— 𑣲⋆｡˚ suggestive ❨ just friends ? ❩ ft. yandere! tamsy caines
why should tamsy care? after all you two are just friends.
but friends don’t fuck and then ghost each other. and it was never him who ghosted you, it was you. i mean he’s tamsy caines. he shouldn’t be annoyed by it, one because he’s a narcissist, two because he’s a manipulative and three who randomly targeted a young boy and destroy everything he has to get him at his best potential.
because he saw something in you that he wanted to mold. something raw, untouched and perfect. and tamsy caines always gets what he wants — then reshapes it into his image. you were never just a friend. you were his next masterpiece. and masterpieces require sacrifice. starting with your precious little heart.
i mean ghosting him was your act of rebellion, the only card you had left to play. you thought sleeping with him and then vanishing would prove you weren't just another toy in his collection, that you wouldn't fall into his rhythm. but for a narcissist like tamsy, rejection isn't an ending—it’s a personal insult. it’s a crack in the mirror.
because he's obsessed with control. and you took that away from him. he can't have you, and that drives him insane. he wants to punish you for daring to walk away, but more than that, he wants you back. not as a friend, not as a hook up—as his.
because for tamsy caines, he is the one who creates the pain, never the one who feels it.
and you broke the golden rule: the hunter doesn't get haunted. by walking away after being that intimate with him, you stripped him of his control. those hallway stares aren't just longing—they are a wounded predator trying to understand how the prey slipped the trap.
he couldn’t manipulate you, he couldn't hurt you. you were the key to his heart—something he never wanted to admit, something he never wanted to feel. every time he sees you, every time he remembers that night, it's a reminder of his weakness.
but there’s good memories, the ones where you brushed his long beautiful hair while metal rock was playing on his radio— and those times where you put his hair into a bun— or that one time you kissed his cheek
those memories itch at him. those were the moments when the carefully constructed walls of the manipulation started to crumble. the long hair—he'd never let anyone touch it, let alone brush it and put it up. only you. he'd be sitting there, music blasting, all metal and chaos, but somehow when your hands were in his hair, it felt peaceful.
that cheek kiss was the final nail in the coffin. it wasn't sexual, it wasn't demanding—it was pure affection. and tamsy, a man who thrives on manipulation and destruction, had absolutely no defense against it. you weren't fucking him; you were loving him. you domesticated the monster. that’s why he can't move on.
he thinks in the future, just maybe one day— to all those people you loved end up dead on the chairs, on the day you two get married. old 90s music playing while smudging the blood on his pretty white suit. waiting any moment for you walk down the aisle
he plays that scenario in his head like a twisted romantic comedy. you walking down the aisle in white, surrounded by chaos, and him standing there in his immaculate white suit — the only one clean, the only one waiting. he'd have slaughtered everyone who ever hurt you, every person who made you smile but never really knew you. a bloody altar, for you. and only you.
or maybe he decides that kissing on top of the piles of the dead body underneath you two is more his style. in his eyes, that’d be his ultimate goal. he wouldn’t mind the smell of the iron blood, the smell of human flesh and your scent mixing in with the rotten humans.
after all, what better way to seal a love than with blood and destruction? your kiss would taste like copper, your hands stained red as you hold each other.
that's not just love; that's possession. i mean after all, what a dark love story written in crimson.
gummygunk
areudirty
romaincrisis
pixelskylines
dailybridgerton
stormborns
yousharknotpass
ellievsbear
