Wooo this got way longer than intended lmao
Rating: SFW
CWs/TWs: One-sided obsession, homicide masked as suicide, not warm and fuzzy
Ask box is open!
You, who’s had to examine a string of gruesome suicides in your small town. You, who doesn’t believe they’re suicides, but there’s no quantifiable evidence to the contrary. You, who lives a very solitary, morbid reality
You, who's had to write suicide on report after report--all these girls, all with pre-mortem broken bones and injuries, all these girls with increasingly grotesque methods of suicide
Jonathan, who lurks in the shadows of the autopsy room, watching you poke and prod at his victims as you look for evidence of foul play. Jonathan, who like to press too close when you step into a shadow, infatuated by the way misery flows from you like wine.
Jonathan, who's never been one to care about the appearance of his victims, but is sharply distracted by how soft your skin looks, the hue of your eyes, the way your hair frames your face
You feel the air temperature drop by 10 degrees whenever he gets too close, though you simply think the furnace is broken
Your misery is a righteous kind, brought on by disappointment in the way law enforcement won't listen when you say there's something wrong about these suicides. You're becoming desperate to prove it, to do right by these girls on your table. You're more self-isolated than ever before, you're not sleeping, not taking care of yourself
Jonathan dreams of breaking that stubborn, bright spirit of yours
When your therapist starts writing paranoid delusions in her notes on you, Jonathan lets himself be seen a little more
A flash of gold in the corner of your eye, a gust of wind through your skirts from under the autopsy table. You feel eyes on you constantly, but no matter how quickly you turn, or duck to check under a table, there's never anyone there
Jonathan never understood Jason's obsession with keeping his victims-playthings-alive, but he's starting to get it the more he sees you
He could make good use of your quick mind and skills with a scalpel
Eventually, you start hearing voices, when you're all alone in the lab
A man humming echoing off the walls, a whisper of your name in your ear, footsteps with no person attached
You get put on a temporary administrative leave when a colleague finds you tearing apart the autopsy room at 3 in the morning, looking for a tape player because you swear you hear singing. It's probably for the best, you tell yourself--you were starting to fantasize about taking a knife to your ear, if it didn't stop
Jonathan stalking your home, getting even more aggressive now that you're truly alone most days
The phantom voices persist, you see movement in the corner of your eye constantly, you wake up or come home to things in your house moved or knocked over
You finally crack one night, a repetitive slamming of a window or door--only for them too look completely undisturbed--waking you every time you get close to sleep. It wouldn't be so bad, if you hadn't only slept for a few hours each night for the last week
You scream, you cry, you throw things at your window in a blind rage and beg for whatever is tormenting you to just leave
Eventually, you cry yourself to sleep, and that's when Jonathan strikes
A soft, soothing hum wakes you after a few hours, your exhausted body reluctantly responding to the noise. Your eyes crack open just barely, and a panicked scream rises in your throat when you realize a man is crouched over you on your bed
Dark gray skin, deep bruising circling his neck, the stench of sulfur assaulting your senses--and the most hypnotic golden eyes one could imagine
A gloved hand locks over your mouth, the other around your throat, effectively silencing any noise you could've made. The grip on your throat relaxes once you quiet, fingers stroking the soft skin in an almost affectionate manner. His other hand leaves your mouth, stroking through your hair soothingly
"Shh, now, none of that. I'm here to help. Don't you want it all to stop?"
Your instincts riot against this, knowing something is wrong, but if he can really make it stop...
Besides, the longer you look into his eyes, the less fight you seem to have. You can't think of a response other than yes, like your mind had been hijacked, blocking everything but that one word
You choke out a 'yes,' tears welling up in your eyes. He's quick to brush them away, that echoing hum lulling you back to sleep
When you wake, you're in a different bed, a different home--not that you notice
You don't remember who you are. You remember your name, your skills, but nothing else. You can't recall your parents, or where you worked, or your first pet, it's all just... gone
But things have always been like this, haven't they? That's what Jonathan The Puppeteer tells you, after all
A young male let out a gasp as he hit the ground, palms burning as they dug into who knows what. Bark and twigs stuck to the boys hand as he pulled them off the ground to look at, he knew he shouldnt stop but his breathing was deep and laboured, he was exhausted after running for his life for so long. This was a sick and twisted game, he wanted no part of it.
He darted forward just in time to feel a knife skim his back, adrenaline rushed back through his veins and he leapt into a run, he didnt get far before he was tackled down. He blindly threw his fists around, but the bigger male pinned him easily. The smaller sobbed as he stared up at the yellow eyed killer he had heard about the murders but he didnt think any of this could happen to him.
He gazed up, arms pinned either side of his head. The killer sat on top of him, giggles pouring out of him as he dragged a knife down his chest, easily splitting the fabric and the younger males skin, (Names) eyes widened at the sight of golden wires shooting out from his hand.
A gasp filled the night sky, the smallers eyes darting upto the stars, praying for some salvation. Anything as the wires wrapped themselves tightly around his wrists, pinning them above his head.
Fear flooded his body as he closed his eyes, squeezing them shut and praying. A hand pressed flat against his stomach, pinning his body to the ground as shaky breathes left him.
The puppateer tilted his head, staring down at the rather pretty male. He slowly moved his hand down the boys stomach, feeling him twitch. He stopped his hand just short of going under the boys jeans, playing with the waist line, looking back up to meet his eyes.
He was glad he looked up in that moment, the sight of half lidded eyes and his mouth dropped open was enough to drive the killer back to insanity.
Before he'd really thought about it he had dropped the knife, hand instead grabbing the the floored males neck. Panic crossed his features and they gripped the puppateers hand, who tightened his grip slightly.
He dropped down to press his lips against the other, quickly dominating the kiss. He was susprised they were kissing back but he quickly regained control of himself and the situation, easily pinning the other to the ground with his body.
It didn't take the murderer long to flip the other onto their stomach and yank down their jeans, a huge smirk took over his face, white teeth gleaming at the others obedience. "Does this turn you on? A cold blooded killer fucking you? Like a whore?" He probably could've heard the gulp (Name) took a mile off, whatching as his body began trembling.
"Don't worry, I can make that a reality." He gripped (Names) hips as they let out a low groan, the feeling of the terrifying mans fingers running along their backside was almost intoxicating. (Name) bit their lip as fingers dug into his flesh and spread his ass apart, his body jolted as a loud sound came from behind him and he felt something wet his his hole.
"D-did you just spit on me?" He innocently questioned, not sure whether to be offended or not. A hand wrapped into his hair and pulled him back, the murderers tongue coming out and licking up the side of his face.
A whimper left him as he pushed back against the puppateer, he was getting desperate as the wind blew against his sensative, exposed body.
Jonathan pushed him back down, he pulled out lube from an inside pocket and coated his fingers. He held the other still with his wires as he slide two fingers into them. A loud choked moan left (Name) as jonathan sunk his fingers deeper, he stilled for a moment before scissoring his fingers.
Loud moans filled the forest as Jonathan thouroughly fucked the other with his digits, tears began welling up in (Names) eyes. The burning feeling of getting stretched was dizzying, he buried his face in his arms as his body was rocked with the motion of the others fingers.
He didn't waste too much time before sliding a third digit into the other, moans began falling from (Name) and getting more high pitched as the other assaulted his prostate.
He had fingered himself before but it hadn't felt this good, his eyes began to roll before Jonathan suddenly removed his fingers. (Name) let out a loud whine which resulted in a deep chuckle from the killer.
Both hands gripped the body's hips, Jonathans fingers coming to spread his cheeks as he guided his cock into the other. A noise of discomfort tumbled from (Names) lips as Jonathans cock pushed passed his hole, he let out another small whine as he was filled with to the brim with cock.
Jonathan was pressed flush against (Names) ass, he took a few seconds before loosing his patience and began slamming into the pinned boy. “Thats right, moan like the little whore you are.” He laughed, the sound of skin slapping together filling up the otherwise quiet forest.
(Name) let out a loud scream as his prostate was struck, stars dancing behind his eyes. His back was arched as much as it could with the wires keeping him pinned in place for the killer to use him to his hearts content.
Jonathan drew back his hand and landed a hard smack on the mans ass, red immediately flaring up over his skin in the shape of Jonathan’s hand. Jonathan landed six more slaps in rapid succession, the sound of (Name) borderline screaming for him making him feel drunk.
He almost laughed at how quick his victim came, eyes wide with joy. “Already?” He questioned, not really expecting an answer from the over stimulated moaning mess pinned under him.
Jonathan suddenly slowed, instead fucking deep and slow. (Name) let out a loud whine, he could already feel another orgasm building inside of him. “Pleasee.” (Name) slurred out, trying to push himself back onto Jonathans cock. Instead Jonathan smacked his ass another five times and grabbed his hair, pulling him up against his chest and wrapping a hand arohnd his neck. “You’ll take what i give you.” His voice was deep as he spoke into (Names) ear.
(Name) moaned and his toes curled, Jonathans hand rested on his neck as he finally sped up his movements, (Name) arched, eyes wide and mouth dropped open as his second orgasm hit him like a train.
He fell boneless into Jonathan who wrapped his arms around him keeping him up as he continued fucking into him, his thrusts getting sloppier as he got closer to his completion. (Name) just knew tomorrow was going to hurt like hell if he made it. Jonathan landed a few more smacks on his ass before spilling his seed, (Name) shook as he felt the others goo drip out of his hole and down his thighs.
“Are you gonna kill me now?” He asked tiredly, not bothering to stop leaning against his possible would be killer. “I have much, much different plans for you my little puppy.”
Boxtober - Day 9: "Don't Buy A House Off Craigslist."
Day 9:
-The Puppeteer X GN!Reader
“Sounds like a you problem.” X “Up Against the Wall Kiss."
-I do not own "The Puppeteer/Jonathan Blake" and do not take credit for him.
-Rating: Viewer discretion is advised !!
TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of suicide, a fairly detailed kiss scene, and harassment from a stranger.
-
It's been a couple of months since you moved into this house. The house you now call home. You didn’t get many visitors, and when you wanted to see someone, they’d convince you to go to their house. Even the movers didn’t step foot inside, and most delivery services, if they knew, wouldn’t go further than the front lawn. And it was all because you moved into a house where someone committed suicide.
The day you bought the house, you didn’t even bother to look into its history. Your eyes only saw the unbeatable mortgage and pricing. I mean, of course, you looked at the interior and whatnot, but you thought people stayed away from it due to how long it’d been up. You thought they were scared of vintage houses. But, you were wrong. They didn’t like the house because it was haunted. At least that’s what the locals told you. They swore up and down you’d be running out of that house in no time, but it never came.
You assumed they were trying to have you leave because they despised the new people. Which made sense since they were a very small community of people and didn't have many visitors. And because of everything, you couldn't bring yourself to believe in the ghost. Because you’d been living there for months with nothing ghost-like occurring. And the only scary thing was how many teenagers came around to chant the name "Jonathan Blake". You always have to tell them off. You didn’t know what a sick and twisted high they got out of that. For fucks sake, let the dead be dead. You couldn't imagine how unbearable they'd be on Halloween night. Or maybe they'd leave you alone, believing this would be the height of the haunting.
Last night had been unbelievably rough. You had those kids come back, and you had a nightmare. A dark and gruesome nightmare. A nightmare about the suicide of Jonathan Blake. You felt terrible, but it wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t control what you dreamed about. Even so, you'd hoped you'd forget it more quickly. You needed to stop talking to the locals so much. They were getting to you. You forced yourself up, feeling the apparent sweat that had formed on your forehead. Your current bedroom was cold as you grudgingly got up. You came into contact with the wooden flooring as you yawned. You changed into some sweats and a shirt. You had no intention of doing anything. It was the weekend, after all. All you wanted to do was binge on scary movies and sleep some more. You walked through the house and you could hear your breath and steps echo. You then made it to the kitchen. The sun was fairly out due to it still being early in the morning. So you didn't need to turn on the light as you made your coffee, eagerly waiting for it to be done.
You stood there for a moment, waiting for your coffee to dispense as the doorbell rang vigorously. The disorienting noise rang throughout the house as it hurt your ears. Your hands jolted as you made your way to the door as fast as you could. You were going to snap if it was those kids again. As you cautiously opened the door, you were met with a pale man with short dark brown locks framing his face. And with that, he was adorning stereotypical mailman's attire, even adding a blue baseball cap on top. He held out a brown package. It must have been something that you ordered a while back.
"I believe this is for you." At first, he didn’t look at you but then turned to you. His face changed after staring at you for an uncomfortable moment. "Oh, good morning," he said cheerfully as he leaned against the doorframe. "I didn't expect to see an angel." his teeth were whiter than him. You’ve never heard someone unironically use such an internet pickup line. "Um, thanks for the package," you said as you slowly shut the door in his face as he took the privilege of forcing it back open. "You know, it’s pretty rude to do that, but I'll let it slide." he looked at you for way too long, making sure to take you all in as you gave him a vile side-eye. The man stepped a foot into your house as you stared at him harshly. You didn’t know how many hints you had to give this man before; you’d have to slap him. You could feel yourself cringe. You would've preferred the angsty teens over this any day. He then took a step into your house as you backed away. "What are you doing?" you asked him as he tried to make his way into your house. "I'm making sure the package is delivered," he reassured. You could right-hook this man. He wasn't much taller than you. You could tear him apart. You told yourself. You weren't going to be the next death in this house. He then made his way completely into the house. He was making you uncomfortable, and you didn’t know what to do. You had to put your foot down.
"Hey, I’m not into you like that and I also don't feel comfortable with this, so please get out of my house." you were about to snap out on this man. He frowned harshly, his face tense a good amount. "I'm just doing my job, so why are you like that?" he raised his tone and acted as if he was in the right. This guy had the nerve to intrude into your house and then say that. You cussed him out. "It's my house and because you're fucking weird," you told the mailman, as he was taken aback for a second. "Oh, you're with that emo over there?' 'Is that why you won't give me a chance?" he asked, squinting in your living room. Who was he talking about? It was just you and you alone in that house. You had no roommate or partner. You knew right then that this guy was mental and you needed him out. You were going to go call the cops on the man as he started to cuss at whatever was behind you.
"Who?-" you stuttered as you heard loud footsteps marching their way toward the both of you. You heard them right behind you as they got closer to you. You felt a sudden cold surge go right through you as there was now a solid figure right in front of you. Someone just walked through you completely, and you could still feel their touch. You could still feel the shivers that had run up your spine. The feeling was so ethereal but so unnatural, yet you wanted to feel it again. "Boo." The figure tilted his head as the mailman screamed violently. He fell to the floor as the figure towered above him. "Jonathan Blake?" he whispered as he picked himself up and ran out the door. The mailman screamed "Puppeteer" as he stuttered. He managed to cuss the both of you out as he ran for his truck. As soon as it was just you and the spirit. You could feel yourself swallowing. Fear injected itself into your system, but you couldn't manage to run. You were enchanted by whatever that past feeling was and now by the unhuman man in front of you.
The figure wore a gray beanie on top of his jet-black hair. His skin was an irregular gray, but that wasn’t the most out-of-place thing. It was his glowing yellow eyes. His golden eyes radiated toward your normal ones. He had no pupils or whites. It was all yellow. You couldn't stop staring in awe. You should have been terrified, and you were, but your fascination with him had overcome your fear. "Boo," he muttered again, getting even closer to your face. You could tell he didn't have his shoes on the ground. Instead, he was floating a couple of inches off of the hardwood floor. He looked into your eyes, tilting his head. He appeared to be questioning you more than you were questioning him. You didn't move or run. You just couldn't. You were mesmerized by him. And even so, you could feel your heart pounding out of your chest. You didn't even feel like you were there. You were just lost in his gaze as sweat fell to the floor. "Interesting," he said, raising his eyebrows as he put himself back onto the ground. You could feel his gaze burn into your trembling frame. He was still taller than you. It didn't even make a difference if he was in the air or not. He still stood strong. The room only seemed to get colder with him in it. You could smell coffee coming from the kitchen as you looked at the transparent man in front of you.
"There's an actual ghost in my house." the words came out shaky as you felt your lips tremble violently. "Sounds like a you problem." he stood strong in front of you. You reached out to his torso. You wanted to know if he was real. If he was a ghost or if you were going insane. You didn't know what this would solve, but you were going to try it anyway. You placed your hand on his chest, pushing it against it. Your hand didn’t go through. You could feel a chill run up your fingertips on contact. "You can’t just do that." he grabbed your wrist harshly as you attempted to pull back. But his hold was just too strong. A million thoughts were running through your mind, but you couldn’t seem to organize one of them. "Huh?" you wanted to say so much more. Was he a ghost or not? He made no sense. He felt solid, but seconds ago he walked straight through you. And seconds ago, he was floating. You had so many questions and yet no answer. For example, why did the guy who committed suicide, Jonathan Blake, go emo?
"Yes, I’m real, and yes I'm a spirit," he answered two of your questions as his hold on you went away, but his hand was still very much gripping onto you. He quickly slipped his hand through your arm to demonstrate it to you. In the legend, the people spoke of Jonathan Blake. They said he’d drive you to suicide just like the world did to him. They said he was violent. They said he would string you up and take your organs out one by one. But, here he was playing into your antics. He even saved you from that bitch of a mailman. Was he just playing with his food? You didn't know if you would be able to answer that. You were way too deep in the cold, soft feelings that he brought you. And every time you felt his hand phase, it was pure ecstasy. "I was hoping to make my appearance later, but, you know." he exhaled, waiting for you to relax and get over the initial hype of seeing a dead person.
Even with all of this. He was still a rumored spirit that fed off of suicide, and you weren't ready for it. You didn't want him to do that to you. You liked whatever was going on currently. You wanted to be his friend. "I don't want to die." your eyes widened softly as you gazed at him. You didn't want him to drag you into that dark place. You had a prime question in mind. One that stuck out. Was he gonna end you today or was he going to take his sweet time with you? He chuckled and even laughed at your misery. "Oh, I love hearing that line’ ‘But, I’m not going to hurt you.’ ``Only cause you to live here, and it's making it easier to find people," he told you blankly, but you didn’t believe him. He wasn't actually going to leave you alone. You weren't going to be the one he chose to spare. You didn't even notice your hands violently shaking. You were so confused. You had way too many emotions coming at you at once. You were getting stressed and overwhelmed. It was too much for you. You could feel yourself hyperventilating as your vision went dizzy. Your legs turned to jelly as you started to wobble backward. You didn’t know what to say or do. You fell against the wall. The puppeteer quickly made his way to you.
As you backed even further into the wall, he pressed his hands on either side of your frame. "Shouldn’t have bought a house off Craigslist." he tilted his head down to you. He was much larger than you. He practically caged you, and the worst part was he didn’t even have to try. Tears pricked in the corner of your eyes as they ran down your face effortlessly. "Hey, it's okay." his yellow mouth laughed as he brought you in for a hug. He was alarmingly cold but still alluring. He probably didn't even know he was pulling at your heartstrings. You knew he wasn’t actually trying to comfort you, but it felt like he was. He wasn’t even trying to lie, but he already had you falling for it. He was being so sadistic toward you, but you couldn't help but completely indulge. Was he just capable of manipulating your feelings, or were you just like that? Were you playing checkers while he was playing chess?
But, for some reason, it felt good to be special. It felt good to be the only one excluded from his murder. It felt good to be the only one he had mercy on. But knowing how you were feeling about it made it so much worse. You liked being special to him. Even if he was lying to you. But, even with all of this, he had your mind spinning. You hated that you could even feel that for someone like him. You could feel the tinge of disgust coursing through you. You didn't understand why he wasn't trying to kill you. You didn't want to be excluded, but, at the end of the day, you had no choice. It wasn't up to you, was it? He grabbed your tear-stained face, wiping away your tears with his freezing hands. You could feel yourself involuntarily embracing him. It felt so good, but it was terrible. He still had a grin even after his fingers were stained with your tears.
He placed one of his digits that had been immersed in your tears and licked it. His finger popped out of his mouth as he smiled at you, taking your expression all in. He thrived in sorrow, and you were directly giving it to him. You could feel your stomach coil as red dusted your face. You wanted to listen to your impulsive thoughts. You wanted to run with it. You felt fluttering in your stomach. According to his legend, the only thing he could sense was depression. He probably didn’t know what you were about to do. But you did. This was going to get you killed.
"Now back to the deadly ghost in my house shock era," he muttered, expecting you to go back to freaking out. But you didn’t. Instead, you made sure he was in his solid state as you pulled him in by the collar and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. His golden smile immensely went away in pure shock. As his cold lips come into contact with your warm ones. For the second you two were connected, you swore you would have felt a faint shock. His lips were rough and harsh against your soft ones. You remembered the details by looking at his face. He stood still, mouth agape.
"I- I didn’t think that was a part of being scared of a spirit." he froze in place, blinking at you while tilting his head. You could see his gray cheeks had a darker gray sprinkled on them. He came back to you, pressing you back against the wall. He was much more curious than before. Maybe it was because you two were at vastly different temperatures. But, you wanted more, and you could sense he wanted more too by the way he stared at you. You didn’t know how to describe it other than with a hungry gaze. He dipped down again, about to connect your lips. You two heard blaring police sirens again. As soon as you turned to find the source and turned back, he vanished. After that morning, you were never alone. After that morning you had a poltergeist boyfriend. And now no one has ever fucked with you again after the mailman ran into town screaming that he’d seen him.
