  “She only found out about you yesterday, but she said she couldn’t go any longer without meeting you.”

“Go any longer with what?”

“Oh, I mustn’t have told you.  [Y/n] and I are engaged, Giorno.”  He paused for a minute as he saw his son’s jaw drop from the corner of his eye, theorizing the dynamic his beloved son would have with his beloved [y/n].  You’d always been very caring, a kind and intelligent woman who kept herself well put-together, sensible and levelheaded, but the way that your eyes had grown wide as moons albeit far more beautiful, the gasp of surprise escaping your wide-opened mouth, staring in shock at him, breathless for a moment before you’d thrown your arms around him, the greatest smile Dio had ever seen emerging on your face, voice stuck somewhere between absolute surprise and absolute joy, barely able to speak as you begged your heart out to meet the young boy that Dio had just now informed was his son.  In every sense, you were completely overwhelmed.  You would have a little boy running around the house now.  It wasn’t just you and Dio destined to live as a couple, but you, Dio, and Giorno, a true family, undoubtedly inseparably.  In truth Dio hadn’t told you much about his son beyond his name and bits and pieces of his personality.  But now, waiting patiently at your fiancé's house, you nervously touched up your makeup, eyes darting between your face and the door, a smile on your face and a lightness in your chest. Your heart was racing like never before.

So was Giorno’s.  He wasn’t sure if he was afraid or excited, fearful or grateful, anticipating or anxious.  You’d always sounded so nice whenever his father had spoken of you.  But Giorno had never met you.  He wasn’t proper or well-mannered like his father, nor was he as quiet or interested in reading.  In truth he and his father didn’t have all too much in common.  And even then, even if the two of them were similar, would you like him then?  Maybe he would take up all of your time.  He would be a burden to you, getting in the way of everything, nothing but extra baggage in a previously perfect love, only eliciting every possible negative emotion from within your soul?  There wasn’t any way he could conceive it going positively.  He could hardly control himself under normal circumstances, but he knew he’d have much less a tighter grip on his childish behavior or energy when meeting you.  You would hate him.  He knew it.  He would ruin your love for his father.  He would -

“Go inside.”  Dio’s voice broke him into the clear from his thick, foggy thoughts.  Somehow Giorno found himself at the entrance to his house - right in front of the door you were behind - his father motioning to the unlocked door.  If he said something to his dad now, he would worsen everything, not just for you but for his dad, too.  And again that fearful thought crept up again.  If you were gone, and his father was gone, then who would be there for him?

He found himself being practically shoved through the doorway, a strong hand against his back as the two of them entered, only for Giorno to have perhaps a moment to center himself before losing his balance and sight in an instant, slender arms enveloping him.

He was adorable!  You understood Dio’s fear of keeping him from you - not all women were open to single fathers, but, of course, you weren’t one of them - but couldn’t believe the thought that he’d been hiding such a cute little treasure from you.  As you set him down from your spinning hug, you kneeled down to him, taking him in for the first time wholly, as he did the exact same to you.

You - you didn’t hate him?  You hadn’t screamed, or ran?  You had...that was, you’d...he’d gotten a hug from you?  As he regained his balance he found a pretty young woman smiling gleefully, kneeling down to his level and looking you over from head to toe, joy only blooming more and more on your face as you examined his features.  You had the cutest smile he’d ever seen, and as he returned one of his own, still in a stupor, you easily said the same for him.  Look at the way his perfect cheeks budged up as he grinned, eyelashes fanning the frame of his stunning green eyes, small little nose looking oh-so-boopable you could hardly contain your squee, completely and totally oblivious to your soon-to-be-husband, who stood in the doorway, mouth twitching into something like a frown of jealousy.  

You relapsed into hugging Giorno, who, this time, returned your embrace, and as you felt his little arms around your back, you cried, “My baby boy!  Oh, look at you, angel!”  Feeling him laugh lightly against you, you began to barrage his small forehead with kisses, eyes welling with tears that threatened to spill over.  He was precious.  So, so, so incredibly precious, and by god, you were so blessed to have him and Dio in your life.  Oh, how could he have hidden Giorno from you?!  “I love you so much, Giorno.”

“I - I love you too, Miss [y/n] - mom!”  And he did.  You radiated warmth and comfort, and gave the best hugs he’d ever received, and were way more pretty than his dad, and smiled way more often, and rained affection down upon him.  A giant grin emerged on his face.  “I’ll be good, I promise!”

A tear escaped you.  “Oh, Giorno...thank you…” you trailed off after wiping the wetness from your eyes, only to cast a glance up and find Dio, practically pouting, skulking in the corner, like a big baby in time-out, and you laughed, orienting your son so he could see his father.  “...But save some love for your dad, too!”  You leaned in close, face just besides Giorno’s, before continuing in a whisper, “He won’t ever say it, but I think he’s jealous of us.”  

Giorno giggled.  He loved you already, absolutely, completely and totally, and called out, “Dad!  Come get a hug from mom!  She gives the best hugs!”

And as Dio made his way into the picture, lifting his young son upon his arms and settling him atop his shoulder, taller than he could ever dream of, now up in the air of the adults, smiling just like you, the three of you were positive that nothing better existed than being there, together, by each other’s side - a family.

Slasher X Reader (You have/had a Lover that isn’t them) Pt 2

Pairings: Bo Sinclair x reader / Danny Johnson x Reader / Bubba Sawyer x Reader / Michael Myers x Reader

Warnings: Michael’s is barely nsfw. sexual themes. violence. angst. abusive relationships. 

Note: I know my last post was about how the slashers would react to your past lover / current lover. These are a little different, but still hold the same themes. 

Bo Sinclair:

o Bo was lonely. Despite the brothers having each other, that was clear to you. Vincent could help fill the rooms with wax figures, but that wasn’t going to change anything.

o There were many times that Bo would sit in the theater, and act as if the figure sitting next to him found the picture just as amusing or thrilling as him. But at the end of the night he would have to face the emptiness of his bedroom.

o That’s why he had kept you around, despite how condescending you could be. It was the middle of the night, and Bo was sitting outside his house with a cigarette in hand and his head in the other. Wasn’t long till he heard you come through the front door.   He didn’t turn around to look at you, but he did straighten out his body language. He didn’t want you to know how sad he could get.

o You sat next to him, immediately taking in the view of the night sky. At first neither of you said anything, but Bo noticed how your mouth opened and closed, so he stayed quiet. Considerate enough to let you gather your thoughts this once. “You haven’t really asked me what I was up to before I met you,” you finally said. “I wish you would have. Maybe then you wouldn’t get so upset with me.” Bo finally looked over at you, unlike him you didn’t hide how you felt.

o “Does it really matter what you did before,” he asked. If you didn’t want to get into a fight, you would have stayed quiet before. Tonight you were feeling a bit more courageous, because you knew that Bo wasn’t in his usual mindset.

“It’s been two years since I broke up with my last partner,” you began. “It started off as nice as one would hope. They would bring me gifts and flowers, it wasn’t until we reached our first year that they completely did a 180. They were awfully jealous and mean. Honestly, the nicest thing I could say about them was that they didn’t hit me.” You didn’t want to go into the full details, still not comfortable enough with Bo. The fact that you were making an attempt to open up to him should have been enough.

o Bo clenched his jaw, but didn’t say anything. “I always thought I got lucky,” you continued. “I thought I left before they could do more damage, but I didn’t realize how obsessive I was with picking up red flags with later romantic encounters. If there was one thing that scared me, I was out of there. It was small stuff too, like if they listened to too much dirty music or if they had a poster in their room of a revealing woman, I was gone.” You laughed at yourself, and Bo thought it was endearing. He almost smiled. He did like you, he liked you very much.

o But that was when your shift changed. “But you, oh you,” you weren’t sure to look at him or not. “I’ve come to realize I couldn’t read anyone at all, and for all I know those people I shut down could have made me happy. At least I wouldn’t have ended up here with you.”

Danny Johnson:

o You weren’t sure you could consider yourself lucky or not. You had been trapped by with the entity along with your partner. If you could have, you would have only wished this damned fate for yourself.

o On the bright side, you two were often paired up together which meant a higher chance of surviving. Some of the others weren’t too thrilled when they entered a trial with you two, knowing you guys would save each other before anyone else. Still, it was nice to know you wouldn’t be abandoned on a hook.

o Some of the killers had even caught onto your relationship. Extra points if they were able to kill one in front of the other. You wished you had made a better effort to keep it under wraps, especially after you began to pick up hints that the Ghost Face had some fucked up thing for you.

o You were lucky that the others hadn’t caught on, especially by your partner as  Ghost Face was always making you his final girl. There were a handful of times that you would catch him peeking over at you. The moment that he knew you had seen him, he would let out a chuckle. Your horrified look on your face never got old to him. Afterwards he would run off into the opposite direction, leaving you in your works and attempting to regain your composure.

o There had been a few times where you thought he was carrying you to be sacrificed by the entity only to be dropped in front of the hatch. This was why you made an effort to keep your distance from your partner during trials with the Ghost Face. For their sake, you didn’t want that killer finding out.

o But he had as your partner had gotten a little too close and kissed one of your injuries when they thought it was just the two of you. When you caught sight of Ghost Face peeking over the door frame, you panicked. As if it was a betrayal to the “relationship” you were forming with the killer or what fucked up illusions Danny was having.

o Despite all your best efforts after that, you partner never did make it alive when it came to running trials with Ghost Face. Luckily though, his soft spot for you hadn’t gone away.

Bubba Sawyer:

o If there was anything especially Human about Bubba Sawyer, it was his love for music. Chop Top and Nubbins would always check the cassette tape players after they made waste of their victims. Chop Top would always have first picks, and anything he didn’t care for or already had a copy of, he would give it to Bubba.

o Regardless of what it was, Bubba was always content. From classical, blues, jazz, art rock, it all made him happy. He listened to music the most when he was working with the bodies. But when he got some free time, there was usually music playing in the background.

o It had been two weeks since you had almost been killed by the Sawyers. In a sick way, you found it amusing that you would have been used in a chili recipe for a contest if you hadn’t manipulated Bubba into letting you live.

o Still, you had to wonder if the effort was even worth it. But Bubba did at least care for you and hated how much you cried. But he never did anything when Nubbins and Chop Top ganged up on you, threatening to make a stew out of you. Another reason you were resentful towards Bubba. Any person who doesn’t defend their partner isn’t worth the time of day, but not like you had a choice in this matter.

o After all the threats towards you and teasing towards Bubba, Chop Top at least made up to his brother by giving him another cassette tape. He didn’t say where he grabbed it, but you recognized it. The tape belonged to you, and was made for you by your significant other. You didn’t need to ask, you knew Chop Top had grabbed it from your vehicle and was only now giving it back.

o Bubba was excited to hear it, taking you back to his quarters to listen to it. He was also eager for you to listen to it, really expecting that it would put you in better spirits.

o It only took the first song for a spring of tears to run down your face. You had to wonder if they were even making an effort to find you despite how all the songs had lyrics that proposed strong, unbreakable love.

o You were surprised when the music stopped, as Bubba often played the tapes on repeat for hours. You looked over at him to see he already had the tape in his hand and was walking up to where you sat.

o Bubba was gentle with you, at least tried to be. But he still scared you when he got too close to you, still not comfortable with his presence. When he was in front of you, you only looked up at him with a questionable look. Your tears had already stopped, and that was how Bubba came to the conclusion that the tape had been making you sad.

o  He easily snapped it in half, which caused you to let out a little gasp. The gesture was meant to show that he didn’t want you to be sad, and he didn’t mind making sacrifices for that.

o “You dumbass,” you said under your breath as you buried your face into your hands with mental exhaustion. Bubba hadn’t heard you, but he knew it hadn’t worked or that he would need to try harder. He wanted you to be as happy as you made him.

Michael Myers:

o Despite having kept you around for weeks now, there still wasn’t a single thing you understood about Myers. Why he killed, why he refused to die, why he didn’t talk, why he had taken such an interest in you that still hadn’t ended with a knife through your chest. He was beyond an enigma.

o Keeping hostages didn’t seem like his forte either, but here you were. You were thankful for being kept alive, but there were multiple moments where you believed he was going to kill you. He was never gentle, not because you didn’t think he wanted to be, but because he didn’t know how to be.

o All he knew was violence. Despite wanting to make a change of that with you, this was guaranteed to end badly for you.

o He liked how you never screamed or tried to reason with him, you were smarter than to waste your efforts with him. Your first sincere reaction to him was when he took off his mask in front of you. You tried putting the words “handsome” and “attractive” in the farthest part of your brain, but just seeing his actual face felt intimate. Despite his damaged eye, you knew if anyone just saw him walking down the street, he would turn quite a few heads with his features.

o You blushed but looked away, as if he had done more than just show you his face. It wasn’t long after that, that he had made a move on you. Finally removing your arms of their bounds, as any perfectly sane person would, you pulled him close to you by his head. Despite how much your arms ached, you ignored it to give him a surprisingly strong kiss. Not even a single thought to the person who was possibly looking for you, after witnessing Myers kidnap you.

o Your want for him had only been growing since he allowed you to truly look at him. But regardless of wanting him so bad, he still hurt you. You were flat on your stomach, none of your limbs supporting your body as Michael took you for the first time. Almost all his weight was on top of you, but you didn’t care. You knew there wasn’t a shred of love in your actions. This was the only time you cried out.

o There was still that thought in your head during the whole process, that once he was done, you were going to die.

o You hadn’t though, assuming Michael still wanted more out of you. But there finally did come that day, that your partner did find you along with a band of police officers.

o If they had gotten to you sooner, then maybe you would have been happy to them. Instead, you were almost tempted to tell them leave you. Michael was out, and you didn’t want him to believe that you had abandoned him. You didn’t want to go, not after.. You were losing it, telling yourself that it was a sick thought to think there was something more to this relationship.

o “He was going to kill you sooner or later,” you told yourself. But that was a lie.