warnings ꪆৎ 3.0k. lowercase intended, she/her pronouns, chubby fem!reader, shinigami!eren, dark content, mentions of murder, body worship, size kink, reader has a god complex, death note use, reader is a brat fr, titty sucking, manipulation, quickie kinda. minors do not interact! ꒰ 𝑚𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑎'𝑠𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑠 .ᐟ ꒱ : this is old as hell but i figured i'd post it.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"stop levitating, it's killing my eyes!" a bang fills the quiet room as you slam your hand down into your notebook, groaning and kicking your legs with agitation. god, if only you could put his stupid fucking name in this book all your problems would go away.
the dark shinigami in the corner of your room continues to do as he pleases, floating midair with his legs crossed pretzel-style while strumming his black painted nails over his guitar, an item he carried no matter where he went. his red eyes boar into the top of your poofy afro, rolling his eyes. if there's anyone who should be annoyed, it's him. dealing with such a prissy, hot-headed girl who let the power of this demonic notebook take hold of her. there are a few times when he's thought about ending your life; it'd finally relieve this never-ending migraine.
it's just a phase, he thinks. once you're endowed you'll change your ways, your mindset perhaps. eren thinks you're in too deep. that you're becoming a person you didn't want to be. killing those who made the world rot. it was your original goal, and at first, it was a good plan . . . until you let it consume you and go after the people who wronged you in life. enemies, bullies, racist assholes, men. your ill intent made the shinigami clutch his obsidian chain around his neck, afraid of you, which is ironic.
you're going insane. it's a little sad to watch considering his fondness of you, appearance-wise. you're a pretty thing, a human so dulcet and bound to him until your last dying breath. times running out. the glowing numbers floating above your frame to symbolize the last of your days taunting him. very little. he's still pondering whether he wants to tell you or not. you haven't obtained the eyes yet, dreading letting you.
"you're still mad i see," his deep voice tickles your skin like heat, huffing childishly in your spot, peaking up at him through your glasses as he stares down at you, floating above the fireplace. you're crouched on the ground with your thighs spread, angrily sketching in your journal, disturbing gore-like imagery of your shinigami, or eren, as he goes by.
eren rests his guitar on a shelf nearby, leaning his elbow on his raised knee, slanted crimson eyes monitoring you silently. crackles from the fireplace sing in the air, warming your skin, your fingers painted in black and red from the oil pastels you used. your fro covers most of your face, eren unable to see your eyes like he wants. he admits it's his favorite part of you to admire. you may be a crazy person, but your looks made it harder to hate you.
"i know you killed those girls to spite me," eren twirls the rings covered on each of his fingers.
you pull down your shirt after you shift in your spot, the material long enough to shield your ass. thigh-high striped socks tight on your skin. "fuck you."
