Reblog In 5 Seconds For Good Luck

Reblog In 5 seconds for good luck

This is the money Marge. Reblog for good fortune

nanami’s side of the bed wouldn’t even be called nanami’s anymore. you sleep there nearly every day, blaming it on how the pillows smell of him.

nanami’s clothes aren’t his anymore, you're sleeping in his shorts and t-shirt tonight. you wore his shirt yesterday, and took his ties for some clothes experiments last week.

nanami’s sacred pens are no longer his own, he finds them on the table after you tried to scribble up something and forgot to put them back.

nanami’s mugs are now shared, always in the dishwasher even when he doesn’t recall using them at all. 

nanami’s thoughts don’t belong just to him anymore. you’d bug him about it all day if he doesn’t share what he’s thinking — so he, with an exasperated sigh, tells you what’s on his mind.

nanami’s salary doesn’t go straight to his savings account like it used to, instead taking a portion of it to spend on you. ‘you’ means gifts, flowers, dates, trips, trinkets, and so on.

nanami’s weekends aren’t as quiet as they once were; now they’re chaotic, full of so much of you. 

nanami’s fridge is full nowadays. candy, leftovers, ice cream, cheese, cake, bread, and the list goes on. so many things that don’t go along with his diet fill the once-empty shelves.

nanami doesn’t spend as much time in his study as before you moved in. now old books are left to collect dust, long forgotten in a room that’s never lit. even when he decides to pick one up and read it, it’s the minute that he sees your face the book is tossed away.

nanami’s happiness still comes from days off, but now it’s because those days are spent with you. days when he slept long and ignores the world are long gone, now he gets to sit and focus on you, watching as everything else becomes nothing but background noise.

nanami has always been sure he’s not looking for marriage, at least not right now. but he swears that ring looks so perfect for you. there’s no way he’d miss it. 

nanami stands in front of the bathroom mirror 5 minutes late every day because you’re still figuring out how to fix his tie the right way without any help. he can’t seem to rush you, though — what’s being precisely on time have on your little giggles as you sit on the sink and struggle to finish a task he could have done in under a minute?

nanami has been spending so much time eating as of late, more time than he can afford. while he used to finish a meal in approximately fifteen minutes, now dinners could stretch to two hours. he couldn’t get off the table early when you sit across from him, talking and joking and doing anything that’s not eating. he simply can’t possibly not indulge in the little conversations, appreciating every moment he gets to spend in your presence. nanami’s life wouldn’t even be called his anymore. you’re a storm, invading his life all at once, bringing in your chaos along with you. you’ve infatuated him, you’ve assailed his senses and changed his very being. every time nanami’s eyes align with yours, he prays your presence isn’t a fleeting one. he silently hopes you don’t leave as suddenly as you came, that you plan to stay.

“You get me closer to God”

Summary: Jimin thinks you’re perfect.❤️

Genre: Yandere Jimin, Dark fic, Dead dove do not eat?

CW: Obsessive behavior, worshipper mentality, unhealthy body expectations and descriptions, Jimin just really hates himself in this, mutilation,

A/N: Part 2 electric boogaloo of my BTS Yandere series. Lowkey made this because I listened to Filter and went 👀👀👀👀.

Park Jimin is vile.

He’s amoebic.

He’s sure if he opened his brain, he wouldn’t be able to find any independent thought.

He’s especially malleable when it comes to you.

He must mold himself into your ideal, even if it kills him.

Jimin knows he’s imperfect—an image created with God’s offhand.

He obsesses over his imperfections. The flatness of his nose, the fullness in his cheeks and belly.

Pig.

Disgusting.

Ugly.

You’ve never explicitly commented on his appearance, but he can feel his inadequacy in your presence.

He wishes he could peel his face off layer by layer. Gouge his eyes out and replace them with fuller, brighter ones. To scrape the excess fat off his face with his hands. Speaking of his hands, he’s always wanted to have longer, slimmer fingers. He goes so far as imaging forcibly elongating his spine with his hands or with the help of a generous medical professional. He needs to rough out his edges.

He must be perfect. Like you.

When he’s near you, he feels himself ascend closer to godhood. His closeness to you makes him perfect.

Jimin almost hates you. He feels as though you were sent to mock him. To remind him of his failures. However, he pushes that feeling aside. A good follower never questions nor asks for more from their god. Besides, his love and idolization of you outweigh his envy.

He practices and practices until his feet blister and bruise. He wraps them in bandages to decrease the pain, but in the end, they always unravel due to the blood that is secreted. Day and night he throws himself into dance until he can almost feel your voice in his mind. He feels your voice telling him he’s done enough. His eyes become sunken and his cheeks hollow. You comment on the dark circles under his eyes. He reminds himself to buy some concealer to hide the new flaw.

However, you have a much better way to ease his suffering. You invite him to yours for a nice, hot meal since he “looked so sickly”.

Devotion truly pays off.