Winnie-zero - Uzro

Friendly reminder: Killing Stalking is not meant to be romanticised but seen as psychological horror.

The Case Study of Vanitas - Episode 4

“I’ll protect you… Nezuko!”

it's the stalker.

he was entranced.

by you.

the way your breasts moved freely under your shirt as you fumbled with your curtains after experiencing a brief moment of eye contact. It was heaven. he felt like he died ascended and descended all in a matter of seconds. he couldn't ask for more in the moment. seeing your irises widen then focus on his distant figure, in a split of fear.

but you.

you were alarmed. alarmed by the staring of a random man. you hastily undid your curtains and shut them as fast as you could. quickly your body took you to your door and make sure you locked it. you took a much needed breath but that didn't stop your chest from violently moving up and down. your heart pounding in your ears as you leaned against the door briefly before leaving to go back to what you were previously doing.

you thought that eye contact was bad. but it got worse. you didn't think when bags and bags of things kept showing up to your door. at first small packages that you mindlessly brought inside your home, then, undisguised bags of luxury items and items you wanted but wouldn't buy just as yet. you were warned not to open them but you couldn't help but peek.

and they were real. actual items in the bags and you had to check. something in you told you that this couldn't be real. but it surely was.

you still didn't open or wear a thing. it infuriated him. he didn't buy you these things for them to collect dust. but, besides this, he needs to see you. he's aching for you. so he does.

there you were obliviously window shopping because he knows you're too goddamn responsible to buy the things you want. he watched as you paced up and down the isle. analyzing the clothing and silently cursing to yourself when you check the tag. it made his chest rumble from a quiet chuckle. those leggings you wore hugged your body and infatuated your hips to give you a delicious figure.

oh

you bent over to pick up a shirt you knocked it off the hanger and he got the perfect view of your ass. the movement itself was quick and ridded with embarrassment from making something fall. but it still made his trousers annoyingly tight as he gazed at you.

he couldn't hold himself back anymore. he walked into the store. knowing exactly where you were as he walked in nonchalantly. he seemed confident to anyone around, but inside, he was just trembling. he was turning into where you clearly were but you were leaving at the same time, your shoulder nearly brushed against his as you pasted each other. he could feel the heat of your body past him and he could smell the sweet scent of vanilla coming off your person and he nearly rolled his eyes back.

you were too much for his own good.

and just like that you walked out the door like he was nobody. but he knew you felt it, felt that spark when you glided by one another. it was an electric surge and he couldn't rid it from his body. this lead him to pick up everything that caught your eye in the store and buy it.

he was an irresponsible child when it came to you and materialistic things, but he could care less. money comes and goes, he thought. and you are one in a lifetime for him.

he was nervous around you, popping up at places you least expected it and getting ignored by you only fueled his efforts. and he benefited from it. he talked to you.

he talked to you.

it was brief, like every other interaction you had, but it was an everlasting moment in his mind. you bumped into him this time. oh, how much joy he felt when your warm body clashed with his. it even took you a second longer to detach from him than it would a normal person. you were all over him and he knew it.

you politely said excuse me and stared into his eyes. he couldn't even blink, afraid he would miss a single moment in your presence. he imagined you looking back at him when you walked away and even fantasized that there was a smile on your face but who could even be so sure?

him?

not when he was laying down and imagining you were watching him, just as he was stalking watching you. one hand slithering under his boxers to palm himself while the other held his chest. right where you bumped into him. he contemplated never taking off the sweater, let alone washing it. but that had no space in his mind now. it was too busy thinking of you and your alluring scent.

stroking himself to you alone, he could imagine your warmth against him. your mouth, your tits and of course that hole. any one he wanted. because he knew what he meant to you. he was your prize, just as you were his. he had to work for you and you had to work for him. if that means he has to spend nights just aching and pleading for you, then so be it. he needs you. he needs you so bad it can kill him.

and when the time is right, he will come and see you.

he will break those pathetic petty locks of yours and enter your room. he will peel back those layers of sheets you use to cover that lovely body, and his fingers will run down your body, leaving goosebumps in its wake. he will hook his fingers on your skimpy underwear and pull them down to your ankles.

and he will fuck you.

some more stories

a/n: inspired by a dream and no. I cannot elaborate.

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬 [𝐚𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐢]

pairing: aegon targaryen ii x fem!reader

summary: aegon seeks comfort from you

content warnings: implied nightmare, a lil bit of crying, a whole lot of hurt/comfort, feelings ugh

no judgements i beg i have a soft spot for emotionally crippled emos. also i know this will flop but i had an idea and ran w it so i’m committed. and as always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated<3

“y/n…”

you roll over at the rasping voice in your doorway. “mmh.”

the door creaks as aegon pushes it closed behind him; steady footsteps advance on you as your body naturally unfolds to make room for his broadness. you feel his heat, the blankets lifting at the corner as he works his way into your side; you shuffle over in the king sized bed, already knowing what he desires.

he needles his way beneath your arm and sniffles. his bare torso is cold against your own warm skin.

“come here,” you murmur, not wanting him to catch a chill. your arms instinctively wrap around his neck as you cradle his cheeks, all the while dotting tender kisses against his face, damp with tears. “what is it, hm?” he shakes his head, reaching to twirl the ends of your hair in his large fingers.

you sit up, propping yourself against the various pillows and coaxing him up into your arms.

his head lolls as he gazes up at you through blonde lashes, almost invisible until the sunlight catches them. your own hand travels up to brush stray strands of hair out of his face.

“what did you do to my guard?” you giggle. aegon’s brows knit until a deep crease forms in his porcelain skin. you smooth it with the pad of your thumb.

“i just… suggested he take a walk.”

“at two in the morning?”

a beat of silence follows. your smile slowly fades as his lips part to speak.

“do you love me?” a question often asked; one often unanswered by the person he craved to hear it from the most.

“i do. more than anyone.” you pinch his chin, not meanly, just enough to encourage his eyes to yours in the dimly lit chambers. “i swear it.”

you press a sweet kiss to his lips, pushed into a gorgeous pout that makes you giddy with affection. “do you love me?” you ask. a rebuttal.

he nods shakily; then again, firmer. “more than anyone.”

“good,” you say. his eyelids start to drop as he settles in your arms and presses his nose to your neck. you press lips to the top of his head as his cheek squishes against the juncture of your shoulder. his fierce grip around your waist borders on discomfort.

“gentle, aegon.” you murmur. he mumbles something indiscernible but loosens his hold nonetheless. his flaxen tresses fall around his face in a halo and soon his breathing evens and deepens. it’s not long before you’re exhausted as well.

[ 18+ ] is this what love supposed to be?

anastasia steele x christian grey

(divorce au)

if this is us, what then?

we're good, we're okay. it's okay at first, we're happy, we get along, we drown on what we want, what we desire. but as time goes on in this.. whatever you call this, whatever this is, i don't even know anymore. is this marriage? is this what marriage supposed to be? is this just it? high and low, sleeping and getting up, submission and domination? i don't even like you anymore. i don't even know you anymore. why are we even still together?

"consequences, christian!" anastasia shouted, her voice is sharp, slicing through the silence of their cold home. but there was something else underneath. something raw, something cracking in the inside that made her face scrunch a little and made her hold back, as if that could even stop the sob that spilled out along her words.

"that is what this is."

song: do i wanna know by hozier

movie/show: a lot

transactional

felix × anora

song: bathroom by montell fish

movie: saltburn + anora

i don't know why but i have this imagination of a what if. like what if when felix was partying in a club, anora met him instead of vanya then fun happened between them and felix grew to like her. i just knew he would like anora, cause who wouldn't like her? she's beautiful, she's great, a queen, she could stand up for herself and could definitely fire back whenever she's in an unfair position. and her job is no joke, i'm not even gonna romanticize that or anything. and felix— who doesn't like felix? like it's hard to love felix.

i could just imagine the level of upgrade she would get if she only married or at least got into a relationship with fel instead. like, the man has taste. he has common sense, he has a heart, he's responsible, he has brains, he's educated, his peers are decent, his home is fantastic, he could handle himself, he's rich, matured at the very least and his family adores him.

the cattons, though has their own types of nuts in their back pockets, would surely accept her and let her in. not why not, but cause of this idea that if felix is happy and trusts anora, then okay. sure, there'll be some tight spots and daddy might scrutinize her by her career and farleigh might poke around and test what kind is she but mostly, they won't mind. and i would love to see venetia do some shopping and salon with ani, ani having some chat and gossip session over champagne with elspeth in gown, and anora have some argument with farleigh cause they're both divas at their own right and they might have bits of common ground? cause farleigh is also from the lower class working his way up and keeping stations in saltburn.

for me, or the one perched on my left shoulder, someone like (but not exactly) felix would definitely treat her better than just the girl who likes pole but as the person she is. felix judges and befriends people by their character, like what happened to him and oliver— aww, poor ollie, am gon' be his friend huhu— but anora isn't like that. she's honest, she's open, she don't accept pity or shits and just be herself; and she do what she has to do while also hoping that someday, she'll get her star and fly away far from the strip club and live a life she deserves.

so, even if it might be transactional at first between anora and felix, i feel like the feelings fel paid for will eventually come true. and they'll be perfect for each other. cinderella and prince charming in a place called saltburn. but, well, ollie oil unfortunately exists— at the end, we accept the love we thought we deserve.

うまい！ Delicious!