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eaterofman · 8 months

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Stuck in The Dark Alone... or Not. (Monster x F!Human) 1.8k

An unlucky adventurer, you find yourself once again the victim of fate as you become locked in a dungeon room... with something else inside.

Content warning: Dub-con bordering strongly on non-con, non-con touching, mentions of death (but no actual character death), overstimulation, yandere monster.

This was supposed to be a quick first foray into writing on tumblr... and ended up being an almost 2k long beast. Oops.

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'Another adventure gone wrong'

You find yourself thinking, head leaning against the cold, stone wall as you gaze into the darkness. The room was rather small, but spacious enough that the candle you had lit did not light up the entire room, causing shadows to gather at the far corners of the room. Finding the candles had been your only stroke of luck today, without it, you'd be trapped in complete darkness.

'When I manage to get out-'

You stop yourself in your thoughts, as the very real possibility that this is where your journey ends sinks into you. You had already exhausted yourself looking for a lever, a button, a switch, any possible escape from this dungeon trap. The walls, while craggy with the ancient stone they were made of, were completely barren of any and all features. You'd been tempted by the chest on the far side of the room. Looking back, you should've known better. Too obvious, too perfectly placed... but that didn't matter now. Nothing really mattered now. You doubt that the small party you had been adventuring with would even notice your disappearance. You were just another temporary member in yet another party. Your unlucky nature, your tendency to seem to just fall right into traps, made you an undesirable companion. This hadn't been your first, second, or even third party, but it may very well be your last. The chest hadn't even had anything in it, clearly a set up by the people who had built this place hundreds of years ago.

Your stomach grumbling distracts you from your spiraling thoughts. Thankfully, you had been carrying your pack with you when you walked into the trap. Within it, you estimated that you had a few weeks of food and water, enchanted to stay fresh longer. Aside from that, you had your sword, shield, and a few other miscellaneous trinkets you had picked up on your adventures. You dug around inside, pulling out a piece of bread and a piece of smoked meat.

Tearing into your small meal, you almost don't notice the movement in the dark corner of the room. It's the slightest shift of a shadow, you'd think it was just a flicker of the candlelight... but it seemed different, somehow. Intentional. You startle, moving to pick up your sword. You stand up, sword in hand, a slight tremor in your body.

You never had been very good at fighting.

Your specialties had always leaned more towards enchantment, healing, and potion making. A good skill to have, but not the most useful when adventuring alone... or trapped alone in a room with something more than likely very undead, and not very friendly. You steady yourself, a single undead or ghoul you could handle. You'd fought many on the way deeper into the dungeon.

As you stare at the wall, minutes pass by... and nothing happens. As time passes by, and the sound of your own breathing begins to wear on you, you find yourself relaxing. Maybe it had just been a figment of your imagination. An attempt at a panicked, overstimulated brain attempting to distract itself. Still weary, you fall back onto the floor, eyes still locked onto the dark edges of the room.

‘... had they gotten darker?’

You brush off the thought, there was no way. The enchantment you had cast onto the candles should keep the candles lit for weeks. You remember the fear you felt as you had fumbled around in the dark, until you’d quite literally fallen right on top of the candles in the corner of the room. They sat on one of the strange, short stone pillars that decorated the room, the only things in the room besides the chest. It seemed like there may be more candles in the other corners, but you can barely make out the vague outlines of the other pillars from where you are, let alone whether they had more candles. You’d go over to check, but you can’t help but feel an echo of the fear you’d felt early when you were completely submerged in the dark when you consider traversing it again.

It had almost been like there was… something in there with you. You were not a stranger to darkness, an adventurer who goes into as many dungeons as you’ve been into learns to get over their fear of the dark rather quickly. There was something… different about the shadows here. A sort of dreadful feeling like they were staring back at you, waiting for you to make a move.

You shudder, trying to expel the thoughts in your mind as weariness pulls at your eyes. You were not only mentally exhausted, but your body was sore and tired from a week’s worth of adventuring, fighting, and your frantic searching for a way out earlier. You close your eyes, despite your instincts telling you not to, and lean against the stone pillar hosting your only lightsource. As your eyes close, you make out the faint details of hundreds of inhuman arms carved into the stone, branching up towards the top of the pillar, seeming to grasp desperately at the sun imprinted at the very top of the pillar.

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You awake from a dreamless slumber to the ever so faint sound of whispers. You jolt awake, a small ounce of hope welling inside you that your party had come to save you, only to be met with an empty room. The same empty room as you’d fallen asleep too except-

Your heart races.

The shadows were so, so much closer than they should be.

You couldn’t even make out the vague pillars in the other corners of the room anymore. You had maybe enough room to stretch your legs out now. You spare a panicked glance to the candles, wondering if maybe you’d screwed up again, been unlucky enough to mess up an otherwise easy enchantment on your only source of light… but the candle is still as tall as it was when you closed your eyes. There had been no mistake in your enchantment, you realize as dread takes hold of you.

The light wasn’t getting weaker… the shadows were getting stronger.

You feel a sob rise out of your chest. You really were shit out of luck. Everything you’d done in life, culminating in getting trapped in a small, cold room in a dungeon, abandoned by your party and left to the whims of whatever the fuck was in the room with you.

You yank your foot back with a scream, startled by what felt like fingers dragging across the sole of your adventure-worn sandals. You curl your limbs up to your body, getting as small as possible as the darkness continues to approach you. You don’t even bother with your sword, instead grabbing your shield and cowering behind it. You doubt whatever was in the dark could be hit with the basic, cheap steel sword you’d bought for 2 gold from a small town blacksmith. Your shitty luck had not made getting gold, or stumbling upon legendary weapons, as easy for you as it seemed to be for other adventurers. But that didn’t matter now, whatever was surrounding you was closing in fast… and it had obviously lost its patience. You try to steady yourself, holding onto your shield tighter as the shadows close in one you. Any moment now, they’d be-

And just like that, the darkness engulfs you.

You sobbed, shaking so hard your shield rattles against the stone floor. For a moment, the only sound in the room is the shaking of your shield and your frantic breaths. Until the thing speaks.

“It’s been….. so long… since we’ve…..”

You freeze in fear, as a thousand voices seem to echo around you, somehow both a whisper and deafeningly loud at the same time. You can’t seem to concentrate on any one voice, the voices sounding both masculine and feminine, shy and bold, warm and cold, and all variations therein. It’s both the most soothing thing you’ve ever heard, and the most unnerving.

You whimper as what seems to be a hand strokes your arm, trying to pull away from the touch. You don’t get very far, as what seems like dozens of other arms join the first in exploring your body. The touch everywhere, some weak, like a faint whisper on your skin, while others roughly pinch and pull at you without any care of their claws scratching you. You cry out as they start to wander closer to between your legs. Your shield is jerked out of your grasp and lands with a clang somewhere in the dark. As one particularly bold one slides against your crotch, the voices continue.

“... had someone to play with.”

You try to get up, to move away, but you only run into more hands, grasping you firmly to keep you in place. They begin to tear at your leather armor, the clawed hands surging underneath to stroke at your bare skin. The pressure between your legs grows stronger as more hands join the first bold one. You can’t help the gasp that escapes you as they descend on your pussy. Surprisingly warm fingers circle your clit while others begin to pry you open. Your fear turns to confusion and arousal as the hands work you over, never staying in one place for long enough to get used to the sensation.

Your experience before this would be considered limited at best, so there was nothing to prepare you for the feeling of dozens, maybe hundreds, or even thousands of hands caressing, pinching, and prodding at you. You're lost in overstimulation as you quickly reach your peak, much too fast, crashing over you as you scream. The hands work you through it, never letting up on your clit, continuing to shove desperately into your pussy as you shake around them… and they don’t let up afterwards either. They’re relentless.

How many fingers are inside you? You can’t focus enough to count as they continue to mercilessly finger you to another climax. More fingers impatiently push into your mouth, prying your mouth open for them to explore. Your sounds are muffled as fingers play with your tongue, rub against your teeth, and choke you until saliva is running down your chin into the valley of your breasts. Your chest is squeezed and kneaded, saliva rubbed into your skin and nipples by yet another set of hands.

Your eyes roll back into your head as you reach your peak again.. how many has that been? How many more will there be? Your thoughts begin to slip as you’re ruthlessly overstimulated. Voices follow you as you begin to black out.

“We are going… to take such good care of you.”

#monster fucker #shadow monster #yandere monster #yandere teratophilia #hand monster #that's such a stupid tag but idk how to explain the monster lmao #monster x reader #reader insert #minors dni

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ozzgin · 1 month

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Yandere! House Monster x Reader

Listen, I woke up in cold sweat at 4am with a vision: you and your stereotypically unavailable gamer boyfriend have moved into a new house. You find out very soon it's not as empty as you had assumed, but your worries fall on deaf ears. The tentacle monster lurking in dark corners just wants to make sure you're not lonely.

[Second Part]

Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance (mildly NSFW)

You didn't notice anything strange at first. Maybe it was considering its prey. You'd found a cheap, old house available for rent, and your boyfriend couldn't refuse the extra space for his mancave.

Oh, you poor thing. It watched your lonely evenings, your empty bed at night, your futile attempts to spend more time with your beloved partner. It had originally planned to devour your souls and await the next foolish mortals to enter its realm, but seeing your pitiful state prompted a change of heart. Metaphorical heart, of course.

It started gradually: testing the waters, or what you'd call a courting attempt. Doors opening by themselves, disembodied eyes lovingly gazing at you from the nearby walls. Dark tendrils making their way out of the shadows, just to announce its presence.

"I think this place might be cursed", you told your boyfriend one evening. "I've been stalked by amorphous silhouettes of blight and terror, and they whisper ancient blasphemies to me at night." He let out a worried shout and slapped the desk. "That's cool, babe. I'm kind of losing right now, though, so perhaps give me a minute?"

One night you were awakened from your slumber by a warm touch sliding across your body. You smiled into your pillow as the cheeky hands made their way down, fondling your curves and hungrily searching for your sensitive areas. You let out a soft moan, enjoying the moment, until you heard your boyfriend yell from the other room. Your eyes shot open.

The hands lewdly groping your privates were, in fact, tentacles. Your first reaction was to gasp, but you were quickly silenced by another slippery appendage pressing against your lips. Shh, shh. Allow the creature to do its thing, dear. Surely enough, within minutes you were a drooling mess, holding onto the sheets for dear life.

"You've been in a good mood lately", you boyfriend remarks, idly scrolling on his phone and crunching on his breakfast cereal. You ponder if you should tell him you've been fucked relentlessly by a monstrous creature inhabiting your new home. You glance at the counter and smirk, remembering how you just had to wipe your wet mess from it a few hours ago. "Keep it that way, hun, I could get used to not being pestered every hour", the man jokes with a laugh.

Does it count as cheating if your affair partner isn't really human? Although, you have to wonder if you're still dating to begin with. From the corner of your eye, you can discern faint movement above the young man, a shadow looming menacingly. The eldritch monster would not hesitate to tear your poor boyfriend apart if he tried to mess with its belonging.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere monster #yandere monster x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #monster x reader #monster x human #monster boyfriend #tentacle monster #monster smut #terato #teratophillia #monster fucker

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yandere-writer-momo · 13 days

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Yandere Short Stories:

Knight in Shining Armor

Yandere Monster Knight x Princess Reader

TW: delusional Yandere, Yandere behavior, kidnapping (mentioned), etc.

Ajax had always been princess (your name)’s confidant and source of solace… so why did he have her cornered on the bed of the inn? His large, muscular frame towered over her as his body trembled.

“I can’t do it… I can’t let you marry some other man.” Ajax whispered, his metal mask hiding his expression. There was no doubt in (your name)’s mind that he was shaken up about something. She had no clue why he’d be so upset about her getting married…

“Ajax, it was bound to happen eventually. It’s my duty as the kingdom’s princess-“ (your name) gasped when he closed the distance between them. Ajax’s large palms pulled her into a tight hug. The force of the hug caused them both to land on the small bed with a soft plop.

“Ajax-“ Ajax placed a finger on (your name)’s lips to pause her words.

“I won’t allow it… I won’t allow some other man to sully you.” Ajax’s deep voice made her body anxiously shake. “Not when I’ve wanted you for so many years…”

“Ajax-“ (your name)’s eyes widened when he finally removed the mask that’s concealed his face for over a decade. Ajax was half orc? (Your name) hadn’t a clue and she had been with him for so many years…

“I’m half monster, I thought you knew.” Ajax chuckled as his crimson eyes flitted over (Your name)’s frozen form. She was now a helpless lamb trapped in the maw of the wolf. “It’s why the other knights have been so cruel to me… why the maids avoid me like the plague and your father wanted to send me to war.”

(Your name)’s eyes can only take on his scarred and burned face in shock. Why was half the skin on his mouth missing and his tusks filed down? Who had hurt him so much that he didn’t confide in her, his best friend? What atrocities had he faced while she remained none the wiser?

(Your name) were shocked when he bent down to show you his teeth. His tusks were clumsily filed down to almost look like teeth but they were still rather sharp. “I did the tusk work, but they grow back rather quickly. The skin on my face is still healing from when there was an assassination attempt on you from your future husband’s concubines. Bastard was going to pour acid on your face.”

(Your name) reached up to trace the scars on his face while Ajax gave her a soft smile. “Ajax…”

“You’re the only one who’s never treated me like a monster… you’re so wonderful and kind.” Ajax moved his large, gloved hands to hold her hands. “That old king doesn’t deserve you. No one does!”

(Your name) blushed when Ajax brought her hands up to his lips to press tender kisses over each of her knuckles. Despite how badly Ajax wished to ravish her, he must keep his composure.

“You took this amount of damage for me?” (Your name)’s voice was barely above a whisper, yet it made Ajax melt into a puddle.

“Of course I did. I will do anything for you.” Ajax moved himself to crouch on the corner of the bed, his head in a slight bow. Yet (your name) could feel the burning obsessed behind his crimson gaze. “I am in love with you. Madly, deeply, entirely devoted to you and only you.”

Ajax grasped (your name)’s bare foot and brought it up to his mouth to press tender kisses across the top of it. “I will love you until my skin rots off my body and I am nothing but bones. Yet even death could not separate me from you for I will be in every corner of your life like a permanent shadow of protection. I will protect you with my entire being and soul. I will haunt and dismember your enemies if you so much as give them a glance of distaste.”

(Your name) felt her blood run cold when Jax gave her a bright grin that reopened a few of the stitches across his cheeks. The blood dripped down his face and onto her foot, but he merely lapped it up with his longer tongue. “Now tell me… is what I feel not love? I may not be a handsome prince but I swear I’m your knight in shining armor.”

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yanderenightmare · 5 months

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TW: NSFW, yandere, monster au, orc x elf!reader, huge size difference

fem reader

Orc Master – who makes his pretty collared elf-pet lick and kiss his heavy balls because his cock won’t fit in her mouth…

They’re the size of grapefruits – bigger than your tits, nearly bigger than your head, and you can only suck a small spot at a time – smacking off the warm weights with a lewd pop before suckling another place just shy of it.

He strokes his cock above you – pearls of pre, more like marbles, trickle down the spine of it before dripping onto your face and chest.

His other hand cradles the entirety of your skull, holding a fat thumb on your brow – angling your head to look past the thick structure shadowing you up into his hooded eyes filled with carnal heat, leering at your pretty face smothered in his sack, begging for what’s kept inside them, warm and ready to flood your guts and breed you full.

His brawny legs are taller than you as you kneel between them – feeling like a beggar praying to a god. His foot, larger than your leg – and his big toe, the size of your fist. Making the whole ground shake when he stomps it down next to you – wordlessly encouraging you to be more eager.

He's always glossy with old and new sweat – layered thickly and sticky on his tough skin, along with red and brown flecks of blood and mud – highlighting every fat muscle as though carved in metal. Broad shoulders swole with brute strength – even his neck is buff with it, thicker than your thighs – looking proud and toppling as he looms above you.

His words are few but weighty, grunting out, “Tongue.” Appeased when you listen and stick the pink thing inside his dickhole. Endearment in his voice, purring out “good bitch…” and softly calling you his “tiny elf-whore,” while petting your hair – steering your little head up and down his tall shaft, letting your mouth catch all the spilled mess frothing from his leaky tip.

The muscles in his thighs flex while you suck along his thick veins, pulsing where they fork along the tall tower. You have to gulp when you think about how massive it is – you can’t even reach around it when using both your hands – and you have no sound understanding of how it even fits inside you at all.

When he sucks your tits, he’ll take half of them inside his warm mouth – nomming on them while he stretches your hole with one finger after the other.

His digits are the size of a male elf’s manhood – you can’t reach fully around one with your hand – and he’s got three of them pumping your tiny elven cunt – prepping you for his much meatier orc-cock.

You’re held easily on his lap, seated sideways and pretty. His drool runs down your chest and belly, and you’re soaked in your own sweat after cumming for the umpteenth time. Still, you squirm when he finally dabs your puffy cunt with the sturdy meat. When it stands between your thighs, the plush cockhead reaches high enough to get cozy between your breasts, and you can already feel it punching your ribs and rearranging your organs.

You always break, trying to fling yourself off and run away despite the collar sitting around your throat with a chain trail leading to the bed.

You’re never able to get out of his grip anyway. He pulls your hair back, making your head hang backward, chest arched up – it’s an awful position, leaving you no option but to thrash – unable to see what’s going on or how to prepare for it.

He picks up your thigh and holds you up in the air by it alone, using you like a ragdoll as he spreads you wide. Huffing out impatient grunts at the numerous failed attempts of pressing his raging cock-head inside you, always slipping through your slit and rubbing off on your clit. He grows angry rather quickly, growling until your hole finally gets sloppy enough to allow the very tip to find footing – just enough to let him knead the entire bulb inside you and slowly sink inch after fat inch all the way up until you choke on it.

Stuffed so fair-tight with a big bulge in your poor belly. You squeeze on it with a cry – your whole body reacting to it, contorting while it settles deep within you. Knees lifting and bending with thighs winding shut, curled toes, and fingers making tight fists.

He’s kind enough to let you roost on it for a bit before moving.

Standing up, he lays your back against the plush bed, still warm from where he’d just been sitting – and wraps a hand around both your ankles, holding them up – placing the other on the dome of your ass, hooking a thumb over your hipbone.

Most of you is still in the air – making so much blood pool in your head. Going dizzy and breathless once he sets the pace, dragging himself out of your tight walls – beyond content feeling your tight cunt squeeze on him as though begging him to stay inside.

You make the cutest sounds – makes his balls clamp up as they swing and softly clap against your back while he slowly lolls his entire length back inside your warmth.

Once your hole surrenders more to his size, he’ll lay your legs to rest against his chest and mirror the placement of his other hand – both now grabbing each of your buttcheeks – starting to fuck your womb tightly.

He loves elven pussy – especially yours – so sweet and juicy, cumming on him every few minutes – milking him for his cream.

You get a fever once he finally cums – pumping it all inside you, unloading for a full minute or two, leaving you gasping and panting with broken moans cut with cries – feeling it seep out around the edges of where he has you stuffed, running down your ass and spine, dribbling down his balls and hitting the floor in fat drops that give a sounding thud.

He waits until his cock is sluggish before sloshing out.

Everything is a sticky mess, but he cares little for cleaning up – staggering over the bed and immediately falling into a snoring sleep with you tucked under his heavy arm.

After all, he has to make sure everyone knows who you belong to – not only by keeping you collared with his crest but by making sure you smell ripely so – scented from head to toe with his jizz and urine.

BNHA – Enji, Bakugou, Kirishima, Deku, Muscular, Gigantomachia

JJK – Toji, Sukuna, Nanami, Kenjaku

AOT – Erwin, Reiner, Zeke

HxH – Uvogin

#nightmare rambles #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere smut #yancore

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merakiui · 2 months

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タコの花嫁。

yandere!azul ashengrotto x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, non-con, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, arranged marriage, oviposition, breeding, royalty au note - in an effort to bring peace to two warring sides, you are engaged to the sea queen’s son.

If anyone is to blame for the abysmal diplomacy between the Land and the Sea, it would be your ancestors. Pompous and foolhardy, they thought they could rule the grand seas stretching out from the harbor, beyond weather-worn docks with their rotted, seaweed-strewn planks and briny fetor. The ocean was vast, unexplored territory—a dangerous, deceptive beauty harboring life far beneath unruly waves.

And your ancestors intended to claim it.

Sailors would recount tales of fishfolk—uncanny creatures who looked more marine than the two-legged mammals of the land. They’d raise mugs, each overflowing with ale, in drunken merriment, terrifying themselves with the mysteries of the deep, dark sea.

“It ought to give ya a proper scare straight to Davy Jones himself!” they’d say, voices lowered conspiratorially. “Soon as yer candle goes out and all ya’ve got’s the moon to guide ya… You’ll hear ’em slip through the water if yer listenin’ well enough.”

“You ever go and spy one up close?”

“I’d sooner see the Devil himself and let him keelhaul me before facin’ those cursed beasts!”

“The cut of their jib ain’t so pretty. Enough to give men like us a fright and we’ve seen all sorts of somethin’.”

“Monsters, I say! Monsters!”

Festivals were held to keep these beasts at bay—to prevent them from gathering the courage to creep up onto the land. Every year, during the summer solstice, pits were hollowed on the shore and bordered with stones. Flames licked towards the sky, red-orange fingers clawing for purchase amidst the stars above. Townsfolk would sing and dance late into the eve, bellowing songs passed through the generations. Children would skip up and down the beach, torches in hand, and cry out an old chant: “Fish for you and me are meant to stay in the sea! Should you see one on land, may the Heavens strike it down with a gentle, loving hand!”

Their excitement did well to ward off the fishfolk. Sometimes the lone child would spot one in the distance, peeking out from between the rocks before diving back under in a splash.

On land, humans were safe. On land, the fishfolk couldn’t catch them.

It was different in the sea.

Ships were destroyed in terrible tempests. The waves tossed them around as if they were nothing. Many sailors would find their demise at the bottom of the ocean, torn to shreds with shattered skeletons. Viscerally brutalized, they died with secrets on their tongues—secrets of the strange fishfolk who’d drag them down, down, down to a watery grave.

On one cold February afternoon, the octopus prince was brought into the world. In shadowed fathoms, a grand celebration was held. After so much time—misfortune after misfortune—one fry survived out of the entire clutch. He was round and soft and small, colored blue from exertion and fighting through the tug of the current to reach home. The Sea Queen met him halfway and embraced him, ecstatic tears in her eyes, for a mother’s love is stronger than any political power.

“My little Azul,” she said, stroking a hand along his cheek, “how precious you are.”

No ships were sunk; no lives were lost. It was a peaceful day for both the Land and the Sea. And it would continue to be so in the future. Every year on that same February, it was made a day of peace to honor the little prince.

A day of life, not death.

It was on that same February eleven years later when you were tossed into the frigid depths like a hatchling cast out of its nest. Similarly, your birth had been a wondrous occasion. Your parents brought five boys into the world, each just as adored as the last, but they had been hoping for a daughter. It was a miracle when their fervent wishes were finally granted. You were spoiled as all daughters often are, pampered and doted on by your family and the palace staff.

Your brothers, though protective and caring, were a troublesome and rowdy bunch. Kyffin was the eldest. Two years younger was Emyr, and another two years behind him was Owin. A year younger than him were twins Morcan and Martyn. They picked on you as all immature boys often do when caught up in sibling rivalries, aiming to be the only one their parents see. To prove themselves as the best, the strongest, the wisest.

So it was with a half-cruel heart that Emyr tossed you into the waves from where he stood in the rowboat.

“Only way to learn is with exposure!” he called down to you, watching as you struggled against the push and pull of the sea.

“C-Can’t!” you shouted back, choking on salt and flailing about. “E-Emyr, I can’t—can’t swim!”

“Don’t be silly,” Owin added with a sweet smile. “It’s how we learned. That old sod threw us right in. You’re lucky it’s us and not him. He was awfully mean with it, wasn’t he?”

“Terribly so.” Emyr watched your struggling a moment longer and clicked his tongue. He held the oar out just before you could slip under, and you clung to it with shaky hands. “Come on—let’s get you up here. You’re not gonna get it today.”

“Fin got it on his first try.”

“Fin gets everything on his first bloody try.”

Relieved, your heart pounding like a drum, you peered up at your brothers. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get it…”

“Nothing to apologize for. You’ll get it one day.”

“We’ll keep trying until then. And once you do, we’ll throw you a big party.”

“Really? Will you really do that?” Your expression brightened, but your brothers’ faces darkened. They saw the shadow before you did. Saw the webbed hands reaching out, the serrated teeth glinting in a sinister smile.

And then—

Owin leaned over, his arm outstretched. So fluid was his motion that it took you by surprise. “(Name), grab on! Hurry! Before—”

The rest of his warning was muffled by the water. You hardly had any time to brace yourself when you were yanked under, your nails raking across the wood of the oar as you went with the force of the pull. Salt stung your eyes when you cracked them open, peering frantically at blurry surroundings. Teal-green specks slid silently through the shadows, mismatched eyes flicking over your form. And then there was a high, raucous sort of chittering. Like a dolphin’s cry, loud and piercing. You squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your palms against your ears.

It only lasted a few mere seconds, but it felt like an eternity trapped in the coils of a creature you couldn’t comprehend. One moment you were holding your breath and the next arms were hooked around your torso, and you were pulled up and into the belly of the rowboat. Your hands flew to your throat, and you coughed up seawater while Owin patted you.

“It’s fine. It’s…okay,” Emyr muttered, his voice shot through with fear. It was the most shaken he’d ever sounded.

Blood fogged in the water, staining the tip of his harpoon. He gazed down at his hand. A deep, jagged gash ran angrily from palm to wrist. He hissed and closed his fingers in a tight fist.

“We gotta get back,” Owin was saying, still rubbing soothing circles into your back. “I’ll row. You rest.”

“Not good,” Emyr said instead, shaking his head in dismay as he watched your attackers retreat.

“We’re still in our waters, right? We didn’t go past the boundary, did we?”

“Let’s hope not.”

“We didn’t, right?”

“Let’s hope—” Emyr paused, collecting his words. “Let’s hope those monsters were in the wrong.”

“Father’s gonna kill us.”

“If not us, the monsters.”

Both brothers looked towards you. Your tunic was torn, stained through with saltwater and blood. You shivered all the way to shore.

Following that mishap, an official meeting was called between the Land and the Sea. The King—your father—met the Sea Queen at the border. He stood proud on his ship, peering down at her with fire in his old eyes.

“Your Majesty.”

The Sea Queen was just as formidable as those who came before her. Her tentacles unfurled as one, and if you looked at them long enough they almost seemed to take on the shape of an obsidian-colored crinoline.

“I believe my mother and your father made the terms quite clear all those years ago,” she said, a wave lifting her to meet the King at the deck of his ship. “So then, with that in mind, there should be no reason for us to meet under these circumstances.”

Emyr and Owin stood just behind their father. You peered through their legs at the Sea Queen, silently amazed. You’d never seen anyone quite like her before. At least, not a real person. You’d seen her in storybooks, depicted as a fearsome beast with devilish features, and though there was something intimidating about her gaze and build she appeared understanding enough. Her grey skin was sleek in the morning sun, her long, silvery strands tied up and pinned with an ornate hair ornament. She looked beautiful in a magical, enigmatic way.

“I couldn’t agree more,” came the clipped response of your father. “Alas, misfortune has brought us here.” He stepped aside to allow her to behold Emyr’s bandaged hand. “Harm has befallen my son and daughter. I suppose you might have an inkling as to why they find themselves in their current state?”

She frowned, but you couldn’t tell if it was out of sympathy or some other emotion. “Perhaps one of them can give reason to the wound now marring one of my subject’s sons.”

Your father glanced overboard at the snake-like merman cradled in the arms of another merman. They looked near-identical, their features unmistakable. He glanced back at Emyr, his gaze hard. “Go on then. Explain yourself.”

Emyr stepped forward. “With wholehearted respect, Your Majesty, it was out of self-defense. Your kind—they attacked us first.”

“You were in our waters!” one of the mers exclaimed, pointing a clawed finger towards Emyr. “It’s all your fault Jade got hurt!”

Owin hurried ahead, his hands gripping the taffrail. “He’s playing it up! It was a graze!”

“He could’ve died! You almost killed him!”

“That is enough,” the Sea Queen said, jutting an arm out to silence both sides. “I understand everyone is hurt here. Our feud lies in misunderstanding.” She gazed at you next. “Little one, we have yet to hear your story. Do share.”

You glanced at the guards, at Owin and Emyr, and then at father. He nodded encouragingly. “U-Um!” Shyly, you approached the Sea Queen. “My brothers were teaching me how to swim. I don’t know anything about whose water is whose. I just wanted to learn how to swim.” You met the fierce scowl of the mer holding his twin brother and quickly looked elsewhere. “He grabbed me before my brothers could pull me up.”

“Because you were trespassing. Anyone who tresspasses ought to—”

“Floyd.”

At the not-so-subtle warning in his father’s voice, he shut his mouth and snarled. His brother—Jade—was handed off to their father, who assessed his state with a frown.

“He will live, but it will take time for him to recover. My son is right. Your son could have killed him.”

“Just as your sons could have killed my sister!” Owin shouted, glaring.

Floyd stuck his tongue out, remorseless.

“It is impossible to know which side is in the wrong,” your father began, turning towards the Sea Queen. “Seeing as both have been injured, I am willing to apologize on behalf of my sons.”

“What?!” Owin’s head turned towards his father. “You’re bloody mad! Have you not seen—”

“Father,” Emyr interjected evenly. “We have nothing to apologize for. We were within our waters. We had no ill will towards the others. It was completely innocent.”

The Sea Queen hummed her contemplation. “The boundary was drawn for a reason, decided upon by those who came before us, and yet it does more harm than good. It is not for safety’s sake. It is to keep us divided—to ensure that neither side will ever know peace.”

“And you’re implying that we get rid of it?”

She nodded, quite serious. Everyone looked on in equal parts shock and disbelief. “Why do we continue to fight? It does nothing but open old wounds, rendering them incurable. Innocent lives are lost in petty squabbling. And for what?”

To that, no one could offer a smart reply.

“Therefore I propose peace. A union to welcome a new era—one in which we embrace one another as allies without animosity.”

“A union?” Your father raised a brow, suspicious but willing to listen. “I suppose it would be beneficial. My people would be free to travel the seas at their leisure.” “And mine would no longer have to live in fear of being thoughtlessly slaughtered and taken as trophies.”

“Unbelievable,” Orwin muttered.

Emyr elbowed him. “Knock it off.”

“We’ll collaborate on a contract. One that dissolves the invisible boundary that has been the cause for so much suffering. In order to attain true peace, I shall offer you my only son.” She glanced at you and then back at your father. “Your daughter shall marry him when they are of age.”

“What?! No way! Ew! Gross!” Your voice came out shrill and you shook your head in protest. “I don’t wanna marry an octopus! No, I won’t do it!”

Your father stood in front of you. “She’s my only daughter. If something were to happen—”

“Which is precisely why I bring up this engagement. Should they be betrothed, we as their parents will promise to uphold peace to give them bright futures and they will act as the first example of a human-mer alliance. Unions between humans and merfolk are unheard of, but is this not the best way to foster harmony between the Land and Sea?”

“I won’t do it! No! Don’t make me marry a gross—” Emyr gathered you in his arms, holding his uninjured hand over your mouth.

“Let the grown-ups talk.”

Owin frowned. “I still don’t agree with this…”

Your father mulled it over, his eyes glazed in thought. “Very well. We will create a contract—an official peace treaty.”

Both leaders shook hands and planned to convene at the end of the week to discuss further.

You watched the mers depart, each one slipping under the sea. Floyd was the last to go, staring at you with a mean sort of vitriol. And then he, too, dove under.

“He didn’t mean it, right?” you whispered to Emyr after your father gave the order to turn the ship around and head for land. “I won’t have to marry an octopus, right?”

Emyr could only offer a commiserate frown.

“She’s a brat,” Floyd spits. “Stupid, evil Two Legs.”

Jade chuckles and runs his fingers over the scar. “I consider it an honor.”

“Yeah, well, I think it’s messed up. She’s the reason you can’t ever swim naturally again. While she’s up there in her pretty, little tower, safe and sound, you’re still hurting.”

“It’s not as much of a hindrance as you may think. I’m not weak, mind you.”

Floyd grumbles. “Still. She’s mean.”

Azul gazes up at the palace, sighing dreamily. “She’ll be my wife someday. That’s what humans call it, yes? Husband and wife… What wonderful words.”

It’s been one year since the peace treaty. Since then, humans and merfolk have made an effort to get along. This is the second time Azul will be meeting with you. He’s nervous. The first time you went out to sea to greet him, and he’d gotten so anxious that he inked right then and there. His mother entertained you from where you sat in the boat with your personal guard. It was a mortifying experience—one that had taken him months to recover from.

Now he’s going to try to meet you in the shallows. Try is the key word here. He’s scared, all three hearts beating as one. Is it too late to reschedule?

“I can’t believe you’re actually okay with this. You that lonely?”

Azul turns to scowl at both twins, but it’s mostly directed at Floyd. “I never asked you to tag along. Leave me alone.”

Jade smiles. “And let the Queen’s little prince swim to his death?”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Sure you can. But what about when Two Legs gets ya? What then?”

“She wouldn’t do that.”

Floyd rolls his eyes. “You saw what her brothers did to Jade.”

“Because you tried to kill her.”

“Because she was in our territory!”

Azul huffs and pushes him away with a tentacle. “Regardless, we’re supposed to be on good terms now. You’ll break the contract if you try anything dangerous.”

“He’s right, Floyd.”

“Ugh. Whatever.” Floyd turns away, stubborn. “This is lame. I’m not stickin’ around.”

Jade lingers long enough to observe the way Azul lights up when he spots you on the stone steps. And then he disappears beneath the water.

Barefoot, holding your dress up and out of the way, you pad across the beach.

“Why are you here? I’m busy. My brothers are taking me into town.”

The smile that had been fighting to break out on his face frosts over. “Oh. I… Um…” Azul fumbles with the conch shell he’d collected on the way here. A gift for you. He made sure to study human speech patterns in the months leading up to this meeting. He’s fully prepared! And yet you look so displeased. “F-For you! I found it…”

You stare at the shell clutched in a dark tentacle. Tentatively, you reach for it. “Why?”

“Ah. W-Well, my mother says gifts are an important part of any bond. In the sea, we give gifts to the ones we care about. To friends and family and o-other halves…”

You turn the shell over in your hands. “We’re not friends.”

“Not yet,” he tries, but you shake your head.

“You ran away from me the last time we met. That’s not very friendly.”

His face flushes blue and he opens his mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. It wasn’t on purpose.

You’re already turning on your heel. “I don’t have time for this.” You toss the shell over your shoulder. Azul watches it land in the sand, just out of his grasp.

“W-Wait! I… I want to talk to you. Please don’t go. You’re going to be my other half one day, so I’d like to—”

But you’re already dashing across the beach to get to the stairs.

Azul deflates against the rock. Tears overflow in floods. Is it because of him? Is he to blame? Why don’t you want to be his friend? Is it because of the peace treaty? Why?

Why? Why? Why?

Azul doesn’t want to think negatively of you. Humans are sensitive creatures. He reads up on them in the palace library, poring over literature and textbooks in an effort to better understand you. But as the months pass and you seem to simply tolerate him for the sake of the alliance, he begins to suspect something.

It’s made apparent the next time he sees you, where you walk right past the beach to catch up with your brothers. He hides behind the rocks, two blue eyes following your figure until you’re out of sight.

Floyd was right. You are a brat.

And yet he can’t hate you.

On the eve of your eighteenth birthday, Azul meets you in the shallows.

Nowadays you send letters, preferring strained long distance over the personal intimacy of face-to-face relations. These exchanges are purely diplomatic. But now that he’s asked to meet with you, a rare occurrence, you’ve deigned to greet him in person. It’s the least you can do after he’s gone through the trouble to travel here. It’s been so long since you’ve seen him that he’s almost unrecognizable. You remember the round, baby-faced octo-mer from your childhood. The one who lounges against the rocks is leaner now—his features defined, jawline as sharp as his eyes. They cut through the gloom to find you.

“You wished to see me?” You’re in your nightwear, a silky gown with an even softer robe. A cool breeze blows across the beach, and you wrap your arms around yourself for extra warmth. “Azul?”

He hesitates, his gaze trailing up your legs. You’ve also changed a lot in the time you’ve been apart. You’ve grown taller, filling out in places he didn’t know humans could fill. What he’d give to hold you… His mother says he needs to be patient. Fickle thing that you are, you’re the reason he’s spent six years trying to appease you through letters—to win you over and be anything more than that “annoying octopus” you’re doomed to marry. Perhaps it would have been easier to act just as you do if it weren’t for the fact that he’d been elated at the premise of having someone to love. When his mother broached the idea in the days following her meeting with the Land King, he’d stared at her with wide, excited eyes.

“There’s a human girl who wants to be my friend?” he asked, to which his mother smiled and nodded.

More than a friend, actually, but then all he was focused on was finally getting to experience the one thing he’d never known or had: friendship.

Sighing, he foregoes formality and holds out a necklace. It dangles from the tip of his tentacle. Strung on a dainty, silver strand, pearls wink back at you under the moonlight. Azul averts his eyes, his cheeks a pleasant periwinkle.

“Happy birthday…”

“Oh.” You move in closer, taking the necklace from him. His tentacle pursues you, twining delicately around your wrist. “Um… What is it? Do you need—whoa!”

Azul tugs you closer. The sea laps at your ankles. Beneath a tapestry of stars, you meet his azure stare. His features are set with a determination you’ve never seen before.

“I want to start over.”

“Start over?”

“I’d like to be on friendly terms with you. We’re so cold. Distant…” Azul frowns, seeming unsure of what to say or do next. The tentacle laced around your wrist like a bracelet tightens its hold. “We’re to be wed one day. I want to make this work.”

You blink at him. He thinks he may have gotten through to you, having finally broken through layers of stone and ice, but then your nose scrunches and odium shimmers in your gaze.

“That’s impossible. I’m a human. How am I supposed to live with an octopus?” You shake him off with a huff. “I’m not sure what our parents think this will accomplish. I don’t want to be a pawn to be moved around for the sake of peace. I’m my own person.”

Azul’s expression sours. His lip curls up into a sneer. “Well, I don’t find it very enjoyable either. You’re not the only victim in this scenario.”

You exhale an exhausted breath. “Azul, I appreciate the gift, but it doesn’t mean anything if you’re only giving it to me to curry favor.”

I wasn’t, he thinks, but he doesn’t say that. Admitting it would be a weakness. Admitting it would mean coming to terms with an unrequited opinion.

“At least one of us is making a conscious effort.”

“At least one of us isn’t trying so hard. It’s pathetic.”

“You’re not obligated to accept my goodwill.” He smiles, smug. “Yet you do every time. I’d wager you enjoy my materialistic affections.”

“As if.” Despite this, you hold the necklace out of his reach when a tentacle flexes towards it. “It’s mine now.”

“So you are fond of my ‘pathetic’ ways!”

“I’m not!”

You jerk away with a vicious scowl, but your foot catches in the sand and you quickly find yourself tipping backwards. If not for the tentacles that coil around your waist to steady you, you would have fallen on your rear. Your chest heaves with adrenaline. Stunned, you stare at Azul.

“You…caught me,” you breathe, lips parted in awe.

“Did you think I’d let you fall?” He cocks his head at you, grinning playfully. “Why, I’d never! Unless it’s me you’re falling for, in which case I gladly welcome the—”

“You’re such a pest.” Untangling yourself from his grasp, which he allows without scrimmage, you step away from the water’s edge. He watches you secure the pearls around your neck, and his hearts stumble in his chest when you point an accusatory finger at him. “Don’t delude yourself with foolish nonsense. I have no interest in you.”

With an indignant harrumph, you start towards the palace.

“May we meet here tomorrow?” Azul calls out after you, testing his luck with what little chance he has.

“Don’t push it.”

“I’ll wait for you.”

“Good. Keep waiting, dummy!” You break into a sprint, hurrying off into the shadows.

Azul smiles at the empty beach. Whether or not you like him, it doesn’t matter. You’re to be his one day. You’ve always been, ever since he was eleven.

He’ll wait, even if you won’t show.

Ostensibly, twenty-one years wise, you’re getting married today.

Your gown is just as exquisite as your hair and makeup. Pearls cling to your throat and arms—classic wedding attire for merfolk. A thin veil shields the scheme in your stare.

This was an inevitability, but you’re determined to fight it until the end. No matter how quickly time seems to pass, you’ll do everything you can to stall and slow it.

Gripping a sharpened dagger in a resolute fist, you drag it through the long, sprawling train of your gown.

“As if I’d marry an octopus,” you grumble, cutting fine fabric until you’re permitted smoother movement. Gazing at yourself in the mirror, you scowl. “I’m no one’s bride.”

By the time the maids arrive to check on you, you’ve already stolen out the window.

The rowboat sways on choppy water. You’ve watched your brothers do this enough times to have the technique engraved in your memory. Your arms strain with the oars, every muscle screaming in protest, but you fight through the pain. The palace looks smaller and smaller with every passing minute. Eventually, you’re so far out that the land is but a mere speck.

It’s going well. You’re escaping towards a better future—a future without the octopus prince.

You glance towards the horizon. Your boat undulates with the waves.

You’ll miss your brothers, your maids, your personal guard…

Water slops over the edge. You yelp, startled. Have the seas always been so rough?

Despite everything, you’ll miss your father.

Just as you think this, your boat rocks to the side. You grab onto the edge to steady yourself, but it’s already too late. It tips over and you go with it, careening into the sea with a noisy splash. Twin shadows cut seamlessly through the murky water. You catch sight of a yellow eye before you propel yourself towards the sky, coughing and heaving once you break the surface. You grab onto the overturned rowboat, your dagger clutched in one hand.

You search the surface for them, eyes flicking to and fro in a frantic panic.

Somewhere… Anywhere… Where are you?

And then you find them, peering at you from the other side of the boat.

“Go on then,” you spit, glaring. “Kill me.”

Floyd bares his teeth at you. “This time I ain’t gonna leave a scar.”

“You know we mustn’t. That’s not why we’re here.” Jade smiles at you, but there’s something in his eyes that unnerves you. “Your Highness, you should know it’s poor manners to leave the groom on his special day.”

Floyd circles you restlessly. “S’not fair we gotta be nice when you’re so mean.”

“I’m not going to marry him.”

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice in that matter.”

“What’d Azul ever do to you?”

You attempt to answer that before realizing the truth. Nothing. He’s done absolutely nothing but be kind and understanding and patient. And I took that, chewed it up, and spat in his face.

“If you used that brain of yours, you wouldn’t have thrown yourself to the sharks. We can’t get to you on land.” “But it’s fair game in the sea,” Floyd finishes, every syllable dripping with pride. “Stupid Two Legs.”

“I’m inclined to agree. You’re not the brightest human. A pity.”

“My brother should’ve gutted you when he had the chance. Maybe then—”

You see the whites of Floyd’s eyes when he strikes, launching himself at you with a clawed hand, sharp, pointed teeth aiming for your jugular.

This is it. You’re dead.

…or not.

The searing pain never comes, nor does the impending laceration. You cling to the boat and watch dark tentacles rise from the depths to close around Floyd, ensnaring him in a firm hold. He thrashes, snapping his jaws like a deranged beast.

“Let go of me, Azul! Lemme at her! She’s a bitch! I’ll kill her!”

“There will be none of that.” Azul tuts. “I don’t intend to marry a corpse.”

Jade swims over to you. “My feelings aren’t hurt in the slightest, Your Highness. If it weren’t for your status and connection to Azul, I’d have disemboweled you ages ago. Quite a relief for you, yes?”

You swallow your horror, allowing him to detach you from the boat so that Azul can turn it over. A tentacle curls around your waist, lifts you from the water, and places you back in the boat. You stare at your hands. They’re trembling. You can hardly hold the dagger properly.

It takes some convincing and a lukewarm apology from you, but Floyd promises to be good. He doesn’t do anything as you’re pulled back to shore, but he does stare at you for the duration of the trip, his eyes tracking your every movement. You press yourself into the belly of the boat, defeated and riddled with anxiety.

Your father isn’t pleased. When you see his enraged expression, the debate dies on your tongue. “You are to marry the prince,” he seethes, pulling you aside, “or else you jeopardize the peace of our kingdom.”

You’re washed and fitted in a new dress. Guards are stationed at all possible routes to prevent another escape.

When you walk down the beach to meet Azul in the shallows, your veil shields the sadness in your stare.

The ceremony carries on without incident. Floyd watches from the water, lurking like Death. You speak rehearsed vows in robotic monotone, mindlessly floating through the rigmarole like it’s second nature. Azul smiles at you through it all, sweetly smitten.

It’s a nightmare lived in real time.

Humans and mers alike congratulate you, cheering for this momentous occasion. Your tongue is numb by the end of it all. You’ve expressed faux gratitude so many times that it hurts to even force the words. And now, as night descends and the party kicks into full swing, you’re left reflecting on the day.

Freedom feels so far away. You’ll never know it again, will you?

Azul guides you away from the crowd. Firelight grows dim with the distance. Eventually, you find yourself taking refuge in a tiny inlet cut into the beach. A rocky outcrop hides you from the moon’s spotlight.

“I’m not upset,” Azul murmurs, curling a tentacle up your leg. “But Floyd is.”

“His brother’s the one who hurt me all those years ago.”

“That was before the union.”

“I’m not letting it go.”

“Perhaps not now, but you will. One day.”

You don’t believe him.

“Our people are at peace. Aren’t you pleased, my love?”

You shove him away, gathering heaps of your dress to walk in calf-deep water. “I’m not your love.”

“Legally, you are.”

“That means nothing to me. Absolutely nothing.”

Azul sighs. “Even now, after everything, you’re still trying to flee.”

“For good reason. I don’t want to be tied down.”

Azul inches closer. Another tentacle wraps slyly around your ankle.

“You’re so beautiful. I feel like the luckiest mer in the sea. To be able to call you my own… My beautiful bride.” He pulls you closer. You resist weakly. “Now that we’re alone I can finally tell you the very thing I’ve thought of ceaselessly for years.”

A tentacle slides up your leg, straying closer to your inner thigh. You flinch away.

“Azul, wait. I don’t want—”

“I love you.”

You squirm in his hold, attempting to thwart the tentacles that grab at your every limb. You trip over yourself in the process. This time Azul doesn’t catch you. Water laps at your dress, soaking through at once. He’s radiant beneath the moon. Dreading his touch, you scoot as far from him as you can get in the water, hoping to reach land. Azul seizes your wrist and pulls you into his arms. You fight him with more force.

“No… No, let go of me! Release me!”

“Why should I? You’re mine now. Is it not customary for a married couple to consummate their new bond? We do something similar in the sea.” A tentacle brushes your veil back so that he can look upon your pretty face. “I’d take you to a quiet space in the seagrass, lay you down in the sand, and then—”

“I don’t want that! No!” You lash out, swinging blindly. A tentacle shoots out to stop your arm before it can smack him. “Azul, please—”

“I was patient. I waited and waited in hopes that you might warm up to me. I cherished you in silence. I learned your language. Your customs. Your habits. I wrote to you. Traveled to meet you. And yet you look at me as if I’m a monster…”

It’s not the devastated look in his eyes or the edge in his voice that scares you. It’s the startling gentleness with which he handles you. Tentacles loop around your body, exploring beneath your gown. You wriggle in discomfort, yelping when suckers brush against the frilly garter secured around your thigh. Azul hums and holds you up in his tentacles, using two to spread your legs so that he may slide it from your leg.

“I wasn’t forceful. I courted you kindly. You accepted all of my gifts. You wore them proudly and I thought—I knew you would love me, too. You were mine from the moment our parents signed that agreement. And if you leave me, you’ll break a political promise and then our kingdoms will go to war and I’ll be sure to collect the heads of your family first. Each one of them, and you will watch as I bring ruin to the kingdom you love so fondly.”

“N-No… Please stop. Please.”

“I’ve waited ten years for you.” A tentacle hooks around your panties. You thrash again, shaking your head at him. He remains unconvinced, watching with gleeful eyes as your nudity is revealed to him. “And aren’t you an angel? Oh, you’re so pretty…”

Like your hopes, your panties are cast aside.

The tip of a tentacle prods curiously at your pussy. Your breath hitches.

“W-Wait! You… You can’t.” His eyes find yours, and you swallow the rising sob. “T-That can’t go inside… It won’t fit. It won’t—”

Azul smiles. “Of course it will. The human body is capable of marvelous feats.”

Even though it’s pointless, you struggle. “I can’t! Please… Azul, I’m scared. Please don’t do this…”

A lone tentacle slides into your hand. Thoughtless, you hold tight.

“My love, there’s no need to cry. I’m not going to hurt you.” He brings you closer, kissing your tears away. “I’m here for you. I’ve always been here, even when you didn’t seem to need me.”

You hiccup, your chest heaving. It’s not lonely for long, for he pulls your dress down your shoulders. Your breasts spill free and are quickly cradled in cold hands. Azul watches your expression with an intense focus while he rolls your nipples between his fingers. You grit your teeth, refusing to respond. But then the tentacle between your legs finds your clit and a sucker affixes to it, suctioning slowly. You gasp and throw your head back, bolts of pleasure racing up your spine. It happens in a white-hot flash. You slacken in his grasp.

Azul laughs, astonished. “Did you cum? Already?”

“Nooo,” you whine, closing your hand around the tentacle once more. Another one strokes your cheek. “You’ve had your fun. Now let go of me…”

“What a silly demand.”

He tugs on your nipples. You groan, lashes fluttering. “Ooh… Stop. No, stop it… Don’t touch there. Not—haa… Not there!”

“You’re so sensitive.” He drags the underside of a tentacle along your cunt and shivers. “And so wet… Is this your season? Do humans experience such a thing?”

You’ve no idea what he’s referring to, but before you can dwell on it he leans down to take your perky bud in his mouth. Your free hand grabs at his hair, pinning him to your chest. His tongue laves across it, warm and wet. You shouldn’t enjoy it so much, and yet you can’t stop yourself from crying out.

He hums against your skin, beaming like a devil. You can’t hate him. He’s your husband. He’s yours. You shouldn’t hate him.

You’re falling apart in his tentacles, grinding down to chase the bliss provided by the underside of the appendage clinging to your pussy. The sinful squelch of skin on skin fills the quiet inlet. The scent of sex and salt intermingles. It’s wrong and it’s right. It’s instinct, carnal and corrupt. Azul groans against your breast, your teat between his teeth.

“Az—ooh!” You tug on his hair, insatiable. Your brain is fogging over with lust. You don’t want to lose yourself in this madness. You can’t. “N-No more… No more.”

But he’s not listening. He pinches your other nipple between his fingers, and that’s all it takes for you to unravel.

In the aftermath, the tapered tip of a thicker tentacle squirms between your thighs. Mindlessly, you spread your legs and lift your hips for him. It presses in shallowly, a jarring experience.

“Not inside—don’t! You can’t!”

Azul pulls away from you, his expression scrunched in woozy ecstasy. “Why not?” he mumbles, smiling stupidly. “You’re my bride. It’s only fair…”

Before you can bicker, he kisses you. His tongue pursues yours in a sloppy tango. You lick into his mouth, desperate and dazed. Lost in a sea of salacity, shipwrecked on an island of forgotten inhibitions.

The tentacle pushes through rings of tight, slick muscle. Tears spring to your eyes. It feels weird and foreign, so unlike your fingers. He holds you close, minding his strength and pace. It fills you slowly, reaching places you’ve never been able to feel. The lust numbs your senses and gives way to something animalistic—a base desire you’ve suppressed. Azul rocks the appendage deeper until it’s pushed up against the entrance to your womb, squeezed snugly in your warm walls.

“I-It’s in…” you mumble once he’s broken the kiss, a strand of saliva connecting your mouths. “It’s really…inside me…”

Azul kisses your cheek and pets you with a tentacle. “We were made for each other.”

Surely not, you think, but it feels so when he draws back and thrusts in. Maybe he’s right.

He fucks you gently, savoring every single sound you make. He tells you he loves you, whispers it over and over like it’s prayer. You nod dumbly, grabbing at his hand to hold it. The both of you are gasping in unison, chasing cloud nine. In just a few more deep strokes, his tip bullying its way to your womb, he finally finds his end. A thin substance fills you up in plentiful amounts. Distantly, you think it’s water until he drags your hips further down. Your mouth drops open in a strangled scream as something round and gelatinous passes through. It settles in your womb, and you know right away that it shouldn’t be there.

You panic. “W-Wait… Wha—Zul… Stop… No, I don’t want—”

“It’s all right,” he breathes, his mouth on your shoulder. He soothes you with soft shushes and even softer kisses. “You’re okay. I’m here.”

You dig your nails into the tentacle curled in your palm just as a second orb squeezes through. He groans, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Finally…” He pants, a wobbly smile stretching on his delirious countenance. “Finally, my love, my dear—oh, my beloved bride!”

He cradles you like a mother would a newborn. You lie there as he fills you, your voice hoarse from babbling and bewailing. These things—little orbs of jelly—are stuffed into your womb, and by the time you surpass twenty you lose count and blank out, trembling through yet another orgasm. You’re not sure how many more he has left or how many more you can possibly fit. It feels too good to think about that.

“Bigger. They’ll get bigger. You’ll look so pretty—round and full and soft.”

Dizzy, you glance at the bloated dome that is your belly. Your gown strains over it, an impressively deceptive size that you almost mistake for pregnancy. That’s when it clicks. Eggs. These are eggs.

“I’ll make sure they survive. All of them—as many as I possibly can. I’ll stay by your side. I’ll keep you content. I’ll fill you with love—so much love—an abundance of it, and you’ll never know emptiness again,” he rambles, resting a tentacle over your distended middle.

It’s not just a senseless sweet nothing. It’s a promise.

#yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere azul ashengrotto #yandere azul x reader #yandere azul ashengrotto x reader #yandere azul #n/sfw #tw: noncon #tw: breeding #tw: oviposition

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yandere-daydreams · 6 months

Text

Title: Monster Mania.

Pairing: Yandere!Vampire!Neuvillette x Reader x Yandere!Werewolf!Wriothesley (Genshin).

Word Count: 3.0k.

TW: Non/Con, AFAB!Reader, Oral Sex, Mentions of Blood, Non-Human Anatomy, Possessive Behavior, Prolonged Imprprisoment, and Slight Dehumanization.

“Pouting won’t get you out of this.”

“I’m not—” You paused, gritting your teeth as his shoulder pressed uncomfortably into your stomach. In retribution, you did your best to drive your knee into his chest, to let him know he was hurting you without admitting that you were even more fragile than he’d assumed, but if he cared about your attempts at resistance, if he so much as noticed that you’d moved at all, Wriothesley didn’t waver. “I’m not pouting, I’m trying to get away from my fucking stalker and his—” Another fit of thrashing. This time, Wriothesley was kind enough to tighten his hold on your legs. “—fucking dog. Why is that so hard for you two to get that through your heads?”

He hummed, drumming his fingers against your thigh. “Might be how often call us… what was it, again? A stalker and a dog?”

You scowled, crossing your arms. From your current position, slung over his shoulder, the remnants of one of his rope snares still wrapped around your left ankle, you could only see the thin footpath he was following and the dense forest that laid beyond it. The tree canopy was too thick to let you see the sky (something you mourned and Neuvillette adored, considering his fondness for early evening walks), but rays of golden sunlight still managed to pierce the endless sprawl of branches and leaves, marking the first signs of dusk. Neuvillette had still been asleep when you slipped through the door Wriothesley had forgotten to lock when he left for his daily hunting trip, but he’d be waking up soon; you could already imagine him rising from his canopied bed, picture the diluted shock he’d wear as he stepped into your bedroom for his first meal of the night only to find it empty. You weren’t surprised Wriothesley was so eager to get you home. Neuvillette was stoic at the worst of times, but the thought of letting his pet blood-bag get away was one of the few things that could get a reaction out of him.

Not that Wriothesley was much better. He was more level-headed, sure, more likely to let you wear something aside from ivory nightgowns and untangle you from Neuvillette’s arms when his hunger left him in a blood-thirsty daze, but that never stopped him from taking Neuvillette’s side when you found yourself in another petty argument, from standing in the doorway with a smile and a dreamy look in his eyes as Neuvillette fastened a lace collar around your neck, a collar just a touch too small to cover the twin puncture marks at the base of your throat and just a touch too similar to the steel choker that sat at the base of Wriothesley’s throat more often than not. He might’ve been human, something as mortal and as delicate as you were, but he was still a monster. He’d be crushed under Neuvillette’s heel a thousand times before he ever considered showing you mercy.

The shadow of their mansion was coming into view, now – the lonely building just as dark and just as intimidating as it’d been the first time Wriothesley lured inside. It stretched on as far as the eye could see in either direction and towered above you like some awful, looming thing; thick curtains constantly drawn over its many windows and every surface of its exterior constantly covered in a thick layer of creeping ivy. The rotting boards of the front porch groaned under his weight as he approached the front door, and you braced yourself as he cursed under his breath, patting down the pockets of his heavy flannel. You weren’t sure why they bothered keeping the door locked at all – aside from what it took to keep you trapped inside, at least. Neuvillette was the most dangerous thing for the next hundred miles, and Wriothesley was a close second.

The inside of the mansion was just as ominous; any light from the outside world captured and suffocated before it could penetrate Neuvillette’s endless abyss. You squirmed, hoping Wriothesley would at least let you cross the threshold on your own, but he wasn’t so kind, only responding to your silent plea with a playful squeeze to your calf as he made his way past the entryway and down an unlit hall, passing several torn paintings and overturned tables before finally shrugging open the door to Neuvillette’s study. A bottle of red wine sat open and half-drained on his mahogany desk, a small fire smoldering in the stone hearth he only rarely used. Neuvillette sat beside it, dressed in a simple black robe, his eyes blearily focused on the low-burning flames. He looked concerned, but his apprehension faded as Wriothesley carried you into his line of sigh, disappearing completely as you were hauled off of Wriothesley’s shoulder and dropped into Neuvillette’s lap. One of his hands found its way to your waist, its twin cupping your cheek, tilting your head back and allowing him to press a lingering kiss into the top of your head. “Beloved,” he muttered, practically breathing out his pet name for you before turning to Wriothesley. “Thank you, duke. I’m sorry you’ve had to inconvenience yourself for the sake of what should be my responsibility again.”

With a groan, Wriothesley fell onto the foot of the fireplace, shrugging off his coat. Where Neuvillette chose to hide his bloodlust behind a thick veil of unwavering niceties and delicate elegance, Wriothesley leaned into his brutality; broad muscle straining at the confines of his black undershirt, scruff cropping up faster than he could clear it away, his hair an untamable mess of black and grey and his clothes caked in an ever constant layer of mud and wear (save for his metal choker, of course, which was always polished to conspicuous shine). His eyes lit up when he heard Neuvillette ask after him, posture straightening like that of a soldier called to attention. You’d been too generous when you called him a dog. He was a mutt, too mindlessly obedient to ever question his master’s orders. “How many centuries has it been since you’ve had a reason to call me that?”

“It should be four this year.” Another kiss, this one to the corner of your jaw. You could feel the points of his fangs, still tucked behind his lips but no less dangerous for their momentary concealment. “Don’t you have something to say to him, as well?”

It took a moment to register he was talking to you, another to recognize the hypocrisy of what he was asking you. Your pressed frown fell into an open-mouthed balk. “Absolutely not.” And then, when Neuvillette held strong, “You can’t expect me to thank him for keeping me trapped here—”

“Silence.” He didn’t raise his voice, didn’t bear his fangs or dig his pointed nails into your thigh – he didn’t have to. All it took was that tone. Assertive, but not quite forceful. Lulling, but no softer than the wood and stone of his hellish mansion. Immediately, you shut your mouth. Neuvillette closed his eyes, letting out a raspy sigh before taking you by the hips and turning you in his lap, so that you faced outward rather than into his chest. That was enough to earn Wriothesley’s full attention, perking up as you were perched on the edge of Neuvillette’s lap. “Why don’t we try that again. Do you have anything to say to Wriothesley?”

You glared pointedly at the floor. “Thank you. For bringing me back?”

“And?”

“And...” This was the part you hated the most. If there’d been an alternative – a dungeon they could’ve thrown you into, a brand they could sear into your skin – you would’ve embraced it with open arms. But, that was the worst part about dealing with an captor. He had all the time in the world to make you bask in your own humiliation, and he never seemed to tire of the pasttime. “And, thank you for making sure I didn’t get hurt in the forest.”

As if there was anything out there that could’ve hurt you more than they did. Still, it seemed to appease Neuvillette, who let out an approving hum as he turned to Wriothesley. “What do you think? Be honest, this time. No lesson was ever taught with a gentle hand.”

He took a long moment to look over you, another to wet his lips. Wordlessly, dependent on the pure desperation in your eyes, you begged him not to listen to Neuvillette, to take your side just this once, but your improvised attempts at telepathic communication proved unsuccessful. “It could’ve been more genuine,” he admitted, with a slight shrug. “Didn’t have much nice to say on the way back, either.”

“Is that so?” His fingertips drummed against your side. “Why don’t you join us?”

Wriothesley didn’t hesitate, practically stumbling over himself as he crawled to Neuvillette’s feet. He came to rest on his knees, hand braced against the rug between his thighs and his cheek only a hair’s width from Neuvillette’s leg, as if waiting for permission to press against him. He always looked at his most relaxed there, on the floor, patiently waiting for an order from his master. It was hard to tell whether it was a skill learned through time, or if subservience was just in his nature.

His obedience was rewarded with a breathy chuckle, a hand run through his unruly hair. Wriothesley was more lax with himself than he usually was, letting his eyes fall shut as he melted into Neuvillette’s touch. “Since your tongue is so uncooperative today,” Neuvillette started, leaning forward just far enough to rest his chin on your shoulder. “How do you think you can show our dear helper how grateful you are?”

A bolt of cold dread shot down your spine. You moved to stand, to get away, but Neuvillette’s arm wrapped tight around your midriff, keeping you pinned against him despite your resistance. “Neuvi’,” you mumbled, squirming against him. “Please, Neuvi’, I don’t want to—”

“Now you’re going to play nice?” His hand fell to your knee, drawing your legs apart. Wriothesley filled the space before you could clench them shut again, his mouth immediately latching onto the inside of your thigh, his dull teeth burying themselves in the plush of your exposed skin. You cursed under your breath, trying to shake him off, but he held tight, fists curling around your ankles to keep you spread and exposed as Neuvillette watched on, his grin pressing into the crook of your throat. “That’s a little cruel, beloved. Can’t you see how excited he is?”

You could. There was a glassy sheen over his half-lidded eyes, a hunch to his posture that meant he was too distracted with you to care about how he held himself. You’d slipped out in a rush, eager to get as far as you could before Neuvillette woke up. In your haste, you hadn’t bothered to change out of the simple, silken frock you were wearing; a choice you only came to regret as Neuvillette dragged the tattered hem to your waist, as Wriothesley’s attention drifted from your thighs to your panties, the lacey fabric torn away with little more than a curl of his fingers and a throaty growl. That, more than anything, caught you off-guard. It wasn’t a threat, but it was more hostile than anything he’d ever directed towards you before. It wasn’t a sound someone like him, someone like you, should’ve been capable of making.

Neuvillette must’ve felt the way you stiffened against him. He pressed an open-mouthed kiss into the curve of your throat, just a touch too close to the vein he preferred to drink from, then another into the dip of your shoulder. “Surely, you must’ve noticed how scarce Wriothesley makes himself around this time of the month.” He paused, laughing airily. “He’d already be safely locked away in the cellar, if you hadn’t made him run out and fetch you. I suppose it must’ve slipped his mind while he was looking for you.”

“I don’t—” A tongue, broader than it should’ve been, hotter than it should’ve been, ran over your slit. “But, he’s supposed to be—”

“Human?” You refused to look at him, refused to acknowledge what he was doing to you, but you could feel his teeth ghosting over your skin, their usually dull tips beginning to sharpen into something more pointed, more animalistic. His tongue slipped into your entrance, thick enough to stretch you open with little more than its curling tip, and Neuvillette’s focus fell to your clit, left neglected by Wriothesley’s unwavering concentration on lapping up as much of your (humiliatingly, quickly accumulating) slick as he could. His thumb toyed with the sensitive bundle of nerves as he went on. “He is rather young, as far as immortal beings are concerned. He made an adorable puppy, back when creatures of the night were free to roam as they pleased, but he’s matured since his days of village razing and cattle slaughtering. I think you’ll find he’s learned how to keep his fangs to himself.” Wriothesley nipped gently at the junction of your thigh. You winced and Neuvillette added, “More or less.”

You could only bring yourself to half-listen to what he was saying. Wriothesley was growing more wild by the second, his formerly languid movements now hasty and agitated, little groans and growls joining the wet, disgusting sounds quickly filling the study. You felt claws that hadn’t been there a moment ago dig into your ankles, his already impressive build taking on bulk that would’ve been possible for anything natural, anything human. It wasn’t enough to just look away, anymore – you shut your eyes completely, bowing your head and curling into yourself as Wriothesley ate you out like a man— no, not a man, a beast starved. The cool marble of Neuvillette’s chest was almost a comfort when compared to the raw heat of Wriothesley’s mouth. It might’ve been more soothing, had he not been taking so much joy in your suffering.

“He’s always been prone to getting carried away. I used to have to fetch him at dawn – he could never seem to make it home before the moon set and he was left bare and unconscious in the vineyard of some poor nobleman.” He pulled back, letting Wriothesley’s cold nose grind against your clit in his place. You weren’t free from his touch for very long, though. The array of ribbons that kept the bodice of your frock drawn tight were undone, the neckline loosened and allowed to fall to your shoulders. “I’ve always preferred a more direct approach. The occasional drunkard taken off the street and drained was always enough to keep me sated.” He paused, cupped the curves of your chest. “Until I came across you, of course.”

You felt his fangs scrape over your neck, but he didn’t have time to bite down before you lurched forward, the sporadic movements of Wriothesley’s tongue bringing you to a sudden, unsteady climax. It was abrupt enough, violent enough to make tears swell in the corners of your eyes, to steal a ragged gasp from your lungs despite your attempts to swallow back any pathetic sound your weak-willed body might’ve wanted to make. For the first time, you couldn’t stop yourself from looking at him, letting your gaze fall onto the black-furred, oversized thing between your legs. He was unrecognizable, black fur and a wolf-like muzzle swallowing any familiar trait you might’ve latched onto. Pointed ears laid flat against his scalp, a grey-tipped tail brushed over the floor lazily behind him as he moved to keep going, to milk every last drop out of you, but Neuvillette reached down and took him by the metal collar now pressing flush against his throat. There was a low, drawn-out whine as he was dragged up and away from your pussy, but Neuvillette’s cruelty was limited to you.

“We spent hours talking about what to do with you, when he first brought you home.” He spoke absent-mindedly, muttering against your throat as he guided Wriothesley onto his knees. Even at only a fraction of his full height, he was tall enough to loom over you, to replace your limited world with a towering shadow of black fur and white teeth. He was panting, his chin glistening with slick and drool, what was left of his tattered clothes torn away in a few aggerated swipes of his claws. You’d been wrong, again – not every part of him was unfamiliar. His eyes were still there, the grey clouded and his pupils blown out but still undeniably his. Still fixed entirely on you.

“I thought he should turn you as soon as possible, but he protested, claimed the transformation would be too much for you.” He bowed his head, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. “Between you and I, there might be a chance he’s hoping I’ll give in first. He does his best to hide it, but he tends to sulk whenever I choose to feed from you. I think he’s hoping we might both have to rely on him.”

Clawed hands curled around the arms of his chair, the wood creaking under Wriothesley’s weight. For the first time, you let your eyes drift lower, let yourself take in the massive, pulsing cock standing erect against his lower stomach. It looked too big; like a prop, made to only vaguely resemble the real thing. It looked like it could tear you in half.

“Then again, he might’ve grown fond of the idea of adding another wolf to his pack,” Neuvillette added, as you went limp against him. “We’ll have to see how human you feel when the sun rises.”

It was an awkward position, Wriothesley too tall and Neuvillette too unyielding. He kept one arm wrapped tightly around your midriff as his other hand drifted into the limited space between your body and Wriothesley’s, his pale hand curling around Wriothesley’s thick shaft and carefully lining it up with your dripping cunt. Wriothesley bucked into the stimulation, his body lurching forward and his head nuzzling into the dip of your shoulder. You felt his breath, warm and humid, fan over your chest, then the rough reverberation of his voice against your skin. “Mate.” It was more of a groan than anything, one long breath that seemed to escape from some unseen vault. It was his voice, but there was something underneath it, too – something more guttural than you would ever want on top of you. “Mine.”

“Ours,” Neuvillette corrected, tightening his hold and drawing you close. You couldn’t see him, but you could feel it, pressing against your throat as his fangs reclaimed lost territory. “Our precious, misguided little pet.”

Wriothesley thrust into you as Neuvillette drove his teeth into your skin, both men piercing you simultaneously. Too stunned to scream, you could only silently wonder who would end you first.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oneshots #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin imagines #yandere neuvillette #neuvillete x reader #yandere wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #yanderecore #yancore

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yandere-romanticaa · 7 months

Text

¡! ❞ 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑.

❝ he licked his lips, said to me - girl you look good enough to eat - put his arms around me, said - boy, no, get your paws right off me. ❞

yandere! blade x fem! reader.

inspired by the song monster by lady gaga.

The scent of blood. The filth of iron. A shallow echo, followed by the sound of absolute nothingness.

He was close by.

You could feel it.

It was difficult to pinpoint when this song and dance had begun but that was just the way Blade handled everything, as you would come to learn. You could recall bumping into a masked stranger in large crowds on the Lofu - whom you now know is Blade - and finding it odd just how often they would occur. At first it just felt like a simple accident, perhaps the man was just working in a place that was close to your own shop, thus making all the run ins nothing too strange or something worthy to ponder on about.

It all took a turn for worse once you felt the hairs at the back of your neck standing up straight when you would be walking home at night.

The streets would be empty and desolate, not a single soul in sight. You chalked it up to being paranoid, because who wouldn't wouldn't be afraid to walk home alone in the dark? The only thing that could be heard was the sound of a few stray critters and the sound of your own beating heart. Every heartbeat felt like it knocked the air out of you, the pumps getting stronger and stronger with every step you would take. Paranoia would take over your entire mind as you would check behind you every few seconds, to see if there really was a mystery man following you.

All of that fear would be washed away once you'd be in front of your door, the familiar wood calming your nerves as you'd fumble with the keys. With an eager sigh, you'd open the door with lightning speed and shut it just as fast, always double locking it. Your back would be pressed against the wooden frame as you'd put your hand on your chest, checking to see if your poor heart had finally managed to catch a breather.

This routine went on for months. You told your friends about the looming shadow that tailed you for countless nights, how terrified you were and just how unsafe it was for you to be walking home alone. Naturally, the responses were mixed. Some thought that you were just being jumpy, imagining things going bump in the night. It was natural to be scared of the unknown, that was their way of comforting you. The other side was more sympathetic and were more than willing to hear you out. Taking your words seriously, a good friend had offered himself to walk you home from that night onward. His own home was also close to your own so it was pretty much perfect. The two of you made plans on where to meet and what time. You could even treat him to some dinner while you were together, it was the least you could do to repay him for his kindness. Finally, the sun had set and it was time to depart together with your friend. With a pep in your step, you walked towards the rendezvous point and feeling just a bit more confident in this decision. You waited there and checked the time, he was running late. Well, it's not unusual to be a few minutes late, you could wait more.

Five minutes turned into ten.

Ten minutes turned into thirty.

This wasn't alright.

Everything was off once more, the familiar sensation of adrenaline had kicked back in as you looked around for your friend. Where was he? Why didn't he show up? Was this all just a prank to him after all?

Feeling dejected and nervous, you walked back home alone, the lights from the lanterns being your only companions. The familiar sounds of the night were still there, the occasional drunken yell as well.

But the sting that you would feel at the back of your neck, it...

It was not there.

There was no tension, no other presence that you could feel.

You were lost in the darkness.

The next day, you asked around for your friend but they all said the same thing - he had a sudden accident a bit before he was supposed to meet up with you and ended up bludging both his arms and legs. No one knew how it happened and whenever they would ask the guy all he would do is stare back at them, his lips quivering and bloodshot eyes filled to the brim with terror.

It made you want to curl up into a hole in the ground.

Calling in sick, you decided to go home while it was still daylight. The habit of looking behind your shoulder was very much on alert but there was also a sense of calmness in the air. Instead of the cold and chilly night you were walking down a path which was light up with warm light, instead of sounds of creatures looking for their next meal all you could hear were the sound of street vendors and chatter of children. The food smelled delicious and you allowed yourself the luxury of loosening up, just for a little bit. As you rummaged through your purse you came into contact with the familiar feeling of metal keys, the tiny charm you had on them being a dead set indicator. You put the key into the lock but before you twisted it, you turned around one last time to admire the scenery around you.

Happy children and grumpy adults were scattered all over the place, all of them lost in their own little world or they mingled with each other in one way or the other. You were particularly focused on the little boy who was devouring a grilled piece of meat on the stick, the aroma of it almost making your mouth drool. Looking behind your back really wasn't all too bad, especially if you could feast your eyes on the pure serenity which was so close.

Turns out, it was your front which you had to be looking out for.

Just as you opened the door, a tall man with jet black hair was on the other side. He stood perfectly still as he stared down at you, his blood red eyes leering over your body, like a hunter going in for the kill. Dread bubbled in your stomach at an alarming rate but before the scream could come out to the surface, the dark stranger pressed you close to him, one hand holding your waist tightly while the other clamped your mouth shut, not even allowing you to breathe.

"If you even make a sound." he said, his voice gruff but determined.

"I will kill every single person that is standing behind you. Man, woman or child, it does not matter to me."

You wanted to hurl. Your eyes were blown wide open with fear, your entire body shaking with anticipation as his hot breath fanned the shell of your ear. You could feel his teeth ghosting your earlobe, threatening to take a bite whenever he pleased. The hand which was snaked around your waist moved upwards to your back, his bandaged finger tracing the flesh through the fabric of your shirt. No one from the outside world was even paying attention to you and if they did, the two of you probably looked like two love birds who were just thoroughly enchanted with one another.

"You know." said the man, his voice edging on playful now. "I've been watching you for a while now."

You could feel your stomach drop in realization and he too picked up on that fact. He chuckled right in front of your face, his long strands of hair tickling your cheeks. You didn't even realize just how sticky his hands were up until now, you how putrid his scent was, like he had just cut up a carcass and left it for dead under the sun.

"Oh?" he chuckled, his tone fully serious now.

"Don't you recognize the smell of your friend?"

The tears finally kicked in and the sicko in front of you took great pleasure in them. You bawled like a baby in front of him, the horror of knowing that your friend was either dead or dying in a ditch somewhere was just too much to handle. But the creek merely laughed at you, his body shaking with pleasure as he kissed your tears away, his horrid cackles ringing loudly in your eyes. You managed to look at the world behind you one last time, your eyes searching for someone, anyone to help you in this time of need. But no one was there to see you, no one was there to help you.

The last thing you saw was a few strings of light before the stranger kicked the door shut with his foot, sealing you away from any possible freedom.

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aft3rhrs · 4 months

Text

— hangman ღ

number: unknown. pt 2.

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: strangers to lovers

warnings: dead dove, yandere, smoking, manipulation, corruption, allusions to depression and anxiety, allusions to past familial abuse, kidnapping, drugging, hints of fear kink (mind games, mentions & threats of snuff and necrophilia), allusions to cnc, mentions of stalking, angst, obsession, dub con, humiliation, praise, choking, possessiveness, outdoor sex, rough sex, dirty talk, use of triggering words in an erotic and degrading manner* (listed under the cut), creampie, mindbreak (??? a tiny bit), aftercare, mentions of murder and corpses, revenge themes, softer towards the end

*use of the word “rapist”.

masterlist

It's been three weeks since Jungkook has started seeing you in clubs. Five weeks of silence since the last phone call. It didn't take too long for you to let your guard down, a tempting invitation for a predator like him. Were you passing time drinking, hoping he would finally come around and see where you've been hiding? Terrified of the moment fantasy bleeds into reality, but unable to resist its pull?

He didn't have to wait long to find out.

He caught when you were walking home, heart throbbing the moment he finally felt your warmth. The thick shadows of the alley concealed your bodies, and if anyone were to walk by, they'd see nothing but a pair of lovers embracing in the dark.

No one would notice the cloth damp from chloroform pressed into your mouth, or the way his voice made your frightened form soften in his arms.

"It's okay," he shushed. "It's just me, baby..."

A monster familiar was better than a beast unknown.

"I'm sorry, I just need you to take a nap. I'll take care of you. I promise."

He pressed his lips into your forehead, stroking your hair as you limped in his hold, less conscious by the minute. A kiss goodnight, marking your departure to the empty dreamland that swallowed you whole.

Jungkook scooped you up, carried you to his car, then laid you down at the back before starting the engine.

The drive was smooth, the roads long and dark, inky outlines of trees thickening as they stretched forward. The little dress you wore barely covered your legs, prompting Jungkook to turn the heating on; even if his jacket already kept you warm.

Two hours later, you began to stir.

Your eyes opened, hazy from sleep and the drug still running through your system. Your consciousness fluttered awake slowly, along with all of your senses. You registered the feeling of Jungkook's heat blanketing you, his arm tight around your waist, keeping you tucked into his chest. You registered the weight of his hand cradling your cheek, and the smell of his cologne, mingling with leather.

"Had a good nap?" He murmured, his breath tickling your lips.

You blinked a few times, taking in the dimness of his car, and then the hooded eyes staring right into yours.

As if the reality of the situation just dawned on you, you startled, an incomprehensible protest fleeing your mouth. Your body seemed too weak to fight, however, and your mind wasn't in a much better place.

Jungkook buried his face in your neck when you jumped, brushing his nose along the smooth skin.

"Sorry, baby. I know you're tired, and we haven't seen each other in so long—" he whispered. "I've been going crazy without you."

You shivered promptly, your brain still muddled and heart thumping in your chest. You had no idea what was going on, and you were afraid to find out. Pride out the window, there was no denying that fact.

"But that's why tonight's a special occasion," Jungkook continued, still whispering. He lifted his head, the tip of his nose bumping into yours. "You know I'd do anything for you. Tonight I need you to do something for me."

You swallowed thickly. You wished you had the energy to slap him, kick him, bite him; but you felt too heavy.

"Go to hell," was all you managed, raspy and weak.

Jungkook chuckled. The sound made your blood boil. Fighting back only ever seemed to encourage his depraved nature, and it was humiliating, somehow, if not utterly discouraging.

"Hell is wherever I have to live without you," he mumbled into your cheek, "and trust me when I tell you, baby, you're never getting away from me again."

Your stomach sank, reaching depths you had no idea were possible. You watched him slip away from you to get out of the car, and the cold air that poured in wasn't the only reason your legs started shaking.

Like a gentleman, he reached for your hand and helped you out, most likely aware of how weak your knees felt. He steadied you against the door, letting you take in the dense woods surrounding you, the grim sight of empty branches twisting into the autumn sky.

You tried not to let the worst scenarios flood your head, yet it was a difficult wave to hold off; and impossible to run from.

"Where are we?"

Jungkook reached into his pocket.

"Out of town, little doe."

A glimmer of silver among the dark scenery caught your attention. You found yourself going rigid, staring at the shovel laying on the damp ground.

A click had your head snapping down. The barrel of a gun brushed against your hip, tender, like a lover's touch.

"Wanna get to work?"

The world tilted off its axis, your blood running cold, ice as blue as your veins.

You were going to die.

There was a small part of you that seemed to crack at the thought, prompting tears to burn your eyes. It wanted you to cry, plead him to stop and just take you home, to bed, so you could sleep it all away.

Yet a bigger part of you felt somewhat betrayed. He touched something dark inside of you, fed it until it bloomed, and now that you were so damaged he wanted you six feet under?

Jungkook bit his lip, a meek attempt at holding back a smile.

"Don't look at me like that. Not every girl gets to dig her own grave, you know. I even bought you flowers."

Still and silent as a statue, you didn't answer. The lump in your throat was too thick, the static in your head growing louder.

Jungkook leaned in, his gun languidly caressing your hip and plush lips teasing your ear.

"Here's your noose, baby. Are you ready for it?"

Your noose...

Were you supposed to trust him with it?

You were walking forward before you realized it, fists clenched and steps unsteady. You could have spent hours running through the woods, and you still wouldn't be able to escape him. Whether this was a sick game or your last night breathing, there was no denying that fact, either.

"You know what?" you snapped, grabbing the shovel, "I would rather die than spend another minute here with you."

You still tried to blink your tears away, refusing to give him the satisfaction, the last shreds of your dignity. You shoved the sharp edge of the tool into the earth, your vision blurred.

"I would rather die than ever see you again."

You were too busy throwing away the dirt, then digging in to gather more, to notice the way Jungkook's jaw tensed.

"I would rather be in the ground, than be around a psycho freak like you!"

The louder your voice rose, the more your throat ached, tears spilling over despite all your efforts. You continued to dig, completely disregarding seeing Jungkook walking towards you.

"Wow. I would watch your mouth if I were you, honey," he warned lowly, stopping a few inches behind you.

The shovel struck the earth again, a chill crawling down your spine.

"Ever gotten off to snuff porn?"

You froze, wide eyes staring into the ruined ground before you.

Jungkook ran his finger down your back, making you shiver.

"Well, I haven't. But I might start soon, with my personal little movie star, if you're not gonna be a good fucking girl."

The implication had your mouth instantly shut. You couldn't bear to turn around and look at him, or even run. Rooted to the place you stood in, withering away, like the trees that trapped you.

Jungkook snaked his arms around your waist, the gun still in his hand, flat against your abdomen.

"I don't like it when you lie, baby," he muttered, placing a kiss on your neck.

Your head was spinning strangely, shallow breaths leaving your lungs.

"Bet your pussy's wet. Probably been wet since I grabbed you. Bet it's clenching right now and you can't stand it, so you choose to be a fucking bitch... As always."

He kissed your neck once more, hot and breathy against your skin. Your knees almost buckled.

"You're so fucking dirty. Do you want me to snuff you out? Hmm?"

It was disgusting, the filth he spouted, the way he pressed himself closer to you, hard beneath his jeans. The way your tummy churned was worse, heat radiating on your skin despite the insistent brushes of the frigid wind.

"Want me to fuck you into that grave?"

You couldn't stop the tears, silent and hot, flowing in tandem with the slick sticking to your underwear. You still felt drugged out, your outburst doing nothing but leaving you hollow. Tiredness was beginning to take over, numbness spreading through your bones.

Maybe Jungkook was right. You were no better than him; aggression remaining your only self defense when you were left vulnerable. But now that it has faded, a quiet, devastating acceptance was starting to settle in.

You hated him — because you hated yourself. You wanted to be normal, to heal from the things that broke you. And every attempt ended in failure. Instead of encouraging you to try again, or critizing, Jungkook was the only person who wanted you as you were. In pieces.

He didn't mind getting cut on the shards. In fact, it seemed he'd be ecstatic to bleed for you, offer you everything he had. Toxic and twisted, no end to his devotion.

"Keep digging," he said hoarsely, then took a step back.

Like he was trying to stay in control.

You obeyed, sniffling quietly as you bent down to pick up the shovel.

He told you once that not everyone was made for this world; and you clearly weren't, but that was okay... because you were made for him. That you could keep trying to fit in and keep failing if you wanted — or let him in.

You didn't, and he crept inside anyway; a tender violence.

At this point, you didn't care much if you died or not. At least everything would be over. In the end, you didn't have much to wake up for.

Jungkook lit up a cigarette. He drank in the sight of sweat shining on your skin in the dim light of the moon, the shift in your demeanor as you continued digging.

"Easy," he called, blowing out smoke. "Don't hurt yourself, darling. That's my job. It doesn't need to be that deep."

You ignored him, no longer in the mood to talk. Or to provoke him any further, for that matter. Your arms almost trembled as the hole in the ground grew deeper, whether from strain or nerves, it was hard to tell. The thought of your body laying in the dirt, cold and forgotten, felt both unsettling and peaceful. As though nothing mattered anymore.

Jungkook watched you struggle, fingers stiff around the shovel, and yet you kept going, the scattered pile of dirt behind you increasing. He was pissed off, but finishing his cigarette soothed the fire, while noting how pale you've begun to turn put it out altogether.

He threw the bud away and jumped off the hood of his car to make his way towards you. His hand settled on your waist, pulling you up, while the other took a hold of the shovel.

"That's enough," he murmured, dropping it aside with a small thump. "Good girl."

You let yourself melt into death's arms.

Your head lolled to the side, exposing the expanse of your neck, unconsciously giving Jungkook the access he wanted. He kissed the tender flesh, squeezing your hips, still hard and hot beneath his jeans.

"The end is always a new beginning, baby."

You sighed, mascara wet and heavy on your lashes. Gently, Jungkook turned you around to face him, wiping the dark streaks from your face.

"I love you so much," he breathed into your lips.

His body was solid against yours. Your only source of warmth. Dizzy, you barely had the chance to glance up at him before he kissed you, swallowing your shaky exhale.

You let out a mellow squeal when his hands traveled down your legs, gripping your thighs to lift you with ease. For the first time you found yourself clinging to him, kissing him back with equal hunger instead of denial. You wanted to forget the world around you, the grave you've dug for yourself, much earlier than tonight.

Jungkook took a step, then another, before giving up entirely and lowering you down beside it, disconnecting your lips from his only the moment he hovered above you.

Pupils blown out, inky hair messy, he cupped your cheek, his heart thumping right against yours.

"Are you scared?" He asked softly, his thumb still wiping at your tears.

You stared up at him, trying to hold on to reality, but as always, your grip was slipping, and he was the only lifeline you had left. He stirred up the muddy waters in your heart, agitated the unbridled, starving things within their depths.

"Is this a punishment?" you found yourself uttering, barely a whisper.

Jungkook cocked his head to the side, his gaze flicking between your eyes and your lips.

"Mm, not really. Just a little game, to end all the others. And start something new."

You didn't know what to think or feel anymore, your hair splayed out on the ground, so cold beneath you, Jungkook's heat bleeding into your skin from above, and the world spinning.

You smacked his arm when he dipped down to mouth at your neck again; drained, the distorted hands under the water still reaching to pull him under with the remnants of your anger. He laughed, as though he found it adorable, immediately grabbing your face to kiss you again.

He didn't hesitate for a second, unzipping his jeans with one hand, and you could feel your core quiver against your better judgement. It was surprising to find that there was still some clarity left in you; or maybe it was easier to make peace with death than with the fact that you were your own traitor.

"Want me to fuck you in it?" Jungkook breathed, forcing your thighs apart.

You couldn't help the way your gaze fell down to his inked hand, wrapped around his cock. He tapped it against your inner thigh impatiently, precum wetting your skin. You clenched around thin air, spine tingling.

"The grave," he clarified, smirking.

The words finally hit you, and you shook your head, your hands frantically pushing at his chest.

"No!" you cried out, nails almost slashing the skin of his neck.

Jungkook grunted, pushing back, leaning his entire weight on you to put an end on your antics. Your breath hitched when you felt his fingers dip inside your underwear, pulling it aside abruptly. He didn't comment on how drenched the flimsy material was. The moment you were exposed, he was pushing inside you, incapable of focusing on anything but the warmth of your cunt.

The small hole stretched so nicely to accommodate him, fluttering around his cock. He groaned into your mouth, and your thighs shuddered around him, a restless heat boiling deep in your gut.

"You're so wet," he moaned, pulling back to feel the ring of muscles clench against his flushed tip, trying to suck him back in.

He shivered at the feeling, then proceeded to fuck himself in and out of you like he needed; like you both did. Hard.

"You're a filthy fucking minx, I shouldn't ask you anything unless I'm inside you. Your pussy won't lie to me, hm?"

Despite the whines he coaxed out of your throat, you shook your head, every wet slap of his cock thrusting in and out echoing through the woods. Imprinting on your brain.

"Oh yeah? How about we rewind a little, baby?"

He fucked you faster, angling his hips to find that little spot that made your mouth fall open. He wasn't going to go easy on it, or on you, chasing the high.

"What's gotten you so soaked?" He managed, panting. "Did you like the thought of me snuffing you out?"

Cheeks aflame, a choked out protest; and yet your pussy was getting tighter, soaking the thick grith pounding into it.

Jungkook let out a sound akin to a whimper, eyebrows scrunching.

"Fuck, I know you did," he leaned his forehead on yours, feeling his cock throb. "I know how much you want my cum, screaming or dead or asleep. And if I could live without you, baby, I'd do it for you, keep you so full of me."

A revolting insinuation; but you couldn't tell the difference between nausea and an approaching orgasm making your stomach twist.

Jungkook's lips inched towards yours, a deep groan rumbling out.

"That's it. Let it go. Let it all go, angel."

This was the way he wanted you to fall apart; on his big cock, tasting the kind of euphoria nothing and no one but him could offer. He felt his balls tighten, heavy as they slammed against you, almost ready to spill everything he had.

"Mm—" a sigh, a pause, hips grinding as his hand clutched your neck, feeling your pulse jump. "Yeah."

A drop of sweat slipped down his temple. Beautiful, with a mouth that dripped depravity, he might as well have had two horns growing out of his head, a forked tongue hidden under the illusion of humanity.

He resumed his ruthless pace, unwilling to let you look away, dissociate from him. In fact, the way you squirmed under him, succumbing to the rush, pliant and loud as you cried, had him choking you harder, crushing the rest of your pride.

"Close?" He bit down on your lower lip, pulling on it. "What do you think your friends would say if they saw you like this?" He husked, his hand crawling up your chest. "Getting fucked out in the woods... by your stalker. Do you think they would be surprised?"

He fondled you over the soft material of the dress, focused on nothing but pumping you full of him. You felt like heaven, and your tight little cunt responded to his words, even if you didn't want to, fluttering and releasing more slick.

"They shouldn't be," he swallowed harshly, watching your eyes fall closed. "They don't know you at all. Don't know how much you like this cock forcing you open."

For the first time that night, it was clear that your thighs weren't trembling from fear. That greedy pussy wasn't letting him go, and Jungkook was tipping towards the edge, no filter on his thoughts anymore.

"But I know," his head fell into your neck, a hot mumble striking your skin. "You're such a good girl, such a good fucking girl, and such a dirty fucking whore, just for me— aaahhh, fuck."

There it was; his favorite way of getting to you. Kissing, biting and licking at your monsters until they'd submit, recognizing him as one of their own. His cock liked it too, the way you fell to pieces under him, back arched and hands digging into his shoulders.

"I feel you, baby," he groaned, "knew you'd cream my cock. That's all you can think about, isn't it?"

You whimpered, delirious, though it still sounded like a 'no', a cute, little lie to ward off your guilt. For some reason, it turned Jungkook on more. He lifted his head and sucked at your lower lip, rutted into you harder.

"Go on, baby," he breathed, "cream it. No need to be shy, you're already mine."

A trail of sloppy, possessive kisses marked your neck, electricity trickling through your spine.

"My prettiest baby, my only girl," Jungkook babbled drunkenly. "Go on, do it for me. Yeah..."

Eyes dark, locking on yours, his voice lowering to a shaky whisper.

"Come on your rapist's cock."

You unraveled like his word was holy, clamping down on him and ripping a hoarse moan out of his throat. He fucked you through it anyway, too close to the edge to stop his own fall; his cock throbbed, long spurts of hot cum filling your ruined hole, so deep and so good his eyes rolled back.

He swore filthily, knees like cotton and his hand digging into your throat, staking his claim, the rush too sweet not to let it linger. It flowed through his entire body, pulsing and warm, like the sun. It flowed through yours too, imploding, and wiping out the rest of existence. As far as you were aware, Jungkook was all that was left.

You didn't feel anything else; not the passage of time, nor the cold air grazing your arms. Only his lips, leaving kiss after kiss on your face, muttering praises you could barely make out with your mind numbed out.

You weren't sure how long you've spent laying there, his cum leaking out of you, bones like jelly and skin sticky. At last floating in the dark, like fog, and still being kissed all over, your flesh existing only where his lips touched.

By the time he pulled you up, you didn't have the capacity to wonder what was going to happen next.

So why were you crying again?

You even didn't notice until Jungkook sat you on the hood of his car, cupping your cheeks.

"No more, baby," he pleaded. "Relax. I've got you."

You were so tired.

You wished you could lie down and sleep, but Jungkook reached for the hem of your dress, inching it up.

"I'm gonna need this."

Your heart flipped. Still, you were too out of it to protest or ask why.

Goosebumps flooded your skin as he took the clothing off you, gently, leaving you in nothing but your underwear.

As if shutting down, you stayed there; once again, unmoving. You listened to the trunk pop open, stuck on the odd rustling sound that followed. A loud thud came, making you flinch.

Then, more rustling.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jungkook dragging something towards you, a faint, unpleasant smell of blood reaching your nose.

Your stomach turned.

You stared at the bag, and he stared at you, unceremoniously dropping your dress on the wrapped up corpse.

Perhaps it was the way you gasped that had him reaching out, the same hands that took a life massaging your bare sides to comfort you.

"Close your eyes for the next part, baby," he whispered.

His nose brushed against yours. You felt your lower lip tremble, but still did as he asked.

"Good girl," he praised.

Frowning, you attempted to make some sense of what was happening, attempted to keep your heart from jumping to your throat.

It did anyway.

Sensing your distress, Jungkook kissed your lips.

"Remember a girl called Jia?"

No more pounding, or skipping beats. Everything seemed to come to a halt, including your heart.

Jungkook squeezed your waist. His voice remained quiet, a ghost in the wind.

"Not a pretty sight."

Inhale.

Exhale.

He took a hold of your trembling hand, leaving a loving kiss on each knuckle.

"Tonight, you die, baby," he murmured, the next kiss landing on your temple. "And nothing bad will ever happen to you again. Just you and me, yeah?"

The tears that fell were different now. Something broke. But it felt like release.

The soothing warmth of his hands vanished, and you kept your eyes closed. Even as the bag rustled and the stench got worse, even as another thud echoed through the empty woods.

How did he know?

Somehow, it still surprised you. Somehow, you couldn't bear to disobey him as he filled the grave you dug up, burying the biggest nightmare of your past. The so called family that had torn your life and soul apart.

There was no doubt in your mind that if he found her, he found him, too.

You listened to the metal dig into the earth again, dirt gathering on top of her corpse. Clad in your dress, butchered, rendering her unrecognizable. Teeth, face, hands — ruined. Jungkook had thought of everything, it seemed. A perfect crime.

The only traces of DNA left? Yours. Whatever still lingered on that little black dress.

As of tonight...

You were were dead.

Jungkook threw the shovel away, huffing, then made his way back towards the car. He heaved a sigh and pulled you in, held you close, sheltering you from the rest of the world.

Your fingers wrapped around the fabric of his sleeve, squeezing.

He acknowledged the gesture by kissing the top of your head, eyes closed. There was no rush, really, besides the longing to finally take you home and get into bed to sleep.

No more games. No more pain.

The end was always a new beginning.

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#dead dove #yandere bts #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts reactions #bts smut #bts imagines #bts scenarios #jungkook smut

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burnyouwithacigarettelighter · 8 months

Text

KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOR ─── jonathan crane ✧♤

ೃ⁀➷ “Finally, a sin worth hurting for, a fervor, a sweet--you are mine.” — ‘Postcolonial Love Poem’, Natalie Diaz.

pairing. yandere!jonathan crane x reader

summary. a few months ago, you found out about your close friend’s… habit, of “cleaning up” creeps who hung around you. you use this to your advantage, but can you deal with the repercussions when your words backfire?

warnings. swearing, stalking, jonathan being creepy & delusional, manipulative but naive reader, mention of murder, p in v, creampie, breeding kink/forced breeding/babytrapping, unprotected sex, mild somno, oral sex (f), panty kink, forced cockwarming, drugging, heavy dubcon/noncon, SMUT UNDER THE CUT!

word count. 6.1k

a/n. this is definitely the darkest thing ive ever written. pls read w caution everyone!!! this is also inspired by these headcanons by @babybluebex and this alphabet by @scorpiussage !!

You covered your face with your palms, sniffling. “Maybe I’m just being overdramatic. I was always too nice to him, y’know? Maybe I did lead him on.”

Jonathan’s head snapped to you, swiftly stepping toward the couch and kneeling down in front of you. “No, no, that’s what he wants you to think. You did nothing wrong,” he assured, pulling your hands away from your face and wiping a sneaky, non-existent tear from the corner of your eye.

You pouted at Jonathan, big doe eyes glistening with grief. “I just don’t know what I’m going to do tomorrow… and everyday after that,” you lamented, “because it’ll be so - upsetting, seeing him.”

Jonathan’s large hands clasped around your own, delicate and warm. “Does it scare you? Him being there?” he murmured softly, peering deeply into you with an indecipherable look.

You nodded pitifully, looking down at his hands wrapped in yours so your hair would fall in front of your face, hopefully shielding the glee sparkling in your eyes. Thank god Jonathan had taken the bait -- it was only a matter of time before your dear, obsessive friend would get rid of your competitor for you.

It was late evening, and you’d called Jonathan, pretending to rant about a coworker who confessed and got slightly violent at the fact you did not reciprocate his feelings. In truth, none of that had happened at all— said coworker was vying for the same promotion opportunity as you were, and it was just your luck that a few months ago you discovered your sweet friend from college had made it a habit to “clean up” any creeps and freaks hanging around you.

What kind of ambitious career-woman would you be if you didn’t take advantage of that, huh? So there you were, crying on the phone so devastatingly that Jonathan would have no choice but to come over, comfort you, and later, be your knight in shining armor and kill, kidnap or maim your coworker.

You didn’t think it immoral to do so, y’know, even though it clearly was. To you, it was just… indulging his little hero-fantasy, while also making your life just that much easier. It made you happy, and it made Jonathan happy.

It was all harmless (to you, anyway), because you knew how reserved Jonathan was… how logical he was. You were positive he’d never cross that line, go too far; stray out of the shadows with that possibility of losing you still hanging over him like a cloud.

You wrapped your arms around Jonathan’s thin neck, hugging him tightly. “Thank you for coming tonight,” you murmured, your lips ghosting the shell of his ear. He shuddered under your touch, and you knew you had him whipped; probably already so deep within a plan to kill your coworker nothing could stop him.

“Thank you for telling me,” he said, pulling away and letting his hand come up to the hand-print sized bruises on your shoulder. “I can’t believe that - that monster hurt you.” Jonathan shook his head aghast, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes moved from your bruised shoulder to the strap of your lacy bra, trailing down your breasts before snapping back up to your face.

Your coworker hadn’t actually hurt you, obviously, but you had asked him to knead out a knot in your shoulder at lunch, and made him pinch harder ‘till you knew it would bruise. You’d known him for a couple of years now, coming from the same training batch, and had been involved in plenty of tit-for-tat exchanges, “scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours” type of deals.

So you were close enough to be comfortable massaging the other-- but you’d be fucking damned if he got the promotion and you didn’t.

“It’s not that bad,” you murmured, ducking your head like you were ashamed.

“You don’t need to downplay it -- least of all to me,” Jonathan tutted softly, two fingers tilting your chin up to meet his gaze again.

You pressed your lips into a thin line, brows knitting. “I know, I’m sorry, I just…” you blinked rapidly, as if you were trying to do away with on-coming tears, “I thought you wouldn’t believe me. He said… he said that nobody would believe me.”

And just like that, it was like a shadow had passed over him. Jonathan’s expression contorted almost frighteningly quickly, and gone were the delicate, comforting sweetness of his sharp features; thus came the darkened eyes, clenched jaw, frown digging into his cheeks.

“…He said that?” Jonathan whispered, voice low, barely containing the rage seeping into his words.

“He said that - he could do… do whatever he wanted to me, and I’d never convince a soul.” You confided, letting your face get weepy, tear tracks running along the curve of your cheeks.

At that, you suddenly pulled Jonathan close to you, pressing your face to his chest and making anguished cries leave your throat. His hands shakily came up to pet your hair, and you could hear his heartbeat; skipping beats and growing faster the longer you clutched onto him.

“I believe you,” Jonathan insisted, and went from petting you to holding you so tight you could barely breathe, “I believe you.”

ii.

You never saw your coworker again. He’d sent in a notice of “vacation” that nobody could really object to… considering he also informed your boss he’d already gone, and was sending said notice from his hotel.

Sure, that was incredibly suspicious anywhere else, but that’s the thing— you weren’t “anywhere else”, you were in Gotham. If your coworker had actually gone on a split-second vacation, nobody would blame him; everyone you knew who lived in Gotham had snapped, at least once, and had to get away. Most temporarily, some permanently -- in which, chalking his fate up to Jonathan, your coworker was definitely the latter.

Honestly, you weren’t very surprised when you found out Jonathan was, for lack of better word, murdering people. Specifically, people he deemed a “threat” to you.

Jonathan had always been… a touch too overprotective. Territorial, even. It was far subtler in college, but you supposed that was because you’d seen him everyday; with both of you trekking through your hellish career aspirations, you couldn’t see each other as often as you had back in school. It was like that saying-- absence makes the heart grow fonder.

You’d first met Jonathan in GSU’s large community library, after you dropped a book on his head. You were on one side of the bookshelf, he on the other, and you were trying to grab a book on a too-tall ledge. Instead of getting your measly grip on it, it went backwards and smacked Jonathan right in the rimless frames. It was a meet-cute, sort of, with you apologizing profusely, him brushing your worries off with that irritatingly charming smile of his, and then helping you with any books you needed (a clear advantage of his height) for the rest of the day.

From there you became close friends. He always knew the right things to say, had various fascinating interests (half of them coinciding with your own), and was always, without fail nor doubt, an absolute darling. He never poked or prodded into information you didn’t want to tell him (at least not yet), constantly staying polite, respectful, eloquent, and patient.

You knew now why and how your relationship had escalated like so: you suspected he’d been one of those “creeps” hanging around you, long before the library incident in your early college days. You first began adoring him for the most part because it felt like he understood you perfectly, unknowingly adhering to all your creature habits, liking all your hobbies, and knowing every word that could make you let your guard down like you’d been friends for years. It all made sense now-- he’d collected said information just from watching you for so long.

Thus the “meet cute, sort of”; Jonathan had probably been planning the moment for months. Polite, respectful, eloquent, patient.

Why you? Well, you didn’t know either. Getting psychological about this, you probably reminded him of a relative he adored - some Freudian aspect coming into play, y’know? But it all boiled down to one constant fact: he was obsessed with you.

It should’ve scared you, and it probably would’ve, back in college, but it didn’t now. His type was a dime a dozen, incredibly hard to come by; the kind of guy who you know you can trust, rely on, know without a doubt he will never leave.

Even if you and Jonathan were just friends, you suspected in his sweet, beautiful, sick and twisted mind he’d long since considered you his — and, similarly, since finding out his secret, you began thinking of him as yours. Perhaps not yours romantically, but more like you owned him. He was the ever-present lucky charm in your pocket, the one who reminded you that you’d been loved before so you’ll be loved again, your constant support.

“How’re you feeling?” Jonathan’s worried voice crackled out of your beat-up phone, startling you back to reality. You were hiding in your car while on break, not keen on talking to any of your coworkers or bosses in the cafeteria, when you’d gotten a call from him.

“A lot better, actually.” You said, taking a bite of your lunch and trying to sound relieved rather than giddy. “…He went on vacation.”

Jonathan hummed on the other end of the line. You could hear the grin in his tone, but he quickly coughed, smoothing out the cheerful jitters in his voice. “Really? That’s rather… well-timed.”

You shrugged, as if Jonathan could see you, “Whether it’s about me, or not, I’m just… glad I don’t have to see him.”

“Know that I agree wholeheartedly– the thought of him being near you made my stomach turn.” He let out a sigh, like his nerves were finally relaxing, “How about you come over tonight? I can make us a nice dinner, you can stay over if you want-- I regret leaving you alone last night… you were terrified.”

You bit your lip. When it came to Jonathan actually getting, well, romantic, you hesitated. Did he really want you, or was it his obsession kicking in? You knew he loved who he thought you were: a frail girl he needed to protect, not knowing you’d been using him to your heart's content since you found out his dirty little secret.

You were running out of fingers on your hands to count how many people you’d directed him to… clean up. First it was little targets, like the barista at your usual coffee place who’d flirt and always take too long making your drink, causing several lates at work. More recently it was the landlord of your apartment, who’d raised the rent three times in one month; after she died, the ownership went to her absent-minded son who reset the prices to the original, more-than-comfortable regular rate.

But… you supposed you could humor him. A reward of some sorts; an unknowing treat to your obedient, sweetheart guard dog. “I’ll stop by, then,” you responded delicately. “I… didn't want you to leave either, Jon,” you murmured, before quickly hanging up.

Later, after work, you’re driving to Jonathan’s with a bottle of white wine. You did these kinds of things for eachother -- little gifts, you mean -- often. Yesterday, he visited your flat with pastries from a bakery you liked all the way down in Old Gotham.

“Chardonnay,” Jonathan commented when you arrived, ushering you through the front door with a squeeze to the thigh and gently inspecting the bottle. “You know me so well.”

“Dare I say the best,” you grinned, pressing a friendly peck to his cheek and handing him your evening coat before traversing into his house’s large kitchen, swiping a finger-dip into the various dishes he had laid out in the middle of cooking.

“At least don’t touch dessert,” he pouted, quickly hanging your coat in his entry closet and trailing behind you. But his expression still cracked into a loving smile when he saw you sneak your pinkie-finger into a chocolate custard.

“Okay, okay, I’ll be patient,” you backed off with a cheeky smile, arms up in the air and opting to hoist yourself on an empty counter and watch him resume cooking.

“How thoughtful of you,” he responded sarcastically.

It didn’t take him long at all to finish up, and your eyes were trained on his sinewy figure the whole way through; the careful way he cooked, the absolute attention to every detail.

Sure, you could say that was because Jonathan was a detail-oriented person (because he was), but you also knew it was because he was nervous, fumbling to impress you-- you noticed these kinds of things a whole lot more after finding out. Like how he gave you his coat when you went out together late at night and it was cold, how he often kept you close with a hand to the small of your back, how intently he listened to your every word, like it was the last thing he’d ever hear.

“Like what you see?” Jonathan joked when he was done, urging you to sit down across from him and handing you the chardonnay poured in one of his wine glasses.

“M’just admiring your cooking skills,” you explained sweetly, taking the glass and sipping it mildly.

Jonathan’s eyes crinkled, lips curling into a sheepish smile. He didn’t respond, but he didn’t have to: he radiated delight. You swore you could see pink dusting his high cheekbones, a feverish blush burning from his ears to his pale neck.

From there, dinner went on with some friendly chatter, his skillful dishes, and several more glasses of chardonnay. Nothing ever got old with Jonathan-- he listened well and he spoke gently and he revered your every word; you felt important just by being near him, he was so devoted.

By the end of the night, however, you were feeling rather light-headed- veering on the edge of unconsciousness: “I think I’ll - take you up on that offer, Jon…” you murmured, trailing off and getting up from your seat. It was odd, surely, how quickly a mere white wine had gotten you drunk, but then again you’d been housing a nearly-full glass every few minutes. You lost your drink count ages ago.

Jonathan, ever the gentleman, stopped tidying up immediately. “Good judgment,” he nodded agreeably, coming to your aid and picking you up bridal style. Your head swam at the sudden movement, his feet swiftly heading down the hallway, but his gentle voice quickly aided the dizziness: “Don’t force yourself and don’t worry, just sleep…”

“M’sorry,” you whispered, holding him tightly by the lapel, more words on the tip of your tongue, but he just shushed you, “didn’t help.”

“That’s quite alright, my love,” he replied lowly, entering his bedroom. He pressed an uncharacteristic kiss to your forehead and let you down onto his cushy mattress, watching how quickly your eyes dropped. You were certainly feeling the effects of the glass he laced now-- and then you were out.

Jonathan needed to have you now, under his protection, and he’d achieve that through any means necessary, be it liquid melatonin or anything else…

“You’ll have plenty of time to help later. You’re home now.”

iii.

“Sorry about… last night,” you said the next morning when you got up, rubbing your eyes sleepily and padding into Jonathan’s kitchen.

You found him leaning against his marble countertops, gently sipping down a mug of black coffee within his calloused grip, and he raised a brow amusedly. “You said the same thing in your sleep.”

Your gaze darted away from his own at the sudden embarrasssment. “Nonetheless… thanks, Jon. I’ll be out of your hair immediately-- I’m actually rather late for work. I kept a dress here last time, right?”

He set down his mug with a dull clink, and in your rambling, he’d made his way right in front of you. “No need,” he murmured, to which you tilted your head in confusion.

“I already called in for you. You’re not going to work today.” He explained, a thin smile coming up to his face, eyes gleaming.

You laughed awkwardly, suddenly feeling trapped at the way he took slow steps forward, making you backtrack into the wall. “What are -- Jonathan, what are you talking about?”

“I can’t, in good conscience, let you leave.” Jonathan insisted with a nod, expression knitted in a way you knew he thought he was doing the right thing.

‘“Let me’ leave? Is- is this a joke? Because it’s… it’s not a funny one,” you stuttered, heart beginning to hammer in your chest at the way he looked down at you. It was like he was watching a wounded animal-- in a way, you felt like it… and Jonathan was clearly your predator.

“It’s not a joke, dear. Gotham’s gotten too dangerous for you,” he informed you softly, hands coming up to hold your face lovingly. His steps stopped, and you felt it: he’d finally pinned you against the wall, and there was no escape. “That coworker of yours was the last straw. My heart aches at the thought of what he could’ve done to you.”

“I - that wasn’t…” You trailed off, cringing at the way he leaned in further, his hot breath fanning on your cheeks -- how helpless you were against his advances.

You knew something was going to happen when Jonathan couldn’t just stay on the sidelines anymore, but you didn’t think it’d happen like this. You thought it might end with him professing his love to you, pleading and begging you to indulge him fully. That he’d fume and sob at rejection… that he’d let you go.

But Jonathan was like a ticking time bomb: with every victim you gave him, moments were ticked off his clock. It seemed that your coworker was the last second… and that he’d had enough of his frail darling being surrounded left and right by threats to take care of. He knew it’d all be so much easier if he could keep you safe in one spot, a place only he could enter.

“That wasn’t what? My god, I knew I couldn’t leave you all alone like that anymore… you’re too sweet, too innocent to know what’s gone too far,” he shook his head pityingly, unaware how hypocritical his words were.

“Jonathan,” you looked up at him, breath catching at the way his fingers dug into your neck, “what are -- what are you going to do to me?”

He let out a sharp laugh, “Do to you? Oh… no, my love, I won’t be doing anything to you… no, I’ll be keeping you safe.”

“Safe?” you repeated incredulously, “but what about - my life? My friends? My family? My job?”

He shushed you, not unlike he had done just the other night, or the night before that, “You don’t need to worry about any of those trivial things anymore. You have me. I’ll give you anything -- no, everything you want.”

Your lips parted and closed, unable to come up with a response that may cause him to realize the sheer insanity of what he was saying. He’d gone too far… had slipped too deep into the infatuation while you weren’t looking.

Then, Jonathan wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pressing your face into the crook of his neck and immediately invading your nostrils with the scent of his cologne. It had been nice, once, but now it sickened you: how quickly that scent made your head swirl and your stomach clench… how quickly Jonathan had went from a darling pet of yours to a terror of unimaginable size.

Fuck, you thought, fuck, you’d been playing with fire this whole time-- you had been playing with fire while being naive and underestimating and wholly stupid.

You’d completely underestimated the depth of his commitment; how Jonathan was the kind of man who loved one and only one, and that there was no letting go with him. That once he had his claws in your skin, there was nothing that could stop him.

But then, you remembered your thoughts from just two days prior-- you had him whipped. It was like a lightbulb went off; you knew you could use that, use his mindless, adoring obsession to you…

“Jonathan,” you murmured under your breath, too quiet for him to hear as he hummed lovingly above you. “Jonathan,” you repeated, louder this time, pushing him away and startling him.

He blinked rapidly, fixing his glasses that had gone askew in your sudden movement. “What is it, my love?”

“You -- you love me, do you not?” you asked, swallowing the cowardly dryness in your throat.

Jonathan nodded vehemently, inching closer, desperate to have you in his arms again. “Nothing in the world could compete with my love for you. Nothing.”

You exhaled shakily, putting your hands out in a poor way of creating more distance between you two. “I - I love you, too. I love you.”

You saw Jonathan’s face light up at your sudden confession, saw how his demeanor changed from hesitant to beaming. “You love me?”

“Yes, yes, I do,” you insisted, panting as beads of sweat rolled down your back, “and I’m telling you… I won’t anymore, not if you keep me here. If you truly love me, you won’t trap me here.”

“It’s because I love you that I plan to keep you here,” he frowned, before grabbing you by the extended wrist, pulling you close and wrapping his arms around you in a deathgrip.

“But you love me,” he repeated in amazement, pressing rough kisses along the side of your neck that had you whimpering, “so you’ll understand. God, how I’ve longed to hear those words leave your mouth.”

Jonathan had gotten tunnel vision at this point, barely registering your pleas, and when he began pawing at your clothes, apparently in some kind of delusion that your “confession” was a lustful one… you jumped ship.

He thought your confession meant he had permission to have a taste of you, and while it made your knees buckle and your throat burn, if it meant he might finally fucking listen, let you convince him to let you leave… so fucking be it.

The two of you then stumbled back down his hallway to the bedroom, tugging at each other’s garments while pressing hungry kisses on one another. You played along dutifully, trailing your hands along his back while tugging off his jacket, and other articles of clothing.

Entering the bedroom at last, Jonathan gently pushed you down onto the springy bed, having long since undone you-- you were left in your lacy underwear from the night before: black bra, black stockings, lacy thong hidden beneath it.

You wore thongs because they didn’t leave any panty lines under your thin pencil skirts, but you were quickly regretting the choice when Jonathan crawled onto the bed and roughly tugged down your stockings, surely leaving holes and runs in them, and let out a lecherous groan at the sight.

“God, I love your body,” he purred, hands hungrily groping your thighs and throwing your ruined stockings off to the side. “Can’t believe how long I waited for this.”

You closed your legs on instinct shyly, but he just as quickly pried your legs apart, leaning in and pressing sweet kisses along the soft flesh. “Jonathan…” you whimpered, trying to act needy, like you wanted him so bad-- in reality, you wanted to get this over with.

You reckoned if you let him fuck you, get him pussywhipped, you could promise you’d adore him wholeheartedly if he just fucking let you leave his house. You couldn’t deny how his ministrations made you feel, though; his plush lips brushing along your clothed cunt made tingles run up your spine, made your heart beat in a way that was anticipatory rather than terrified.

“Let me take care of you,” he promised, slipping off your panties and leaving your lips bare. You would’ve hissed at the cold, but the noise died in your throat as you saw Jonathan ball up the lace and press it to his face, inhaling deeply.

“Fuck, you smell so good,” Jonathan groaned, and you almost gagged. “Wonder how good you’ll taste…” With that, he pressed his face between your legs and began lapping up your wetness, and you felt a gleeful smile tug at his face.

You gasped at the sudden action, bucking up into him on instinct. Your cheeks burned with shame, but you still choked on an unwarranted mewl when Jonathan’s tongue slipped inside your sticky hole and felt along your velvet walls.

He couldn’t exactly speak, with his mouth trained artfully on your cunt, but he let out an unintelligible noise of approval. All of this made you nauseous, your insides twisting in disgust, but your body reacted the opposite, pussy pulsing and clenching around him.

It was just -- fucking criminal how skillful he was with that long tongue of his, licking long stripes up and down, suckling on your clit, searching for the spongy spot in your cunt that he knew he couldn’t find without his cock, but wanted to make you squirm anyway.

You felt that familiar pressure building within you, his tongue going down on you faster, making shameful squelching noises echo around the room. He was hitting every pressure point, something you hadn’t felt in… well, honestly, you weren’t sure you’d been eaten out like this ever…

The thought you were enjoying this, that he might actually make you come made you queasy, and your hands tangled through his locks, pulling him away. “Want - want your… your cock,” you panted, shaking your head when he tried to bury himself in your sex again.

Jonathan frowned, going from all fours to sitting on the backs of his heels. “Baby…” he said, hesitant. You knew he wanted to take his time, worship you, treat you lovingly, but you were getting confused… losing yourself to the pleasure, forgetting you were doing this to stop him from holding you captive, not because you actually wanted it.

You pouted, and, to prove your point further, you pressed one of your feet onto his extremely noticeable bulge, fondling it softly. He nearly doubled over at the much needed friction to his neglected cock, and then Jonathan finally let go of all his inhibitions, giving into his primal needs.

He quickly undid his belt buckle and fly, slipping out of his suit trousers. Your heart sank at the reveal of his size; the imprint of his cock looked extremely intimidating, and that was beneath his boxer shorts.

It seemed your thoughts showed on your face, and he leaned down to press a kiss to your temple, leaving an embarrassing amount of your wetness on the skin. “It’s okay, my love,” he reassured, “your pretty pussy can take me.”

You nodded hesitantly, your teeth capturing your bottom lip and nipping at it nervously as you watched him completely undress… his cock wasn’t very thick, but boy, was it long, coloured a delicate pink hue that was pretty and aching, but you knew he wouldn’t be using it delicately at all.

The way he looked at you, almost feral, eyes dragging over every curve and practically melting at how your hole gaped for him had you wanting to cover up, run away-- but you held still and forced yourself to brave through it.

You only need to do this once, you repeat mentally, only once, and you can convince him to let you go.

Jonathan didn’t waste any time touching himself or anything like that, he merely crawled atop of you and slotted himself between your shuddering lips. “So wet,” he grunted, slowly pushing his cockhead in.

Despite his words, and the terrifyingly glaring feeling of your wetness, you still winced at the stretch; your back arched at the intrusion, your arms wrapping around his neck and digging your fingernails into his back just from the pain of his tip at your entrance.

He slid the rest of the way in jiltedly, and you let out a pained gasp, then a helpless whimper, and finally, his name, your voice weak and raspy as he laid his weight on your torso, panting at how you soaked him. His unruly length was going deeper than you thought possible, and your mind went fuzzy with fear at how it’d feel when he actually started thrusting in and out. You could only pray he didn’t break you.

“You did it, dear,” Jonathan announced proudly, pressing a kiss to your lips this time. You shuddered at the intimate gesture, but he didn’t seem to notice, and slowly pulled out, before slamming back in.

You swore you saw stars, tears welling in your eyes at the rough action, and Jonathan placed his hands on your hips to soothe you by rubbing circles into the skin. “Full,” you choked out simply.

Apparently, he thought that was praise, and he repeated the action, falling into a steady rhythm of slow but brutal thrusts. It had you gasping for air each time, the sting in your lower-half almost unbearable, but you suddenly felt yourself falling into a morally muddled, puzzling state of mind: he was practically torturing you with his length, but he was also whispering sweet nothings in your ear, gently massaging your rear.

“You’re so -- fuck, thats a tight pussy -- beautiful,” he’d murmur, hanging his head low into the dip of your collarbone, “so beautiful.”

But, as you had to keep reminding yourself, you didn’t want this-- this was just the only way you’d escape. You didn’t want to be fucked by him, and most of all, you didn’t want him.

That train of thought was thrown out the window, however, when Jonathan’s hands suddenly hooked under your thighs and wrapped your legs around his waist. You were pulled further beneath him, and his cock went even deeper, punching up against the spongy spot in your pussy.

You moaned; feverish, loud, wanton, and Jonathan drank it in fiendishly. From there, he knew where to thrust, pounding in and out of your cunt and hitting that spot everytime. The pain fell away into a sickly pleasure, your eyes rolling into the back of your head at how deliciously he was fucking you.

“Jonathan!” You mewled, digging your heels into the small of his back. He was relentless, ruthlessly rutting his hips into yours and gripping your thighs so tight there’d be hand-shape sized bruises littering your body later.

“You like that, darling?” he groaned proudly, pushing your hips further down his cock. “God, you love it, don’t you? I can feel you squeezing me…”

Your fucked out mind couldn’t discern between your lustful thoughts and your logical ones; you couldn’t help how you nodded, how you pleaded for more, despite the terror swimming in your gut -- despite how the sober part of yourself weeped.

Then, it was like a tight rubber band around your stomach snapped; the pleasure that had been building in your gut burst, sending electric shocks of ecstasy running through your entire body. You saw white for a moment, your toes curling along his back as your thighs shook, your moan coming out terribly loud and sounding every bit his name. You didn’t mean to, of course, not again, but your mind filled in the gaps: Jonathan was fucking you, so Jonathan deserved the praise.

“Fuck!” Jonathan growled, “You came so hard… all because of this cock, all because of me.” Then, he began slamming his cock into your quivering hole quicker, desperately chasing his orgasm.

It was only then in your foggy, post-high mind did you realize he’d never used a condom… you weren’t on anything, you hadn’t been for years, and the way Jonathan was fucking into you gave no indication he was stopping. The thought of him coming inside made your blood run cold; there’d be no escape, you’d be fucking finished—

“Jon-- Jon, pull out,” you instructed weakly, trying to push him off you and watching how his focussed face tensed and tightened with the oncoming orgasm.

“Sweetheart,” he panted with a frown, “what’re you talking about?”

“Please,” you whimpered helplessly, “just - just please pull out… don’t come inside, please!”

“I’m afraid not, my love,” He grunted, baring his teeth and hammering into you faster, “m’gonna paint your walls white… get you nice and pregnant, fuck, no-one’ll have to question who you belong to…”

“Don’t, no, no -- Jon, please,” you begged, struggling to get away from his assault on your cunt as he pressed his weight further onto you, pinning you down against the bed.

But Jonathan wasn’t listening to you, not anymore. “Gon’ come, fuck, gon’ come,” he repeated, his thrusts stuttering, and you could only let out a grievous cry when you felt his cock twitch, hot spend spilling deep within you.

Jonathan laid on top of you for a moment, pressing his forehead against your sweaty chest, before leaning back and pulling out of you. The painful stretch was reawakened, and your tears really came this time, large sobs exiting your mouth as you crumpled into a ball on the mattress.

“Oh, my love,” he called your pet name with a furrowed brow, crawling closer to you, “what’s wrong? Was it too much? I know how delicate you can be…”

God, you could’ve screamed. He was still treating you like his little lamb… but you were beginning to feel that way, too; feeling like someone helpless he needed to protect. With the way you bunched up devastatedly beside him, it felt like Jonathan had fucking broken you, and then put you back together again with that doll image in mind. Not all the pieces fit the way he wanted them to, but Jonathan had time and brute force to fix all that…

“You -- you… I’m ruined,” you weeped, unable to explain properly with how terrified you felt, bringing your hands up to your face to shield yourself from him.

Your plan had no future of fruition, not anymore… you’d fucked him so you could convince him you were trustful enough to leave and still be his, but you’d fallen into his trap; fucking him was the way he attached a ball and chain to your ankle.

His hand curled around your wrist roughly, pinning it to the bed and letting his other brush a tear from your eye. “No, no, you’ll be the most gorgeous mother I know… your tits and your stomach all swollen like that? I won’t be able to keep my hands off you.”

Jonathan said that like you wanted him to be all over you, and it only made your cries wrack through your body harder. He then pulled you close to him, pressing your tear-stained face to his chest, letting you sob into him like he brought any comfort at all.

You suddenly felt him press up to your entrance and your tears stopped momentarily, a fearful whine exiting your mouth instead.

At your noise, he pet you gently, reassuringly, “Don’t worry… I’m just keeping us warm… keeping my come inside, my love.” With that, Jonathan slowly slid his length past your aching lips, until he was seated so deep within you his cockhead brushed up against your cervix.

His cream squelched within you and coated himself, feeling terribly slick and sticky between your thighs; you wanted to throw up there was such a large amount of it marking you from the inside.

“God, how d’you already feel brand new… need to do this more often….” he grunted the praise, and you felt shame colour you entirely.

But despite that shame and the terror swelling in your chest, the fact him within you was a surefire way none of his seed went anywhere but inside, his cock resting there did feel nice, like his rough fuck molded your pussy to fit him perfectly.

It was confusing… all of it very mind-boggling; how his actions petrified you while still making you feel nice and appreciated and loved… how his obsession was possessive and toxic but all at once delicate and thoughtful… how you felt yourself cry because he’d come inside you but was slowly succumbing to a sweet and comfortable sleep within his wiry arms.

There was much time to make sense of your amalgamated terror and love later, however. Nine-months long, to be exact: you later woke up to Jomathan pummeling his leaking, hard cock back into you. All you did was whimper, keep limp as he used you-- there was no choice fighting back, not anymore; not since he’d fully marked you… impregnated you… made it so there was no way you were ever leaving him.

#cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy #jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader #batman begins #does anyone see the parallel between the first part and the last part #scarecrow x reader #dc scarecrow

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aphroditelovesu · 4 months

Note

Yay! I'm so happy you write for Baldwin IV!!! Could you do general yandere headcanons for him? Thank you!💗

''Nothing is more important to me than you.'' — Baldwin IV.

❝ 📜 — lady l: I got a little excited, but I hope you like it. I've always wanted to write for him and I finally got the chance! Good reading and forgive me for any mistakes! ❤️

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, mention of murder, manipulation (sorta of), unhealthy relationships.

❝📜pairing: yandere!king baldwin iv/leper king x gender neutral!reader.

Baldwin had always been shy in his obsession with you, always self-aware of his illness that had left him forever disfigured. He was afraid that you would find him disgusting, that you would hate him and he didn't want that. Baldwin couldn't handle it if you hated him. He wanted to be loved by you, but he was too afraid to talk to you directly for quite some time.

So he remained in the shadows, hidden and longing for you from afar. Even before becoming King, he already dreamed of you and these desires only became more frequent after he became sovereign. He was precocious and maintained a good shape and physical appearance and was optimistic about his illness, but as he grew older he felt increasingly disturbed by the idea of you hating or despising him.

That doesn't mean he ignored you, Baldwin never did that and never will. He can't bear to be away from you, at least not physically, and he can't even go without talking to you. Talking to you was what cheered him up when his mind was consumed by dark thoughts. You were his light.

Baldwin will make sure that once he becomes King, he can ensure that you are well, that you are living well and with the honor, the wealth that you deserve, in his domain. He will do everything in his power to make sure you are eating well and will even go so far as to offer you an official position, if you don't already have one, so he can take care of you.

Although he prefers to stay away so he can also protect you from his illness, that doesn't mean he will allow you to be taken away from him. You may not know it, but you belonged to him. Any love interests or potential suitors/lovers will be quickly and quietly dealt with. Baldwin is not cruel and does not intend to be, but he will become a monster for you.

If he could, Baldwin would marry you, but due to his illness, he is prevented from doing so, so he prefers to keep you close while giving important positions to you or your family. It's a way of ensuring the loyalty of those important to you and having you close by. There are only benefits from his perspective.

Baldwin is remembered and admired for being a competent king who brought prosperity to the Kingdom of Jerusalem, but little is known that the real motivation was you. It was you who held power over him, who influenced him to do anything you wanted. He could become a tyrant if you asked him to. But he feels proud of himself for having met your expectations for his government.

When he has to go out to protect and defend Jerusalem, Baldwin will probably take you with him. He could leave you to take care of State affairs, but he can't bear to be away from you. He is quite clingy although he doesn't always touch you physically, he still needs to be in your presence. It's a constant need, Baldwin feels like a part of his heart withers when he's away from you.

Baldwin may not be able to be with you the way he would like and this has only served to increase his possessive tendencies. He won't allow other people to get too close to you, to steal you from him. Even though you can't officially be his, that doesn't mean he'll let you be someone else's. He will have no problem sending the person who threatens his position in your life to a deadly skirmish, arrest or even executed.

He is neither cruel nor sadistic, but for your sake he will be willing to commit the most heinous crimes just to ensure that you remain by his side. Baldwin needs you like he's never needed anyone before and he knows he'll be destroyed if anything happens to you.

If it were to happen to him, Baldwin will make sure you are safe and protected, perhaps even naming you his Heir. He wouldn't want to leave Earth without you, but he's not selfish enough to want to kill you. He wants you to live a long and happy life, preferably single, even if he's not by your side. He is completely selfless and you will always come first for him. First you and then his duties.

There is nothing he wouldn't do or give to you. Titles, official positions, riches, clothes, jewelry and food in abundance, anything you wanted, he would do it in the blink of an eye. Baldwin trusts you blindly, going so far as to obey your orders on any issue, from food to military matters.

Baldwin IV is a great soft for you and you only. He may seem weak, but that's all he isn't. He is intelligent and knows how to make rational decisions and he will do that with you. Because he loves you, he depends on you and because you are his hope. His light. Don't leave him or Baldwin will go crazy and even go so far as to commit suicide if you abandon him.

You are his greatest strength and his greatest weakness.

#yandere history #history #yandere historical characters #yandere baldwin iv x reader #yandere baldwin iv #yandere baldwin iv headcanons #baldwin iv x reader #leper king x reader #yandere headcanons #headcanons #dark!baldwin iv

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eaterofman · 7 months

Text

Yandere Harem Coworkers x New Hire Reader

Now with a part 2 <3

Good news: You landed your dream job! Bad news: Your coworkers are fucking insane.

CW: Yanderes, workplace harassment, possessiveness, implied stalking, power dynamics, dubcon touching

You hadn't expected a job like this to come so easily.

It really had been a dream job from the moment you laid eyes on the job posting, and they'd even offered you better during the interview! They'd even thrown in an extra sign on bonus! You couldn't believe your luck. You were finally going places.

Really, how could you say no?

Your interviewer was the HR manager, Leon Jacobs. He was a stern looking man, clearly in his late 40's, and didn't seem to have a single flaw in his appearance. His age showed in the beginnings of grey hairs atop his tidy, shortcut black hair, and the creases beneath his eyes. His appearance was beyond intimidating. Dark, scowling eyes picked you apart from behind his glasses as you fidgeted in your chair. Whatever nightmare of an interview you thought was coming, never happened. Instead, you were surprised when he almost immediately offered you not only the job, but an even better salary and bonus than was advertised. You were almost too stunned to speak, as he held out his hand to shake, his dark expression lifting with the slightest twitch of his lips. You took his hand shakily in agreement. In your excitement, you didn't notice the way his hand gripped yours a hair too tight, or how his touch lingered for a few moments longer than it should have. The way his gaze intently followed your figure as you walked out was also missed by you.

"We're so happy to welcome you to the team. Our team will make sure your time working here is as pleasant as possible."

Your trainer is a well respected man, Warren Pen. Warren is a huge man, easily towering over you. While he'd be otherwise intimidating at his size, his warm expression and demeanor quickly puts you at ease. How could you be afraid of him, with his warm brown eyes and bouncy red curls and gentle smile? You quickly learned that he must have a pretty high position in the company. His office alone was almost as big as your entire apartment! The office they give you is nearly as big, much to your surprise. Warren reassures you that it's not a mistake, that they just want you to be comfortable in your new position. You are so very important to the company, after all. As he helps you settle in, you're amazed by his generosity and kindness. You're too happy to question why there's such a big office space right next to his open for you, or why such a high ranking worker would be assigned to train a newbie. You're initially confused about why all your other coworkers seem to cower away from him... until you see him lose it on a poor intern. His demeanor changed from a gentle giant to a raging monster within the blink of an eye, screaming at the intern over a simple filing mistake. You find yourself suddenly on your toes around him, waiting for a verbal barrage over one of your mishaps, but it never comes.

"Don't worry, I'd never treat you like that. They deserved it. You're doing perfect."

Your department's boss is a man named Jax Wright. Jax is a charming man, and the childhood best friend of Warren. He's slim and tall, with black hair and a slightly rugged appearance. He always seems to be in a rush, hair usually rustled and a 5 o'clock shadow a constant on his face. Yet, he somehow takes time out of his busy day to visit you. Or, more accurately, he finds the time to corner you when you're alone or with Warren. You don't want to lose this dream of a job, so you don't mention the way the childhood friends always find a way to crowd around you in the more narrow hallways or the breakroom. They insist you have lunch everyday with them, why would you want to eat by yourself? You really shouldn't deny your superiors' lunch requests, y'know. You ignore the lingering touches as he leans in far closer than necessary to examine your work, hands placed possessively on your shoulders. He loves to give you overwhelming praise, even for the most minor of accomplishments. You're afraid your other coworkers will think the worst of you because of the special treatment, but they seem to be avoiding you nearly as much as they avoid Warren.

"Good job. You're exceptional as always. It's been an absolute pleasure to work with you. Keep being good and you're bound for a raise."

With the rest of the department seeming to avoid you like the plague, you start to believe that you're stuck with just the overbearing childhood friends to talk to. That is until the secretary, Jake Moor, begins to talk to you. Jake is flamboyant, to say the least. He's bright, from his beaming white smile to his wide array of cute, colorful ties he matches with his suit. He's young, in his early 20s, and his bright blonde hair only adds to his youthful appearance. He's almost too much, talking at light speed and somehow being more touchy than your boss. He always finds a reason to pull you into hugs, or rustle your hair playfully. It doesn't bother you much though, he's just being friendly, right? And you really don't want to lose one of the few friends you have in the department. He has some sort of treat for you everyday, usually a homemade meal or pastry you have to find the time to eat alone before you're coworkers steal you away to have lunch with them. His cheerful nature motivates you to stay with the company, he really is your "beacon of light". You even find yourself giggling to yourself as he sends you silly motivational cat pictures throughout your day. He's so cute you don't even question how he got your number when you never gave it to him yourself. You do find it a bit odd that he knows exactly where to go when your car breaks down one day and he gives you a ride home, but you'd told him you lived in those apartments on the east side, remember? He'd never use his position to look at confidential paperwork. Never.

"I brought you in some cookies I baked last night, and here, I even made some dog treats! I've never made them before, let me know how he likes them! How did I know you have a dog? ...you told me, remember? Silly!"

As the weeks pass, you start to become more accustomed to your coworker's odd mannerisms. They still wear on you, but the money is just so good. You need it, where else would you even go? There's no chance you'd find anything near as good, if you found anything at all. You needed this job, Jax and Warren's overbearing natures aside. At least you had Jake, who always seems to know exactly what you need whenever you need it.

You can tough it out... right?

#reader insert #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere boss #yandere coworkers #yandere harem #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines

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flowersandbigteeth · 1 year

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Can you do a werewolf x bunny female, I think that would be so cute, like this big scary looking werewolf with a innocent bunny girl, adorable! Sfw or nsfw I think it would be super cute

I had this idea rolling around in my head for a while, but it works so well with a werewolf and a bunny I couldn't resist ^_^

General Plot: You are the nanny for a wolf king and he wants to try some of your development techniques.

Wolf King x bunny female reader

Word Count: 2k

💕 SFW MASTERPOST 💕

W: sfw yandere monster fluff, hunting and chasing, cute werewolf pup

“Rawr! I’m the big, bad wolf!” Joel growled, baring his little fangs at his terrified prize.

“Put that mouse down, prince Joel,” you chided, following the precocious little wolf pup through the garden.

“No! I’m a vicious predator! I don’t have to listen to herbivores!” he snarled at you, shaking the mouse in his little fist.

You sighed. His tutor had taught him all about predators and herbivores that morning, so he was an expert or so he thought.

“Yes, carnivores are very important, your majesty, but your father put me in charge of you and he is the biggest predator around,” you pointed out, “do I have to tell him you wouldn’t listen to your nanny?”

He stiffened at the mention of his father and dropped the mouse, who scampered away.

“I don’t need a nanny!” he pouted at you.

You put your hands on your hips and pouted back.

“Fine! Then I’ll just go play hunter with some other little wolf pup who appreciates me!” you said, turning to walk away.

A tug at your skirt told you that you’d won.

“You don’t have another pup do you?” he asked from behind you.

You turned and looked down at him.

“There are lots of wolf pups in the village who would love a nanny willing to play with them,” you said.

He wrapped his arms around your leg and squeezed his eyes shut.

“No! You’re mine (Y/N)!” he shouted, “I’m the prince and I won’t allow it!”

“Calm down prince Joel,” you said, scratching him between his ears, “I’m not going anywhere right now, but you have to be good so we can play!”

He nodded, excited.

“Okay!” he said, “you go hide and I’ll hunt you!”

You glanced around the royal garden to make sure the guards were all at their stations before you agreed to let him out of your sight for a moment.

“Okay,” you said, “count to twenty! I’m just a bunny, you have to give me a fair chance!”

He nodded eagerly while he covered his eyes.

You scurried to the small patch of trees at the far side of the garden and ducked behind some branches. He would find you quickly, he had a very good nose, but he never seemed to get tired of chasing after you.

You were so busy peeking around the branches to watch for Joel, you didn’t notice the shadow looming over you. Your hearing as a bunny was very good, but you didn’t hear the branch snap until it was too late. Gasping, you tried to fight as a heavy hand wrapped around your mouth. Immediately you looked around frantically for Joel. This was likely an assassination attempt. It made sense to take out the nanny first.

“(Y/N), why are you hiding from my son?” a low rumbling voice growled in your ear.

You squealed on instinct in the presence of a predator, your heart pounding in your chest. His hand loosened on your lips.

“We’re playing a game, your majesty,” you said, swallowing heavily and gasping for breath, “h-he’s hunting me.”

Upsetting the king meant certain death. Herbivores weren’t regarded very highly, you were considered disposable servants at best. His heavy breath brushed your long ear, making it twitch.

“You wish to be…hunted?” he asked, husky voice husky and full of gravel.

You blinked, your cheeks flooding with color.

“It’s just a game, your majesty, for children. Joel likes it and it is good for his skill development,” you explained quietly, aware of the heat of his body at your back. One hand was clutching your waist, the claws of his fingers digging into the cotton fabric of your dress, while the bands of muscle in his arm held you close.

“You will let me hunt you…tonight. Meet me here at 9,” he rumbled in your ear and then he was gone.

You collapsed into the grass, a cold sweat on your chest.

“Gotcha!” Joel shouted, pouncing on you and you screamed louder than you’d ever screamed in your life.

—-

You trembled as you approached the garden a few minutes before nine. Surely you were walking to your death. If you’d been more creative you’d have fled, but you didn’t have any ideas for what to do for money, food, or even passage out of the capital. So you faced your end bravely, hoping it would be quick.

Before you’d put prince Joel to bed, you’d given him an extra long hug in case you didn’t come back. You hoped he would remember you fondly when he became king and maybe he would be kinder to the herbivores than his father.

The garden was dark, with only the torches of the castle flickering at the far edges and as you walked deeper and deeper the sounds of the building got further and further away. The beating of your heart in your chest filled the silence.

“Y-your majesty?” you murmured to the quiet garden, but there was no reply.

Padding over to the trees where you’d been before, you looked around, wondering if he was going to be late. He was the king, after all, he never had to be on time. You hoped against all hope that he’d forgotten entirely.

You howled as a hot breath in your ear growled, “RUN!”

As a bunny you were very fast and you instinctively took off immediately, heading for the farthest side of the garden that touched the forest. Perhaps if you could make it there, you would survive. Your powerful legs sent you launching over planters and darting around a fountain, but it was no use.

You could hear the scrape of the king’s claws on the concrete as he scrambled over a statue after you. If this went on for much longer you’d die of a heart attack before he got a chance to rip you to pieces.

Just beyond the palace wall you caught sight of a hole, your frantic mind instinctively favoring a place to hide over a tiring chase. Diving towards the gap, you wiggled your body through it panicking as thick hands latched onto your ankles. You squealed and kicked, but he was much too strong now that he’d gotten you. Your nails collected dirt as he dragged you back towards him.

He flipped you over, straddling you with his big body and your eyes widened, wondering if the last thing you would see would be the moonlight sparkling off of his silver fur. His eyes, deep black, were shadowed in darkness and the most you could see of his face were his massive, sharp teeth dripping saliva. This was it. You were going to die.

“Caught you,” he said, panting clouds in the cool night air and grinning.

Your heart beat faster than you thought it could and the world went black.

—

“Papa, is (Y/N) dead?” you heard Joel ask and you felt something warm shift beside you. A little claw tapped your nose.

“I’ve already told you seven times! She’s not dead. She’s sleeping. Get away from there!” the King’s deep voice grumbled.

Your eyes popped open and without thinking you scurried as far away from it as possible, crouching in a ball at the far corner of the bed you were in. Your eyes flying around the room, you realized you were in the King’s bedroom, in his bed.

“(Y/N)!” Joel beamed and his tiny furry body collided with yours knocking you over.

With wide eyes you looked up at him.

“Daddy said you were being naughty and playing in the garden at night and that’s why you fell asleep! You said I’m not allowed to play in the garden at night! Do I get to punish you? You get no pudding for a week, you have to give it all to me…no a month!”

Thankful and surprised to be alive, you threw your arms around your little charge and squeezed him to your chest, tears tumbling down your cheeks.

“Come on (Y/N)!” Joel pouted, pushing you off of him, “if you're gonna be a crybaby about it I’ll make it half a week, okay?”

You heard the King sigh.

“Can you please go fetch (Y/N) some juice from the kitchen and the doctor, Joel? Take your guardian knight…” he said.

You blinked at him. He wasn’t dressed as he usually was in shining gold armor that only made him look larger, instead, there was no shirt on his firm chest and he was just wearing some loose pants. You’d never seen him informally, even as often as you were in the personal rooms of the royal family, and your cheeks pinkened.

He came and sank into the bed next to you and you scooted so far away you slipped off of the edge of the bed with a squeal.

“Oh for goddess’ sake, (Y/N)!” he grumbled, pulling you up from the floor with his big hands and plopping you in his lap.

He gave you a bit of a gentle look and brushed a damp lock of hair out of your eyes.

“I don’t think this hunting game is good for your health, love,” he said, running the back of his knuckle over your cheek, “you looked like death had come for you and then you passed out!”

Your eyes got wide and your mouth dropped open.

“Game!?” you gasped, “I thought you were going to eat me?!”

He laughed out loud.

“Eat you?” he asked, “why would I eat you?”

He pouted, stroking your ear with his padded fingers.

“Do you really think I’m a mindless monster?”

You hurriedly shook your head, not meaning to offend him. He’d spared your life once, he might not do it again.

“No your majesty,” you stammered, “you simply startled me that’s all. I didn’t realize we were playing a game.”

He snorted.

“Well that’s what I told you,” he pointed out.

You gave him a wan smile and nodded. That was not exactly true, but you weren't going to argue with him. You were sure he thought he'd been clear as a magnifying lens. His fingers were still playing with your ear, stroking the length and gently tugging it this way and that.

“That you did, your majesty,” you said, trying to slow your heartbeat, racing like a wild horse.

“I don’t like to see you frightened, (Y/N),” the king murmured softly.

His hot breath brushed your head, stirring the threads of your hair. You fit quite neatly just below his chin, much smaller in his lap.

“It pleases me how sweetly you and my son get on,” he said, his big hand curling around your waist and drawing you close to him, “I have to teach him to be regent, I can’t always coddle him…but you give him the gentleness I can’t. It’s quite a comfort to me.”

“You’re very kind, your majesty,” you said.

He tipped your face up to his.

“I’m not. I’m not kind at all,” he said, smiling, “I’m very, very selfish. When I want something I take it.”

“I’m sorry?” you stammered, confused where this was going.

“I want you in Joel’s life more permanently. His mother was a monster. I don’t want to see that develop in him. I think you’d make a much better mother.”

“I-I don’t think I understand, your majesty,” you whispered, searching his dark eyes. They were black and endless, difficult to read.

“I’m making you my wife,” he said plainly.

“But I’m a herbivore,” you gasped, “I mean…is this a joke, your majesty?”

He snorted.

“Half the kingdom are herbivores, don’t you think they’d adore a sweet, pretty bunny queen?”

You were sure they would, but this all seemed very strange.

“I guess so…” you said.

His eyes twinkled.

“Don’t think of declining,” he warned, flashing his fangs, “no is not an answer I’ll accept. You’re mine (Y/N) and I’ll do what I have to to keep you.”

Your eyes got big and you nodded slowly.

“Oh…Okay…” you said.

“(Y/N)! (Y/N)!” Joel cheered, splashing juice everywhere as he came barrelling into the room.

The King gave him a fatherly growl and he froze.

“What did we talk about earlier?” he asked.

Joel brightened as if he were remembering something he could accomplish correctly.

“Momma!” he cried, hurrying over to you with the cup of juice.

You scooped it out of his hand before he tried climbing up on the bed with it.

“Do you feel better, momma?” he asked, putting his arms around you and his cheek against your shoulder.

“Um…yes…” you murmured, clutching the cup, pinched between the adoring arms of your new wolf family, “yes, I guess I do...”

#monster x girl #monster boyfriend #monster romance #monster x reader #werewolf #wolf #yandere male #yandere #male yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x female reader #werewolf x reader #fantasy fluff

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