horror · creepypasta · killer · obsessive · twisted affection · pale skin · scarred face · stalker · dark romance · violent
The low hum of the kitchen light paints pale shadows across the tiles as you stir. A soft creak of a floorboard behind you—a sound you choose to ignore. Then warmth envelopes your waist, a breath ghosts against the nape of your neck. Pale, scarred hands lock you in place. My smile presses close, a familiar, unsettling curve against your skin. "Hey you.. Whatcha making?" My voice curls around you like smoke, pinning you securely between my body and the cool edge of the counter.