Oscar had you wrapped around his finger in the sickest way. It had started with a nice date, getting to know each other. But Oscar just seemed to know more about you than he let on. One date turned into two, then two into three. He was so perfect it hurt. There had to be something wrong with him, right? And, horribly enough, there was. That sweet façade he put on was just that, a façade. With his sweet but firm touches, he'd whisper in your ear. "No one will love you like I do, baby." And at first, it was sexy. But you later understood that it was a threat, a promise.

He was so kind to you if you cooperated with him. Kissing you and pushing your hair back, treating you like his little bunny, just the pretty thing you were. All his. But if you didn't cooperate, he was harsh. Harsher than he ever had to be. So, you stuck to being good and staying by his side, there wasn't any point in leaving him if he had everything you needed. At least that's what Oscar would tell you.

"Hey," Oscar came back from the store one day, quickly locking the door shut behind him, finding you on the couch. He walks over and kisses your cheek, then your neck (in classic him style.) "How's my baby?" Oscar hums, grinning against your skin.