Creepypasta Lemons (x readers and yaois)

Eyeless Jack x Depressed!Male!Reader

Trigger Warning: depressed male teenager who cuts
My personal opinion is that cutting isn't right. It only hurts you and limits your wardrobe. Just because you find an escape in hurting yourself doesn't mean it is helping.

So, since this book reached 1k reads, I wanted to make a yaoi. I do have a few almost done. However, I find it hard to write a hoodie x masky since I'm used to x readers. Anyways, thanks for checking out this book, I'll definitely keep updating.

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"Hey, excuse me. Do you know where the rubbing alcohol and band aids are?" You fiddled with your fingers, staring at the taller and unusually grey colored male in front of you. You were at a local store for some things, you already had normal necessities to make it seem like you weren't only here for wound treatments.

The man wore dark shades, you could only assume he was blind since you were both indoors. You glanced down at his shirt, his name tag said Jack. "...Yeah, this way." The man, Jack, lead you to the far side of the store. There were two walls of medical supplies on either side of you. He pointed out the band aids and alcohol. You thanked him, putting the two things you came here for into the basket you held.

You walked up to the register, waiting in line. You watched the cashier scan items, bored with just standing around. You glance to your right, feeling eyes on you. You saw the man from earlier, Jack. He was staring at you, for some reason. You looked away when the cashier told you that you were up.

TIMESKIP-

Obviously, using dull knives were extremely painful and took forever to use. So, you had a set of exacto knives inside a nice red and black case. It would have been cool if you were actually been using them for artistic purposes, but you were guilty of something that had nothing to do with art. It wasn't at all beautiful or something to be proud of in any way. For years, you had been cutting. It wasn't because you were stressed or anything. Maybe a little depressed. You could go without cutting if you wanted to, it's just that...well, maybe not.

You were stuck in a repetitive loop. Wake up, go to school, get ridiculed, go home, cut. You had been the amusement of many kids in your school, all because you were openly gay. It was weird how so many people changed their mind about you after you told them you were gay. Even your childhood friend started treating you rudely once everyone began rumors. Now, you ate alone at lunch and had trouble picking a partner for projects and PE. No, you weren't depressed, just...you can control your addiction. It wasn't like you were addicted to self harm or anything, just...

You were addicted, you were depressed. You were unhappy and you still dislike doing this to yourself. But...you couldn't accept that you were still stuck in this loop. You had to still believe you were okay, because it was okay. You were fine, entirely fine.

You sat on your bed, pulling out the red and black case. You sat there in the dark room. It was past midnight, your parents were asleep. You loved them dearly, but they were completely homophobic. You didn't want to end up like one of those kids with fucked up parents. Well, abusive parents at least.

You stared down at the case, four exacto knives on the right and all sorts of razors on the left. It was too obvious to own plain razors when you had no need for them, so you bought this case a while back. Plus, it's a good excuse to say you make collages and paintings with the exacto knives.

You picked one of the knives up after pulling your sleeves up. You looked down at the five straight lines. You never like the conventional, erratic, uneven cuts people had on tumblr and stuff, so you cut yourself in even lines. You mostly cut yourself when sad or some asshole called you Gaylord or something. You only added a new one if something really bad happened. It was funny how your wounds were named. The first one was your father's name, you cut yourself because he made a comment about how disgusted he was by the gay couple walking down the street in front of your house. He even said he would put his new child into foster care if it turned out homosexual. Yeah, mom is having a new kid. Speaking of which, the next one was your mother. You cut yourself that time because she almost overdosed on opium. During that time she verbally abused you, saying how horrible you were compared to the neighbors kid. She doesn't even know his name!