#yandere morel

[uvobreakmylegs]

Trust the Process

witness protection with Morel

Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, gore, torture, death, manipulation, kidnapping

Word Count: 11k

The moth was back again.

How it had gotten into the boat in the first place you weren't sure, but it was fluttering over your head again, circling over you for a few moments before it moved on to hover around one of the lights in the ceiling. The thing had been here for a while now, and you frequently found it on the ceiling of your room. At first it had worried you a bit as you knew moths went for particular fibers in clothes, and you really didn't want to wake up one morning to find holes in your clothing. Nothing like that ever happened though, and Morel didn't seem too concerned about it, so you left it alone. Although if you'd been at home, you might've made an attempt to catch the thing and release it outside.

But you weren't home, and you also knew by now that if you opened the door to go topside, you'd get scolded for going out when the boat was so close to land.

Even if you did manage to catch it and set it loose, it seemed mean to release it out on the ocean. Even if it was just a bug.

So you ignored it, your eyes going back to the book before you as the boat you were in gently rocked from side to side, idly wondering when Morel would be back.

Almost immediately after having that thought, the sound of the door opening had you pausing in your reading, and you looked up from where you sat on the couch as you waited to hear for the footsteps that would be coming down the stairs shortly.

You anticipated it being Morel, as he was the only one who had access to this place – it was his boat, after all, and the chances of anyone else entering were slim to none.

But the chances of someone else finding you did still exist. So you waited to see if you would hear familiar footsteps entering that you had heard a million times before, or if for once, it would be someone new and you would need to find someplace to hide.

It was Morel, and you let out a small sigh of relief as you heard his voice when he called out to you before he descended the stairs. As expected.

You set your book to the side as you stood to greet him, meeting him at the bottom of the stairs.

“Hey,” he said as he saw you.

“Hey,” you replied, giving a small smile in response to the one he gave you. He was carrying what looked to be grocery bags, and they appeared to have food in them. Hopefully that meant you'd get to eat something other than seafood for a bit.

“Anything happen?” you asked.

“Not really,” he answered as he headed over to the kitchen. You followed behind him, intending to help him put away the groceries once he set the bags down. You perked back up when you heard him speak again.

“You expecting something to happen?” he asked you.

“Not really. Just wanna know what's going on in the world.”

He nodded when you said that.

“I get that. But the area we're currently in is pretty quiet, so there isn't much to say,” he said.

“Mm.”

As he set the bags down and began to sort through the groceries, you felt the urge to ask him where exactly the two of you were. But you held your tongue as you knew that the answer would be that he couldn't tell you. Instead, you walked over to where he'd placed the bags and began to empty them as well, putting the items in their proper place in either the fridge or the cabinets before returning to the bags to repeat the process.

When you got to the last bag, you were a bit surprised when you looked inside and found that the bag held a few books instead of food.

“Those are for you,” Morel said, “I noticed that you've gone through all of the books in my library. Thought you might like some new material.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

You pulled the books out and inspected the covers of each, trying to discern the genre of each one. A horror story, a few murder mysteries, a historical fiction, a fantasy. Morel had seemed to have grabbed a mixed bag for you so you could have a diverse selection.

And when you pulled out the last one, you found it to be a romance novel.

A very mixed bag.

“I tried to pick out ones that I thought you would like,” he said, “hope they're okay.”

“I'm sure they are. Thank you,” you said again.

New books were nice. During the time you had spent on his boat, you had read through every piece of reading material that he had on board, just as he'd said, reading a few of them twice before switching over to various manuals and what appeared to be a few tourist guidebooks that you suspected he had meant to throw out at some point, based on the condition they were in and the way that you'd found them stuffed and forgotten in odd places. You didn't particularly care, just as long as you got something new to read, some other thing to distract you from your time on the boat.

“If you need anything else, just let me know,” Morel said.

Anything else?

You bit your lip as your fingers fiddled with the edge of the book you were currently holding. There was something you wanted, but it was something that you'd asked for a few times now, and the answer had always been the same.

But maybe it would be different this time. Maybe it was safer now.

“Morel,” you began, “do you think... Would it be okay if I called my family?”

You glanced back up to Morel and immediately felt guilty when his expression became more serious.

“Unfortunately that's still a no-go,” he answered, sighing as he continued “it seems as though your family is still being monitored. Although it hasn't been confirmed for certain, it's better to not risk them being in danger.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“No, I'm the one who's sorry. I wish I could get you that phone call, but it's just not safe for you or them.”

You believed him when he told you that he was sorry. Every time he denied you from contacting your family, you saw the guilt in his expression. He didn't want to tell you 'no'. That much was clear.

If he said it still wasn't safe, then it still wasn't safe.

Still, the mood had dropped, and you tried to distract yourself by looking over the books he'd gotten you again. But you looked back over when he said your name.

He reached out towards you, and for a moment it looked as though he was reaching out to caress your cheek. But instead he placed it on your shoulder, patting you softly as he reassured you.

“Things won't be bad forever, alright?”

“.... Yeah.”

The response you gave him sounded weak, but you were trying to sound cheerful. And he seemed to be able to tell that you were at least trying, as he smiled at you while he rubbed your shoulder.

When he pulled his hand away, he asked you “want to help me make dinner?”

“Sure. I'll just put these away first,” you said.

He nodded and turned away to ready whatever he needed in the kitchen for the meal while you collected the books and made your way back over to the area that served as your room. It was a small space within the boat, about the same size as a walk-in closet. You were pretty sure it was a storage space that had been converted into a bedroom just for you and while it wasn't ideal, it was better than sleeping on the couch. Still, Morel must have felt bad for the accommodations as he had offered for you to take his room several times by now but you had always refused. For one thing, it was his boat and it felt wrong to kick him out of the bedroom and force him into a space that would most likely be cramped and uncomfortable for him.

And somehow, the idea of moving into the actual bedroom felt wrong in a way. Like taking that space would indicate that your residence on the boat was something that was going to last a long time, or worse, something that would be permanent.

Though you liked Morel, you didn't want to stay on the boat for the rest of your life. A lot of the time you were left feeling useless and like you were leeching off of Morel's hospitality as there was little you could do to repay him for all of his kindness. Although you were certain that he was getting paid to house you, it was still a lot to ask someone to keep a person within their home for an undetermined amount of time. And by now, it had been months since you had first come here.

Morel's words came back to mind as you dropped the books off onto your bed. This wouldn't last forever. Sooner or later, the danger would pass and you'd be able to contact your family again. And even if it was still too risky for you to return to your old life and you needed to live out the rest of your days in witness protection, you'd feel better once you'd settled down in an area where you'd be allowed to live a bit more normally.

But until the Hunter Association caught that woman, this was where you'd be.

Hearing Morel setting things up for dinner spurred you to return to the kitchen, and you helped him out a bit with the cooking before you went about setting the table for the two of you.

At least it was nice to spend time with Morel. Talking and having meals with him brought a certain sense of normalcy that had been largely missing since you'd come to live on his boat. Morel was always happy to speak and spend time with you whenever he wasn't busy, and despite the concerns you had about your presence being a nuisance, you never got the sense that he felt that way about you.

That sense of normalcy continued through dinner. Even though the constant tilting of the boat on the water reminded you of where you were, it was easy enough to ignore it when you got lost in the stories of Morel's exploits. With how long he'd been traveling the oceans as a sea hunter, he had a lot of them; from ancient underwater cities that had been lost to time to monsters within the water that resembled giant octopuses but had eyes all over their heads and hands at the end of their tentacles. You were mesmerized and sometimes a little scared of the things he would tell you about.

Nothing you ever talked about was nearly as exciting, but he enjoyed the things you spoke of regardless.

Though you couldn't not feel guilty for how long you'd been here now, you were glad that Morel had taken you in. If it had been someone else, someone who was more rigid and only interested in guarding you and nothing more, you probably would've lost it by now.

You felt lucky that it was him.

With the meal concluded and the dishes cleaned and put away, you and Morel spent a bit more time together playing a few card games while having some drinks. Just a little something fun to do before you went to sleep. Eventually Morel headed back up top to finish up some stuff up there and you went back to your room.

But as soon as you went off to bed, your anxieties returned. Thoughts of the act of murder you had witnessed and the very real fear that you could end up just like the guy you had seen be killed.

You tried to push those thoughts out of your head, desperate to get to sleep, but that was much easier said than done.

Just remember that you're with Morel, you told yourself. Turning over onto your side, you closed your eyes as you repeated that thought in your head.

You're with Morel. And if you're with Morel, then you're safe.

Though you hadn't seen much of his ability first-hand, you felt like if that woman did somehow find you, Morel would be able to handle her.

At least that was one small thing to make you feel a bit better.

Above you, the moth had returned, although you couldn't see it in the darkness within the small space. This time it stayed still, sitting on the ceiling. And it watched as you struggled over the next half-hour to try and get to sleep before you were able to find success.

“Heading out today?”

You asked that as you eyed the large pipe he was carrying. Morel only brought that out when he was going out for a mission or anything else to do with his Hunter work.

He confirmed your suspicions when he told you “yeah. There's something weird going on with the ocean not too far from where we are, so I'm gonna check it out. Unfortunately I can't say how long I'll be gone for.”

“Not treasure hunting this time?” you asked.

“Doesn't look like it,” he said, “something's affecting the sea life in the area, so I want to check out what it is and see if I can do anything about it.”

You nodded in understanding.

“Just as a precaution, I'm gonna leave one of my smoke soldiers behind up top,” he told you.

“Just in case?” you asked.

“Yeah, just in case,” said Morel, who then added “we aren't near any land masses at the moment, so you're free to go up on deck if you want. Just make sure you head back down if they signal for you to do that.”

You nodded again before you followed him to the stairs.

“Be safe,” you told him.

“I will,” he assured you, smiling as he said “see you.”

“Bye.”

With that, Morel ascended the stairs, closing the door at the top shut behind him. And you could hear his footsteps up there for a few moments or so before they stopped.

He was gone now. Going into the ocean waters that he loved so much.

With him away, you were left with time on your hands. Time that could be longer than usual as he'd said that he wasn't sure when he'd get back. It was good timing on his part to get you those new books.

Heading back to your room and picking one of them at random – it ended up being the fantasy – you went back to the area that served as a living room, intending to read on the couch.

You noticed the moth again, sitting still on the wall just above the couch, although you didn't pay it much mind other than to acknowledge it was there again.

You sat there for some time, becoming engrossed in the story while the waves slowly tilted the boat back and forth. This time the moth was content to stay where it was on the wall, and you didn't hear any noise coming from Morel's creation that he'd left on deck.

After making it through the first four chapters, you decided it was time to put it down so you could work your legs a little bit, feeling quite stiff after sitting in the same place for so long.

Some fresh air might also be nice, you decided.

When you ascended the stairs yourself and walked out onto the deck, you immediately looked for Morel's smoke creation, just to have an internal account of their whereabouts. They were standing at the bow, looking over in your direction when they sensed you coming up. There wasn't any sign of them telling you to head back down, so you headed off towards the back of the boat, standing at the railing that lined the deck as you looked out at the ocean.

Morel was careful around you when it came to his creations. The first time he'd shown you his abilities you had a bad reaction, and he still felt badly for that as he made a point to keep those soldiers of his as far as he could given the small size of the boat. You did feel that you were slowly becoming better with being around them, though you appreciated Morel taking your discomfort into account.

With your mind going back to Morel as you looked out to the waters, it occurred to you that you weren't sure what exactly he used to go around the ocean for those missions of his. Since you were now onboard, he was making an effort to leave his boat behind for the purpose of keeping you safe. So he'd be using something else to head out to those areas, right? Yet you'd never seen anything like that on deck, no sort of smaller boat or raft he could use, and he always seemed to leave pretty quick once he got up top. Almost like he was jumping straight into the ocean to get to where he needed to be.

….. That couldn't be right. Maybe it was something else to do with what he called 'nen'. You'd need to ask him when he got back.

You spent a few more moments at that spot when the smoke soldier approached you, announcing themselves with the way they knocked against the house of the boat. Once they had your attention, they indicated for you to go back downstairs. You realized why when you glanced over to the other side of the boat and saw a ship in the distance. Too far away to make out any details, but close enough that it was better for you to stay out of sight.

They left when you nodded, going back to their spot at the front of the boat. Most likely in an effort to give you space again, so you didn't need to get close while you headed back below deck. Morel's doing, no doubt, but you wondered if his smoke creations were able to tell that you were nervous around them.

You gave one more glance in their direction before you headed down.

They still reminded you a lot of what you had seen. And although you were more comfortable with them by now, dread came over you again as the sight of them turned away from you triggered an unpleasant memory.

Being back in the police station made you nervous. Although you'd anticipated that it might happen just so you could go over your story for them again, in case there were any details that you'd missed when you'd been brought in the day of that murder.

But a part of you feared that they were able to tell that you hadn't been entirely truthful in that first interview, and that they'd be determined to get the complete truth out of you.

Something that you didn't really want to do as you were certain if you told them the whole truth, they would think you were crazy.

It was bad enough to be involved in some poor guy's murder; you didn't want to end up in a psychiatric ward because the investigators determined that the thing you'd witnessed had caused you to have a mental break.

At least the interrogation room you'd been left in was a bit nicer than the first one you'd been in. This one had a carpet, and the paint that was on the walls wasn't chipping away in places as had been the case in the other one.

The door opened then, and a man you hadn't seen before entered the room.

“Hey there,” he said to you, “I'm Morel.”

You stood and took the hand that he offered you in your own, giving him a polite handshake as you introduced yourself as well.

“So, uh,” you began, “you're also working on this case?”

Your eyes went to the large item he was carrying with him. Whatever it was, you couldn't say as it was wrapped in cloth. It was also just as tall as you were, if not taller.

“No, I'm a Hunter.”

Hearing that didn't ease your nervousness. If anything, it made it worse. While you didn't know a lot about Hunters, you knew enough to know that it couldn't have been good that he had come in to speak with you. Hunters generally operated outside of the law, and from what you heard, it was almost impossible to hold them accountable when it came to crimes that were committed by them.

What sort of trouble were you in if someone like that was here?

“The Hunter Association has been called in for this?” you asked.

“No,” said Morel, “I know Arvind, and he asked me to come and help him out as a favor.”

Arvind. That was the name the one detective had given you the other day. He had been generally polite and patient with you, but you got the sense that he could tell that you were lying.

At the time you had told yourself that wasn't the case, but clearly you were wrong.

“Help him out with what?” you tentatively asked.

“Certain things about the murder itself,” he continued, “come on. Let's sit down.”

You did as he said, sitting back down in the chair while he took the chair that sat on the adjacent side of the table. He still held whatever it was underneath the cloth, and you kept glancing over to it, anticipating that there would be some sort of explanation for it at some point.

“Where's Arvind?” you asked.

“He needed to take care of something first; he'll be here in a sec,” said Morel, “I figured it'd be best if I came in ahead of him so we can talk.”

“.... Talk about what?”

“What you saw when that guy got killed.”

“What I saw?”

She threw acid at him. That was what you had told them earlier. You couldn't deviate from that, otherwise they'd become suspicious of you.

“If it's not too difficult for you to recall it, can you tell me how that man died?” Morel asked gently.

“She threw acid at him,” you said. You wondered how obvious it was that the line had been practiced.

The smile he gave you was sympathetic. He wasn't upset with you, but he didn't believe you.

Pretty obvious, then.

You worried that he was going to start pushing you harder in his goal to get to the truth, and you could feel the anxiety building up in you, worried that you would crumble the second he stopped being so nice in order to force you to tell him what you had seen.

Because of that, what he actually ended up doing was unexpected.

“Can I show you something?” he asked.

“Like what?”

You had no idea where this was going and you were more on edge than ever.

“Something that you'd probably consider to be impossible,” said Morel, “but I hope that after you see it, you can trust me enough to tell the truth about what happened.”

He grabbed at the object with the cloth wrapped around it, and you watched as he pulled the cloth off of it. It turned out to be the biggest tobacco pipe you had ever seen, and while you sat there wondering why the hell anyone would need a pipe that large, he put the end of the pipe to his lips before exhaling out smoke.

Instead of spreading out through the room, the smoke molded together and began to take shape. And suddenly there was another figure standing in the room, a man made out of smoke that stood there staring at you.

The pointed tip of the hat, the slightly elongated fingers and the blank eyes that stared at you were what stood out the most.

It reminded you just a little too much of the creature you had seen before.

It felt like time had stopped for a few moments, and you stayed that way, sitting and staring at it until you felt Morel gently shaking you as he asked you what was wrong. He was concerned when you looked over to him, and it was only then that you realized you had begun to cry, the tears filling up in your eyes and blurring your vision.

“Hang on, let me get you something.”

Morel left the room briefly to retrieve a box of tissues for you. As he left, the smoke creature disappeared.

The next few minutes passed with you pressing a tissue to your eyes while Morel did his best to calm you down, having moved his chair closer to you so he could keep a hand on your shoulder.

“I'm sorry,” you eventually got out.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I should've given you more of a warning,” said Morel.

After a few more moments, you were able to compose yourself enough to ask “how did you do that?”

“It's something called nen,” he explained gently, “certain people are able to tap into their life energy and use it for abilities that are specific to them.”

“So... That guy was your ability?”

“Part of it, yeah,” he said.

“And you came to talk to me because...?”

“Because it seems like the murder you witnessed has something to do with nen.”

“Ah.”

So he came to show you proof that you weren't crazy, so you could give them the real story.

“.... Is anything gonna happen to me because I lied?” you asked him.

“I wouldn't think so,” Morel said, “it makes sense that you would come up with something else if you were worried about being called crazy, right?”

You'd only met him a few minutes ago, but you felt like you could trust Morel, and that you were safe with him.

He was just so nice.

Arvind entered the room shortly after, and seemed a bit taken aback when he saw the evidence of your breakdown.

“What happened?” he asked Morel.

“I messed up,” Morel admitted, “didn't give 'em any warning with what I was gonna show them.”

Arvind looked back to you, asking if you were alright.

You nodded.

“Maybe we should do this another day,” he then said, “you go home and take some time for yourself.”

Morel agreed with him, saying that you could try again tomorrow.

But you shook your head.

“No. I can do it,” you said, “I was lying about what I said the other day.”

You were still nervous, largely because both men were watching as you spoke, but you felt comforted with Morel's hand that was still on your shoulder. And so you recounted what had actually happened that day.

You'd been walking back to your home in Dole Harbor, and since you were worried about how dark it was getting, had decided to take a shortcut through an area between some buildings.

A massive mistake on your part.

Because when you turned the corner, you witnessed something.

Two figures, a man and a woman, were in the middle of the walkway. What was alarming was that the man was on the ground, begging the woman for his life. The reason why he wasn't running became apparent when you saw that one of his legs appeared to be broken.

The woman was facing away from you, so you couldn't see her face. Just the tattered gray clothing she wore that shifted when she lifted up her arm and pulled down her sleeve.

There was a mass of boils on her arm, bubbles that were a putrid shade of white surrounded by red that dotted nearly all of the skin of her arm, and as you watched, one of them fell away from her skin and began to grow larger after it hit the ground. And as it got bigger and the skin became more translucent, you could see that there was something inside of it.

A creature emerged from it and leapt between the woman and the man, colored in the same sickly shade of white with a pointed head and long arms, at it's full height it only reached a little past the woman's waist.

The man screamed when he saw it. He scrambled backwards as he attempted to get up despite his leg.

The creature gave chase, first jumping onto him and using its claws to slice his throat so he could no longer scream for help.

And when it opened its wide mouth, its tongue resembled that of an insect's proboscis.

Using that, the creature then began to spit a substance on him.

A substance that turned out to be acid as you watched the man's body begin to dissolve.

The man was writhing around in agony before the woman while the creature continued to torture him, the less dense part of his body, like his hands and feet, dissolving quickly and turning into melted, bloody stumps. It was disgusting, and when the smell hit you, you felt like you could've thrown up.

You should've run.

But you couldn't.

You knew it was dangerous – and incredibly stupid – to just stand there like you were. You knew that you needed to run and get help before this woman summoned more of those things. You knew that there was a very high chance that you could die if you stayed here any longer.

But you couldn't. Your legs were like lead and nothing within you could get you to move.

Shock had kept you petrified, and you watched the man's final twitches as the acid made it to his skull and brain. Finally, he was dead.

The woman still wasn't moving, and that creature was still on top of his body.

And then it looked at you.

The sickly white eyes that were the same shade as the rest of its body landed on you, yet you swore you could feel its murderous intent as it looked you over.

And even then, you still couldn't move.

But before anything happened, the creature melted away, turning into a pale puddle that mixed in with the blood and whatever else of the man that had ended up liquefied and spreading out onto the walkway.

It was just you and the woman now.

In what must've been an act of divine mercy, she hadn't turned around. The woman walked forward, stepping over what remained of the man without even looking at him, just going along her way like what had happened was normal and not horrifying at all.

It was only when you were certain that she was gone that you were able to break out of your stupor and contact emergency services. It was when you were in the middle of that call that you realized no one would believe your story of what really happened, and from there, you decided that you needed to lie.

Despite your horrible account of what happened, it felt better to be telling the truth. When you finished giving them the real version of the events you'd witnessed, both men had grim expressions on their faces.

“The Hunter Association wouldn't allow someone like that to join them, would they?” Arvind asked Morel.

“There's all sorts in the association,” Morel answered, “but I can't say I've heard of a Hunter with an ability like that.”

“Maybe we can prosecute this one,” Arvind said, some bitterness clear in his tone.

“Maybe. If you can figure out a way to hold someone like that,” Morel countered.

The detective nodded before turning his attention back to you.

“Thank you for telling us what happened. In cases like these, it's important we know what someone like that can do so we know what we're up against,” he said.

“Sorry for not telling you before,” you mumbled, still clutching the tissue.

“It's alright. I understand why you didn't,” he assured you. It didn't seem like he was being disingenuous when he said that, so you took that as a good sign.

There wasn't much else for you to do after that, so you ended up being escorted out of the building by Morel.

When you got to the outside of the building, you had assumed that would be the end of it; you'd head back to your place and Morel would go wherever he needed to be. But he asked if you wouldn't mind if he walked you back, just to make sure you made it home safe.

You had said yes.

“You wanna come up?”

It'd been a few days since Morel's last excursion, where he'd been gone a full 24 hours before he returned to the boat, looking quite tired when he arrived, but seemed happy to see you when you went to check if he was okay.

The two of you had just finished dinner, and Morel asked as you that question as you were finishing putting away the last of the plates. It caught you off-guard, and your mind blanked for a moment as you tried to come up with a response.

“Up on deck?” you asked.

“Yeah.”

“For what?”

He grinned as he told you “that's a surprise.”

That answer was rather cryptic for Morel, but even if it made you a bit uncertain as to what this was about, it wasn't enough to make you refuse.

“Yeah, I'd like that. I'll just – let me....”

“Take your time,” said Morel, pointing to the stairs with his thumb as he continued with “I'll be up top. Come up whenever you're ready.”

With that, he made his way towards the stairs, giving you a reassuring smile before heading up.

One of the rules you needed to follow while living here was that you weren't allowed up on deck if the boat was too close to land for fear of someone spotting you, so you could only go up if the boat was out on the water. And while Morel generally preferred that you wait to go up while he was on board, he seemed to understand just how restless you were becoming by being stuck in the boat all day and gave you permission to head up top when he was on one of his assignments with the understanding that you would head down if any other boats or ships were getting too close.

As you slipped your shoes on, something you would wonder about periodically came to mind: would that woman really go that far just to get to you? Was it really worth it to hunt you down and end your life?

…. It must've been, because otherwise Morel wouldn't be making such a big deal about keeping you hidden away.

So it was surprising when you got up to the deck and saw a beach in the distance. Weren't you a little too close to be up here? But Morel didn't say anything when you looked over to him. He'd been waiting for you with his pipe in hand, and when you reached the deck he motioned for come closer.

You chose not to say anything and watched as he put the pipe to his lips.

You were curious as to what he was going to make with it. Things seemed alright at the moment, so you didn't know what sort of smoke creature he'd need to make or why he would need to use his pipe.

Taking in a breath from the pipe, Morel first created one of the smoke soldiers. They landed on the deck and went to take to take their place at the front again. Morel was already starting to create something else. He turned, facing down towards the water and blew out. The smoke that left his mouth stopped just above the water, spreading out until it formed a large circle.

Assuming there would be an explanation, you stayed quiet as Morel swung the pipe so it was resting against his shoulder while he stood at the opening in the railing.

….. It looked like he was going to jump out.

But he wouldn't do that, right? He couldn't. If he did that he'd fall straight into the water.

Morel proved you wrong by jumping down.

He landed on the circle of smoke. Somehow, it was able to hold him, keeping him from hitting the water beneath.

Morel turned back to you and held out his hand.

“Jump down,” he said.

“..... What.”

“Jump down,” he said again, “don't worry; you won't fall in.”

…. You should believe him. You were literally looking at him standing on the smoke. It was able to carry him above the waves, and if he was encouraging you to join him, then it must've been safe for you to jump down as well.

But you looked again to what he was standing on and......

That was smoke. Smoke isn't a solid surface; you'd fall through and hit the water. No matter how much you assured yourself that it'd be fine, you couldn't bring yourself to copy what he'd done.

Morel saying your name brought you out of your thoughts.

“You'll be okay; I won't let you fall,” he said, “and if you need to, you can hold onto me.”

“Hold onto you?”

“If that's what you need to feel safe.”

“.... Okay.”

Despite how incredibly uncertain you were about all of this, you chose to trust Morel. You walked up to the opening in the railing just as he had done and then looked down. If you did manage to end up in the water, at least the boat was right there.

Morel was there, too.

Taking in a deep breath, you reached out to take the hand that he'd offered you, and you hopped off the edge.

Your feet were touching something solid when you landed, but you refused to look down, like looking at the smoke you were standing on would make something go wrong and you'd fall through like your fears had told you. He pulled you in closer, at which point you wrapped your arms around him.

In your efforts to not look down, you ended up pushing your face against his chest while you clung to him.

Morel chuckled as he wrapped an arm around you.

“See? Not that bad,” he said.

You nodded, though you still wouldn't look down.

You felt as Morel's smoke raft began to move and heard as the noises of the waves hitting the boat became more distant. That answered your question of how Morel got around.

“Where are we going?” you asked, although your voice was rather muffled.

“You should've been able to see from the deck,” Morel replied.

From the deck?

But that would've been.....

The shore?

Turning your head, you saw the beach you had spotted earlier becoming larger as you were brought closer to it.

…. The last time you'd been on solid land was the day you were brought aboard Morel's boat. When Morel and Arvind arrived at your apartment and told you that you were in danger. Which was a while ago by now. You'd spent months out on the water for fear of your safety. Had something changed? Was it safe now? No..... If that was the case Morel would've told you outright. So this was something else.

As much as you wanted to ask him, you didn't want to annoy him with too many questions, so you stayed quiet as his raft continued to approach the shore. You glanced back at the boat you had left behind and were surprised to see how far away it was now. The smoke soldier he'd created was still in view, standing at the bow of the ship as they watched the two of you.

The smoke Morel had used to create the raft dissipated once the two of you stepped onto the beach, and you would've become confused again as to how exactly that worked if Morel hadn't started speaking.

“Sorry for how abrupt this was,” he began, “I brought you out here as an apology.”

You blinked in surprise.

“An apology? For what?” you asked.

“For how long you've needed to stay cooped up on the boat,” he explained, “staying in a confined space like that can mess with you, and I'm sorry that there hasn't been an end to it.”

Oh.....

You shook your head.

“I should be the one apologizing. You're the one who needs to put up with a stranger in your living space for months on end. I feel like I have to be such a nuisance for you,” you said.

“You aren't a nuisance,” said Morel, “I wanted to help you out.”

“So I figured,” he continued, “while it still isn't a good idea for you to go to any place that's too populated, you deserve to have a little bit of time off the boat. I know there isn't a lot to do around here, but I figure it's better than nothing.”

He wasn't wrong in saying that there wasn't a lot to do. Looking over the beach again, it was just that: beach, with some greenery further inland.

Still, it had been a while since you were standing on a surface that wasn't constantly rocking back and forth, so just that had you feeling grateful to him.

And you reminded yourself: Morel didn't need to do this for you.

“It's great. Thank you, Morel,” you said, hoping your gratitude was showing through to him.

Based on the way he smiled back at you, it seemed like it was.

The two of you walked along the beach, taking in the sight of the waves that lapped at the shore and the boat that floated out in the distance. But although Morel appeared to be relaxed and casual about the way he had his pipe resting on his shoulder, you sensed a bit of tension within him. And while it was a fair distance away from you, whenever you looked towards the smoke soldier still on the boat, you would see them periodically looking about in all directions. Keeping watch, it seemed.

Even though you didn't want to head back yet, you needed to make sure that you weren't causing too much trouble for Morel with this, asking if this was really okay.

You felt better when he assured you that it was.

Sitting down on some boulders, you looked out past the boat and to the open ocean. You couldn't see anything else in the water, nor could you spot any other land masses off in the distance. When you looked around the beach, there was no sign of anyone else having been here.

“Where are we?” you asked.

“An island that's technically off-limits,” he said.

“Off-limits? Should we even be here, then?”

“Don't worry; I've got my license on me. If anyone spots us all I need to do is show that to them and we'll be fine.”

“Besides,” he added, “we aren't going to do anything bad. As long as we leave the beach the same way it was when we arrived, there's no harm in us staying here for a bit.”

“Ah. Okay.”

While you were nervous about possibly getting in trouble for the trespassing, you still didn't want to go back to the boat yet.

Besides, Morel had said it would be fine.

So you trusted him.

Hours managed to pass, although it hadn't felt quite that long to you. The both of you talked as you walked about the bit of land, though Morel didn't think it was wise to leave the area of the beach. Instead of letting you explore, he showed off more of his smoke creations for you. These ones you were far more comfortable with, as he formed creatures that ranged from birds that flew over the two of you to small rabbits that could sit in your hand.

“It feels like I'm holding the real thing,” you said, looking down at the rabbit that you had cupped in your hands.

“First the raft and now this. I still don't get how they feel solid,” you added.

“What, you thought the things I made were purely for show?” he asked, teasing you a bit.

“I don't know. Just still seems weird to me,” you answered.

Looking back to the boat, you could still see the white form of the smoke person on the deck. Motioning over to them, you asked “so they could fight if you really needed them to?”

“Well, against another skilled nen user, they might not do too much,” Morel admitted, “but they're a lot stronger than the average person.”

“Huh. You said that this can eat up a lot of your energy, right?”

“Yeah, it can.”

“You've had that one on the boat for a while now. You aren't wearing yourself out doing that, are you?” you asked.

“That's nothing. I'm able to maintain over 200 of those guys at a time,” he said, laughing as he continued “so don't worry. It'd take a lot more than that to wear me out.”

You looked back to the figure on the boat again before turning your gaze over to him once more. 200 was a lot.

“Are you strong for a Hunter?” you asked.

“Pretty strong,” he answered, “though I can't say that I'm the best Hunter the association has ever seen or anything, but they don't give out the single star rank to just anyone.”

“So a single star is a big deal?”

“Mm. Not as impressive as some others, but it's not insignificant.”

“Well, it sounds impressive to me,” you told him, “I'm really lucky that I have you watching over me.”

Morel didn't respond verbally, but from the way he smiled and how you saw the way his chest seemed to puff up slightly, he was happy with your compliment.

Looking back at the rabbit that you held, you asked him “so do you usually use your creations just for combat?”

“Sometimes just combat, sometimes I use them to scout ahead if an area looks dangerous,” he explained, “it all depends on the situation.”

You nodded at his explanation as you set the rabbit down on the sand, where it immediately ran off, sprinting across the sand.

A new question was brought to mind.

“Can you talk with them?”

“I can give them commands and they listen, but you're not going to get a conversation out of them.”

“But they can speak to you? Like when they get back to you from scouting through an area and they tell you if it's safe or not?” you continued.

“Something like that,” he said, “though I guess it's more like there's a mental link since they were made from my nen. But again, they aren't made for conversation.”

“Ah.”

The sun had fallen lower in the sky, signaling the coming of night. The smoke rabbits had disappeared by now, the invisible force that had molded them into those shapes releasing and allowing the smoke to drift off into the air. There wasn't much left to do, and as you looked again towards the boat that had become your home – temporary home, you reminded yourself – you got the sense that you'd need to head back soon.

Morel confirmed that when he spoke next, telling you “we should probably head off.”

You nodded and accompanied him back down to the shoreline. Just like before, he used his smoke to form a raft and stepped onto it, holding out a hand for you after.

Despite all that he'd shown you, it still felt weird to be standing on smoke, and you were once again clinging to him and pressing your face against him as he stood at the center of the raft. He didn't mind, and he wrapped an arm around you while giving you a reassuring squeeze as the two of you began to float back to the boat.

While still nervous about standing on the smoke, your mind wasn't quite so frazzled with worry this time around, and therefore your thoughts were allowed to go to different places this time.

Such as how nice it felt to have Morel hold you.

At first you wondered if that was a strange thought to have. But then again, you hadn't seen anyone else in months, and though Morel was around you a lot, you kept your distance because of your fears of being a burden on him.

But when you thought about it.... Damn. It really had been a while since you'd had significant physical contact like this, huh?

But that was because it would be weird to ask the guy who was protecting you to hug you. It was too likely that he'd get the wrong idea and then things would be awkward between the two of you. And as he was the only person around you, creating a tension like that was a bad idea. You'd counted yourself lucky that it was Morel looking after you; you didn't want to lose the friendship that you had with him over you being an idiot.

While you told yourself to get thoughts like that out of your head, you focused on what you felt of his form beneath his shirt and found that Morel was surprisingly muscular.

Though just looking at him made it clear that Morel wasn't out of shape by any means, but the shirts you usually saw him wearing appeared to hide just how toned he was. You found yourself wanting to see him with his shirt off just so you could see what he looked like underneath.

The heat went to your cheeks at the thought of that.

A request like that would definitely be taken the wrong way.

Morel seemed to have noticed your state as he asked if you were alright. You just nodded, worried that if you opened your mouth you might say something stupid.

Despite your desire for physical contact, you were happy when you got back to the boat as it allowed you to escape from that potentially awkward situation in the making. At least you were able to use the time that Morel took to get back on deck to compose yourself enough to thank him once again for that little outing.

“It was no problem,” he told you, “I'm glad I did it; you seem a lot happier now.”

Oh. Was your mood that obvious?

“Don't feel bad,” Morel said to you, “and don't be afraid to come to me for anything. Obviously certain things are out of my power, but if there's anything I can do to make this better for you, let me know, okay?”

He smiled at you, and you could tell he was being sincere.

“Okay,” you said, nodding at him before adding “thank you, Morel.”

“Anytime.”

Morel groaned as the ringing of his cellphone took him out of sleep, forcing him to push himself up one one hand while the other blindly reached for the phone. When he brought the screen up to his face he checked the time and found that it was ridiculously early in the morning. That was annoying.

When he saw that the person calling him was Arvind, he frowned..

Though he had half a mind to reject the call and go back to sleep, it seemed like a better idea to take the call in the event that it was something important. Laying back down on the bed, he hit the 'accept' button as he put the phone up to his ear.

“Hey,” he said. At the moment, he wasn't able to do much about how tired he sounded.

“Morel,” said Arvind on the other end, “they won't go after her. They closed the case.”

“Won't go after who?”

“The Hunter. The one who killed that man.”

“Ah. That one.”

Morel had heard her name a few times by now, but for some reason he couldn't remember exactly what it was. Amelia or Annalise or something along those lines.

“You aren't concerned?” Arvind asked. He sounded frustrated.

“No, it's not that,” said Morel, “but as soon as it turned out that she was a Hunter I figured this would be the outcome. She did claim it was self-defense.”

“That wasn't self-defense. That was torture.”

“I agree. But even without her Hunter status, the guy she killed was a criminal with a history of violence, especially when it came to women, right?”

“Are you trying to justify it?”

“I'm not. I'm just saying I get why they won't do anything further.”

He heard Arvind huff on the other end.

“Morel, you're good friends with the chairman, right? Can't you talk to him?” Arvind then asked.

“I can't,” Morel answered, “the chairman doesn't care about things like this.”

“What about the witness she killed? Can't you tell him about that?”

Arvind spoke your name, continuing with “they're dead. They were murdered and I know that woman is responsible.”

Morel took a moment before he answered, saying “I thought that death was an accident.”

“That's what they ruled it, but I don't believe it. The only witness of the crime ending up dead a month after by drowning at the docks? It's too much of a coincidence.”

Arvind continued when he didn't hear Morel reply.

“Morel, please. You can talk to the chairman and keep this from being swept under the rug.”

“I really can't. And I really think you're wrong about what happened to the witness.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because if that Hunter was properly trained, she was aware that the witness was present before she even began her attack. If she killed that guy in the way she did but left the witness alive, then she didn't care about being seen. It makes no sense that she'd wait a month to get rid of them when she had a better opportunity to do that at the scene of the actual murder.”

Arvind was silent.

Then he sighed.

“I promised their family that I would find out what actually happened to them,” he said. Then he hung up.

The mention of your family made Morel frown, and he placed the phone back onto the bedside table before pinching the bridge of his nose.

It wasn't one of Morel's proudest moments, the way he'd gone about faking your death.

Experience had taught him that it helped to have friends in lots of different places, and while he generally avoided the criminal underworld side of things, he'd happened to get on good terms with a conjurer who specialized in creating corpses.

They generally made them for those who wanted to fake their deaths and start fresh elsewhere; a lot of the time the bodies they made were so their customers could collect their own life insurance. But to make a realistic human body with all of the organs and bones in the event that they went through autopsy, a lot of information was required as part of the conjurer's conditions for creating their copies. Birth date, blood type and a complete medical history, among other things. For others it likely wasn't too much of a hassle to get that sort of information in order, but as he needed to get all of your information without your knowledge, it was a bit harder for him.

Morel took a few weeks to gather all of it and make sure everything he had was correct, by which time the investigators at Dole Harbor found out that the murder suspect was indeed a Hunter, and it became obvious to most that there likely wouldn't be a conviction, though clearly Arvind had been trying hard to fight for one.

And during all that time, you had been trying to continue with your life as normal and hadn't made any attempts to ask about how the case was going, clearly eager to forget what you had seen.

It worked out well for him since you weren't keeping up on the case and didn't learn about that development.

The night he had taken you, he was able to convince you to go with him with the help of his hatsu, creating a copy of Arvind out of the smoke. With the two of them there telling you that it was dangerous and you needed to leave, it was enough to make you believe that what you were being told was true: the woman you'd seen murder the man was now after you.

He took you under the cover of night, and “Arvind” saw you off, waving at you from the dock as you went below deck. The clone dissipated the second you went into the boat, and while you were distracted and looking at your new surroundings, Morel picked up his pipe again, this time creating a clone of himself.

His clone went down to give you a tour while he left the boat, carrying the carefully made conjured copy of you.

Morel had been careful in making sure he'd covered everything when it came to faking your death: making another smoke clone, this time of you, and having it walk from your apartment down to the docks so there would be witnesses that would say they had seen you heading towards the water. Then when the clone had served its purpose, he placed the conjured copy of your body on the oldest looking dock, and using his smoke, he broke apart the beams that supported the dock, and it went crashing into the water, taking the body in with it.

The conjured body ended up trapped beneath the debris. And as he had specified that the death would be by way of drowning, water would quickly fill up within the copy's lungs, ensuring that your “death” was an unfortunate accident. You'd simply been on the old dock when it collapsed and had been pinned beneath the rubble, causing you to drown.

You hadn't suspected anything when he returned to his boat; when his clone left the room and disappeared, to you it just looked like he had walked out for a moment before returning.

Morel did feel badly for your friends and family, however. He could imagine how upset those who had been around you would be once they heard about the accident. But he felt it was better than taking you and leaving no trace behind. This way, your friends and family would have some sort of explanation for your death and would find their closure in one way or another. They wouldn't need to live through the rest of their lives having unanswered questions about what had happened to you if he had just up and kidnapped you.

It was still cruel, and he knew that the things he'd done to get you here weren't right, but in his mind it was justified.

He needed to protect you.

After seeing just how vulnerable you were that day in the police station and the thoughts of the things that could've happened before he'd met you – like that Hunter killing you as well or the man that had been killed running into you instead of her – an urge to keep you safe had bloomed inside of him, which in then turned into feelings of love for you.

None of this was something he was proud of, but he continued with the hope that the ends would justify the means. You had some form of affection for him, he was certain, but it was a matter of getting you comfortable around him for you to return those feelings.

When you reciprocated his feelings would be when he'd ease off on the 'witness protection' bit. It was a big lie to maintain, but with his abilities, Morel could pull it off. Create a clone with the voice of one of your parents so you could get the phone call that you wanted, maybe even in the future create a proper clone that looked like them so you could have visits with them. To keep you happy so you didn't feel like you were a prisoner.

But you needed to love him first.

And since you would likely feel cornered if he confronted you with those feelings outright, it seemed like a better idea to have you come to him.

And with everyone else thinking that you were dead while you believed that you were being hidden away in order to protect your life, he had as much time as he needed.

While it wasn't outrageously early, it was still earlier than the time he would usually get out of bed. But the phone call had messed up his sleep schedule and he doubted that there was much chance that he'd be able to manage to fall asleep again before the time he meant to get up.

Morel checked in on you then, seeing if you were still asleep or if you were also in a state of restlessness like he was.

The moth that he'd created from his smoke that was currently sitting in the corner of one of the walls, watching you. And through it, Morel could see you as well.

After seeing how uneasy you were around his smoke soldiers and worried what you might think if he made a point to have one of his creations watching you at all times but still wanting to keep an eye on you, he made the moth so he could watch you without arousing much suspicion.

You didn't think it was anything other than a pest that had managed to get inside, and after that first time you had told him about it and he let you know that it wasn't a big deal, you pretty much stopped caring about it.

While yesterday he had shown you a bit more of what his nen was capable of, Morel had made sure not to give away certain things: like how his creations could look like the actual thing and not just smoke versions of them, or just how small he could make them, choosing to stick with the small rabbits that you had been amused by.

If he tipped his hand too much, you might become suspicious. And if that happened and you began to question some of the things he'd told you, all of the work he had put into getting you to trust him would be for nothing.

Looking through the eyes of the moth, Morel could see that you were awake, too, tossing and turning as you tried to get back to sleep. You didn't appear to be upset, so he hoped that you being awake wasn't the result of a nightmare and that you had just happened to wake up early that morning.

After staying in bed for a few more moments, he got up, figuring that if you were both awake, there wasn't much point in wasting time laying in bed for no reason.

Dressed only in his sleep pants, he had been about to grab a shirt when a thought came to mind: you had seemed rather flustered after he had held you against him. While part of his focus was on maintaining the raft he'd created so the two of you didn't end up in the water, every other part of him was focusing on the feeling of you pressed up against him. To the point that he hadn't noticed your reaction to it until you were back on the boat.

There needed to be some physical attraction there.

Maybe he could entice you further if he showed you what you were missing out on.

Heading over to your room, he knocked on the door. Through the moth, he saw the way you jumped when you heard him before turning on the light and brushing some hair out of the way so you didn't look quite as much of a mess. That made him a little happy: that you wanted to make sure you looked presentable for him. It was cute.

“You can open the door,” you said.

You were caught off-guard when he slid open the door and you saw him standing in the doorway without a shirt, and you quickly averted your eyes.

He acted like he hadn't noticed your reaction as he leaned against the frame of the door, asking you “can't sleep?”

You shook your head, glancing up briefly after before averting your eyes again. It looked like you were getting flustered again.

He found it equally cute how embarrassed you became over that, and it was also flattering to know that he was correct in his suspicions about you yesterday.

“Same here,” he said, “wanna have an early breakfast?”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” you said, nodding along quickly as you clearly hoped to move things along and avoid embarrassing yourself.

“Anything you want?” he asked.

“Not really,” you answered, “surprise me.”

Morel nodded, and was about to head over to the kitchen when you spoke again.

“Are you heading out today?” you asked him.

“No, I'm taking a break today. So I'll be here with you,” said Morel.

“Unless you want me gone,” he added jokingly.

You smiled as you shook your head.

“No, spending the day with you sounds really good,” you said.

“Glad to hear it.”

Morel was smiling to himself as he went over to the kitchen, leaving you in your room to get yourself ready. And as he checked on you through the moth once again, he found that you were still sitting in the bed, looking down at the sheets with a far-off expression and a small smile on your lips.

Morel took that as a good sign. That things were falling into place as he wanted them, and soon you would truly be his.

#reader insert #morel x reader #yandere #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere morel #morel mackernasey #yandere hxh #yandere x reader

[eldritch-spouse]

after some sort of “accident” in the shop, there comes to be a fleshlight that is bound to admin. everything that happens to it, admin can feel! <3 admin attempts to hide it but has to go deal with some important business and leaves it in the break room. what’s going down?

[Oooh nice!! I changed the source of the fleshlight a bit though. Fem reader.]

TW: Sex toy sharing (unsanitary); Dubcon; Double penetration in one hole.

You have absolutely no idea what this is.

It felt like a joke in poor taste, at first.

This... Fleshlight -Because it can only be that- Appeared in the break floor. A deep violet case with golden swirls around the rim, featuring an uncannily realistic mold of none other than your pussy.

So many things went through your mind as you picked it up. Who could have done this? Certainly, to be here on display, only one of your staff team could have concocted such an insult.

Perhaps Santi. He did always have the strangest and lewdest gifts for everyone. He'd offered sex toys molded after notable figures before, this wouldn't be entirely uncharacteristic out of him. Did he simply forget it here or is he planning to give it to someone?

If not Santi, then maybe Nebul. He does operate the shop, and toys of all kinky kinds hold no secrets for him. He could easily make a custom one, right? But he's not the type of monster man to have such a careless lapse and forget his fleshlight on the kitchenette counter like this. This would have to be intentional of him.

It could also be Fank-e. Lord knows that robot will get his metallic little hands on any kind of genital attachment and weird toy he can find. Maybe the creep wants to use a model of your vulva as his own genitals. You wouldn't put such past him. It's a lot more likely the mechanical menace could have gotten distracted by something and left the toy out in the open.

Humming, morbid curiosity makes you gently touch the depraved imitation, fingertips dipping to scissor the thing open when you notice that it's clean.

Instant regret washes over you.

The moment you do such, it's as if phantom digits pierced into your covered cunt and physically spread you out. The thing is dropped back onto the counter and you bend to clutch your panty-covered privates as a sting of pain punishes you.

For a blank moment, you almost believe that Lord Krulu had been the one to finger you. Even if he usually likes to announce their presence before using your form. But it can't be! Your higher has been busy all day, you can feel how diminished his connection to you is right now. This is not his doing.

Paranoid, you glance behind you just to be sure that there really is no one somehow screwing with you. Predictably, you're alone.

Eyes narrowed, you pick the toy up again and reshape your approach, this time making a slow stroke up the left labia, feeling it in your right with a scary level of intensity. The quality of the material itself is strikingly life-like, not just cheap silicone. It's even... Warm? Dear Lord, it's probably the same temperature as you, as your insides. The thought has a gross kind of shiver racing up your spine. Daringly, you thumb over the imitation of your clitoris, met with direct feedback in your own body which perfectly corresponds to the tentative circular motions of your index over the sensitive bundle of nerves.

You stop the moment your knees reflexively press forward.

This... Is magic. Which puts a new candidate on the table. The thought alone makes you scoff, could Patches truly be audacious enough to do this? No. Not at all. You don't doubt he'd take a toy molded in your vague resemblance to pathetically rut into- But actually connect said thing to your body? That's already a level of courage that can't be expected of the dullahan in question.

Unless... Ah, this can be the work of his trickster counterpart. That you find more believable.

A pulse in your pocket has you setting the plaything aside to check your phone, reading the text detailing your esteemed guest's arrival.

Maintaining ties to the Rings is imperative in this stage of Krulu's vision for the future. Hell and its denizens are apparently sources of great potential in your Lord-Master's eyes, and he's been very keen in keeping close ties to the fiendish rulership of said location. You're only too happy to help forge bonds with these demonlords, which means scraping around and trying to get to know them. Ironically, it falls upon you the responsibility to tempt them into seeking contact.

Your latest endeavor of this sort involves establishing an explorative partnership with one of the demonlords' sons. He's quite the character, and now that you know he has arrived at the front of The Clergy, you can't just leave royalty waiting.

Both hands busy with texting back a hasty reply, you panic as you try to guess where you could stuff this gross little thing away. Taking it with you is not an option, there's no pocket large enough to conceal the thing and its depraved outline.

Time is not on your side.

The meeting can't take that long, can it? What if you just... Left it in one of the cupboards above the kitchenette?

Yes, and then you'll come to retrieve it, interrogate the team to find which of these losers thought it was a bright idea to play with fire.

That'll do. Hopefully.

Opening a cupboard loaded with small plates and cups, you quickly stuff the fleshlight inside and make your way over to the elevator, fixing your hair and clothes to go greet someone of great importance.

Vinnel almost barges into the floor.

More of his coworkers had caught the ride up, talking amongst themselves idly, but the jester wasn't preoccupied with their small talk, he was ravenous.

The first item on his shift was a show he had been particularly looking forward to, an opportunity to test some bizarre new weaponry and a game whose rules he deliberated on for more than a week prior to the event itself. Needless to say, it was a display that took a lot of work, tears sweat and love poured into it- And fucking Hell did it pay off! He's ecstatic! And hungry. Starving.

Doing a good show always gets his stomach riled up.

Some flecks of blood still covering his suit, Vinnel is quick to dart to the kitchenette, ignoring anything and everything as he rummaged around for snacks that aren't there.

His temper spikes when the fridge is devoid of meals.

" Chef! " He barks, turning to the blue shroom monster in question, who is only now just setting his apron aside. Morell rises a brow. " You're slacking! "

The large monster scoffs into his scarf. " None o' you assholes got a fuckin' hint of shame, do ya?! " His locker door slams shut. " Ah ain't gonna cook for ya every single day! "

" But- What are we supposed to do then? Starve? " The waiter whines, making big twinkling magenta eyes at the other.

" Not fallin' for it. " Is Morell's flat response.

" Have you tried making your own food? " A bartender chimes in. " I know doing anything for yourself is challenging for you, but give it a try. "

" Rich coming from someone that can't cook for the life of him. "

The jester has entirely disconnected from the banter going on, a shred of hope driving him to keep searching fruitlessly. It's not as if he believes anything to be in the top shelves where cutlery is stored, but maybe one of them could be hiding some type of candy?

Slamming cabinets and cupboards open, the last thing he expects is for something to fall off them. So he nearly jumps in the air when a sizable object tumbles from the cupboard shelf right onto the carpeted ground.

The floor becomes silent, everyone stares blankly at the item in question for a pregnant pause.

Gloved orange digits pick the thing up, Vinnel bringing it closer to his mask. " Huh. "

He knows what it is exactly.

It looks very high-quality, and clean thankfully. Vinnel swears something about the model itself looks... Almost familiar. Hm. Nevertheless, laugher starts bubbling out his chest and he sways his head, juggling the thing.

" Ohohohoho!! " The next time the toy falls, Vinnel grips it viciously and points the thing right at-

" Morell! Such interesting kitchen utensils you have here... "

" Wha- That ain't mine! " The shroom retorts a little too fast.

" Suure. Then why was it in the cupboard, buddy? "

There's a glare, people around the chef are beginning to murmur amongst themselves.

" Like Hell ah know! For all I fuckin' know, ya could'a been tha one to put it there and fake tha whole thing- 'S yours! "

Vinnel titters, clapping as best as he can with his occupied hand. " Oh no, you think that lowly of little old me? " A feigned gesture of offense is met with no sympathy from the rest of the staff team, who do, in fact, think that lowly of the jester. " Unfortunately no, I don't usually perform tricks with fucktoys... Not the silicone ones anyway. "

" Well it ain't mine. " Morell insists. " Which one o' ya little sickos put a fuckin' pocket pussy in the kitchen? "

The suited performer, still vaguely examining the thing, finding it to be a little heavier than most of these toys tend to be given the materials involved in their manufacturing, swivels his head towards the next suspect.

" Sex pest! "

Santi, already very interested in the turn of events this day is taking, smiles as if just having been complimented. " Yes? "

" Why did you put your fucktoy here? " The performer looms over his demonic coworker, accusatory and demeaning. " So we could find it? So you could be gross about it, hm? "

The incubus hums, eyes on the toy rather than his frilled coworker. " Mm no, that's not my toy sweetheart. Though do let me have a closer look, maybe I can find a trace of our dirty little culprit... "

" Liar! " Vinnel spits.

Santi chuckles, making a move to grab the object yet thwarted when Vinnel angles it away.

" And why would I lie, love? If it was mine I'd tell you readily. I've brought toys to work before, haven't I? Never lied about it. "

And he's right, much to the jester's chagrin. The incubus could bring a cum-soaked dildo into this floor shamelessly, he wouldn't lie about a fleshlight.

Vinnel growls and floats back to point it directly at Nebul, but the shopkeeper beats him to the punch.

" I do not bring items from the shop into the break floor. Furthermore, I don't recognize that model. Does it have a brand? "

The jester checks, flipping the thing in all angles only to find neither words nor numbers printed anywhere. He glances to the crowd around him again, gears turning, machinating, until his attention falls on the dullahan, making Vinnel dart to him.

" You've been far too quiet this whole time, gourd brains... " He accuses, painted eyes narrowing.

Patches flusters, arms raised and leaning back. " What- What do you want me to say? I don't- "

That vegetable expression shifts suddenly, going from uncomfortable and anxious to complete focus. It's enough to make the jester tilt his head. " What? "

" That thing is brimming with magic. " He points out, leaning closer as if the gesture could reveal more by itself.

" ... Is it now? " Vinnel won't lie. It's a possibility. The fleshlight looks and feels anything but normal.

" You- You do know what that means, right? " Patches fumbles, squirming in mild discomfort. Those green cheeks acquire a tint that makes the jester's eyes roll in irritation behind his mask.

" Oh do fucking enlighten me, you masochistic kabocha. "

" Boys, boys- " Santi starts, tail wagging as he wedges himself between the two men. " We're missing the point. I've seen this before. That little thing is connected to some poor sap. And, if I'm not suddenly visually impaired, it looks extremely human to me. "

Another moment of silence stretches across the room

The jester's inked grin widens, and armed with a brand new realization, he starts feathering his digits along the edges of the pocket pussy's entrance, paying close attention to it. His mask nearly falls off when the thing physically seems to twitch. Uhuhu!

" No. " Belo begins, pointing a trembling finger at the demon. " You wouldn't dare suggest- "

" That our lovely Administrator has sent us a gift? " Santi challenges, tone sultry. " But of course, Belo! This is a reward for our hard work, and ohh, I just can't wait to make the most of it. "

Vinnel has now managed to slip one finger inside, completely tuned off to the conversation happening right next to him. Shock of all shocks, the thing hugs his digit as if it were real. And, as he experimentally removes the intrusion, a sheen of what can only be arousal wets his gloves. It really is you. He just fingered you. Hah!

" Filthy beast! You shall not touch that, this can't be right. " The angel's wings flex and twitch in growing agitation. As always, he seems very eager to try to choke the life out of Santi- And he would, if he didn't already know that the demon would immediately salaciously get off on it.

" But what if it is? What if she wants us all to take turns, experience her supple little cunt? " He taunts, surfing the room, gouging the reactions of his coworkers as most of them flush with sudden want at the idea. Yes, they like it as much as he does, Santi's just honest about it. " Would you reject her gift, Belo? "

The power in question is puffed like an angered parakeet, a myriad of emotions warring in those expressive, large eyes. " Control that foul tongue of yours lest I rip it off your worthless mouth and make your depraved clients very disappointed. "

" One day you'll revel in your own perversions. " He says it calmly, as if it were fact, grinning when the angel prepares another outburst.

" Guys. "

Vinnel is now two fingers deep into the magical fleshlight, a stupefied look on his face as he finds the toy -You- Welcoming him without resistance. You clench around him. Gods, he can't wait to stuff his cock in there, to fuck you, to rail you knowing that you can't do anything to stop him. At least not until you find him. Oh, he could make a game out of it!

" She's practically dripping. " The jester pulls both fingers out, spreading them to showcase a film of arousal between both digits.

" She's... Enjoying this. " Patches murmurs, breathy, fixated on the dirty gleam.

" Alright, if you're done being manchildren, I want to go first. " The slime suddenly pipes up, moving in on the stage performer.

" My ass you will! " Grimbly gets in the way, scoffing.

Vinnel finds a crowd of monsters suddenly gather around him, hands twitching for the item in his hands, eyes glinting like wolves corralling a chicken in its coop.

" Give me that, jester, it needs to be secured somewhere safely- "

" No no, give it to me, I'll make her feel so good! "

" Maybe if I have it, I- I can tell whose magic this is. "

" It was in mah cupboard, maybe she wants me ta be first! "

" Nuh uh!! " The jester suddenly shouts, floating higher in the air. " Finders keepers! Piss off! "

An ashy hand clamps around his ankle, jostling the bells there. " Were you not accusing us of being perverse? Let us take that dirty thing off your hands. " Nebul beckons.

As he's tugged down, Vinnel deforms his limbs inside his suit to twist away from the hands pawing at him. Growling, he pulls away, towards the window, towards the outside. If he can make it through the window, a significant portion of the staff team will be halted in their pursuit. He might get to hide with the toy and keep it all for himself.

Gallon, anticipating this, moves fast. Yellow tendrils coil over both the jester's legs and waist, trying to pull the extended arm back into the room even as Vinnel tries his damndest to keep it at out, his arm bending weirdly inside its red sleeve.

" Fuck off! All of you sad sacks of shit- This is MINE! " The slime gargles and screams, other hand clinging to the tall window's edge as tightly as possible. " I found it! "

" Stop strugglin' boy. We gonna talk this out. " The chef chuckles, successfully using brute strength to start pulling him inside.

The others help. He's fighting a losing battle and he knows it.

As soon as the performer feels a disturbance in the fabric of his suit's composition, he freezes. Primal, soul-shaking terror, grabs a hold of his body and he gasps, shrieking as he drops both hands to instantly claw, kick and try to mangle whoever's about to possibly rip his suit.

There's a chorus of pained cries and he's thrown to the ground, clinging to his form for dear life. Literally. Because if anything opened, he would potentially leak to the carpet and meet his end very quickly.

" Gah-! You useless clown! He dropped it! " The bat squeals, a high-pitched noise that grates on everyone's ears.

Vinnel startles. His possible panic attack and frantic body checking is halted by the sudden realization that yes, he did drop the fleshlight in his panic. That means...

The orange and purple menace stumbles to a stand shoving the group bent over the window aside to poke his head out and see for himself where the sex toy landed. After a few grunts and curses, the view is revealed.

On the grass of the garden outside the building, the toy landed sideways, rolling aimlessly over mutated flowers that lean away from the unidentified object. There's a beat of stillness.

Everyone knows it's only a matter of time until the thing is retrieved, possibly by a client, which means they'd have to waste time hunting for a random loser before getting to their prize. They exchange stares, aware that as soon as someone moves, the hunt is one, the game starts.

And yet, before even a step towards the elevator is taken, the scene below them changes.

A bench sat some distance away uncurls, black iron body turning into a grayed gangly mass with a wooden chest for a head, teeth poking out of it. Said monster seems to stretch himself before moving on all fours to inspect the thing.

Sybastian squats, picks up the fleshlight. Although his eyes are hidden in the great darkness of his objectum head, everyone can practically see the gears turning in his head.

The mimic glances up, perplexed yellow eyes staring dubiously at his coworkers.

" Syb. " Patches calls, reaching a hand out. " That is very special, leave it there. Do not touch it- "

Too late.

" No! No!! "

He found a toy, he's going to play with it. Sybastian starts hurriedly moving out of view.

" Motherfucker! I'll gut you! " Vinnel screeches, banging uselessly on the building's exterior.

" Blasted mimic... " Belo is the first to peel off the window. " What do we do now?! "

" Well... " Morell sighs, pulling his apron back on while everyone sulks and simmers.

" We go huntin'. "

Huh.

Isn't that one way to wake up...

Sybastian's nap had been disturbed when he sensed an impact nearby. It couldn't have been something very large, but part of his hunting routine involves being in that fine line between resting and alert enough to sense the faintest vibrations, categorize them as noteworthy or not on a subconscious level. His curiosity had him rising anyway, shedding his disguise and following the direction of the sound until he found...

A sex toy.

In the middle of the grass.

His eyes don't deceive him, he knows what kind of toy this is, has seen them in the undead's shop. They're the kind you can fuck into, small and convenient.

He was unsure as to why such a thing had been tossed out, so he looked around and found most of his coworkers already fixed on him. It didn't take a genius to piece together the fact that they had been likely squabbling over the thing.

Yet, oddly, it didn't smell used. In fact, it featured an odor Sybastian could swear he's had his face buried in before.

The mischief of his nature acted up, and the mimic crawled away with the toy held in his maw.

He knows the rest of them will come looking for him immediately, so the mimic scurries deep into the less stable parts of the garden- Where Hellion tends to dwell. The parts that can shift, remold and relocate themselves in the blink of an eye as the establishment periodically "refreshes" itself. It's a gamble, he admits, but it's the only place staff will hesitate to enter due to its volatile nature. Sybastian is more well-equipped to deal with these areas, given he spends most of the time in the garden, has learned many of its tricks.

Let them bump around like blind moles.

Eventually, Sybastian finds an area dense in plantlife, a good distance away from the main building already, and sensing no approaching threats, the mimic seats himself next to a wide trunk, spitting his conquest into his hands and taking the time to examine it.

It's a fancy fuck-pocket alright.

Curious about the scent, he drags the thin end of his tongue across the length of the artificial pussy, eyes widening when taste hits him. Not just any taste, arousal and wetness and- Human. A human he's put that same roving muscle upon before.

You.

Sybastian is certain these things aren't meant to have such specific tastes. He's not sure how such a thing came into being, a carbon sort of copy of your cunt, but he understands why the others were fighting over it. Syb would too.

A little thrill crawls along the length of his spine.

No time to waste, he better make use of this before he's accosted by a swarm of angry monsters.

The mimic drools and smiles as he pushes a good portion of his deep blue tongue past sweet folds and into the surprisingly warm, hugging insides of the toy. He removes his loincloth hastily and palms his already chubbing cock to the thought of you flipping your work outfit up and spreading yourself out so he can have full access to that puffy pussy. The mental image of your provocative, inviting smile while you grab onto the fat of your ass has him moaning, dick pulsing.

Fucking the pathetic little escapists is one thing, but nothing beats your delicious, perfect holes. You have everyone here by the balls and Sybastian is no different.

Releasing a filthy murr of anticipation, the mimic's shackles rattle as he brings the now thoroughly slobbered pocket pussy down, teasing it along the head of his cock.

Oh, if all of them feel this real then he really has to bother Nebul for one.

Sybastian swears he feels it quiver against his length, panting as soon as he starts sinking it onto his thick length. The moment his tip pops in, he rumbles, feeling its walls immediately clinging to him, spasming in such a life-like manner he can't help bucking into it, greedily and impatiently stuffing more of himself into the exceptionally pleasurable fucktoy.

He couldn't take it slow even if he wanted to, claws curling viciously around the purple tube as he starts jerking himself off with it in earnest, loud groans echoing amidst his panting. It feels exactly like you! Hot and tight and spongy and so so good, he loves to fuck you- This is going to be his favorite toy ever.

Syb's hips snap into a grossly desperate rhythm, a lurid plap of skin on wet artificial skin as his balls hit it with every senseless rut upwards. His maw closes slightly, the mimic's eyes glaze and he pictures you there. On his lap, back turned to him, juicy ass on full display while you put both palms on his gangly knees and ride the monster for all he's worth, milking his cock and drooling like you've never had better.

Gods, if Sybastian focuses enough, he can almost feel the softness of your rump on him with each thrust. He wishes he could grab onto your waist, onto the cushion there, and use you the same way he's using this copy to breed into.

You're the hottest, prettiest little human he'll ever have the opportunity to stuff himself into.

There isn't a single intelligent thought in Sybastian's head when he starts grinding the pocket-pussy down, the tensing of his legs and abdomen bringing him ever closer to that sweet release, and he's looking forward to flooding the fucktoy full of his cum, feeling it clench heavenly around him the same it has been for a while now.

With one last, obscenely loud slap of his meat into the fleshlight, Sybastian howls and throbs hard, coming undone with great intensity and melting onto the grassy ground, the feeling of his own hot jizz spurting out the toy and leaking past his balls to coat this thighs a depraved sign of his victory.

He lies there, boneless from his own orgasm, hand still clumsily dragging your toy up and down his now spent cock, and all is well for a blissful moment.

...

Until-

" Bravo. Mm, good show... "

Sybastian peers up, not as sharp as he would be now that he's disoriented from cumming. A pair of glowing green eyes poise on him, and none other than the incubus makes it past the foliage of this part of the garden.

He's vaguely surprised the other was brave enough to come here.

" What? " Santi places a hand to his hip. " Thought I wouldn't find you? I could smell you getting off like a rabid animal, you need more than greenery to hide from me. "

Fair. Syb was being loud too. He doesn't let go of the toy however, suspiciously allowing the demon to lewdly scheme the dirty mess between his legs.

" Hand me the fleshlight, love. "

There's a growl. Santi frowns.

" Oh come now, you greedy slut, I'll make sure you get something out of it too. " He lulls, drawing closer slowly, to the point where he stands in front of the mimic, before crouching.

Sybastian keeps growling faintly, pulling out of the fleshlight to hold it away from the high-ranker, a gross pool of cum still oozing off the recently used thing. He doesn't miss the way the incubus' nostrils flare.

" Why, I'll even tell you a little secret, hm? "

Santi crawls between the mimic's legs, collecting a bead of the monster's cum and putting it to his mouth, luridly sucking the fluid off his finger before spitting onto his palm and using it to stroke Sybastian.

What begins as overstimulated shocks that force his legs to twitch and squirm away is forcibly turned into a brand new wave of arousal and need. He doesn't fight it, letting himself get stimulated anew and only offering a little bit of resistance when Santi pulls the fucktoy out of his grasp.

If he's here... Where are the others?

" What if I told you this little thing here- " Santi starts, selfishly and deliberately fingering globs of cum out of the toy for his own amusement. Syb notes the rigid length bobbing between his coworker's dark thighs. " Is loaded with magic? "

A toothy head tilts in confusion. Sybastian kind of assumed there was something unknown at play here, he just can't tell the implications.

" You can smell it, right? You know who this reminds you of. "

Syb's eyes widen.

" Did you also know that this fleshlight is connected to our Admin? She felt everything you just did to her, Sybastian. " The incubus chuckles, letting his drool seep onto the rim of your pussy, then spreading the aphrodisiac fluid over your lips, circling you clit with it languidly.

Sybastian doesn't need to be a scientist to know you're probably losing your mind by now.

" Oh you fucked her open like a rabid bull. I wish I could see her state right now- I bet she's sweating a storm in her clothes, her own cum and wetness dripping down her legs, too cock-drunk to speak! What a good job you did... "

Sybastian spaces off slightly, picturing what the results of his careless and selfish fucking must have reduced you to. He almost feels bad, if the image the Lust demon painted in his head wasn't so awfully erotic. He literally used you.

" Mmm, now, let's give her something to really scream about, big boy. "

In a blur of movement, Santi presses against the gray monster, both lengths squeezed together, pumped hastily a couple times but with practiced precision that makes Syb groan. And then, much to his growing amusement and shock, the incubus hovers your toy above them both, strings of falling seed used to further lubricate both of them.

The demon looks to be burning with anticipation, shuddering as he presses the thing down.

" ... Won't. Fit. " The mimic eventually mumbles, wondering if Santi's intent is to actually rip you open.

" Don't be silly- " There's a rasped snicker. " I've seen her bounce on Lord Krulu's lap. Just lie back and let me make this memorable for the three of us. "

It's a stretch. A fat stretch, but it seems the magical properties of the toy are indeed aligned with your own physical limitations, because the fleshlight gradually accepts both monsters, clenching with mind-melting pressure against both leaking cocks.

Santi is the first to moan low and needy, claws sinking into the bark of the tree his coworker leans against so he can steady himself in the face of such sudden ecstasy. Sybastian follows with his own trill, their members twitching and pulsing, trapped against each other, within you.

When Syb makes a disoriented motion to try and grasp the thing, make it move over them both, the incubus snaps his teeth at him in a language the other understands, determined to control the pace. And control he does, viciously pumping them both off, twisting, grinding the thing frequently.

A pace that would otherwise certainly chafe both males is now sloppy and soaked, lubricated by Syb's seed, your wetness and Santi's precum. They fuck themselves silly, trading groans and frantically bumping their hips, one moment thrusting in perfect sync, the next selfishly seeking their own pleasure.

The incubus' tongue hangs and he tosses his head back when a certain familiar pace of contractions around him is felt.

" Oh- Ohhh fuck- " He calls to the other. " Feel that? Yeah? " Sybastian nods and makes a strangled ambiguous noise. " She's cumming. Hard. "

Both of them grow fevered, preening at the knowledge.

" I hope she's fucking screaming. I hope she's trying to guess who we are. "

The fiend had always been too good with his obscene little comments, Sybastian's second, overstimulated orgasm is flayed out of him with no ounce of mercy. Santi gets almost hysterical with the conquest, getting high off the power he's exerting over both you and the mimic, climbing to his peak and letting his eyes roll back when the first pulses of an approaching end seize him.

The only reason he doesn't scream when he's suddenly grabbed by the horns is because there was already little breath in his lungs to begin with.

A pair of metallic, sticker-adorned arms loom from above, rigged hands wrenching his head back to face a slightly cracked visor displaying a deceitfully friendly face.

" 1'll B3 t4k1Ng 7H4t N0w. :] "

Fuck.

His robotic coworker uses superior reflexes to grab the toy, wrench it off both monsters, and bolt out of sight with surprising speed for a being of such immense density.

Instincts claw at the hellish monster. He only stands there for a stunned second, clutching nothing but air, before he's snarling like a feral creature and racing after the party bot, pushing many of his other coworkers away.

Grimbly gains on all of them, but when the incubus drops onto all fours the two collide and roll away in a mess of shouting limbs.

Gallon passes by them and laughs, then gets lashed aside by a whip lit on dullahan fire.

Vinnel is thrown across the garden, apparently launched away by Fank-e cackling in the distance.

This isn't ending any time soon...

#Santi oc #Fank-e oc #Sybastian oc #Belo oc #Vinnel oc #Patches oc #Gallon oc #Grimbly oc #Morell oc #Nebul oc #yandere monster #yandere teratophilia #monsterfucker #terato tag #not sfw #monster x reader #minors dni

[trancylovecraft]

Yandere clay vs bloberta puppington who share the same s/o?

(MORAL OREL) YANDERE! CLAY / BLOBERTA x READER: Headcannons

RECEIPT ✂- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

BARISTA'S NOTE: N/A FANDOM: Moral Orel

Thank you for ordering!

Come again soon!

Ooh, This is gonna be a tough time for you.

Bloberta for a start is an obsessive, Absolutely desperate to the core yandere. She's focused on keeping you with her, Bloberta trying to be a sort of picturesque housewife to try to make you love her.

Clay on the other hand is a manipulative monster, Equally as delusional as his wife but in the worst way. Completely expecting you

These two sharing is kind of like tug of war.

On one side is Bloberta who becomes generally clinically insane when it comes to you, Genuinely unfazed if she has to kill in your name while being lovestruck all the same. She's delusional big time.

Clay on the other is still delusional, But instead of changing himself to fit his delusion like Bloberta, He's forcing you to fit his delusion instead. He's a manipulative monster who would kill for you if needed.

So in some ways, I suppose they're just two sides of the same coin.

At the beginning when they first meet you, I'd assume you'd be just moving into Moralton. Maybe next door or somewhere else in the neighbourhood.

They come over as a welcome party of sorts, Bloberta holding a casserole and Clay with his usual suburban-man smile. Both Orel and Shapey following close with them.

And of course you greet them with a smile and welcome them into your home, Both instantly become rather attracted to you. Maybe it was because of your kind smile, Your warm attitude that most in Moralton seemed to lack.

Bloberta loves you for your kind and demure nature, The one that welcomes her in and makes her feel included in your home. She falls first, Head over heels for sure.

Clay on the other hand falls for the way you play off of him, Your conversation has chemistry refined to the highest degree. Clay sure does fall, But just a little bit slower than Bloberta does.

It would probably go down the same route it would in my previous scenarios, That is if it was only one of them that fell. With how barren communication is in their marriage, None of them know the other's feelings.

Until they find out, That is.

It will NOT turn out well, I'll say that much. Both of them are rather possessive and sharing you isn't exactly the first thing that comes to mind once they get into the world's quietest screaming match.

Even though their beds are separated: Clay sleeps on the couch tonight, And probably for the rest of his life if Bloberta has anything to say about it. Both of them instantly trying to scheme their own ways of getting you over on their side.

Clay himself is a manipulative yandere to the core, Using his influence as Mayor to pull your strings. He's definetly gonna be difficult to manage

Bloberta isn't stupid, Though she may get rather reckless and short-sighted when it comes to you, She knows what she's doing and can get serious when it comes down to it.

Clay would definetly be subtle in getting you to like him, Going for the more long-game approach.

He'd also try to get you drunk and see if any mistakes happen between you and him after that. Of course they're just mistakes, Nothing more! (Do anything shitty and he'll archive it for blackmail)

Clay may also happen to run into you while you're out in the town, Often stopping to make conversation with you. Sometimes he even joins you out on your trips!

When you're in stores, He often offers to pay for whatever you're particularly interested in. You try to decline but he's rather insistent, Clay mostly using this as a chance to make you feel indebt to him.

When you ask about Bloberta, Clay often just brushes past her with a smile. Some people who are visiting/or are unfamiliar with Clay may ask if you two are married, Which you vehemently deny while Clay just stands there with a smug smile.

Bloberta? Subtle? Not compatible. I feel like she would definetly give much bolder hints than Clay would, When you're walking out from church she may or may not leave a lingering hand on your shoulder, One that almost refuses to let go.

She comes over to your house every other day with a tray of baked goods, One's that she's made sure that you'd love (Most definetly by stalking). Bloberta stays over as long as possible, Gossiping about townspeople and most especially Clay!

She's definetly giving off-hand comments about him, Remarking how lacklustre he is in bed, How he has just a tad bit of a drinking problem. Wink wink.

She definetly also insists that you do your shopping together, You know, Girl's day outs and such. Sometimes you even have evening drinks together, Bloberta becoming much more open on her affections with you.

Would also be a victory for her when you off-handedly admit that you like women as well as men. You'd definetly panic afterwards while Bloberta promises that she'll keep it a secret (Inside she's feeling victorious and has something to hold over you if need be.)

Between the two, Bloberta would DEFINETLY use Clay and Stopframe's affair against him. She knows it's happening and she has evidence to prove it.

Clay on the other hand will use Bloberta's attempts at infidelity against her. Both have evidence against each other

Unfortunately they stay together for the sake of appearances and somewhat the kids. While both would rather.. Let the other go, They have no choice but to stay "happily" married.

Imagine their fighting to get much more prominent, Maybe even coming up in public. All in that passive-aggressive tone that they're use to, Just a little more on the latter side.

You are none the wiser, You're just happy with your new house and town that you live in. Everyone is so welcoming here! Ignore the people that may or may not go missing if they slight you, They don't really matter right now.

You ever get into a semi-working, Somewhat willing relationship?

You all being a polyamorous couple has to be kept on the downlow in Moralton, Considering the religious stigma and all. You being mostly introduced as a close family friend when out in public (If you're allowed out, That is.)

You'll be treated very well but will be tossed about like a frisbee. I wouldn't put it past them to make a schedule for you, Like maybe some hours you get Bloberta and others you get Clay.

The two beds that they have? GONE. Get's turned into one big bed so they don't need to schedule what bed you go to every night. Though you will ALWAYS be in the middle, Both of them staring intensely at each other from each side as you as you sleep.

Orel will be need to be told some fake bible teaching by Clay so he won't go telling people he has two mothers. You'll probably be introduced to him as an Aunt, The kind that are really good friends with one of the parents, Not the related kind.

INSANELY POSSESSIVE. Like both of them will be threatened if you even try to leave without a good enough cause. I'd expect Bloberta to guilt trip you while Clay would certainly try to go complete whatever errands you need himself (Or god forbid, Send OREL out to do it.)

Bloberta definetly feels the need to be perfect for you, Her hygiene and fashion skyrocketing. She likes to assist you, Doing whatever she believes a good housewife would do. Your happiness is her utmost importance.

Clay definetly urges you to wear more feminine clothes, Also expecting you to make him a drink when he gets home from his stinkin'-dead-end-job. Though it would be much more toned-down I think, Since Bloberta would always be on your side if he complains.

The only time I ever see them working together would be if there was a threat towards you and their relationship. In this aspect they compliment each other and work with each other's flaws.

Bloberta's general recklessness when it comes to murder is held back by Clay's more logical thought process. And Clay has someone that is willing to get down and dirty, As I'd imagine him to be rather iffy when cleaning bodies.

Either that or if you try to run away, Both Bloberta and clay would be working together like clockwork to get you back. Clay using his influence to fabricate a story while Bloberta would use her social skills to convince the rest of the town of said story.

You could probably get away, That is if you change your name, Do what Veronica should've done and drive up to Seattle. But apart from that it's gonna be real difficult if you stay in Moralton.

Everyone in town would be hounding you about what happened, Either for gossip or general concern for your wellbeing. It'd be hard, The peer pressure would be enough to make anyone crack.

And if you don't relent? Good luck with all that blackmail they collected being let out into the wild. Your reputation

But I'm sure they could make it seem like simple rumours if you come back, Play your part and stay nice. Clay and Bloberta promise that at the very least!

#yandere moral orel #moral orel #yandere #yandere x reader #tw yandere #yandere x you #moral orel x reader #bloberta puppington #orel puppington #moral orel fanfic #morel orel #moral orel bloberta #yandere clay puppington #clay puppington #bloberta x reader #bloberta hymentact #clay puppington x reader #clay x reader #shapey puppington #bloberta #yandere male #soft yandere #male yandere #moral orel fandom #moral orel clay #yandere moral orel x reader #moral orel x you

[unnamed-blob]

One way, or another, I'm gonna get ya (3)

⇢ Pairing: Ghostface/Meg Thomas

⇢ Length: Multi-chapter

⇢ CW: Violence (especially against Dwight, sorry Dwight)

⇢ A/N: Part 3 and the final chapter! Look forward to a few oneshots in the universe tho!

In the trials that followed, it became apparent that something had happened to Meg after the other three had been brutally killed off. That something in question, however, was tensely guarded by the redhead herself, kept behind tight lips and a suddenly nervous, twitchy attitude at any mention of it, drawing her hair over her neck despite the initial wound fading in rapid succession.

It first became noticeable when Meg wasn’t quite as quick as before, as slick, or hard to pin down, dashing away from hits and slashes at the last second. She’d gotten clumsy, sloppy, tripping over pallets and easily hooked first by the killer. The elite runner would typically be seated by the campfire by the time the others returned, flashing a strained smile.

She tripped, her ankle twisted, it wasn’t her day, she’d joke.

She’d assure the concerned glances that she’d be back to her prime by next time, plastering on a grin as she’d flinch at reassuring pats on her back. The brunt of it all came to fruition when Quentin mistook a glimpse of Legion’s dark clothing to be Ghostface, wrongly notifying the others of the killer within the trial. 

None of the survivors saw Meg after that. 

It was only by pure chance that Jake had darted by the outskirts of the map, stumbling upon the redhead curled in a corner, uncharacteristically quiet and tense, physically dragging her out of the exit gates barely in the brink of time. He’d notified the other two of their quartet in hushed whispers and quick glances as Meg had sat desolate by the fire, staring intensely past the flames to something only she could see. 

Claudette had padded over, sat next to her and spoken in low whispers that neither of the males could pick up on. Meg had only given her a tight smile and empty reassurances that the botanist frowned at, but didn’t push further. Had merely reached upwards to pull the taller into a tight hug while the others pretended they couldn’t see the shake in Meg’s frame as she curled into herself, grasping at Claudette’s arms like a lifeline. 

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Meg crept several paces forwards, bracing a palm against the edge of an outdoor wall, glancing in every direction. She held her breath, straining her ears past the rustle of leaves and dry grass. Several moments passed in complete silence before she released it, calmly straightening as she gave a final look around and easily made her way to the nearby generator. 

Claudette popped her head out from a wall behind her a second later, jogging over to Meg to join her on the generator as she cast cautious glances about. She squatted down to work on the side next to her, discreetly shuffling closer to the redhead as she pulled and connected the wires. Meg held back a sigh, delving her hands further into the machine to reach the remaining colored strands in the back. 

It’s not that Claudette’s worry wasn’t understandable from her end. She’d been a mess after that trial, had been panicked and drawn tight, terrified that he’d be back in the next trial, or the one after that, or the next. That she’d be caught off guard and slammed back into the ground, weak and exhausted, putty in his hands to manipulate as he wanted, play with as he wished while he grinned in glee and pressed hot lips to her cold, sweat drenched skin.

Certainly staying tight-lipped on the entire ordeal was easier said than done, spiking her anxiety to an all time high that her friends would find out one way or another, the glances they’d exchange if they knew. 

Nothing had happened though- obviously. In the weeks that followed (or- whatever mannerism of time counting the survivors could come up with, certainly better than assuming it was the same day over and over), Ghostface didn’t appear. His mask didn’t pop up from a corner, startling Meg, and his hands didn’t yank her from behind a wall while she quietly hid, breathing too loud in her own ears. 

Despite her strange behavior, and the glances she noticed her friends attempting to exchange without her noticing, they didn’t prod. Didn’t force her to explain why she was acting off, or what had happened, didn’t put their foot down to make her talk. And Meg was more than appreciative of it, more than she could tell them.

Claudette, especially, stuck to her side like glue after her fumble, curling close to her at the campfire and remaining at a near distance in trials they were lucky enough to be dragged in together. The redhead had an easier time quelling the uncomfortable prickling on the back of her neck with a second pair of eyes to cover her blind spots, a warm hand that would clasp her arm and drag her into hiding when she’d lose focus and wouldn’t notice the nearing figure of the killer. 

Eventually Meg was able to shake off the event as nothing more than some bad vision she’d hallucinated. It wasn’t entirely logical, but it was the most plausible, and there were no remaining signs that it had ever occurred in the first place (she deliberately ignored that her pigtails were now held with two short ribbons she’d gathered from Feng).

Now, enough trials afterward that she’d lost count, Claudette still refused to leave her side, despite how Meg would wave her off, or that her behavior had calmed down to a close mimic of her attitude before it. Now don’t get her wrong, the runner more than appreciated it, but she was well enough to run trials on her own. Additionally, she didn’t want to hinder Claudette, forcing her to linger by her like a babysitter.

The gen popped to life, bright lights sputtering and flickering before it flashed on, nearly blinding were Meg not used to it by now. The two females straightened, the redhead casting a glance about for any sight of other nearby machinery before Dwight’s pained scream echoed across the map, their heads snapping in the direction in sync.

Claudette stiffened, but stepped closer to Meg, ready to follow before the latter placed a hand on her shoulder, snapping her attention upwards. 

“I can do it myself.” Meg wasn’t about to make Claudette follow her to another hook. The botanist had always been the least fond of them, her shorter build making the grueling task of lifting a survivor off even more difficult. It was only amplified when some killers lingered out of view, snapping out at the last moment to catch the wounded survivor and the well meaning one in one fell swoop. The shorter female furrowed her brows, opening her mouth to protest before Meg squeezed her shoulder in reassurance, flashing her a confident, familiar grin. “It’s alright,” she paused, adding in a quiet, “I’m alright”. 

Claudette searched her eyes for a moment, but seemed to find what she was looking for and stepped away. She gave her an appreciative nod, an uptick of the corners of her mouth, before she was gone, dashing off to find a generator instead. The runner watched her go, then turned back to her separate direction, inhaling sharply before she broke into a sprint. 

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Dwight was struggling earnestly on the hook when Meg appeared, casting a final glance for any lingering killer before she jogged up the hill towards him. He grunted as his hands slipped, fighting for a solid grasp to heave himself off while his palms were covered in his own blood. His head snapped to the rustle of grass under her feet, panicked gaze finding Meg as she trotted up to him, bracing under his arms to pull him off.

“Meg- no!” Dwight protested, silenced with a pained grunt as the hook slid out of him, stumbling to catch his footing as Meg caught his shoulders to balance him. His hands lashed at her upper arms with unexpected strength, nails nearly digging into her skin as he cast a fervent look around, focusing back on her with a panic stricken expression. She ignored it in favor of trying to throw one of his arms over her shoulders to help him down the hill, but he remained stubborn, tense, casting paranoid glances in every direction. 

“You shouldn’t have come here,” he admitted in a low, wavering voice. Meg paused, then snorted, stepping back as she crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at the nervous leader. Dwight seemed to realize his wording a moment too late, snapping his head back to her as he lifted his hands up, waving them erratically. 

“No! That’s not what I- Meg! You know that’s not what I meant!”

Meg raised a brow, giving him the silent treatment as he sputtered his clarification. He snapped his head to the side, falling deathly silent as a leaf crackled nearby, the wind rustling the dead leaves on the ground. He whirled back around to her, grasping Meg’s shoulders as she watched him in confusion. 

“It’s Ghostface.” He admitted in a low, panicked whisper, eyes darting back around. 

Oh. 

The redhead froze, knees suddenly weak, reaching upwards to grasp Dwight’s arms to keep her balance. 

Ghostface. In the trial. 

With her. 

In a flash Meg was back in the moment, able to feel the dirt digging into her cheek as she scrambled helplessly, his robes brushing against her, the ribbons twirling behind him mockingly. Feel the low baritone in his voice, the tremble in her palms, the lingering touches. 

She gasped for air, digging her nails into Dwight’s arms as she forced herself back, inhaling, exhaling, dropping her head down to choke on nothing. 

Her hands trembled, her knees shook, she wanted to curl up. She wanted to be anywhere but here right now.

She forced herself up, unwillingly releasing Dwight to draw herself up. The male watched her with wide eyes, hands twitching to console her as he shuffled uncomfortably in place. She raised her gaze to meet his head on, giving him a stern jerk mimicking a nod, sharply gesturing to the ground below the hill they stood upon. 

“We should probably get off such a visible spot,” she forced out, choking on her spit as she curled her hands into fists, feeling her nails bite into her palms. She didn’t feel alright, didn’t feel confident by a single shred, but it was better to act as if she was then let her panic devour her whole. Dwight scanned her for a moment longer before he receded, responding with a nod as he shuffled down first, still tensely watching the area. 

Meg watched him go, breaking her gaze away to scan the area, forcing her breathing to a normal rate as her heart pounded in her ears. It’d be alright, she’d be fine. She’d figure something out. 

But first, Dwight needed healing, before his blood drew the killer right to them. The redhead forced a step forwards, stiffening as her nerves screamed at her before a force caught her by the arms. She yelped as something lashed itself across her midsection, pinning her arms to her sides before it yanked her backwards, her feet flying out from below her as she was lifted suddenly. 

Meg struggled, heart in her throat as she risked a glance backwards, mouth dropping open in horror. The hook Dwight had been impaled on only seconds ago had transformed into a mimicry of the Entity’s hand, its claws wrapped around her squirming form as it easily hoisted her above the ground. 

Dwight whirled around at her panicked noise, balking in terror at the sight, unconsciously stumbling back a step. Meg grunted, kicking out fruitlessly as he quickly limped back, gritting her teeth as she fought to free her arms. A flash of black in the corner of her eye made the redhead freeze, chest threatening to explode in her chest at the sight of twirling ribbons making themselves known behind a nearby wall. A mask she never wanted to see peeked out, as if he were playing some sick game of peek a boo. 

She snapped her head back as Dwight neared, scrambling up the steep slope with wounded, pained gaits, gasping for breath around clenched teeth. She desperately glanced past him, hoping her panicked, hyper imagination had played a trick on her eyes, before her scream caught in her throat. The killer had silently looped around the corner, casually twirling his knife as he crept closer to Dwight, pressing a finger to the mouth of his mask as he neared. Meg found her voice enough to choke out a panicked ”Dwight! Run!”, renewing her fervent struggle as the survivor snapped around to the sight of the looming killer.

He scrambled, diving to the side, narrowly missing Ghostface’s casual slice in the space he’d occupied less than a second ago. He pressed a hand desperately against the wound in his shoulder, stumbling for a second before he took off. The dark robed killer didn’t bother to cast her a glance, didn’t look in her direction as Meg struggled fruitlessly, yelling for Dwight to keep going as the masked male took slow, measured steps after him. 

Dwight glanced back, wide eyes finding the killer on his heels, and it was all the opening Ghostface needed to lunge for him, slashing his knife against his face. The leader cried out, hands desperately pressing to the wound on his face as he stumbled over his own feet, slamming into the ground, a choked gasp on his lips as it jostled his wounds further. He tried to curl into himself, hands clawing into the dirt to heave himself back up before a knife found itself in Dwight’s palm, a choked, gasping scream leaving him as he clawed at the foreign object impaling his hand to the ground. 

Ghostface casually slammed a boot into his back, pressing him into the dirt as he watched him whimper and claw beneath him. He shifted to look back at Meg, her blood freezing as he cocked his head at her. Then he turned back to Dwight, seemed to debate something for a moment, and slammed his foot on the hilt of the knife. 

Dwight cried out, jerking against the ground, his screams louder over Meg’s own panicked yells. The killer turned to casually watch the direction of the rest of the map, the redhead realizing with startling horror that he was using Dwight to draw the others out. Was going to kill them once more, torment them, and leave her alone. With him. 

It didn’t take long for Meg to notice Jake darting closer, slowing his pace as he neared, an obvious stiffness to his frame at Dwight’s ongoing, pained yells. She inhaled sharply, trying to shout a warning before one of the claws encircling her snapped upwards to block her mouth, muffling her abrupt screams. She kicked, trying to wrestle her pinned hands high enough to claw at the appendages, but her attempts were as helpless as the last. 

The runner watched with wide, panicked eyes as Jake crept closer, stopping for half a beat by one of the walls before he darted out to Dwight, into the open. His head snapped up to Ghostface, only now noticing the killer as the looming, dark figure watched him, knife already drawn and poised at the startled survivor. Ghostface lifted his knife and Jake lunged away, disappearing from Meg’s sight behind a nearby series of walls. 

The knife whistled through the air, a loud yelp of pain as it found its target and Ghostface casually stepped off of Dwight, hunting down his next victim. Meg couldn’t see anything from her position, but each of Jake’s abrupt, pained yelps made her struggle harder. (In some way, she was mildly grateful she couldn’t see him, her skin crawling as the typical steadfast and confident survivor screamed in agony).

Jake’s noises finally gave out with a loud squelch, the death toll ringing out a moment later as Meg slumped against her encasement, heaving for air through her nose, exhausted past her capabilities. Ghostface appeared around the corner again a moment later, casually wiping his blood stained knife against his equally stained robes, slowly stepping to Dwight, still curled, trembling, in his spot. 

He cast a glance around, catching her gaze and giving her an excited wave before he turned back, scanning the area. When it was obvious the final survivor hadn’t shown herself, his head tilted back to Dwight, the cowering male pleading in gasped, pained, broken sentences as the killer’s shadow fell over him, idly twirling his knife in his hand. 

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Meg flinched further into herself as the final death toll rang out, refusing to raise her head to where the scattered, battered bodies of Dwight and Claudette lay. The botanist had come out soon enough, drawn in to help Dwight when more of his pained screams echoed across the map, voice cracking from the force of it. 

She’d always been the weakest of the four of them, a deeper focus on healing and helping than attack or defense. Caught off guard as well, it was immensely easy for Ghostface to dig his knife into her before she even noticed him. When her body had finally fallen limp and her death toll rang out second, well- there hadn’t been a use left for Dwight. And despite how much he pleaded and begged, trying to crawl away- Meg had flinched, turning away as she heard his voice give out abruptly, the wet sound of Ghostface reclaiming his knife ringing alongside the Entity’s arrival, a hand reaching down to collect him. 

Meg raised her gaze, choking on a breath to find Ghostface easily sauntering up the small hill to her, an obvious, excited hop in his steps. She gave a startled, muffled sound, still scrambling to free herself, thrashing in place. A warm, gloved hand cupped her cheek and she froze, deathly still as it tilted her head to look at him. 

Meg swallowed past the lump in her throat, eyes fastened to the familiar white mask she’d hoped to never see again, shivering as she heard the heavy panting on the other side of the fabric. Ghostface tapped his thumb on the appendage encircling her mouth, the pressure falling away instantly as the redhead sucked in a stuttering breath. 

Ghostface took the opportunity to swipe his thumb across her lips, despite how she tried to cringe away. She jolted when a damp, sticky liquid remained smeared across her lips afterwards.

Blood. Her friends’ blood. Oh go-

Ghostface cupped her face again before she could spiral, hands gently cradling the sides of her face as she tried to jolt out of his grasp. He leaned in, mask pressing against her forehead as he stared down at her. She shivered, watching him with wide eyes, searching for the figure behind the openings in the dark fabric as she shrunk into herself

“Hi darling.” Meg flinched, curling further into herself as a whimper unconsciously slipped out. Ghostface chuckled at it, hot air fanning over her face as she clamped her eyes shut. 

His hands held her in place, refusing to let her curl up, to hide her face from him. He hummed in thought, a thumb rubbing circles onto her cheek as he loomed over her, invading her space, stealing her breath. The hair on the back of Meg’s neck stood on end, a shiver wracking down her spine. 

He finally shifted, apparently having had his fill, stepping back just a tad as his hands dropped to his sides. Meg hesitantly blinked her eyes open, watching him warily as he tilted his head at her, heaving a silent breath of relief. He finally glanced up, studying the claw dangling her above the ground, before focusing back on her, leaning back in once more.

“You want to get down, right?” He asked, cocking his head; a strange, unmasked giddiness exuding from him. Meg hitched her shoulders up higher, watching him warily, mutely. Searching for the condition, the drawback, the price. She didn’t trust his “good” words.

He tilted his head closer, the grin in his voice more than visible despite the mask, nearly vibrating in place. “I can get you down. In return for, well- let’s say, just a kiss.”

Meg froze, watching the killer in front of her. He tilted his head in question when the silence drew on for too long, and she jolted. She managed a stiff shake of her head, a refusal, despite how her body obviously trembled. Ghostface’s shoulders dropped, deflating with a dramatic, heaving sigh that made her flinch in place as she watched him. 

“Oh well,” he quipped, perking back up as he shrugged. “I was lying anyway.”

His hand was yanking up the mask before Meg could blink, the other lashing out to grasp her chin in place as she yelped, the sound swallowed by his mouth. Meg jerked in place, pressing as far back as she could as his hands curled around the back of her head, one keeping her head pinned in place as the other drew circles on the back of her neck, fingers delving down to tease at the collar of her shirt.

He drew back, Meg gasping for air as she tried not to heave, shivering as she vowed to scrub at her lips with whatever brush she could find until they bled. His nose brushed at her cheek, nosing at her neck as she flinched violently, choking on quick, panicked gasps. His lips pulled back into a brimming grin, teeth barely drifting on her skin as she jerked in place, heart slamming against her ribcage as she bit back a whimper. 

“So, where were we last time?”

#ghostmeg #dbd #male yandere #yandere ghostface #slasher x final girl #angst #hurt/no comfort #dead by daylight #dbd writing #dbd fanfic #meg thomas #slashers #slashers writing #slashers fanfic #killer x survivor #yandere scenarios #jake park #claudette morel #dwight fairfield

[yimai]

Protection x A Deal

MOREL X FEM!READER

inspired by touchstarved morel! a fic by hypnoswrites, if u wanna check it out its on their masterlist. im writing according to their morel kinda

word count 2.6k

warnings: violence, nsfw, yandere, reader gets hurt

"He was. Asleep??"

You thought, staring at the lazy smile on his face.

You had only noticed after a bit- when he started snoring.

As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t take it as a compliment to your work. With the harshness of whiskey in his breath- you found yourself thinking that he’d probably be completely out of it by now, even without a massage.

Did you need to… Haul him out of the massage house by the end of your session?

You paused.

He seemed like he could handle his liquor. He didn’t even look drunk when he came in.

Maybe he’s not as affected by the booze as you think he is?

You continued with his massage.

Working his neck muscles, you found yourself leaning over him, putting your weight in your thumb. The only thing on your mind was how his breath tinged of whiskey, a strong, sharp musk that overtook even his generous lather of lavender body oil.

Soon you had to wake him up- he came to you regarding back pain, after all. After the customary neck and head massage, a few small taps on his shoulder woke him with a start. When asked turn over onto his back, he complied, eager with a sheepish grin.

You had ended up asking him more times than you’d like to admit, how he felt towards the amount of pressure you were working on him with- it was ridiculously hard to tell if you were doing too much or too little, especially with a drunk client. Though, you were moreso worried over potentially overestimating the sheer bulk of him. With your experience, you deemed it unlikely, but not impossible. You never got clients of such frame, after all.

It didn’t take you long to work down to the back of his legs. You replaced the steamed towels at his feet with new ones- it was easy to feel cold after a massage. Having skin coated with a thin layer of oil, a small breeze could easily bring a client to shiver. The steamed towels, one at his feet, the other at his neck, worked to feed the body heat and in turn relaxation.

Upon putting aside the used towel, you had asked him to turn back over.

A quiet, meek shock splayed itself across your face.

“Oh, I’m sorry,”

“I— I’ll get you another towel!”

Clients getting erections were a common occurence. Massages work to increase blood flow to the muscles, and nerves through the hips were known to be sensitive.

This, however, was not. You doubt it had ever happened in your entire life.

You picked up a towel from the connected walk-in bathroom in the massage studio, and laid it across his crotch.

He couldn’t help the chuckle that left him- you looked so flustered and confused.

His one towel hadn’t been enough. Two seemed to do the trick.

——-

He came as often as he could before the trip was to end, even up until his last day on the cruise.

Here because of a job, he was working with a rich snob- the cruise trip, all expenses covered, was included. The only reason he took the job was that he felt his team deserved a nice break- plus, he’d be out at sea- drinking and having fun. Sure, he still had a job to do, but that was only after the cruise was to port.

You had soft, gentle hands. A tenderness shaped by years of working with body oil, alongside a certain patience that came from both your craft and yourself.

Touch delicate and eager- determined in aiding, in support.

You reminded him of himself.

Support was something he prided himself on, in battle. His role was to assist the strong. Though only because he had the capabilities, the means of handling enemy attention and defending himself. Known amongst his colleagues as a strong unit; a tank.

Where was your shield? He was his.

Wasn’t it… dangerous? For you to help others while still technically in need?

Who was to defend you? Reliable support relied on strong defense.

What if he was to…

What if he was someone else?

What if that day, it was some other drunk,

...

He had taken note of how only two staff manned the spa house. You and another masseuse, who seemed to always clock out early.

——-

He made sure your slots were open for him. Sometimes you were booked, and that was okay. Wanting to come by every afternoon during the trip, he made quick work of kindly telling your clients to fuck off. It was relatively easy, your regular clients having been the manpower of the ship- they were ex-convicts, after all. Nothing to feel bad about.

With his last day on the cruise, he had you booked at your last shift for a neck massage.

Peeking at the clock, he took a mental note. 30 minutes left.

Should be enough.

“Hey, can you massage my hand?”

I’ll protect her. She just needs to do one thing,

After time, you two had actually grown quite familiar with each other. As he frequented your spa house, he’d start some small talk with you from time to time. On board, he's known to be quite the chatterbox- often striking conversation with the cruise staff, something you even heard about from friends in other departments.

——-

Of course you agreed.

It was an innocent request, you never really worked on the hand much despite it actually being your favorite massage point. In the hotel spa packages it wasn’t included. You had told him this cheerfully, and a gentle smile pulled at his lips.

He couldn’t get it off his mind.

“Hey, just curious- your partner leaves 30 minutes early?” “Yeah,” “Y’know how there’s no cameras here for client privacy, since they change in this room?” “Yeah?” “If a client were to keep you here, or rather, if something happened to you, would anybody notice? Anybody at all?

Would anybody come to help?”

Your replies had been small and brisk, your attention and concentration occupied by the work at hand. His last question you didn’t know how to respond to.

After a good five minutes, he spoke again,

“Hey, will you go out with me?”

…..

“Excuse me?”

“Go out with me. I’ll be your shield.”

He’s only amused by your loyalty, faith and commitment when you reject him.

“I have a. Boyfriend,”

“Break up with him,” The words tumbled from his lips, freely, as easy as water from a fountain.

You couldn’t even respond before you found yourself pinned against one of the studio walls.

“You can lend me your way,”

Your way. Your path to walk down won’t be yours for a bit, it will be his. He was to lead and guide you.

…

He was to govern you.

He wanted to dictate your life.

“Can you fight this?”

He said, breath at the crook of your neck. A hand propped at his, cupping at the back of his neck as he smeared some oil onto his palm.

——-

“Sir, please-“ ‘you’re hurting me,’

The words couldn’t leave you. He seemed set on teaching you a lesson.

Teaching you of your own weakness, highlighting your vulnerability, lack of power and frailty through pitting your strength against his.

You pushed against his grip to no avail- crushing and firm on your wrist.

“Rumor has it that Diego’s got his eye on you.”

You had froze up. He continued,

“I work for him, got to know his history. Something tells me you know the same,”

You had flinched harder- his oiled fingers bore into the small of your back, he sighed, “Spoiled brat. Day after day inviting some bar hostess into his room and so far I haven’t seen a single one come out,”

“Knocks up his staff and fires them when they get pregnant. Not to scare you, but..”

Her gaze fell to the floor.

He wasn’t lying.

It wasn’t foreign knowledge, all the women working for him knew of his… certain habits. You had been working under him a good few years now, and have seen many come and go.

Most notably your sister.

Not many knew, but there used to be three masseuse at the massage house.

You had witnessed first-hand the greed and cruelty of that man as you held your sister in your arms, crying as if she was never to do anything else.

It hurt to know he wasn’t lying. That he was just telling you because he wanted you to know, because he was looking out for you. Because he was concerned for you.

“Y’know.. I can cook and clean and all that. You won’t have another worry for as long as you live,”

He was really trying to reason through this. He wanted understanding and had hope.

You were about to speak up, before his hand clamped down on your mouth- he pressed himself into you, fixing you firm against the wall.

A ringing could be heard from the entrance bell.

“Your coworker must’ve left something, huh?”

He jut his knee out, dug in between your legs- grinding you on it. Now standing with one hand on your mouth, the other planted on the wall- he braced himself against the wall with both his elbows.

“Things are only gonna get worse for you… I don’t wanna do this either, but can’t you see what people can do to you? You’re too easy of a target,

I’ll help you. I’ll protect you, on one condition.

So tell me, can you fight this?” His voice was low and breathy at her ear.

Because outside noise can be a distraction in a massage room, the studio was soundproofed.

——-

You knew you should've been happy.

She meant a chance of escape. Maybe.

During off breaks you’d spend time in each other’s studio, it was established that whoever free first was to wait at the other’s door until their client has left.

If she had left something in here..

She could get help.

If she had left something in her own studio, you could bang on the wall- her studio was beside yours, after all. She was bound to hear it.

You stood with bated breath, and prayed she didn’t leave something at the front desk.

But even so, you weren’t sure what to think.

An overwhelming sense of shame had washed over you at the mere idea- of her seeing you like this.

Cheeks flushed, squirming and stifling breaths.

It was embarrassing, you just wanted to get out of this situation yourself. Without any help,

Without his help.

He’s made it clear it wasn’t possible.

Its clear there was no reasoning with him- not getting with him was as good as suicide. Apparently.

“Can you fight a broken finger? That’s the least they’ll do to you,” Crack.

“Will you really be fine all on your own? You’re no warrior,

Not even funny what they’ll do to you. Some ex-convicts on this ship, y’know.”

Small sobs fell on deaf ears. “I can be your shield.”

——-

He actually hadn’t been drinking, today.

He knew he had to stay sober to be better aware of his strength. Things had to be controlled and careful when it came to you.

He had to show you. He had to let you know. The life you were choosing was suicide. You needed something, somewhere to run to, and he could ensure your success and safety.

“Don't make me do this,”

His actions, his willingness betrayed all remorse in his tone.

“Seriously?”

His thumb was brought to a neighbouring finger,

Crack.

“Are you not scared?”

It was done with practiced ease. Force, applying force, hurt. Nothing he did proved to shake him much.

He then buried himself in the crook of your neck.

“Don’t worry. Hairline fractures don’t even show up on xrays,”

Fingers then intertwined with yours,

“Worst case scenario for this type of crack in your finger is just a slow recovery.”

His deep voice hoarse with need.

——-

He wanted to litter you with kisses, head to toe. He knew it wasn’t the time- he couldn’t, he wouldn’t. He would only love you if you let him.

Right now, he was teaching you a lesson.

He tried repeating to himself-

But with your hands intertwined, your fearful shaking, he couldn’t help but hesitate. He faltered and paused midway, stopped himself for a moment and practically melted into you, your neck- breathing against your skin. Feeling your hands intertwined with his. His heartbeat was so loud, he wondered if you could hear it.

*I can’t do this,*

He wasn’t sure what he was even thinking. Was he hesitant about hurting you, or loving you? Did he falter at the idea of stopping, or was he thinking twice about continuing? He never did mind playing the bad cop. So why this, why now?

He then decided,

“Don’t stress about being out of a job. With money, you’ll have as much as you need.” He began,

“Im getting you out of here, whether you like it or not.” Voice low, breathy.

“I’ll go out with you,”

——-

He wanted a deal. It suddenly hit you,

It was all a deal. Your love and support for his protection.

A deal. If reason would work, you’d take it.

Crazy. This man wanted to negotiate love. A total stranger. He wanted to protect you, and broke two of your fingers.

It was humiliating. Things were bad enough for you as they were, and apparently a life with him was what he found to be a good trade-in for what you had now.

Not getting with him was as good as suicide? Getting with him was as good as suicide,

Voice cutting through the tension like ice, you continued,

“You want me?” You breathed, tentatively.

He nodded yes, speechless and gagged- still and unmoving, he remained at the crook of your neck.

“Can you do one more thing, then?

I wont be happy. I’d be miserable. Here, we’re miserable but together. We’re all we have,

If you want my love, you need to win it. My protection won’t win you any favor or value to me. My love can only be bought if you can save my sisters, I will forever hate you if you use your power to save me but not my loved ones.”

“You’re asking for a lot,” he murmured. “What you offered doesn't even mean anything in the first place,” you muttered- “Either this, or-“ “Leave it. Consider it done.”

“God, I love a selfless woman,” He hugged you, pressing small kisses at your neck, “Hunters have a big wallet and deep pockets. Whatever you want and more, I’ll make sure of it.”

The sound of your partner opening the door to their studio was just loud enough for you to hear, pressed up against the wall. You brought your hand, previously pressed firm unto the wall in pain, to rest against his- it fell weak and melted into his grasp, limp and tired from the abuse of two broken bones.

“Not gonna knock on the wall?”

Ah, so he knew.

“This is fine,” You murmured- the pain in your fingers now a dull ache.

“C-“ The words barely left his mouth- voice soft and small, he pressed himself into you, needy, “Can you kiss me?”

He had nestled his nose in your neck, as if hiding his face from you.

His heartbeat drummed itself unto your chest, as he unconsciously squeezed at your hand- the sharp pain shooting down your arm.

#n/sfw #yandere hxh #yandere hunterxhunter #morel x reader #non-con #morel mackernasy x reader

[no-saints-around-here]

Panty Sniffing HCs

Yandere TR Boys

Masterlist

‎‎

tw: nsfw, panty sniffing, mild exhibitionism, spanking, edging, fingering, dead dove do not eat

Mikey and Kazutora would outright demand you handover your used underwear as soon as you make to take them off, be it whether you were just changing out after school or going for a shower. Doesn't matter what they were doing or which part of the house they had been lounging in, you can be sure this boy appears right on time in order to ask you to hand them over, clutching on to you and kicking up a fuss if you refuse. Will throw a tantrum (or just start straight up crying and accusing you of not loving him in Kazutora's case) even if there are other guests around, so you better give in before someone else comes looking for the source of the noise. Immediately gets to work burying their noses into your soiled panties, really getting as good a sniff as he can, but you still don't get to leave to do whatever - if they are already smelling your dirty panties, then the inevitable fucking would follow soon. Mikey and Kazutora will bend you over and proceed to fuck you with their noses still on the crotch of your panties, but instead of finishing inside you like they usually do, will pull out to jizz all over your underwear. Very proud of their work too, will insist on showing it to you and making sure you acknowledge how much they came when they were done before finally letting you leave. But of course these boys do not wash your used underwear before returning them - now that they've came all over it, its too icky for them to handle, and these boys would just drop it in your laundry basket for you to settle.

Izana wouldn't bother with asking or demanding, just wordlessly flips up your skirt and pulls down your underwear whenever his little heart (or rather his cock, the real brains) desires. Luckily for you, this boy at least has the courtesy not to do it anywhere too public - still jealous enough that he doesn't want to share with others what only he is allowed to see and touch. Checks to see if your underwear is already dirty enough for his liking; and if it isn't, will pull it back up, wrap one arm around your waist, and start rubbing your clit through your panties and teasing you by dipping his fingers into your little cunt to get you wet and dripping, whispering dirty talk into your ear while you cross your fingers that no one was going to walk in on the two of you. Soiling your underwear around Izana isn't a choice - if he wants it dirty, he'll do it himself. When he is finally satisfied with how drenched the cotton pressed against your crotch was (you lost count of how many times you came), this boy will once more pull your panties off you and this time keeps them for himself, leaving you to go without any underwear for the rest of the day. Would press the soft cotton stained with your sweet nectar to his nose later on at night, but wouldn't bother doing it privately - if you're awake and watching, then you're awake and watching him jerk off and cumming into your panties, before he tosses your now-used underwear aside for you to pick up and wash later, and pulls you into his lap for a quick bounce on his cock to finish up before bed. This time he finishes inside you.

Kakucho and Rindo on the other hand still have at least a morel of shame (or pride, in Rindo's case) left. These boys would never even dream of helping themselves to your used panties in front of you, let alone dare ask you directly for them (the horror, the shame!) no matter how badly they want it right now or how hard they are in their pants. Instead resorts to stealing your soiled underwear from your laundry basket after you have gone to bed for the night, having had to hungrily watch from a distance as you strip them off your glistening cunt before your shower, all the while pretending that they weren't interested and definitely weren't staring. Desperation who? Not these boys. Picks a private place to jerk off in even if you are already fast asleep, one hand eagerly yanking away inside of their boxers while the other holds the crotch of your underwear to their noses, your sweet smell locked away in the crotch of your panties helping to spur their imagination on what you taste and smell like between your legs. Kakucho and Rindo eventually cums into their own underwear, muffling themselves as best they can so that they don't wake you, but make sure to never dirty yours any further, since its easier for them to did wash their own clothes for them and toss your panties back into the laundry basket afterwards rather than risk being caught - it would be rather hard to lie if you asked them why your previous day's underwear was wet.

Taiju would make no secret of him going through the house's worth of dirty laundry to find a pair of your dirty panties since its not his first time anyway, but then proceed to push the blame on you when you catch him in the act after coming home early. Grabs you by your waist with one arm and easily carries you up to his room with a mind to punish you for tempting him into doing something as sinful and unholy as having to sniff your panties. Pulls you over his lap, flips up your skirt and starts spanking you, pinning you down to make sure you can't wriggle out while he rains his hand down on your butt, all the while preaching at you about sins and sinning. But most importantly, Taiju doesn't pull down your panties to spank you bare bottomed - occasionally stops to "give you a break", which means dipping two thick fingers down to your crotch and firmly pressing your panties against your pretty little pussy and clit to check and see if it was already drenched. When your bum is finally red enough and you are tearfully apologising for whatever it was you did, Taiju finally lets up on the spanking to instead switch to getting you as soaking as possible without giving you the relief of cumming, interchanging between massaging and pinching your clit and pumping his fingers into you. Makes you watch him slide off your panties and give it a good whiff, before wrapping the small piece of cotton around his dick and jerking off to completion right there and then, throwing the soiled underwear back at you when he was done cumming all over it and leaving.

Koko wouldn't hesitate to steal your used panties to sell to the highest bidder online, but insists that he only does it as a punishment when you behave in a way he doesn't like. Owns a range of various kinds of toys that he has collected and that he absolutely loves to use on you, which is why he cranks it up to 11 when you don't listen to him and try to venture out yourself. Strips you down to just your panties and socks and edges you repeatedly, with you tied firmly to the bed so that you can't escape from your punishment, carefully watching your face contort with pleasure and then falling with disappointment when he doesn't let you cum, all the while your pussy is drenched and drooling into your underwear non-stop. Will make sure you soil at least one of his favourite kind of panties (the cute white ones) for him to keep and sniff, before changing you out to those mildly fancy lacy ones that are much more sellable and having you soak those through. Makes you watch as he auctions off your dirty underwear to the crowds of wretched souls online, and all the while as the number goes up, Koko would be pressing his own favourite to his nose just out of your sight, taking in deep whiffs of your fresh scent and slowly rubbing himself. You don't get to cum, but doesn't mean he can't either, and he makes sure that you can hear him grunt and groan through the cloth of your soiled underwear until he finally cums all over you. Lets you cum later on only when the auction closes.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #yandere tokyo revengers #yandere tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x you #tokyorev x reader #tokyo rev smut #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x you #tokrev x reader #mikey x reader #izana x reader #taiju x reader #kokonoi x reader #kakucho x reader #rindou haitani x reader #rindou x reader #sano manjiro #kurokawa izana #taiju shiba #kazutora x reader

[stupid-sloot-headcanons]

Can I request for En, Shin and Kaiman from Dorohedoro with Pregnant Darling, pretty please?

En is over the moon that his Darling has a little spore on the way! He's got an heir now, and they're going to have the world on a string. He has so many potential names for them: Mycelia, Mycelios, Portabella, Chanterelle, Maitake, Enoki, Amanita, Morel, etc. He doesn't want his Darling to worry about anything. She isn't lifting a finger. For the next 9 months, his servants and employees and he personally are doing everything for her: shopping, dressing, bathing, etc. And regular doctor's checkups are a must, so En has housecalls so Darling doesn't have to leave the estate for too long. Obviously he lets them go outside, but if she wants to leave the house he has to have someone he trusts escorting her if he can't do it himself. He has too many enemies and business rivals who might try to hurt her and their child, and too many people would try to get to her and curry favor by taking too much of her time or try to manipulate her in her current state. Kikurage is constantly at her side and becomes protective of the baby, and loves resting on Darling's lap.

Shin is initially happy, but also worried. The world of sorcerors isn't safe, especially in his line of work. He's already a bit protective of his Darling, so that would get worse when she reveals she's pregnant. He takes her to every appointment when he can, and if he can't he has Noi escort her. He also (with some pleading/insisting/puppy eyes) is going to name Noi as one of his child's Mageparents--basically a godmother or godfather. Not only is it because he views her as family and trusts her, but because that means Noi's smoke will automatically be bound to his child's own magic. Her healing ability will be much more effective on his child in the (hopefully never-occurring) event they need it. He will NEVER let them go into Hole if they show signs of magical abilities. He has nightmares after they're born of the Militia killing his Darling and their child just like what happened to his parents, and he never wants them to be put in harm's way. And if they don't show signs, he'll do everything he can to make sure they aren't bullied or discriminated against--and he'll kill anyone who dares to think of using them as a Guinea Pig.

Kaiman is SO happy! His first response is to pick Darling up and spin her around in a hug, but then he suddenly changes and slowly sets them down. Wait...so...that doesn't mean the baby is gonna have a head like his, right? What if it does? He constantly tears up his pillow and has even accidentally scratched Darling a few times in his sleep; he can't bear to think about that happening to his Darling's...insides! So his primary concern is making sure they have a perfectly normal, healthy, human-shaped head. His next concern is whether or not a pregnant lady can eat gyoza, because if she can't, then he's not gonna eat them either out of solidarity. If Darling has to suffer, so will he!

He's a pretty chill yandere that only goes nuts if his Darling's in danger, so he's happy to tell anyone and everyone that she's pregnant. Unlike En, he doesn't really feel the need to keep her from going anywhere...still, he might try to talk them into letting him or Nikaido come with, or he'll just secretly follow them if she says no. It's the Hole, after all, and it's a dangerous place! He takes her to the hospital at the slightest issue. Baby started kicking? Morning sickness? Darling said her back aches a little? He's carrying her all the way there. He even paid for an old rickshaw from a pawn broker so he could pull her there. And every time, he gets told that these things are perfectly normal symptoms of a pregnancy. Eventually he gets handed a list of things he SHOULD bring her there for so he isn't hauling her there every day.

#.drhdr #.en #.shin #.kaiman #yandere drhdr #yandere en #yandere shin #yandere kaiman #thots #fem darling #tw: pregnancy

[a-coolusername]

Rules and Request info

Hello everyone! Welcome to my page, this post is just to establish my rules and some of the things I write for so please read this before requesting because I will not do a request if it proves u didn’t read the rules

-Rules-

No smut! I'm a minor plus i'm just not comfortable writing that.

Please don’t spam or request the same request multiple times! One time is enough, just give me time or see if your request broke any rules.

i would prefer if you don't send in pregnancy asks, i just have a big pregnancy phobia

No hate, homophobia, transphobia, ableism, racism, sexism,etc.

no self-harm, suicide, eating disorders, and everything in that area, im not gonna trigger people just for a stupid request.

I do not do ocs or characterxcharacter ships, i only do x reader 

Please specify what pronouns you would like, if you don't the reader will automatically be gender neutral. 

I will do platonic and romantic relationships, fluff, angst, poly, just no smut

yandere stuff is okay but im not gonna go too dark

no describing the readers looks (ex: asking for a reader with brown hair and blue eyes)

I might do AUs? probably just soulmate AUs but im not sure.

I do take constructive criticism and if u would like to point out any errors i've made pls do, just be respectful!

No big age gap relationships, thats just kinda weird to me

-Request info/stuff i write for-

Hunterxhunter- finished

Characters-

main 4- Gon/Killua/Leorio/Kurapika

phantom troupe-Chrollo/Feitan/Machi/Phinks/Shizuku/Shalnark/Uvogin/Pakunoda/Nobunaga/Kortopi/Franklin/Bonolenov(honestly don't know much about those 3)/Hisoka/Illumi(not troupe members ik just convenient)

Greed island arc- Bisky/Razor(don't rlly remember anymore characters from this arc ngl)

Chimera ant arc- Kite/Colt/Meruem/Neferpitou/Shaiapouf/Menthuthuyoupi(hesitant bc i can't remember a thing about him)/Cheetu/Palm/Meleoron(again don't remember much)/Morel/Knuckle/shoot/knov

extras!- Ging/Silva/Kikyo(maybe)/Wing/Mito(yes.)/Pokkle/Ponzu

I probably forgot some people so if you'd like me to add anyone pls let me know and I might do so, I'll probably also update this again so just keep checking in from time to time. Requets are open but im not writing rn because ive been vv busy lately but i will post soon!

#rules #requests

[amyrosabell333]

Writer's note✒️

Hello and welcome to my fanfic journey 😅 I always wanted to write fanfics of my own and now I'm feeling confident to do so but I'm still kind of new on writing fanfics and still got a lot to learn about it still, but my whole goal here is to work hard on my fanfics and to improve my writings is the future.

About the writer's info ✏️

•My name is Amy and I go by she/her pronouns 🌷💖

•I'm a ENFJ and I'm pansexual I'm also diagnosed with autisim 😅

•My age is 18 I'm a February aquarius  ♒

What I will write 📝

• The reader I will mostly be gender neutral but I might change the reader's gender in some fics probably.

• I mostly read a lot of Yandere x Reader fanfiction so this is mostly a Yandere fanfic blog, but on rare occasions, I might be writing a normal character x Reader fic probably 😅

• I will always put trigger warnings like angst, NSFW, or anything extreme like that

• I might make unique platonic Yandere fics like yandere parent x child reader, yandere sibling x Reader, and in other platonic Yandere fanfics ways instead of romantic Yandere fics

•I also might make a yandere x tsundere reader or any type of yandere x dere reader, fanfic I can or might write about

What I don't write about 📝

• Character x Character Not experience with them honestly 😅

• Adult character x child reader/pedophile is discussing and shameful

• Real people

Fandoms I am in and What I might write about ✒️

• The Sims 4

• Morel Orel

• Death note

• Puss in Boots : The Last Wish

• You're turn to die

• Countryhumans

• Jack Stuber's character Mirror man from Opal

• Wadanohara and the great blue sea

• Welcome Home

• Skyrim The Elder Scrolls V

• Hazbin hotel

• The Lorax

#fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic writer #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere fanfic #yandere fanfiction #yandere fanfic writer #yandere fanfictions #beginner writer #beginner fanfic writer

[space-cowboy25]

Names Brutus. I do writing and shit.

I do not write for females or straight relationships! No offense of course but there’s just not nearly enough fanfics for us fruity pebbles gang over here!

Fandoms I will write for:

TF2

Morel Orel

South Park

Madness combat

Stardew vally

Adventure time

Things I will do

Nearly anything

Things I will not do

Anything piss or shit related

Rape/non con

Stalky/yandere shit

Underage stuff

Incest

Have fun! Go wild with the asks I don’t discriminate!

[uvobreakmylegs]

So sorry you aren’t feeling well! Here are some of my own thoughts about diff Yandere taking care of a sick lil darling…I hope you feel better! I’m so sorry if this violates any rules <3

Feitan is the worst, just, not really getting it and why you need anything except a blanket or oatmeal…He thinks it’s cute but he stays away even more because he thinks you’ll start screaming or something if he makes you angry

Paku obviously treats you like royalty, Obviously wants to give you even MORE that normal. She thinks you’ll die if you move a muscle for anything that isn’t the bathroom or to stretch

Chrollo isn’t…terrible..per se, He’s still annoying but he will let you have whatever you need! As much as he loves irritating his darling he still has some semblance of care so he hops to it and gets you some basic stuff, he may let you get pretty much anything as long as you say it nicely

Uvo might not believe you at first, He thinks it’s a plot to get away from him for a moment since he can get clingy but once you start crying or throwing up or even having trouble doing things he’s immediately sitting you down on the couch near the tv with as many blankets as he can find. He might almost behead you throwing a carton of ice cream at you

Shalnark has been watching you since the moment you woke up, he knows you’re sick, he will have the stuff ready when he gets back later that day with no explanation. It’s creepy but appreciate the effort of him Atleast getting you some of those pastries from grocery stores! He could be worse :)

I really do hope you feel better, Periods are the worst! Being sick on top of that doesn’t sound very fun to say the least. Drink lots of water!

Aahhhhh thank you! I'm doing a lot better! And this doesn't violate any rules at all! I really appreciate that you sent this in❤️

Throwing in the other PT yanderes for fun since you inspired me:

Machi is at the ready with various medicines if you should need them, and she'll check in on you frequently and sit with you if that's what you want. Her only downside is that her bedside manner is a little rough around the edges

You're in pretty good hands with Phinks. He might hover a bit too much, but he's a good cook and he'll know what foods to give you that won't upset your stomach

Franklin and Bonolenov aren't terrible, but if your illness is bad enough they'd probably call up one of the troupe (Machi) to ask for advice. Franklin is ordering out foods that are safe for you to eat since he can't cook for shit and doesn't want to make your illness worse

Shizuku is good at taking care of you, but if your illness is one that's contagious, she ends up sick just as you get better on account of how often she cuddled with you during the time you were bedridden

As for Nobunaga and Hisoka...... Don't get sick around either of them. They're bad at taking care of other people and things will get worse before they get better

Bonus yanderes:

Razor and Morel have similar methods of keeping an eye on you when you're sick by way of leaving one of their nen beasts behind with you. Razor has Number Zero stay with you and Morel uses Deep Purple to form a soldier to look over you. In both situations it's good for you since you have help if you need it and if anything goes really wrong, both Razor and Morel will know immediately and can get back to you as soon as possible

(thank you again for your nice message!❤️❤️❤️)

#hxh x reader #yandere x reader #tht0nesimp

[eldritch-spouse]

Now I want something. I want admin to spank Morell.

I know a regular piglet wouldn't even make him flinch BUT ADMIN, Admin is enhanced with Krulu's strength. So Admin could make Morell moan for sure.

[Fem reader.]

TW: Dubious consent to no consent; Abusive spanking; Blood; Humiliation; Physical and mental abuse.

You're not sure why your Lord approved of this idea so readily.

You wouldn't even call it a proper punishment plan for Morell's latest minor infraction, it was more of a vaguely intrusive thought that surfaced in your mind. To bend the large, proud monster over your knee and have him lose some of that attitude.

Krulu immediately gave you the greenlight to do it, with some manner of glee even, somewhere between genuine anticipation and humor.

You've come to learn your higher seems to sometimes prefer humiliating punishments over the physically painful ones. It leaves a much bigger imprint on the soul than the marring of flesh, he tells you.

Who are you to question his absolute wisdom?

Besides, it'd be lying to say that you aren't looking forward to Morell's reaction. For as rowdy and assertive as he can be with his coworkers, the chef has always had immense respect for you, being one of the first to pipe down and get in line with new directives or goals. It's something you admire in him.

So, surely, he's not going to flip out now is he?

The kitchen is quiet. Sterilized even. You had the bobbles take care of it before leaving. Part of you considered doing this in the warehouse, in front of the pigs he'll have to look in the eyes when the time to slaughter them comes. But that's already too much sadism for a slap on the wrist measure, isn't it?

No. You'll do it in the kitchen, a much more intimate environment.

Sitting on one of the restaurant chairs you dragged inside, you're roughly in the center of the large room itself, next to the main chopping block, legs crossed. Sharpened eyes study the previous work of the bobbles under Morell's hold. His training is efficient, you'll give him that.

It's taking him a while to come back in. Fact of the matter is he's not even in this floor, most likely. That's part of the problem, how often he's leaving the restaurant for extended periods of time. A frown slowly graces your features, nails tapping rhythmically on the iron legs of the chair. Tsk tsk.

You're considering additional punishment methods for his extended work post abandonment when the telltale squeak of boots on tiles hits your ears. He's in a hurry.

The kitchen doors blast open, Morell puffs with physical exertion and looks scratched in several areas, bits of... Gravel? Rock? Cling to his arms and apron, which he dusts off rapidly, opening his mouth to presumably start barking orders at his team of workers, except- He finally gathers enough wit to notice his actual surroundings.

Squinting, frowning, then finally spotting you. There's a short, vapid blink before he reacts.

" M- Admin, miss! " The shroom greets, nodding respectably before quickly closing the doors behind his large figure.

The monster looks aggravated, guilty. He obviously knows you'd never like seeing him deviating during work hours. You're willing to bet he's gulping behind that thick pink scarf. Morell scratches at his forearm and impulsively keeps dusting himself off, waiting. " Can I get'cha anythin' ta eat? "

" Morell. " You smile, sarcasm all but dripping off your words. " Pleasure seeing you here, for once. "

The mushrooms monster's hands rise immediately in a sort of placation attempt almost unbecoming of his large stature. " Ah know- I know it looks bad, miss, but it ain't like ah'm leavin' the floor ta screw 'round- "

" Did I ask for excuses? " You cut in.

Morell pipes down instantly. " No ma'am, ah'm sorry. "

And this is why he stands out to you. His obedience to authority figures. Morell has always been the kind of monster man who doesn't just bend for others at a whim. He's a stubborn bull of a guy, and all that's missing are the horns to furnish him. When with his coworkers, the shroom is rough and brutish, shooting them down the moment they attempt to mess with him, getting loud, in their faces, threatening them whenever they think they know better. When you first hired the chef, you wee already counting on having to use a sterner hand to keep him in line, and yet, since the very first day, he's regarded you with a courtesy and level of respect that's almost strikingly out of character compared to other sides of him.

Krulu shared this initial wonder too, finding it amusing that the shroom adapted extremely quickly to the roles he should play before you and your Lord. He knows better than to oppose you, sides with you, is very cooperative and available. Commendable qualities.

" I've always liked that about you. "

" ... Beg pardon? "

" How polite you are, without even having to be taught better. " Something you can't say for all.

In spite of the flattery, the chef doesn't relax. " Thank you, ma'am. "

Funnily enough, his accent sometimes takes a backseat in these moments too. Maybe because he's trying to speak like you? You could pick him apart all day, honestly.

" I don't want your apologies, I want you to know your punishment. "

He looks like he wants to desperately say something. Explain the situation, say that he's not at fault, that it can't be helped. You have an inkling of an idea of what might be wrong, more gargoyle shenanigans. Morell looks into your challenging hues and nods, bitterly swallowing any words. Fear flashes briefly in that dark canvas of a face.

It's not often he misbehaves enough to warrant punishments. The most he tends to get is a slap on the wrist for playing too much with the slaughter piglets.

" Of course, ma'am... "

Good boy.

" You're having issues dealing with the gargoyles again. "

Morell nods, hands over his chest and fingers tapping his elbows, the subject very quickly drawing a furious grimace from him.

" They're breaking in and taking meats, finished orders, body parts, sometimes even bobbles. "

Another nod.

" I would be angry too. But you know what I wouldn't do, Morell? Take it upon myself to go out there and hunt them down, when there's already someone who can do that, employed in these very grounds. "

The tapping turns into a tight grip.

" Why not come to Belo about this? A power such as him, who has wings to pursue them with flight, who holds a weapon capable of obliterating them with little effort, whose job is precisely to maintain order here. "

" Buh-! "

" Hush. " Your warning is heeded. " Don't step outside your role, Morell. Perhaps you have the strength to take one or two down, but your effectiveness lies here, in the restaurant. That- " You motion past the kitchen doors. " Does not concern you. "

He sighs quietly, rolling his shoulders. " You're right, ma'am. "

" Good. I'm glad we could get on the same page. " You grin, uncrossing your legs and patting a stocking clad thigh. " Now, for your punishment this time, I want you to bend over my knees. "

Oh. This is precious.

At first, the cook makes a face like he's certain he didn't really hear right, giving himself a few seconds to see if he can decipher what you really must have said. And then, slowly, it starts to sink in, the realization isn't the only thing that sinks however, that expression falling into a somber and wide-eyed look, questioning you. Wounded even.

And hat's how you know it's going to be effective.

" Ah... Come again? "

Oh, the hopelessness.

" You heard me, Morell. " There's no doubt he did.

Another few stunted seconds pass where he seems to be mourning his dignity, presumably. Your eyes glint with cruel anticipation.

" ... Do I hav'ta, miss? "

So polite. Adorable, even. He's smart enough to understand he doesn't really have a choice, somewhere between bargaining and pleading.

Suffocating the urge to giggle and kick your legs, you offer Morell an almost mocking solemn nod, as if it pained you too to be doing this. An open palm claps gently in your thigh, hurrying him.

The chef's face scrunches again, and if the skin directly under his cap weren't so dark, you would probably be able to spot the stress creases forming on his forehead. He shuts his eyes and takes a silent deep breath, reaching back to undo his apron. Morell takes his sweet time getting ready, and because he's been obedient thus far, you allow him those precious moments of peace. The desperation is such so that he even takes the time to fold his dirtied butcher's apron.

Finally, wearing only pants and boots, the monster stands before you, defeated before you've laid but a single finger upon him. Brilliant work.

" Knee. " You insist.

Slightly luminescent eyes scroll from his own massive figure to your much smaller one. " Ma'am... Ain't it gonna hurt? "

He knows better. He's seen better. The force and resilience bestowed upon you by your Lord knows hardly a limit. Morell could throw himself onto you, where as a normal human's bones would creak and shatter, you'd merely wonder how to best castigate him.

" I don't stutter, Morell. "

Boy, does that get him moving.

Somewhat awkwardly, the cook sinks to his knees. If his peculiar skin allowed it, you know he'd be covered in goosebumps when he angles himself across your legs. A tremor wracks his body, though you're quick to lower a hand on his broad back, encouraging the shroom to let his weight settle on your thighs.

A few seconds pass in that stillness. That delicious silence, the walls dripping anticipation and Morell radiating a level of mortification that has the spectator behind your eyes grinning with glee.

And then, as if gouging the right moment to lunge, you yank his pants and underwear down. The way Morell jumps could almost be compared to a frightened cat's leap, a tremor followed by this choked noise of embarrassment that all his coworkers would surely mock him over for eternity. The chef's rump perfectly fits his worked physique, yet there's an unmistakable softness there, an appealing shape, something Santi has openly admired before- To his own detriment, as such was quickly followed by a wooden spoon to the top of his head.

It's a nice ass, you'll admit. Shame he doesn't let anyone touch it.

Snickering at his panic, you soothingly rub a hand over his backside, feeling the give of his bizarre anatomy. Shroom monsters don't have the same type of skeletal structure humans do, their bodies are spongier in nature, yet by no means does that mean they're less sturdy. Humming peacefully, you take the time to squeeze over the spots that cover his blue hide, fondling the grown monster currently surrendered to you in thought.

Your forearm begins to sprout blackened veins, lovingly possessive growths that curl over your limb and encompass it, appropriate it. In a matter of seconds, Lord Krulu has transformed your hand into one of his, dark and deftly long fingers furnished with the claws of an apex predator. You raise it in the air with nothing but pride and adoration.

And oh, if Morell had any hope that your spankings would be tame, then it'd be a compliment to call him a fool.

Because when that same hand crashes down, the muted force of your god thunders across his entire body.

And he squeals.

Nicely done.

Both of you freeze. Your hand doesn't sting minimally, but the imprint immediately left on Morell's asscheek is a testament to the level of strength that was so effortlessly doled out.

No one moves for a second, the shock of that bizarre bleat being processed. You'd never guess a sizable monster like Morell could make such a noise, like a confused animal in pain.

The grin that crawls up your cheeks is sickening.

" What was that, Mori? Did one of your pigs escape? "

He's panting, quietly, but not subtly enough to miss.

" ... No. "

" No? "

" N-No miss. "

You snicker. " Alright, must have been my imagination. "

A tune is hummed serenely when your hand rises off his already overheated flesh, and the way the chef sucks in a desperate lungful of air is as riveting as it gets. But like Hell you'll give him the privilege of certainty, lowering said palm again with a deceitful gentleness, petting him, resting.

The next whack has spittle flying past grit teeth. He muffles part of the humiliating noise, at the cost of drooling on himself like a beast. Morell shivers atop you like a stuttering car engine. Krulu laughs.

" Honestly, I'm almost sad to be bruising a rump this pretty, Morell... " You muse, watching his cerulean hue steadily bleed into navy bruises that muddle his naturally glowing spots. " But it does make for an interesting sight. "

He stays quiet, and, in retaliation, you let that very same hand wander a little. Krulu's features recede to allow your human softness to brush over his skin, moving between the chef's legs. Instantly, there's a sudden tension in his entire body, more so than when he feared the spanking, and although you only teasingly feather over his asshole, Morell squirms in endless discomfort as if you had stuck pins and needles on him. Pressure against his perineum rips a grunt out of him, though reaching past the butcher's balls reveals the expected, he's entirely limp.

Something easily fixed.

" Part your legs a little. "

The shroom monster gulps, voice only a tad hoarse. " Admin, miss... "

Be it with the sharpest claws or bluntest nails, most men don't enjoy having their family jewels crushed. " Part. Your. Legs. "

He does, arms flexing in suffering until you relent. You don't need to warn him not to make you repeat yourself again. His reward is a much softer grasp around his manhood. And, with no pain to distract him, it's easy to get Morell to twitch in response, even if his fear is still palpable.

You stroke him until he hardens in your hand, something easy to achieve considering this sick fuck loves making his terrified little piggies worship his cock before he guts them into a dish. There's nothing like a human's touch to many of the workers here, and he's no exception. You can't help lick your lips when he starts silently rocking the slightest amount into your motions, soft sighs leaving his slowly relaxing form. Goading him further into this state of mindless pleasure, you offer him slightly faster friction, until he's properly bucking into your hand, ruffling groans of enjoyment.

He could never have spotted the spare arm sprouting from your back, could never see its dark length extend in the air-

Before it slammed down with enough force to rattle the skeleton out of anyone.

" HHHRK- "

You laugh, loud and jovial, this childish cackle ringing through the kitchen at your Master's impatient and cruel swat. Poor little Morell jolts and groans openly, the growing wave of pleasure interrupted and now intermingled with shock. His confused mind struggles to process the difference between pleasure and pain, lumping both together in a way that has him throbbing.

He seems to still at his own body's response.

Perfection.

You don't cease pumping his cock when the third arm lifts again, forcing the chef to experience both extremes of sensation when he's spanked again. He spasms uselessly, you bet his eyes are bulging by now.

Time to force him to think.

Whack

" What area of The Clergy's Eye have you been assigned to? "

" Tha- Kitchen! " He struggles, huffing.

Whack

" Where shall you stay when working then? "

More confused twitching in your hand. " Kh- Kitchen! "

SMACK

" Are you going to leave it again to do things that don't concern your station? "

" NnNO! "

The pace of your hand quickens, yet so does the your Master's rightful penance. Morell's bruised, indigo-tinted behind starts blooming into shades of abused purple. Tattoos of Krulu's divine hand furnish it nicely. You have no doubt this monster will sleep on his stomach for the following week.

Thwack thwack THWACK

" Will I have to do this again, Morell? "

He sobs, a real ugly sob that he quickly tries to suck back in, making you swiftly lean down to spot... Ah, the first few tears falling on the tiles. Good.

" No- No please- " And yet he still leaks precum like a faucet. What's going through that head right now?

Pleasure, pain, fear, regret, shame that reaches the skies.

Your Lord generously offers.

" You learn fast, I'm sure I won't have to discipline you again, right? "

The chef shakes like a leaf, yet there's no denying he's close to orgasm. His legs flex from more than just pain now. " Y- Yes, ma'am! "

CRACK

" Though I'd say you're enjoying it if I didn't know better. "

He makes a sound somewhere between a whine and a blubbered wail. " No- 'M not, please- " It's the most pathetic thing you've ever heard coming from him.

" Mhm, okay then, I believe you. "

The next set of unrelenting spanks makes even you cringe, Krulu's force jostling not just the fully grown monster but yourself as well. It's actually a little exciting to witness. Spots where Krulu's claws intentionally caught onto the tender flesh turn into depraved welts, droplets of blood flying out with each merciless motion, spraying the snow-tiled ground and even yourself.

Morell screams, wails, shrieks like his arms are getting ripped out their sockets. It's a symphony of panicking pain that hardly lets him breathe in between each tormenting snap and quick pump. He makes the mistake of sucking too much air into his lungs at a time, then starts coughing and hiccupping hopelessly.

The moment your Lord halts is when your fervent motions take the stage, and Morell, tortured, oversensitive and disoriented, lasts less than five seconds before throbbing hard and shooting ropes all over your fingers. You pump his cock throughout the entire orgasm, milking it, making a mess that you then wipe on the inside of his thigh, letting his cum-soaked length rest.

Another pause stretches for a long few moments where everyone is winding down. And, as adrenaline seeps out the mushroom monster's pores, he breaks.

Totally limp upon you, Morell attempts to fruitlessly hide his face behind broad arms while his sniffling and gasping escalates into the most defeated, utterly humiliated sobbing there is. He struggles with breathing properly, scratching his own throat as tears splatter steadily on the ground, keening whines bubbling out of the still shaking man. In his despair, he tries to huddle closer to you, tries to fold himself into a ball even with your legs in the way.

You don't know if it's your Lord's enjoyment or your own, but the view sends a pulse of arousal straight up your cunt, cheeks heating.

" There there... " You murmur, rubbing a comparatively cool hand around the edges of his punished skin. The way he tenses and tries to push his sobbing behind a tightened jaw is adorable. " It's all over now. "

The trembling doesn't stop, but the butcher manages to quiet his own wailing within a few minutes. Tears still drip onto the ground.

A few taps get him to move off your legs, but Morell quickly finds out changing positions is torturous, sharp burning stings eliciting choked grunts and heaves from the monster. He settles, embarrassingly, for laying almost on his stomach, prostrated before you on the ground.

Grinning, so wet you can feel your panties soaking, you push the chair away and sit on the ground next to the recovering monster, pulling his face onto your lap and petting that large cap of his.

Morell chokes, clinging onto your clothes. You didn't think he'd break this hard, but it's a lovely reaction.

" 'M sorry... 'M-... Sorry... "

And, as you study his sorry state, you can't help but smile warmly. Bruised ass darker than night, blood still spilling, half-hard cum-coated dick out, arms and face wet with tears, grasping onto you for dear life...

You wouldn't mind doing this more often.

#Morell oc #mellsfern #terato #monsterfucker #terato tag #yandere monster #yandere teratophilia #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #monster x human #not sfw #minors dni

[halt-kun]

Hunter x Hunter Chapter 206 - A real Fight

Well I’ve been on a roll for the past few days so let’s add another chapter to today

FINALLY READY

and with one day more than what Biscuit expected

TRUE ART

FLEE DOGOOOOOS

that’s a big aura

OOOO back to the chimeras nest ?

Kite is there looking ominous

are we supposed to think he’s been brought back by Pitou ?

Well, actually we’re back to Gon

so the 2011 anime did add some flavor to Youpi’s birth !

It’s a nice scene 

Anyway beginning with a roast is a bit boastful Gon

VERY COOL PANEL

LET’S GOOOOOOOOOO

Nice aura Gon

Knuckle dashes forward

he seems a bit cautious

Gon’s fast, I tend to forget that but Knuckle isn’t slow either

those panels are very dynamic

I really enjoy reading Togashi’s fight because they’re so easy to read

The panels and their transitions are cool and clear

OOF

different flavors of teleporting behind you

STRONK

Gon managed to guard it’s cool

but yeah injuring an enhancer like that when you’re a conjurer is quite a feat

well he’s also just bigger with more muscles because he’s older

but still quite a feat

The ants are scared

and we’re going to wait for the kids to end their fight, 

A good choice considering they’re one day away from the deadline

Especially if the ants are going to stay holed up for a whole week

gather your strengths and your reinforcements

Morel, stop being bitchy

Never understood that tendency to enjoy playing big

Wait we don’t get Knov’s bet ?????

he bet on all of them guyyyyys

Anyway the ants

Three royal guards, 14 squadron leaders, one queen left

OH YAY

that scene

Netero is looking very decrepit here

if there is one trop of dere I don’t like it’s the yandere, like I’ve had enough psychopatic stalker girls, I need other kind of psychopath or evil girls

And not always focused on a guy please

XOXO

the grandmas

I’m going to do some rooibos right now

have fun guys and gals and theypals !

#hxh c206 #hxh manga #hxh liveblog

[unnamed-blob]

One way, or another, I'm gonna get ya (2)

⇢ Pairing: Ghostface/Meg Thomas

⇢ Length: Multi-chapter

⇢ A/N: We break our regulalry scheduled angst for a small bite of fluff in between murder trials. This was meant to be part 1.5 but it ran away from me- Unfortunately, no Ghostface here, but enjoy some survivor bonding <3

Meg’s back slammed into the ground, limbs splayed out as she laid haphazardly across the dirt, trying to catch her breath as the familiar sight of the grey, cloudy sky filled her vision. 

“Someone finally decided to join us”, a teasing voice drifted from behind. Meg startled upwards, whirling around to stare wide eyed at the three figures settled on the felled logs closest to the campfire. She blinked, her heart finally slowing as she released a breath, propping herself up on her hands. The redhead tensed suddenly, swiveling her head to carefully scan her surroundings, shoulders hitching up anxiously.

Thankfully the other survivors were either absent, off in their own trials or further away, likely gathered at another campfire as dim laughter echoed through the empty woods. Meg slowly pulled herself up, stumbling slightly, trying to balance on unsteady feet as her eyes lingered on each darkened corner.

She snapped abruptly at each rustle in the edge of her vision, spinning around to the dark dredges of an empty forest. A shiver crept up her spine as the soft caress of an artificial wind felt too akin to fingers upon her neck, a mouth crowding her space, stealing her air. 

“I have no clue how you made it alive out of that one,” Jake continued from behind. Meg flinched at the reminder of the others nearby, spinning back around. The male continued to leisurely prod at the glowing embers, shifting the burning logs as they popped and crackled. His gaze followed the trailing cinders that floated upwards, before focusing back on her, leaning back as he gestured with his stick. “Ghostface was on our ass the entire time. Overkill on the kills by the way. Tryhard.” 

He threw the stick over his shoulder, dusting the lingering dirt off of his hands as he added lowly, “No clue what his deal was, anyway.”

Dwight nodded from his position across from Jake, reaching up with a grimace to rub at his neck. He cleared his throat, coughing into his fist. “Yeah, that definitely, um.. wasn’t the best round. Good job on outrunning him.”

Meg stiffened. She hadn’t.

Ghostface had frozen suddenly, pausing his torment on her to tilt his head, as though he were trying to listen for something. When she’d strained her ears in turn, the only things she’d been able to hear were her own jackhammering heart and panicked breaths. 

He’d sighed, planting a final, teasing kiss on the corner of her lips as he pulled away, shifting his mask back on properly while his thumb brushed over her lips, keeping her pinned to the ground.

“Duty calls,” he’d teased, easily hoisting her up while Meg remained limp, exhausted from remaining tense the entire ordeal, mind spun in circles at his abstract actions. He’d leaned in to give her a final peck through the mask and a teasing warning that drifted past Meg’s ears before he’d dropped her through the hatch.

Dwight glanced back at her when Meg gave no response, eyes widening as they darted close to her head, stiffening. “I- um- Meg, uh-.” He ducked his head back down, scuffing his shoes on the ground as he nervously rubbed the back of his neck, staring intensely at the flames at his feet. 

“You’re uh- hair’s different! Not that it's bad though! Just uh- y’know, new. Haven’t really seen that on you before.” He forced out a chuckle that fell flat, deflating into himself as the other two took notice to his words, gazes darting up to Meg.

The runner slowly lifted her hands, reaching upwards to feel the loose strands that flowed past her shoulders, curling around her face. 

Right. Ghostface had.. snapped her hair bands as well.

She gave a stiff jerk of a nod in acknowledgement, gathering the strands in a low ponytail, dependent on muscle memory as her hands trembled. As she was suddenly back on the ground when he’d let her hair loose. Had twirled the strands around his finger, had threaded his hands through her hair, had gathered a loose fistfull to guide her head to the side, then leaned in to-

“Meg?” Claudette’s soft voice interrupted. Meg held back a flinch, blinking back into awareness. Her gaze darted about, nerves settling as she reminded herself she was in the survivor camp, in the only safe zone within this entire damned place, away, with her friends. Her view settled on Claudette, perched on a log, leaning towards her. The dark skinned female’s brows creased further with apparent worry at Meg’s answering silence. 

The runner was more than aware she was acting strangely. More than aware she should be darting over to her friends, should be collapsing over one of them as she complained about the trial, as the unfortunate victim would laugh and try to shove her off. Should be walking around them to burn off her remaining steam after her constant running, should be making jokes and biting remarks with Jake, grinning at the taunts they jabbed at the killers. 

She just- she shuffled uncomfortably, releasing her hair to have an excuse to gather it again, pretending to focus her full attention on the task. 

How was she supposed to pretend everything was normal after- well- that? Much less- how was she supposed to admit it to her friends, open her mouth and let the words spill of what had actually happened at the end of the trial.

Meg hardly believed herself, she didn’t expect them to as well. 

She opened her mouth, searching for an excuse, that her bands had just snapped on their own. Bad quality, y’know? She’d find a replacement, maybe she’d ask- Claudette’s panicked gasp slammed into her like a freight train. 

The runner whirled around, feet scrambling back. Poised to dart from dark, gloved hands reaching from the darkness, frantically scanning for the white mask, the concealed robes-

Claudette was at her side before Meg could even flinch, a hand gently shifting her hair to the side. The taller female froze at the gentle touch as the botanist’s other hand tilted her head further to the side, nimble fingers lightly prodding at the skin. Meg forced herself loose, tilted herself lower for easier reach despite how her nerves lashed out, how all she could feel were gloved hands and a grinning mouth-

She forced a breath in until her chest hurt, then shoved it out. This was Claudette. This was her friend. Everything was alright. She was fine.

“There's a wound on your neck,” Claudette admitted in a low, worried tone. The two nearby males straightened at her words, remaining in their spots but obviously tense, itching to stand, watching the pair with attentive eyes. Meg was appreciative they were willing to give her space, she wouldn't have been able to handle being crowded by four worried survivors at the moment. 

She slowly reached up, feeling the area Claudette was eyeing, jolting slightly as she brushed over a tender spot.

Right.

That. 

It was-.. he’d-..

In short, Ghostface had done more than just-.. pin her down and pressed featherlight kisses to her face. She’d been startled when he’d abruptly licked a long strip up her neck, reveling in her flinch and renewed clawing against the ground, leaning lower, lower, low, hot breath ghosting over her wet skin before-

Meg gently grasped Claudette’s hands, bringing them down to clasp in one of hers as she fixed her hair with the other, shifting the red strands to completely conceal her neck. She patted her hair down before she grasped Claudette’s hands in each of her own, squeezing in reassurance as she forced a shaky grin on her face, hoping her hands weren't trembling.

The botanist frowned up at her, unhappy with Meg’s decision as the taller led the two of them back to the campfire, waving the other two tense survivors to sit down. They remained half sitting, half standing until Meg settled next to Jake, pulling the shorter female to sit down next to her. 

“I’m alright“, she soothed, grinning at each of them with far more confidence than she felt, nodding for them to settle down. Jake and Dwight complied hesitantly, casting glances at each other before the former plopped down first, (indiscreetly) shifting closer to press his leg against hers.

Meg relaxed at the familiar motion, physically loosening as she snorted in amusement, ignoring the creeping smile on Jake’s face as the air settled into something familiar, more akin to the typical atmosphere after a trial. He turned to Dwight, striking up some loud, nonsensical argument in the background as Claudette tugged at her arm, pulling Meg closer to her to glance her over for any blemishes.

“Are you ok?” She whispered between the two of them, eyes darting to Meg’s concealed neck before she jerked her gaze away, tilting her arms to check for unnatural wounds on the underside. The runner blinked, allowing the silence to stretch on, to settle her jagged thoughts into something sensical, logical, rounded. 

Maybe she’d made up the entire encounter, that’d certainly be more likely.

Meg hummed, tilting sideways as she curled her arm around Claudette, plopping her chin atop her head while she dimly watched the boys argue; Dwight sputtering with obvious, factual points while Jake gestured in wild movements, hammering in something completely untrue.

The flames from the campfire darted in her direction, heat washing over her skin as Meg finally allowed her eyes to droop shut. Fatigue washed over her like a wave, darting into the space her paranoia had held in a tight grip. 

“I am now,” she murmured into Claudette’s hair, barely twitching as her friend grasped her hand in both of her own, squeezing in comfort. 

Ghostface couldn’t get here.

The trials were a different matter but-

.. She’d figure it out, someway. She’d be fine

#ghostmeg #dbd #male yandere #yandere ghostface #slasher x final girl #comfort/mild hurt #dead by daylight #dbd writing #dbd fanfic #meg thomas #slashers #slashers writing #slashers fanfic #killer x survivor #yandere scenarios #jake park #claudette morel #dwight fairfield

[the-murder-shack]

master-list | internet horror

(key...)   gender neutral--1 | they/them--2 | he/him--3 | romantic--4 | platonic--5 | familial--6 | enemies--7 | fluff--8 | angst--9 | smut--10 | horror--11 | gore--12 | yandere--13 | imagine--14 | headcanons--15

DEAD BY  DAYLIGHT:

trapper...|

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hillbilly...|

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doctor...|

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plague...|

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ghost face...|

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oni...|

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blight...|

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twins...|

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knight...|

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skull merchant...|

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meg thomas...|

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claudette morel...|

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ace visconti...|

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feng min...|

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david king...|

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kate denson...|

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adam francis...|

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jane romero...|

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yui kimura...|

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felix richter...|

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yun-jin lee...|

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mikaela reid...|

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jonah vasquez...|

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vittorio toscano...|

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the entity...|

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CRYPT TV:

look-see...| 

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eva...|

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catherine...|

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colossus...|

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jacquelyn torne...|

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mira...|

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shelly carter...|

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soot...|

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WELCOME HOME:

wally darling...|

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julie joyful...|

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sally starlet...|

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poppy partridge...|

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eddie dear...|

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howdy pillar...|

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barnaby b. beagle...|

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home...|

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KILLER FREQUENCY:

forest nash...|

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peggy weaver...|

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john hedges...|

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leslie...|

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sandra...|

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maurice...|

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plunker...|

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murphy...|

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carrie...|

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jimmy...|

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roller ricky...|

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marie campbell...|

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henry barrow...|

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[eldritch-spouse]

Hi Pinnie! Chopping block anon here again! Could we fill this prompt with Santi or Ludwig? I'm banging my head on the nearest wall, I can't choose. Honestly, I know I'll love whatever you end up writing. 😍

How would any of the TCE gang react to finding the object of their obsession (that they'd been actively trying to keep away from the Clergy) on Morrel's chopping block? :o

[Ludwig isn't really a current part of TCE, so I'm going with good old Santi. Also, I feel that this isn't where you wanted it to go, but I got a few thoughts along the way. Fem reader.]

TW: Nonconsensual hypnotism; Implied nonconsensual sharing.

He knew something was up when you didn't so much as answer a morning text.

You need time alone. All humans do. He thought he would too when he would occasionally -Very rarely- Humor the thought of a relationship. But something didn't sit right with Santi when hours passed and you gave him nothing, absolute radio silence- When you're usually so talkative, even in your moodiest days, you'll at least bother to call him a pervert.

The incubus supposes he ought to keep himself busy for a bit before persisting again. He knows he's... A little too eager for contact, and that can naturally irk you. Maybe one day of relative silence might make you trust him more.

The demon has been making the rounds through most of The Clergy's floor for the entire night, restless in his pursuit of clientele, in a desperate effort to get his mind off you. Really, Santi has made more than enough money to honestly call it a day- The crowds are well-entertained and buzzing with a healthy amount of titillation, all is well.

Except he's not quite satisfied. He's in a foul mood honestly. Sometimes it would show on his sculped features as he pleasured those keening beneath him, nothing he couldn't wave aside or fluster out of their minds if they did notice.

He can't quite tell what brings him to the restaurant. Sure, he loves the dirty little thrill of sliding his hand down the table cloth and making someone loll their tongue out with pleasure while they pretend to eat, but most people here don't really have their minds on sex. They're harder catches, essentially.

And yet, when Santi passes by the main kitchen doors, a sound makes him halt. Not just any sound, a squeal. That by itself is no motive to stall, the incubus is well aware Morell loves his job, loves butchering, that he often takes the time to play with his food

-Like the dirty little fuck he is, sticking his fingers everywhere and bending helpless humans onto his cock, like toys, like fuckmeat. A depraved lunatic, pleasant company in Santi's opinion-

But, for some reason, the incubus is sure he recognizes that squeal from somewhere. It could be mere witless paranoia, but the echo of it in his mind doesn't let his feet unroot from their spot, so he figures he might as well check for himself. A dark hand knocks playfully on the heavy kitchen doors, receiving no immediate reply.

" Morell? " He tries.

There's some shuffling, then an eventual. " ... 'M busy! "

Yeah, "busy". Maybe balls deep in one of them already.

" Oh I'll be quick, dear- Just one peek, yes? "

More shifting and another stressed noise he could swear sounds a little too familiar, rubs him the wrong way, before something that sounds a lot like "piss off" gets mumbled back to him.

Typical.

That's why Santi only sighs before parting said doors and quietly weaseling inside.

The bobbles racing around only wave at him before buzzing around in their tasks, giving the demon a decent berth and easily circumventing him. As usual, they're completely unbothered by what their boss is up to.

The salacious, mischievous expression the incubus used in preparation to excuse himself to the chef dies as soon as his eyes scroll up to the chopping table.

Now is the time to pat himself in the back for listening to his gut, because none other than you, his darling minx, lie sprawled on that metal rectangle, like no more than a slab of meat. Your top has been torn off, pieces of it messily fashioned into a blindfold and gag. Morell stands with one hand on your thigh and the other tight around the handle of his cleaver.

Something inside him boils hotter than the rifts of Wrath. By the way you struggle in your binds, it's more than clear you're not enjoying a second of it, and Santi almost wants to believe Morell didn't intentionally seek you out. He's never been that nefarious, that putrid. To provoke the demon he works with.

He couldn't. Not when Santi never even introduced you to his coworkers. They only know your first name and vague descriptions of your face, your hair... That's not enough for someone he works with to miraculously hunt you down.

" Tha Hell did ah say?! Ya- "

" Where did you get that one? "

Santi almost doesn't recognize his own tone, and apparently, it gives the shroom monster pause too. Morell notices something's amiss, he's clever enough to notice the tense state the concubus is in, eyes glowing brighter at each passing second, deceptively still, one wrong answer away from perhaps impulsively starting a fight.

Morell looks at the human woman on his table, then back to Santi. " ... Tha fuck are ya on 'bout? "

" Where. Did you get that one? "

The chef's hand moves to your bare stomach, keeping you from squirming off the cold surface easily while he shifts to face his coworker better.

" Tha usual, Santi. I ain't been havin' time ta hunt 'em on mah own. " He shrugs. " Suppliers. "

The demon continues to glare at the blue monster for a long pause, finding no hint of a lie on those odd eyes. Only confusion and the remnants of exhilaration from what he was previously up to. This calms Santi a great deal. It was just a freak accident, yes? He let his favorite fox run a little too close to home, and she got snatched up... The incubus doesn't even want to think about what would happen if he hadn't come here in this exact nick of time.

Was it a silent nudge from Krulu? No. No, of course not, that's laughable- The lord of this pit spares no empathy for frivolities like their workers' love lives. Still, some unknowable force capable of penetrating the fog of this Clergy steered him well tonight.

Had this been no one of interest, the incubus would have still mauled the perpetrator to a pulp, if only just to prove a point. Or to thrill himself a little. But this is different. Very different. He can make the most out of it if he plays his cards right.

Santi shakes his head, then advances on the pair, unbothered by Morell's defensive puffing.

" You ought to start checking your stock more thoroughly. And not just their orifices. " He teases.

There's an eye roll. " Oh, tha's real fuckin' rich comin' from ya. "

He knows.

Nevertheless, Santi only smiles a little before hooking his claws into the waistband of your pants, grabbing your panties as well, before quickly pulling the fabric down. The newly revealed skin bares a jet black mark that is, by now, unmistakable to anyone who works with Santi. A concubus mark. His mark, elegantly claiming your most intimate parts for himself.

His claws tap idly on the meat of your hips as he watches the chef's face freeze, eyes widening.

" This one belongs to me. "

Silence. You wriggle and sob behind the gag.

" Shit. "

" Yeah. "

" I thought ah... Checked that one. "

The cook looks torn. There's some manner of guilt and cringing written on that darkened complexion, he clearly doesn't intend to continue this, but there's also some selfish sort of turmoil in his body language. As if he's upset he started the process and is now going to have a "pig" taken from his hands.

Santi's smile turns into a disgusting grin when a lightbulb casts complete depravity into his mind's eye. Your mark starts glowing, heating, and your struggling is rapidly paused. Morell squints.

" Hm, but what were you up to just now? "

The shroom hesitates, making some manner of motion with his dominant hand, which clutches his favored piece of sharp equipment.

Santi clicks this tongue. " Nice try. Before that. "

You start wriggling beneath the bigger monster's palm. It's no longer the jerking of a panicked figure trying desperately to escape, but a restless sort of agony. Morell's fuse lights up under the perceived scrutiny.

" Where tha fuck are ya goin' with this?! "

Santi arches a brow.

A quick glance flickers over your form. Today has been exceedingly traumatizing for you, the demon doesn't need to be in your shoes to know that. No one makes it out of Morell's kitchen, and if they do, they'll never be the same. You don't belong in The Clergy, not yet at least, and Santi knows that even with your currently arousal-fried brain, you're going to remember the events of today for the rest of your life- Something he can't allow to happen.

Fortunately, he knows someone who can just... Eat this unfortunate day out of your long term memory.

And, since you're not going to recall a lick of it, why not make this interesting?

What you don't know can't hurt you.

The incubus hums a wordless tune, pulling your remaining clothes down your legs, an easy task, your overheated body yearns to bare itself, he barely has to do anything. Once you're bare, Santi moves to the other side of the table, where your head rests, and starts undoing your blindfold.

Morell grumbles something incomprehensible and he snorts.

" Relax. Why would I stop you from pleasuring my minx? " Santi all but purrs.

" Yer real fuckin' weird. " Morell offers after an incredulous pause. " This ain't rubbin' ya tha wrong way? "

" Oh this is rubbing me all sorts of ways, Mori. "

" Gross- "

" You're hard. " The chef's protests are swiftly silenced. " I can't blame you. She's irresistible, isn't she? "

Morell crosses spotted arms over his chest and casts his eyes away. " She's uh... She's real purtty. "

That's one way to put it.

Santi chuckles when the torn cloth comes off, revealing a flustered, disoriented face. Your eyes glaze deliciously, pupils dilated in want as they surf between him and the blue monster, the mark's hunger going full throttle on your poor organism. The magic of a high-ranker is one Hell of a drug, isn't it? You make a desperate, muffled noise.

" There there, I'm here. You'll be taken care of soon. " He lulls, voice dipping in pitch just to make you shiver. Your head is lovingly raised so you can properly view the other. " That there is my friend. You wouldn't mind playing with him a bit, would you, love? "

Predictably, you nod enthusiastically, going as far as to part your legs in your stupor. Slick gathers excessively on your already stimulated pussy.

" Go on, Morell. "

Said monster gulps behind his thick scarf, drool clinging to his teeth at the lurid encouragement of his fiendish coworker, his fingers already itching to reach out and do as he pleases.

" Show us what you do with your piggies. "

#Santi oc #Morell oc #yandere monster #yandere teratophilia