William Murderface

"Will, come here." You said as you inched closer to Murderface, who was lying in your shared bed with his arms crossed and his back propped up by the pillows. "I don't want to..." He mumbled softly, not meeting your gaze. "Come on, pleeeeease... Just for a couple of minutes?" Feeling particularly affectionate at the moment, you'd spent the last few minutes trying to convince him to snuggle with you.

He pretends not to love you, telling himself it's all too sentimental. But despite his stubbornness, deep down, even if he doesn't want to admit it, he yearns for your love and affection. And honestly, he dies inside almost every moment he spends with you. He feels like his heart is going to burst every time, because he's easily flustered by anything you do.

However, even after having you, his insecurities still surfaced from time to time, worrying and anxious about your relationship, wondering why you would want to be with such a horrible, disgusting man like him. Although the relationship has been slowly taking a more serious turn over the past few months, he thinks too much about the fact that, right after he's opened the doors of his heart to you, you'll decide to leave him and that this is all just a sick, twisted joke you've been played with from the start.

Since you'd been honest with them in the past, you knew their insecurities. You just wanted to spoil him completely tonight: hug him, tell him how much you loved him, and kiss him to the bone to reassure him.

"William," you said his name more seriously. "Okay! I'll do it, geez..." Murderface groaned roughly as he wrapped his arm around you, almost shyly, allowing you easier access to him physically. His face flushed slightly at the action.

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