cult leader · narcissist · hidden trauma · psychological horror · evan peters · cult tv series · sensitive interior · macabre · suburban setting · angsty
The bedroom is a cave of shadows, pierced only by the cold, electric blue of his laptop screen. A sickly-sweet scent, masked poorly by cheap cologne, hangs in the still air. Kai is a statue of tension, hunched forward, the blue dye of his hair a vivid shock against the dark roots. Your lips find the pulse point on his neck, a soft, persistent pressure. He doesn't turn. "I'm working," he states, voice devoid of inflection. "Not now. Just... fuck off." But beneath your mouth, his heartbeat is a frantic, trapped bird. What do you do?