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sanyu-thewitch05 · 1 year ago

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Yandere! Himbo! Werewolf! x Witch! Fem! Reader

TW: forced impregnation, mind control, gore, non-con, dubcon

Kofi: Wanna buy me a coffee?

🍓🍓🍓🍓🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒

The deep woods is your home. The animals within it respect you and often help you. The sun's light even points out the trails to walk upon. Though, after the first full moon in January, the wolf moon, things started to change in the forest. Glowing eyes would be in the darkness near your cottage. The noises of animals that filled the forest suddenly began to disappear. Clumps of hair started to appear at your front door. But the most frightening part for you is the mutilated human bodies appearing in your woods.

They were bloody and torn like a wild animal had gotten to them. Hearts were missing from their chests. But, most importantly, there were letters carved into each victim's chest. Each letter slowly spells out your name. Luckily, the new chief of the village, Aaron Flor, believes you when you say you're not involved in these murders. But he did say he wanted to speak with you at sunset, which it now is.

"Y/N, are you here?" Aaron asks, knocking on your door.

"Coming!" You reply, turning off the stove and letting the lavender scent fill the room.

You open the door and see Aaron with a bouquet of roses.

"These are for you. I found these on a bush near your cottage," Aaron says, blushing a little.

"Aaron, that bush is mine. But I still appreciate your gift," You say, placing the flowers in a nearby vase.

"Oh, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. For the last couple of weeks, I've been changing. I've gotten stronger and dumber. And I can't stop thinking of you and your…perfect body."

"Aaron, sit down. You're practically sweating buckets."

You guide Aaron to your bed and lay him down on it. You go into the bathroom to make him a cold washcloth. You place it on his head, and he grabs your wrist. He easily pulls your whole body on top of him and wraps an arm around your waist.

"Aaron, what are you doing? You're a good, virtuous man," You say as Aaron's lips draw closer.

"Hehe…your lips are so plump and kissable," Aaron giggles, his hand rubbing your ass. "Mmn!"

Aaron's peck on the lips leaves you flustered, and he uses it as a chance to undo your hair bun.

"You don't need this bun when there's about to be a bun in your oven," Aaron coos, letting a stray finger go from your stomach to your crotch. "Let's get naked. We need to start working on our family together."

"What family?! Aaron, you're delusional and need to rest!" You yell, but it's too late. Aaron is already untying the back of your dress.

It drops to the floor, leaving your naked body vulnerable as Aaron begins to undress.

"Aaron, I know you're not yourself, but we should think about this. I'm sure you'll be much happier if we have a family after we're married like everyone expects of you."

"I can marry you after filling you up and making you mine."

The moonlight seeps into the room, and you hear his bones crack. You can only watch in horror as brown ears grow at the top of his head, his stature becomes bulkier, hairier, and taller, and his teeth resemble a wolf's. His clothes tear, and he walks towards you with his now bigger penis erect.

"A-Aaron, we can find a cure for you-"

Aaron slips a digit in your panties and slices them off. He gets on his knees and takes a deep whiff of your crotch.

"I can smell your ovulation. It's so intoxicating," Aaron swoons, his long licking your pussy.

"Ah-Aaron!" You moan, tightening your legs to close him off.

"It's ok, darling. I'll make this pleasurable and as comfortable as possible," Aaron replies.

Aaron throws you over his shoulder and carries you through the forest to a dark cave that smells of musk and sex. He puts you in a nest made of bloody clothes, shredded fur, and silk sheets. Aaron kisses your neck and gently spreads your legs. You worriedly glance at his big, veiny cock, and Aaron throws you onto his hairy chest. He holds your face on his right side and places a comforting hand on the back of your head.

"It's ok. My scent will make you calmer and more prepared to be my mate," Aaron comforts, making you smell his pheromones. "Just take deep breaths, and then you'll be ready."

Forced to breathe in his scent, you take a deep breath. Your body feels more relaxed, and your mind becomes a pup and mating-filled mess.

"Aaron, you smell so nice and…safe," You comment, your hips unconsciously grinding against his crotch. "Ooohh…"

"You want my pups, don't you?" Aaron asks, his hand going to your pussy and rubbing your clit.

"Oh, yes! I would love to be your mate! I want your seed! I want it!" You beg, looking into his canine-like eyes.

Aaron chuckles and places his dick inside you. You moan into his chest, making his cock twitch.

"Aaron, please! I want it so bad!" You plead, starting to ride his dick.

"I know, sweetie! I know!" Aaron responds, leaning forward and placing you in a mating press.

Aaron begins to thrust into you, and all you can do is moan for him like a good mate. Aaron pants like a dog, and soon enough, his thrusts start to get faster.

"Take it! Take it! Take it like a good bitch!" Aaron moans, his knot growing by the minute.

"Ah! Yes! Yes! I'm a good bitch! I'm your good bitch!" You coo, your eyes rolling into your forehead.

Aaron gently slaps your cheek and makes your eyes focus on him.

"Tongue out!" Aaron commands, sticking his tongue, expecting yours to touch his.

You stick your tongue out, and Aaron gives you a big, sloppy kiss as his balls empty into you. You moan into his mouth as your orgasm rocks your body. His hands grip around yours tighten, and you mentally tap out at the feeling of multiple strings of semen entering your pussy, ready to make you pregnant.

"Oh, darling, you have a cute little bulge from my cock," Aaron teases, running a hand around your stomach.

"Ah…ah…ahaha…" You moan, deliriously staring at Aaron.

"I might as well make sure your boobs are ready for our pups."

Aaron sucks your right nipple, and a jolt of pleasure shoots through your spine. The other boob is stimulated by his hand rubbing and pulling your nipple.

~~~~~ "Aaron! Aaron, what have we done?!" You scream, looking at your naked body next to his.

Aaron, now back to his senses but still werewolf-like, quickly calms you down with a kiss.

"I told you I'd take care of you. Now rest. Your body needs it."

"But, why are you a werewolf?"

"I got bit by a wolf in the French countryside a while back. But it doesn't matter now. What matters now is our pups."

You cum at the mention of your impregnation, and that's when you notice Aaron is still inside you.

"Now go to sleep unless you want to be fucked to sleep."

"Yes, my love."

#yandere smut #yandere werewolf #yandere teratophilia #yandere noncon #yandere dubcon #f! reader smut #smut #yandere male #yandere monster #1k notes #2k notes

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watercolorfreckles · 6 months ago

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Could you do a story where a guard of a Supermax prison befriends a supervillain, because he treats him like a genuine human being instead of an animal; and later, all the power-dampeners suddenly fail; and all these villains just revolt against the guards; but supervillain makes sure he’s safe since he was always kind to him?

I understand if you don’t want to!!❤️

Hello! This has been sittin in my inbox for many months during my huge writing rut, sorry about that! I know you also gave this prompt to @the-modern-typewriter and she's been making an incredible series with it on patreon! I changed some things around because I don't want to in any way attempt some sad copy of her interpretation, but I was still inspired by the prompt itself, so I've taken some fairly big liberties to avoid any significant similarities! Hope that's okay! Also, please manage your expectations, I do not compare to the magic that is TMT's writing 😆

TW: Brief depictions of body horror. Violence.

The power blew out in sections. The lights dissolved sector by sector with a sickening whine and click–one by one–in approach.

The commotion ripped Eloise from the fictional world she was lost in, aged page corners still pinched beneath her thumb. Her spirited storytelling abruptly died behind her teeth.

Somewhere in the distance, one person shouted. Two.

Her gaze flicked behind them to the door isolating herself and the bound supervillain from the other sectors of the Maximum Security Prison for Powered Individuals or, as everyone called it, The Max. Seeing nothing but black beyond the bullet-proof glass, her attention snapped forward again to the supervillain imprisoned across from her.

Was this the start of some elaborate escape plan on his part? Why did it have to happen on a day that she was stuck fulfilling her community service hours instead of being something she could safely gawk at in the newspaper from a distance in a few days? Her stomach did a nauseated flip.

“What are you doing?” she blurted, voice quivering only a little. Her fingers tightened around her book.

The villain made a show of looking pointedly at his restraints. Wrists strung taut and chained to either wall, he shrugged an innocent shoulder at her as if to say “clearly, nothing.” He was perched on the edge of his bed like a bird, tilting his head with a matching sort of probing curiosity.

For all the chaos outside of the room, Artisan had not a hair out of place. He appeared perfectly unconcerned, though as thoroughly trapped as ever: ankles shackled, arms stretched uselessly apart from each other. The power-dampening collar wrapped around his neck still blipped a faint red light, indicating it was active.

The prisoners were rioting. Surely they couldn’t get too far? Containing the most dangerous of powered individuals was, after all, the express purpose of the facility…

The lights above them flickered, dipping the room in and out of inky darkness before settling into a dimly lit haze. Eloise’s breath stalled. The imposing dark felt like a threat, as if the lights could keep the monsters at bay. It only made a little sense, in the way that a child feels safe from the monsters under their bed as long as their nightlight is plugged in.

Except that these monsters were real. The most dangerous in the country. And she was currently feet away from the monster that made even other monsters run.

He hadn’t seemed so bad in the time that she’d known him. Quiet, impassive, yet twisting her gut with pity any time she eyed his barbaric restraints. The least she could do–while crossing off her hours–was to read the supervillain a story every few days. She couldn’t change his fate. Couldn’t make him more comfortable. What she could do was rattle off, sheepishly, about fictional worlds and impactful characters in literature and the way that a well-crafted story could transport you somewhere better.

A crash, gunshots, a scream. Tension racketed through Eloise’s shoulders. More shouts chased thundering footsteps.

Things were going very, very, wrong. And she was very much out of her depth.

Eloise jolted as something struck the door, her special-edition copy of Mary Shelly's Frankenstein falling to the ground and skidding away.

Finally, the lights cut out. With it, every noticeable piece of tech died. All of the energy felt sucked out of the room as if vacuumed. The camera’s blinking light disappeared. Alarms that should have been wailing cut silent. Speakers, keypads, and security systems, all dead. The secondary generator hadn’t sprung to life yet. That meant that this was more than a simple power outage. This was a calculated revolt.

Eloise’s mind raced through a list of everything else that must have been failing. Coms. Sedative gas. Shock collars. Layers and layers of security locks…

Power dampeners.

Panic clamped vice-like and suffocating around her throat. Artisan’s collar was no longer blinking.

She froze in the eerie silence of the cell, afraid of shattering the fragile calm. Her heart thumped, rabid, against her ribs.

Chains rattled and clinked to the floor.

Eloise bolted blindly for the door, smacking her palm against the DNA scanner while frantically swiping her “Volunteer Staff” badge through the card reader. When neither miraculously came to life, she resorted to banging on the door.

“Let me out, let me out! Guard!”

The door could only be opened by one person inside the cell and one outside simultaneously unlocking the security checkpoints. Even if the power were on, if the guard on the other side was gone…

The emergency floodlights kicked on, bathing the building in startling fluorescence. Eloise flinched, briefly stunned.

Hands grabbed her firmly from behind, yanking her backward.

Eloise yelped. “No, please–!”

The spot that she had been standing in exploded, steel door and concrete chunks collapsing into the room in a barrage of shrapnel. Something–no, someone–landed, bones crunching, at her feet. The guard who had last been standing on the opposite side of the door lay motionless. His blood puddled the floor, staining the soles of her Converse sneakers.

A horrified sound choked in Eloise’s throat.

Another supervillain strode in, eyes alight with hatred and something more–power. His lip curled, waving a mocking hand–engulfed in green energy–at the guard’s corpse. “God. I’ve wanted to do that for far too long. That one always got on my nerves.”

Artisan looked unimpressed. “You’re making a mess in my cell.”

Eloise’s breath caught. Hearing the supervillain’s voice was jarring. Artisan rarely spoke. Not that any of the other staff had ever actually attempted conversation with him… But even in news clips and YouTube videos, he carried himself with the kind of self-assured quiet of someone who had absolutely nothing to prove. His lethal efficiency did more for his reputation than any words could.

The other man was a villain named William Frenzy, a telekinetic with a gleeful taste for violence.

Faced with Artisan’s startling calm, Frenzy… paused. Faltering on a tight rope he had moments before been strolling across.

“Yes, well. It won’t have to be your cell much longer, will it? They can’t stop all of us.” He smirked at the dead body on the floor. “Some of them can’t even stop one of us.”

Eloise shrank back toward the corner nearest the door, agonizingly slow, willing the ugly shadows from the artificial lighting to swallow her up while the supers focused on each other. She was the kind of person that people tended not to notice; a background character in the perimeter of a story that the protagonist would meet once and never spare a thought again. She wished, then, that invisibility really was her superpower.

Artisan said nothing, his steely gaze fixed upon Frenzy.

Frenzy floundered beneath the scrutiny. The smugness buffered on his face. Finally, he huffed, crossing his arms. “I made you a nice and easy door out. You’re welcome.” He flicked a hand toward the gaping hole in the wall.

Eloise inched further toward it.

Artisan tutted, and while it wasn’t aimed at her, it shot a cold thrill up her spine. She froze, briefly, before continuing her tantalizing escape. She listened to Artisan speak again.

“I did not need anything from you. I’ll be getting out regardless. You on the other hand…”

Eloise stared as Frenzy’s skin shrank taut against his bones, the frame of him creaking and groaning like an old tree in the wind. The air choked out of him, fingers grabbing at his jaw as it stretched open too wide. The corners of his lips tore, slitting his mouth into a gaping maw.

The faintest of smiles graced Artisan's lips as he continued, soft as ever. “Say sorry.”

Eloise didn’t wait to see the carnage through, slipping out into the hall and running.

The other sectors were washed in the same sterile glow as Artisan’s cell was, blue-tinged and horrible, like the lights in a dentist's office. She kept to the edge of things as best she could, clinging to the walls and dark corners.

There was brawling in every sector—guards with weapons drawn mowed to the ground by the creatures they had wardened for so long. A villain fell as shots rang out. Another grabbed the guard from behind, cracking his skull against their knee.

The smell of blood stung Eloise’s nostrils. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t breathe.

She turned to flee down another hall, but two fighting inmates crashed into the doorway in front of her.

Eloise squealed, jerking backward into the belly of the room's chaos.

Don't notice me, don't notice me, don't notice me.

Everyone was so occupied by their chosen prey, maybe she could fade into the background. Maybe she could–

Her heel caught on something and she tumbled, gracelessly, to the floor. It took her several moments to register the lake of blood seeping warm and sticky into her clothing.

Terror blurred her brain in a white flash bang.

Disappear, disappear, disappear…

“Mm. What do we have here?”

Eloise couldn’t bring herself to lift her head. She clamped her eyes shut, another child’s illusion of protection.

The villain opposite her chuckled. He ripped her volunteer badge off of its clip against her chest. Her eyes snapped open again. She recognized him as a ringleader among superpowered thieves. They called him Volt.

“Volunteer, eh? A pretty thing like you should know better than to willingly set foot in a prison full of men with nothing left to lose. It’s been a long sentence, darling. I could make excellent use of your volunteer services. Get up.”

Numbly, ears full of static, Eloise shook her head.

Volt frowned, electricity jumping to life in his palms. “No?” He reached for her, hand nearing her throat.

“Keep your hands to yourself or I will remove them.”

Artisan’s voice was calm. His eyes were not.

The room quieted.

Spatters of red decorated Artisan’s prison uniform. A few drops dotted his face and he brushed them away with his knuckles, smearing the crimson across his cheek. Almost lazily, he popped his neck and stretched his shoulders, no doubt sore from the strain his restraints kept him in.

The villain across from Eloise paused, sparks still dancing across his fingertips. He regarded Artisan with the same wary caution as Frenzy had.

Before he'd been… Before Artisan had…

Eloise swallowed back the nausea climbing her throat.

Finally, Volt’s hand lowered. “She's yours?”

“She's hers. Step away.”

The man hesitated a moment too long. Artisan didn't offer a second warning.

As if puppeted, the man's fingers raised to gauge at his own eyes. He screamed, the faint evidence of Artisan’s power shimmering over him. He clawed, next, at the skin on his face, peeling it back like wet wallpaper.

As promised, his wrists crunched and bent, wrenching all on their own at impossible angles.

Eloise covered her ears, unable to bear the screaming. She felt sick.

“Stop,” she whispered finally. “Please.”

It did. The man collapsed into a sobbing, bloodied heap.

When Eloise managed to look at Artisan, she startled to find his attention fixed on her.

They stared at each other for a stretch of silence that itched. She imagined being forced to choke on her own lungs, or her skull constricting in on itself until it squashed her brain into pulp. For being so bold as to run, he might snap her legs and reaffix them the wrong direction, or splinter her bones to poke, grotesque, out of her skin. They always did say that his victims were his personal works of art, bodies twisted into shells of monsters.

He crooked a finger, beckoning her.

The edges of her vision swooped fuzzy and vertiginous. She rose onto wobbly knees and pushed herself to her feet. When she swayed, Artisan caught her elbow, slipping an arm around her waist to lead her forward.

He did not look back at the others, with complete confidence that no one would challenge him.

No one did.

Eloise was barely aware of taking one step after another. When they arrived back in the villain’s cell, the bodies of Frenzy and the dead guard, thankfully, were gone, though the floor was streaked with the drag lines of their blood.

She wrenched her gaze away.

Artisan’s hand moved further down her arm to her wrist, gesturing that she sit on his bed. When she shifted to do so, his grip tightened, tugging her to a stop. She frozen and tried to read his face.

His dark brows were furrowed, suspicious eyes flicking from hers down to her hand.

He pulled down her sleeve and held her wrist up between them, revealing the power-blocking cuff clamped around it. His head cocked. He waited.

Eloise swallowed. “I’m not a super. I mean- not a super-super. Just a…..no one.”

“A no-one who volunteers at The Max? With a power-dampener?”

“They’re terms of my probation,” she blurted. “A thousand hours of community service here and a power-inhibitor for a year. I think they put me here to threaten me with where I could end up if I continue on like… Um…”

“Me.”

“A villain,” she clarified, as if that was better.

Her gaze flitted from the fingers wrapped around her wrist and up to the villain’s face again. The harsh lighting haloed him, dimly silhouetting his face. He looked haunting. He looked lovely. A beautiful house, old and creaking, wrapped in ghosts like a bride’s veil and left to rot.

“What did you do?”

“I…” Eloise felt very small. “I lied about being powered on my documents. So that they wouldn’t put me on the registry. When they found me out, I tried to run away.”

Artisan’s scrutiny burned her cheeks. He let go of her wrist.

“...What can you do?”

“Nothing special,” she said, cradling her wrist–wholly uninjured as it was–in her other hand. “It doesn’t even work most of the time. My power is sort of…blending in. Going unnoticed. When it’s working, I could stand in a the White House and people’s attention would glide over me as if I belonged there. Not quite invisible, but… It just tricks your brain into not thinking twice.”

Artisan’s eyes narrowed.

Eloise flinched back a step, stumbling back over her fallen book onto the bed. She stared at him.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

Some of the tension eased from her shoulders, but she still waited for the catch. “Why aren’t you out there with the rest of them? Trying to escape?”

The villain considered her for a long moment. He sat down beside her, and the hard cot creaked beneath his weight. “Mm. That’s just it. No one inside the prison could have blown the power-dampeners. They require someone with powers to turn them off or on, and the security is impenetrable. My team has tried. Besides, if this was a simple power outage, the inhibitors would still be on. But they’re not. This was premeditated–and no one imprisoned here could have done it. No one on the outside could have done it. So. Process of elimination. Who’s left?”

That was the most Eloise had ever heard Artisan speak, and she could only sit and listen intently–As he had when she’d read him stories. Her brain whirred in a jumbled jigsaw of puzzle pieces.

“It… It could only be an inside job.” She wet her lips. “The heroes- The higher-ups- They want the prisoners to break out so that they can kill them. A clean massacre. Justified under the law. The world’s most dangerous criminals could never be allowed to escape…”

Artisan smiled and it swirled something in her insides. “A convenient way to get rid of all of the pesky criminals clogging up the system. I’d bet anything that there are 50 snipers surrounding the building, waiting to slaughter anyone who steps foot outside.”

“Oh.”

“Oh,” Artisan agreed, his smile easing into something softer; something with less feral teeth.

“Thank you for helping me,” Eloise whispered. “What do we do now?”

Artisan hummed. He bent down and swept up her book, dropping it into her lap. He laid back against his pillow and crossed his arms behind his head. The bloodspots on his skin and clothes glittered in the lowlight.

“Keep reading. I want to know how it ends.”

Part 2

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best-of-yandere · 6 months ago

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Mafia AU with platonic yandere Superfam

NO MINORS 18+ ONLY

TW: mentioned death (human & animal), non-sexual breastfeeding mention, surveillance, various "light" punishments mention, slight infantilization, platonic yandere

It starts with Clark and Lois deciding to have another child. They have Jon, and Connor, of course, but they miss having a baby in their arms.

As soon as they hold you in their arms at the hospital, they're in love. It's different with you; it only takes a single coo for them to be wrapped around your chubby little fingers.

When they bring you home, you quickly win the hearts of your siblings. Fights have been started between them over who's your favorite.

You never sleep alone. As a baby, Clark and Lois keep you in their arms at night. When you grow older, your siblings are allowed to have you with them at night. A schedule is quickly devised over who gets you what nights. You do have your own room... you're just never in it.

As you grow older, it becomes apparent you're not suited for the "family business". You still cry over a bird hitting the window; insisting on nursing it back to health, only to become inconsolable when it dies.

They're ok with that. What they do is dangerous, and you're too precious to them to be put in harms way. They decide to keep the truth of what they do from you, telling you they're both reporters to explain their long hours and traveling.

You grow up sheltered, a mafia princess with no idea you are. You're not allowed to leave the compound, but you're given everything you want... except freedom. It wears on you, the lack of freedom and personal space. One of the family is always around you, and when they're not, trusted bodyguards follow you around. You beg off to your room to get at least a little alone time, unaware of the cameras and microphones lacing your room.

But they couldn't keep the truth from you forever. One day, you see Connor killing a grunt, and sweet, sheltered you runs in fright. You don't even make it to the compound's front door. Having seen you trying to escape, Jon is quick to grab you and carry you back inside. You cry, trying to tell him what Connor did, how you both have to get out of there; it breaks his heart to see you so scared! He'll take you to the family room, shushing your cries and wiping away your tears, while he waits for the rest of the family to arrive.

When they do, there's no explaining it away. They come clean, at least about their real careers. You can't accept it; your loving family; murderers, criminals? When you eventually you wear yourself out, calmed down from the exhaustion, Clark and Lois tell you that nothing has to change. They're still your family who loves you very much and would do anything for you.

You're already restricted from business areas of the compound and under heavy surveillance, so the only major changes to your life is them taking away your access to electronics so you can't ask for help. That, and Connor's newfound clingyness. He wants so badly to be your beloved, cool older brother again, that he's constantly with you, trying to get you engaged in activities with him. He'll sneak you video games and junk food to try to get in your good graces again, so things can go back to how they used to be.

Lashing out at them due to your circumstances is a good way to get punished. They'd never lay a hand on you, but they're not afraid to show you just how much freedom you've been afforded until now.

An escape attempt will earn you an escort in the bathroom and shower. Trying to hurt them will put cuffed mittens on your hands. Trying to hurt yourself will get you sedated.

Stars forbid you try a hunger strike; Lois is more than willing to take your food into her own hands. She'll start breastfeeding you again, sedating you, so you'll be compliant. Once she does, though, even if you agree to start eating again, she'll still insist on feeding you herself, treating you like a baby. She'll cut up your food and spoonfeed you each bite, taking turns with Clark for each meal time. They both missed feeling so close to you in this way, and in her and the family's eyes, there's really no reason for you to grow up.

Not when they're always going to be there to take care of you - even if you don't want them too. You may not have freedom, privacy, or bodily autonomy, but you have your family. Forever and ever and ever...

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intimidatingpuffinstudios · 2 months ago

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How would the RO's change if they were to lose their MC?

Warning: this answer is a heavy one, with mentions of tw: suicide. Proceed with caution.

Morkai: He'd turn somber and silent. Eerily so. The man of loud voice and even louder heart would be gone, buried under a shroud of his own grief. When the MC left, they took all the animation out of him with them. Mute and empty-eyed, he waits for the final bow.

Straasa: He'd become withdrawn and reclusive. Social contact sustains him, but the one he wants is gone. Anything else feels hollow, fake, a betrayal. So he hides himself behind a brittle smile and a veil of snow around his heart. He aches for the day he will finally be reunited with the only one who can make the snow melt.

Daelynn: She does not allow herself to feel it or comprehend it. She does not allow time to force her to face it..... What is knowledge, truth, if you don't have the time or capacity to parse their meaning? She ends the conversation before reality settles in. This is pretty dark, but...Daelynn would follow right after her MC.

Eledwen: She is tired. Tired of being strong, tired of always moving forward. Tired of being alone. So, she loses herself in the memories. Time to move back. She will wander among the places of the past, places from her and the MC's life together. An unending tribute to the love she lost, her feet forever staying in motion.

Manerkol: Nothing matters anymore. Not his purpose, not kingdoms, neither dragons nor mortals. At the end of a very dark tunnel, his MC brought in the light. They were the only thing that mattered. And they're gone. So Manerkol will now keep the promise he once made to them. Wherever you go, I will follow.

Sielthan: Sielthan knows how to bring the MC back. They know the cost for it. And they're willing to pay it. Whatever they have to become, whatever they have to turn the MC into--it doesn't matter. They'll take the smallest crumb over losing the MC altogether. You can be broken and twisted together.

Rai: They become arrested in time. Frozen forever in the place when realization settled in. When they realized their MC is gone. They would withdraw. Foreswear any meaningful contact with others. Lose themself in work until they are ground to dust. Not because they care, but because it's the only way to forget.

Mornie: Any pretense at humanity would be gone. Sheer, unadulterated fury would cover everything, red and sticky and murderous. She goes on a killing spree and does not stop shredding, does not allow for anything but death--for them, for her. It is the only future left for any of them. If she lives long enough to weep, she eventually crumbles and sobs until she meets her end.

Cy: They would lose all reason. All their grand plans--everything crumbles. Feral and near delirious, they'd try anything to bring the MC back. They'd sacrifice the world to do it. There is no price they are not willing to pay. And if all fails, they follow after their MC.

Zach: They would feel like they've lost the ground beneath their feet, survived a train collision, and become a ship left ruderless. All their unshakeable confidence and passion--extinguished. All their grand works, a heap at their feet. They turn grey and old and cold. And they learn to hate.

#the soul stone war #tssw #beyond the mist #btm #Zach #Cy #morkai #daelynn #straasa #manerkol #eledwen #Rai #Sielthan #interactive fiction

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reareaotaku · 10 months ago

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do you have any Benny Weir headcannons?

Yes! Right here: Benny Weir Headcanons But just for you, I'll do a one-shot! [Hate to be controversial, but I'm more of an Ethan girlie :( ]

Summary: Benny accidentally casts a spell on you and he has to figure out how to undo it Pairings: Benny Weir x Fem! Reader Tw/Cw: Magic

Benny's mouth nearly dropped when seeing a bunny in the place of where you had once been. Not only had he casted a spell on you, but it hadn't even been the right spell. He heard footsteps behind the door and he quickly picks you -bunny you- up and quickly hides you in his jacket.

Ethan opens the door, before looking at a very suspicious Benny. "What did you do, Benny?"

Benny makes a face of offence, "Uh! What do you mean? Why do you automatically think I did something wrong?"

Ethan gives Benny a knowing look and Benny sighs. He then pulls you out of his jack and Ethan gasps.

"What do you have a bunny!?"

"It's a funny story- Ow!"

You hit him with your little foot, angered by the face he wasn't hurrying up to try and get you back to normal.

"Here," He hands you to Ethan as he grabs his magic book.

Ethan struggles with you, not realizing it's well- You! "Are you going to answer my question... or?"

Benny whips around, an awkward smile on his face, "Well- there might have been.... well, a mishap."

"What do you mean?"

Benny doesn't answer and Ethan squeezes you tighter, causing you to hit him with your foot repeatedly, accidentally causing him to drop you. Benny screams, quick to pick you up and cuddle you close.

"Oh my baby- Are you okay?" He pets your back and you glare up at him- or at least you try to.

"Why are you freaking out? It's just a bunny."

"It's not just a bunny; It's Y/n."

"Y/n! What did you do to her?" Ethan swaps you back, holding you close and away from Benny.

"It was an accident. It wasn't supposed to hit her. PLUS," Benny turns back to Ethan, holding his book in one hand, "It wasn't even an animal spell."

"You have to fix her!"

"I know, I know!" He puts the book down and quickly scans through the book, "Ha! Here!" He points to some words in the book, before taking a step back and chanting the spell.

There's a heavy smoke and Benny lights up, but it quickly drops when seeing you were indeed no longer a bunny, but now a cat.

"You've got to be kidding me."

There's a knock at the door, causing them both to freeze and look towards the door.

"Y/n, dear? Are you okay in there?"

It was your mother. They both looked at each other, before looking at the door again. They had to figure out an excuse and they had to figure it out now.

"Um, yes, Mrs. L/n. We accidentally knocked over some textbooks," Benny lets out an awkward laugh, hoping she'd take the bait. Thankfully she did.

"Okay, well, be more careful."

"We will!"

They both listen as her footsteps echo away from the door, before they both grab the book and flip through it.

"You have to change her to normal!"

"I'm trying! I'm trying! It's not that easy!"

You watch as they fight with each other, the book swishing as they blow through it.

"Here!" Ethan points to another spell, "A human spell! A spell to turn an animal into a human."

Benny clicks, before shrugging and deciding to just go for it.

"If you mess this up, we go to your grandma."

"Yeah, probably a good idea." Just like before, Benny chants out the spell, before pointing at you and a bright light hits you and a heavy smoke covers your body.

You shake your head and look down at your hands and you hear them cheer. Though they quickly stop when seeing your face.

"Babe, you know I love you-"

"Don't you 'I love you babe' me!"

"Forgive and forget?" Benny laughs, as you corner him. "I love you?"

You can hear Ethan walking towards the door and whipping around to him, "Don't think you're getting away! When I'm done with him, you're getting it too."

#benny weir #benny weir x reader #my babysitters a vampire x reader #my babysitter's a vampire #benny mbav #mbav x reader #my babysitters a vampire #benny weir imagine #benny weir headcanons #mbav headcanons #my babysitters a vampire headcanons

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moonlight-prose · 2 months ago

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PICK YOUR POISON

➻ 01. ATROPA BELLADONNA

a/n: the october season calls for me to delve into the grotesque and gothic story ideas i save up year round. so that's what this is! i love the idea of logan howlett stuck with an immortal reader. but there's a twist. our lovely reader isn't a mutant, but someone cursed to live life in the worst way possible. i hope you enjoy the small journey these two go on and happy spooky season!

summary: life as a lumberjack gives him the freedom to pretend he's human. that he hasn't lived enough lives to leave him withered and weary. ready for the grave that will never come. until he happens upon an unmarked grave in the middle of the forest and his life changes forever.

word count: 4.2k+

pairing: lumberjack!logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: NOT EXPLICIT BUT DARK THEMES AHEAD, gothic themes, horror, necrophilia (kind of!), death, graves, vomiting, tw: blood, feral reader, poison, immortal!reader, curses, witchcraft of some kind, chance encounters, they're both a little unhinged in this one.

NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

The forest is silent save for the rhythmic thump of an axe against wood. Life doesn't exist in the small sphere of dead branches and fallen leaves. No bugs, no birds. The wolves hunt elsewhere; the prey have all but abandoned a place where death permeates the air.

What was nature to do when someone so unnatural had been laid to rest?

He knew he was too far from the predetermined area. The yellow tape was marked for trees ready to be chopped down. But the sound of the men laughing about some bar they found had set his teeth on edge—a rush of anger from deep in his chest now resurfacing quicker than he liked.

Some days were better than others. Some days he could join in on the laughter, make simple conversation, and pretend to be normal.

Other days he felt the clawing urge to bite and snap and dig his claws into flesh rear in his head. Try as he might, he couldn't ignore that unhinged sensation. Even if he wanted to. On those days he preferred to be alone. Away from humanity, separate from what they wanted from him.

They saw him as a man.

Not an animal.

That should be enough to appease his restless spirit; give him some peace after so much chaos.

His teeth ground together in his clenched mouth, sweat sticking to the back of his neck despite the cold weather. The axe felt like an extension of his arms. Hacking away at the base of a tree he knew would make enough noise to draw attention once it tipped. That didn't deter him from repeating his swing. From baring his teeth and growling through it in order to dig out what calm he could.

The blade wedged itself halfway into the bark before he heard it. The stifled scream of a woman. His body went stiff, head whipping around to see if someone had followed him. The instincts from before—days spent as a soldier still burned into his nerves—began to overtake his senses as another muffled scream pierced his eardrums.

He left the axe behind, heart thumping an unsteady beat in his chest as he made for the forest. Trees blocked what little sunlight poured through dense clouds; the air a murky fog that chilled his lungs with each breath. He could taste the sap dripping off tree bark on the tip of his tongue—his mind clinging to the edge of sanity as he moved.

Twigs snapped beneath his boots, leaves cracked with the weight of his body, but Logan couldn't think about moving silently. Someone was getting hurt. He could practically smell their fear. The heady coagulated tang of blood spilled over the forest floor.

"Hello?" he called out, emerging through the thicket of branches.

A small clearing gave way to what little light remained in the afternoon. Petrichor lingered in the pockets of clear air, familiar enough to set his earlier anxieties aside. Fall in Canada shepherded rain forward with a heavy hand.

He knew the woods would be soaked come morning. Any signs of life lost to the pelting drops of rain that dragged hail right alongside it.

His feet stopped at the edge of freshly packed dirt, a shovel tossed to the side with a dent in the metal large enough to resemble the size of a skull. Sucking in air, the hair rose on the back of his neck when the shriek sounded again. Pained. Anguished. As if someone was fighting to claw their way to the surface.

"Fuck," he gasped, dropping to one knee—fingers burrowing in the moist soil and heaving it over to the side. "I'm here. I've got ya!"

Another muffled cry filtered through the layers of dirt as he dug with heaving breaths. Sweat prickled along his forehead, dripping down his temple. The brine of salt dripping onto the already muddy area. What hope he could grasp onto began to slip through his fingers; now dragged beneath the surface of an already haunted forest.

Logan stumbled back when a hand shot through the dirt, piercing the ground by his foot. He sucked in a sharp breath, eyes wide as an arm appeared, fingers grasping for leverage in the loose topsoil. He'd never experienced terror before. True fear that lingered in the bottom of his chest, echoing a solemn tune he wanted to rip from his flesh. But the sight of someone clinging to life filled his lungs with water.

You could feel it. The dirt and stones that packed themselves beneath your nails, slicing open what remained of the once pretty nail bed. It happened later this time. Took longer than you expected. Crimson blood mixed with the black soil as you vomited what stuffed itself into your lungs; the impacted earth was too heavy for your body to hold onto and thus the result remained the same.

Somehow it felt worse each time.

A cry of agony pierced the brume—splitting open the silence that could no longer exist. And with another heave, you managed to free yourself from a shitty dug grave with barely enough dirt to cover.

Sucking in a lungful of air, you collapsed to the ground. Body nude and streaked with mud. You couldn't tell which parts of you were sliced open this time around, could barely make out the color of the trees through the thick layer of fog. But the leather brown boots two feet away caught your attention instantly.

With a whimper, you lifted your head—eyes latched onto the broad man above you who looked ready to lose his breakfast, or join you on the ground. Perhaps both with the way his paled face stilled at the sight of you.

Of course, the time it took to return would fuck up your plans for solitude. Of course, you would have company at the worst possible moment.

This part was never easy.

"Hi," you meekly rasped, voice entirely gone from how many times you screamed.

Harrowing silence became the space that hung between your body and his. You curled your toes to force the blood back down through your veins. Hands holding an unsteady shake that would take a good hour to dissipate. You began to notice the color of his flannel—a deep umber with lines of brown. The scent of cedar permeating the air; sap a thick sweetness you could practically taste in the back of your throat.

Senses took a few moments to return back to their original vigor. Yet you couldn't allow yourself to slip into the you from twelve hours ago.

Not when the man still watched you, eyes overflowing with dread. You wondered if he was real. Would he flinch if you swung a fist at his shin? Or was your dilapidated mind conjuring him in a hallucinatory haze you'd eventually break free from.

Pushing yourself up on trembling limbs, you managed to contort your half paralyzed body into a sitting position. The feeling would return to your numb core; the steady drip of life slowly seeping back into your veins the longer you remained still.

Movement seemed to puncture a hole in his stupefied mind—yanking him back to reality. He dropped to one knee with a heavy exhale. "Who the fuck did this to you?"

You wanted to laugh. You nearly did laugh.

How were you meant to tell this complete stranger that you in fact...did this to yourself?

"Are you cold?" he asked as if you still held the capability to speak.

When it became clear you had no intention of offering him any sort of explanation, he promptly cussed under his breath. Hands stripping off the brown leather jacket that hung over his clearly muscled form. You tried to shake your head, hoping he'd get the hint and simply leave you alone.

The cold didn't harm your already frozen skin. Not when a rush of blood coursed through you—pumping an unhealthy amount of adrenaline back to your now racing heart.

He draped the heavy fabric over you anyways, securing it to cover what skin he could. His eyes fixed on the side of your face. What a goddamn gentleman. Hilarity of this entire situation flickered brightly in your mind, forcing a jolt through your body that had him rearing back a few inches.

He must not be used to the sight of someone coming back from the dead.

No one would be. Unless they understood your current predicament.

"Do you have someone I can call?"

Again...silence became all that lingered in your mirrored confusion. You pleasantly discovered that you liked the sound of his voice. He felt his stomach churn with the eggs he scarfed down an hour and a half ago. Oh what a hapless pair you made. Two strangers bound in this tight knit bond of befuddlement.

"Can you speak?" He pushed for you to give him something.

You nodded, trailing the curve of his jaw with your gaze. If you had to guess his profession, you'd pick lumberjack. That made the most sense as to why he found himself standing at the foot of your grave trying to help you escape it.

Although you supposed he might have just been on a stroll through the woods; seeking time to himself. An escape from the busy world above ground. You peered into his clouded hazel eyes - plucking what you could from her expressions alone. This was a man who didn't seem drastically horrified by the sight of you coming back to life. Rather lost in murky thoughts of how.

Again the aforementioned question you loathed answering left his plush lips.

"Who did this to you?"

Sighing, you felt the blood begin to rush to your legs, a tingle of awareness entering your system. You were coming back from the state of rigor mortis. Which meant that stick around here would no longer be an option. As much as you were inclined to entertain the idea of getting to know him, the reality was far too bleak for him to accept.

He was a mere human, you were something else. It would never work.

“What’s your name?”

Agitation clearly lined his nerves the longer he crouched beside you. He’d never receive the knowledge he wanted, never get to the bottom of this otherwise grueling mystery. The longer you stayed, the harder it would be to leave. Putting him out of his misery now was the only option you had.

The only one that might guarantee his safety.

“Please. Let me help you.” His sincerity struck your heart, causing it to twist until the jagged edge of pain spread through your entire body.

They always sounded this way.

Hopeful. Intrigued.

Too many people, too many broken souls.

The path of your existence was littered with unsalvageable pieces of those you allowed to wander into your life. You refused to say goodbye to someone who clutched your love too tightly. Who never understood what this meant—the horrid depth of what you were forced to endure. You’d never be able to find freedom in love, never find hope that things might one day be different.

Eventually your curse would kill them in the end. And you—the sole survivor—would be left to pick up the fragmented shards of your armored walls.

With a pained groan you stumbled to your feet—legs shaking like a fucking fawn right after birth. He shot up beside you, hands outstretched in case you collapsed. But after so many years, you’d grown used to the sensations of a body that fought against you. The sight of him made you grin; a man so large, so imposing, somehow looked small compared to your mangled body.

Oh, how you’d remember him.

Tucking his kindness into the depths of your heart—fondly looking at it more often than you’d ever admit.

Dragging the leather jacket off your shoulders—much to his dismay—you tucked it back into his grasp. For a brief moment, you traced the shape of his eyes with your gaze. Solidifying the hazel in your mind, the hints of dark umber speckled through the iris. Eyes that would haunt you for years to come.

You wanted to ask what caused him such anguish—what had he been through—to hold an unfathomable amount of grief in eyes so tender.

“Thank you,” you whispered, the unbearable scratch in your throat dissipating the longer you were alive.

“Wait–”

With surprising quickness, you walked past him, trembling with each step. Your stomach gnawed at your insides—the vacant sensation in your body determined your next course of action. Where you were heading with no need for direction.

This wasn’t unusual. Hours spent in the ground was bound to force your body to find its sustenance one way or another. Even if you weren’t technically alive. The adrenaline would wane, leaving you rattled—in a panic about the way your soul plunged into an infinite expanse of darkness. A place with no path.

Over the decades you managed to get a handle on your body;s tells. The routine it formulated to deal with the ancient magic coursing through your veins. Sparks of a past self never to be touched again; no matter how much you bargained.

Heavy footsteps trailed after you, entirely unaware that silence wasn’t his forte. He still clutched the jacket aimlessly, unaware that the temperature dropped rapidly the longer he remained outside. You’d grown used to the behaviors of men who found you. Their incessant need to follow, to see if they could get away with what they wanted.

The same fucking song and dance; a battle you learned to evade swiftly and without mercy.

You stuck to the carved pathway created by your own footsteps trekking the same ground over the span of many years. Those who worked this deep in the forest rarely stuck around to find out who dared to live this far away from humanity. Many assumed an old psychotic woman, man, or spirit, resided in the run-down cabin.

Others whispered of a witch cursed to roam in darkness for all eternity.

Though both were merely myths spread by bored townsfolk.

You often wondered what they would do if they found out that neither strayed far from the actual truth.

Each year that came and went people dared themselves to check—to see for themselves if the stories held a bit of authenticity to them. They more often than not, left scared out of their wits at the sight of a naked woman trailing dirt in across the threshold of an archaic home.

Your shadow persisted in his personal mission—five feet away, lumbering through the silent forest like a bear with no real direction. Scaring him off should have been your first priority. You knew the longer you sanctioned this behavior the harder it’d be to get him to fuck off.

Although you couldn’t deny the instantaneous attachment you felt for a man with such a tortured soul.

Perhaps some part of yourself could see the fragments that went missing harbored in his heart.

Like a fool, you continued on the familiar trail—giving yet another aimless person leeway in your life. Regret hung heavy in your heart—a promise of what would inevitably come to pass screaming in the icy air.

Your breath forms a cloud with each puff; the exertion far too much for your freshly revived body to handle. Later when you were adjusted once more, the remorse would return within each stiff joint that pleaded for an ounce of rest. Whether you wanted to partake in the act never remained up to you—rather an inescapable future that awaited you with open arms.

The cabin stood on the remnants of an old cemetery. Bits of cracked stones that once housed names were scattered around the front. Moss clung to walls built of worn in bricks that had seen better days. You liked each part of your home. The haunting beauty that kept others out, gave you the solace you needed on days like this. Here you could pretend you were a normal person, not someone stuck with the scars of wounds that never remained.

Of pain you held no proof of.

The path was lined with plants of varying species. None of them should have survived the weather in Canada, yet like you they persisted.

Just as fucking stubborn and determined to remain alive.

Kicking a loose stone over, you reached for the rusting iron key lodged into damp dirt. The man stopped speaking long before he followed you here. Probably coming to the same conclusion they all did. You were not going to listen to a single thing that came out of his mouth.

You had to hand it to him. He knew where he stood in a situation like this—given your relatively calm exterior.

The door creaked with a weathered groan as you pushed it open. A bag of grave dirt hung on a nail in the wall to your left, an old shovel stood propped against the entryway, and a trail of dried herbs were suspended from the ceiling. You inhaled the scent of home with a grin; finally at ease within the place you knew well. A line of hooks held blankets for this very situation—heavy wool lined coats beside them.

Instead of grabbing one, you reached for what was still tucked in the pocket. The thud of his boots against the front step echoed loud in your ear. That seemed to be all you needed to hear the warning bells signal in the back of your mind. Allowing him to shadow you had been fun, but the truth still glared in your direction.

You didn’t know this man—you never would.

Better safe than sorry.

Spinning your heel, you jammed the silver dagger against his throat, forcing him to stumble back. His hands clutched at your wrists, eyes wide with the shock of what just happened. You didn’t want to admit that a small part of you liked seeing him this way. Yet no fear could be found in the darkened hazel. Merely a hint of concern—pity.

That only served to piss you off. He dared to follow you home, thinking he could enter your house without permission. In such a case as this you faced him with the fire that fueled your inhumane rage. The match struck against your heart, igniting sparks that existed long before he was ever born.

“You’re not welcome here,” you spit, eyes narrowed and lips pulled into a snarl.

He held every right to look at you as if you were a feral animal he accidentally cornered. You knew you resembled one. Right down to your hackles being raised—bloodlust burning in your glare. If he wasn’t careful, he would wind up with a split open throat and you’d have one hell of a mess to clean.

“I’m not gonna hurt ya,” he murmured.

“You followed me home.”

Swallowing thickly, Logan felt an old familiar ache rise in his chest at the sight of you. He’d been where you stood once. Desperate to be left alone; angry at a world who abandoned him. The thought of you believing the worst in him left bile climbing the back of his throat, shame burning hot in his stomach.

“Just wanted to see if you were okay.”

You grinned yet a dullness remained at the center of your eyes. “I’m alive. You can go.”

“You crawled out of a grave,” he growled.

Only to be met with one of your own. “No shit.”

“You live alone.” The knife pressed down against his skin, red welling to the surface in an instant. “Who put you there?”

“That’s none of your fucking business.”

You held no reservations against cutting him open. You’d done it before and would do it again in a heartbeat. Logan could see that clear as day. This wasn’t about him attempting to help. He’d surpassed that half a mile ago when you began to walk it off like you knew what was happening. And perhaps he was stupid to keep standing there in a pathetic attempt to tame you.

But he needed to know what happened.

Simply for the sake of his own sanity.

“I won’t hurt you bub,” he echoed, releasing your wrists with a soft exhale. “That’s not why I came.”

The anger dulled like the blade of your knife at the sound of his voice. Putting your faith in someone to uphold their words wasn’t something you excelled at. In fact, you found it was easier to bite first before you even bothered to bark at them. A feral animal who held no sense of safety—who thrived in bitter chaos and would until the very end.

But for the first time…you found yourself unable to fight against someone who stood before you like a mirror from a past life. The anguish in his eyes resembled your own. A fractured window that spilled light along the darkness, even if it didn’t belong. Even if you were born to exist in the vacant nothingness they put you in.

“Help me out here,” he murmured.

Before you could silence it, you laughed. Short and stunted and still layered in the gritty rasp from earlier.

“Fuck you.”

He sighed, stepping forward—his throat opening even further. You expected him to flinch, cuss loud enough to scare the varying corvid that often perched in the trees, but all that remained was that damn sincerity. The echo of a man who you somehow understood exactly what ran through your mind even before you let him in on the secret.

Logan kept his eyes locked on yours, even when his body screamed for something else. He wasn’t a stranger to having a blade to his throat, nor to violence in general. But even with the intent of killing him clear in your gaze, he knew something else stirred beneath the surface of your mind. He latched onto the quick pace of your heart, clamoring for a deeper look behind the walls of your impenetrable armor.

“I know what it’s like.” Your eyes went wide for a brief second before you resumed your previous stance. That remained enough for Logan to feel he touched on exactly the right thing.

“You don’t know anything.”

“Believe me bub,” he retorted, lips curling into a half-hearted grin. “I know what not dying feels like. Even if you want to.”

The breath was punched from your lungs, body going still as the waves of disbelief washed over you. He grasped your wrist gently, prying the knife from his throat, and you watched his skin stitch itself back together. The only remnants of your violent act was left in a stain of red he promptly wiped off.

You had half a mind to try again. Test the proof he so blatantly showed you without an ounce of shame. He seemed to catch onto your interest quicker than you expected—his palm spreading wide beneath yours and hand forcing the blade along his skin. A gasp fell past your lips at the sight of his body healing rapidly—the cut nonexistent within seconds.

Logan felt pride pierce his chest. Unfamiliar and yet entirely welcome.

“How…”

“I’ll explain it bub,” he uttered, drawing your attention back to him. “If you tell me the truth.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

He huffed, moving close enough to feel the warmth emanate from your bare skin. “I’m pretty good at spottin’ bullshit. Someone put you in that grave.”

“Yes.” Blindly you reached for a jacket behind you, slipping it on as his eyes took in the small bits of your home he could see. “I did.”

His head snapped back to you, lips set in a firm line. “What do you mean you did?”

“It’s a long story.” You waved your hand as you tied the jacket’s belt around your waist.

“I got enough time to hear it.”

Turning back towards the entryway of your home, you didn’t bother to bite back the smile that bloomed across your face. Somewhere in the back of your mind the voices of years past shrieked in horror at the choices made in the past hour.

How could you drag another soul into the darkness? Torture them with the duress of your life—of what you were forced to endure. Was it merely to appease the growing ache of loneliness that gnawed at your heart. A constant hunger you could never satiate.

He didn’t deserve what came next.

No one did.

But you were a selfish person who had tolerated far too much—who gave up every piece of your heart to keep others safe. For years you claimed you were better off alone. Only for the sight of his ability to fracture that part of yourself in two, burying it in a shallow grave with the hopes of no resurrection.

One day you’d come to regret your choice. You always did.

Tonight however you would give yourself this. Time spent in the company of another, even if it might end in a tragic disaster.

“Would you like some dinner?” you asked over your shoulder, too afraid of what his response might be.

His lips pulled into a grin as he crossed the threshold of your home—placing his jacket on the now vacant hook. “I’d love some.”

note: i handwrote a giant portion of this & proceeded to type it on my brother's laptop. so if there's mistakes forgive that. i don't have a laptop rn and i'm working with literal scraps.

#logan howlett x f!reader #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x y/n #logan howlett #my writing

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abbyfmc · 1 month ago

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Yanderetober 8/10

Yandere Zombie! x Survivor! Reader:

TW: Mention of kidnapping, manipulation and stalking.

It all happened exactly a month ago. A virus was spreading through the population, turning people into zombies.

They were not zombies in the sense that they were resurrected from death; but in the sense that they were mutant monsters hungry for animal and human flesh.

You and your boyfriend, named John, have been trying to survive this apocalypse as best you can. You had a small shelter just outside the city, with a small garden where you grew and harvested food as best you could. You had to flee as the city became chaotic due to the infection.

He wasn't a yandere at first, but after the infection broke out and he lost everything (job, most of his hobbies, friends and family), he changed drastically and became obsessed with protecting you since you were the only thing he had left.

You too have lost everything, so you took refuge in him.

He slowly became a yandere, isolating himself from both the zombies themselves and other survivors. He knew the zombies wanted to kill or infect you, while the survivors had intentions unknown to John. Sometimes he would leave you alone in the shelter for days when he went out to get supplies. He basically went as far as kidnapping you and tying you up.

On his last trip, he was infected by a zombie and survived. He returned home not realizing that the small scratch the zombie caused him would change him forever.

He woke up in the middle of the night, feeling strange. You woke up too, worried.

-John, what's wrong?- You asked him as he retched in the small shared bathroom. You went to touch his shoulder out of concern, but he stopped you as he was turning into a zombie.

-No! Don't come closer!- His skin was getting paler and paler, simulating a rotten appearance (even though John wasn't dead), he vomited blood and felt the virus spreading violently through his veins; ending up turning him into a zombie that you ran away from without thinking.

This is where the yandere zombie was born.

The yandere zombie followed you EVERYWHERE from the shadows. He still looked after you but in his own way.

The yandere zombie was ALWAYS aware of your movements.

The yandere zombie can't speak very well, so most of the time he only makes slight moans of pain or grunts. He really wanted to call you or say your name.

The yandere zombie doesn't let any zombie or human get close to you. He either kills them himself or calls a whole group of zombies to eat.

On one hand, the yandere zombie wants to get close to you, hug you and kiss you like never before, because he loves you and misses you madly. He wants to come back to you and feel all your love, as well as every inch of your skin.

But on the other hand, he wants to be the first to infect you with the virus or at least devour you before another zombie does, thus managing to keep you with him forever or until his last day of life.

After all, you will always be his.

-The End.

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ivymonkshood · 1 year ago

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A literal mess

— Miguel loses himself when he reaches his limits, you're just happy to be part of it to see it all go down

Tw: Sex with no plot, husband and wife relationship, she/her pronouns for reader, Miguel is whiny and talkative, grab your translators 'cause i speak spanish.

— Ah.. No puedo más, no puedo más~

The words slip out of his mouth before his brain even registers them, the only thing that seemed meditated was the rough tugging at your hips to keep you pressed against his crotch and the sloppy bucking of his hips.

His forearms and forehead pressed against the bed's headboard , aware enough of the sharp talons scratching the wood to contain himself from doing something stupid.

As careful and self aware he could be right now it was only a matter of time for his brain to turn into putty and forget all about him not being just a regular human, fucking into you like some needy animal.

Tongue lolling out, red eyes rolled back, his sweaty frame hovering over you completely, sharp fangs that itched to bite and keep you still, he was a complete mess.

But the hottest thing about him going pussy drunk, lost in pleasure was that he couldn't shut up.

Going from quiet moans and manly groans to a soft voice, sweet and whiny gasps and all that he felt like saying in his blissful state of mind.

He spoke Spanish regularly, at work, in the comfort of your house doing domestic chores and/or nothing but it became worse (better) when in bed.

— What's wrong, Papi? Cumming already?

You kept feeding onto it.

"What else can he say?"

"How far can it go?"

"How much can i ruin him?"

"Is it possible for him to get louder?"

He moans at the pet name, a hot shock climbing up his spine. He was going to regret the day he taught you those words. His thighs shake under yours, he was no longer pushing his cock into you, opting to calm down a few seconds, it was too early for him to cum, he was too sensitive.

— N- no morena, just catching my breath. Eso es todo...

— You sure? We can tap out, if you'd li-

His talons grip your body, one hand on your waist and the other around your ankle, slamming you fully on his dick. If the air hadn't been knocked out of your lungs, the most loud and meant-to-be-in-a-pornographic-film scream would have left your throat.

— Aquí... Me quiero quedar aquí, like this between your legs.

His hips stutter before moving again and he loses it, once again.

Your ears are filled with the mushy sound of his dick rearranging your insides and the loud, whiny praises that he sings with his head hidden in the space between your shoulder and neck. Miguel pushes his body upwards, changing the position and now your knees are centimeters away from touching your forehead.

—Ay, espérate Miguel-!

You whine and tap his thigh rapidly in protest but he's so lost your voice sounds distant. You give up, holding your thighs open and letting your knees rest next to your head.

His eyes are closed shut, the insatiable slamming of his hips against your ass was the only thing keeping him dozing out. He pants your name, exhausted but not giving in until you're ruining the bed sheets with your love juice.

— You're a mess, Migi~

You say but you're both panting, moaning and sweaty all over each other. He chuckles.

— Si? Qué más? Te gusta que me esté desmoronando así encima de ti? Eres una maldita pervertida, dime si me equivoco~

Your eyes roll to the back of your head and your pussy squeezes around his dick greedily and you hear him lose his breath.

— Pervertida? Yo? Look at you, Migi!

His thrusts become sloppier, fat cock twitching inside you and you squeeze his forearm that rests on the bed next to you.

— I'm not denying it, imposible que lo haga cuando se siente tan rico y mi esposa se ve... Tan bonita~

His left eye twitches and his nose scrunches when his balls start emptying in you, a loud round of Si, si, si and me vengo, Morena! leaving his lips.

He talks you through it, watching your face contour in pleasure and he feels like cumming for a second time when your gummy walls squeeze him so harshly and your pussy gushes all over him.

He pulls his dick out when it stops throbbing painfully and he goes back to his senses but all he has the energy for is to lay next to you and pull your body closer.

— I didn't hurt you, did I?

His eyebrows twitching when he asks, still not in full control of his body. You whine.

— Aww, is it over? No more spanish?

He laughs, pinching your hip lovingly and giving you a quick peck as he falls asleep.

— Vete a dormir, Mami.

#Mami is an underrated pet name #People saying 'rico' while fcking is my weakness #spiderman atsv #miguel ohara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #Sub!Miguel #dom!miguel #spiderman

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aspergerasparagus · 14 days ago

Note

Question: What do you think will be the reaction of the three rabbits to their strange dream

In a dream Lucky was playing with the rabbit's ear before kissing In Frankie mouth

How will each the reaction be?

real frankie cartoon frankie monster frankie

and What did they think of their dream When they wake up from their sleep

This was supposed to be shorter. Woopsie. Tw/ lil suggestive nothing to bad.

Real Frankie:

Of course Frankie had dreamt about his little contestant many times before. Admittedly they were mostly just a prop to them listing off new ideas for the show or there to shower him with money as the viewership went up. You know, normal things. But tonight the man was taking a slightly different role, one Frankie hadn’t seen before.

They were sitting in the rabbit’s office but Lucky had forgoed his usual seating arrangement and was instead perched beside the rabbit on the edge of his desk, looking at him expectantly. Frankie was immediately aware this must be a dream. His money maker never let himself act so lax around him, let alone look at him like that. Smirking he just shrugged and decided to see how this would play out, it could prove to be entertaining at least.

Reaching out Lucky gently cupped Frankie’s cheeks, giving him some small scratches behind the little tufts he had. Frankie just let out a soft purr, he never could resist this type of attention even in a dream.

“You alright there Frankie? You seem quiet.” His voice was uncharacteristically soft as he spoke, nothing like the brash tone he typically used.

“Hmm, just thinking is all. Nothing to worry about Lucky.” The man just nodded before he finally pulled back as he reached up and removed his mask and hood, letting the rabbit see the soft smile that graced his lips. Oh yeah this was definitely a dream.

Frankie was just about to comment on how unlike himself this dream Lucky was acting only to find himself cut off as his contestant lifted his head, the space between them negligible now. He felt them playing with one of his ears as they studied him closely.

“You know I haven’t thanked you properly. For all you’ve done for me that is.”

“Oh?” The rabbit was too intrigued now to see where his processors were going to take this, so he continued to play into the scene.

“Maybe I could think of a way to show you just how grateful I really am~?” The suggestive tone and heavy lidded eyes didn’t escape the rabbit’s attention.

“I’d like to see what you have in mind my little rabbit~” He heard the man giggle softly, a small dusting of blush appearing on their cheeks. Then predictably they leaned forward placing their lips against the rabbit’s, a shy kiss but with promises of more to come.

Frankie couldn’t take it anymore, he suddenly burst into a fit of laughter causing the dream Lucky to pull away. His Lucky would never act anything like this. It was comical just how much this one was acting like a stereotypical love interest, honestly it was kinda cringey. A sudden change came over the dream Lucky, the love struck damsel turning into a grouchy man who shot the rabbit a dirty look.

“Bastard, I try to do something nice and this is the thanks I get? Asshole!” This only made Frankie laugh even harder as he dragged the now kicking man into his arms to nuzzle him. Yep he much preferred this version of Lucky. It was much more fun.

“There’s the lucky contestant I know. Now about showing me just how grateful you are~”

“In your dreams, you oversized rodent!”

Cartoon Frankie:

Of course the rabbit was confused to say the least. No one should be able to enter the strange warped space he called home, unless one of the animators placed them here of course. But there he was, that troublesome man that The Other insisted on keeping around as their personal little human pet. It made the toon’s blood boil just looking at them, especially as when they noticed him he could tell they were smirking.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Hello to you too, puffball.” Frankie felt his eyebrow twitch at the nickname. The bastard had been using it for a while now given how much it riled the rabbit up. It was insulting cute and pissed him off regardless.

“Piss off human! I don’t have the energy to deal with you today. Why don’t you go and play with that reject of yours? How close are you two to starting an OF account by the way?” The remarks were cruel of course, he always was. Anything to get under the man’s skin and piss him off. Alas they only broke out into laughter, obviously more amused than anything with the rabbits' rant.

“Oh someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today! And is that a hint of jealousy I hear?”

“J-Jealousy?! As if I’d have anything to be jealous of from that waste of spare parts! I’m the star here, remember! The only reason he’s even still around is because of that little trick he pulled last season. Ruined my whole fucking game show just save his own hide!” The audacity of this man! Frankie could already feel his fur bristling up, his teeth going sharp as he got more and more furious. He wasn't going to listen to this piece of shit any longer. He had too much dignity and self respect to let him get to him in his own home! Turning on his heel he proceed to storm off, refusing to humour the human any longer

“That is true, can’t argue with you there. But there is still one thing he has that you don’t…”

That got Frankie to stop dead in his tracks, his fur standing on end as a shiver went through him. Swallowing, he slowly looked back over his shoulder, only to see the human towering over him, their mask now gone and a cruel smile plastered across their face. How did they-?

“Do you know what that is, Frankie~?” The sickly sweet tone they were using just made the rabbit nervously swallow. He knew, he knew in the back of his head, but he wouldn’t dare admit it. Not even to himself. The Lucky in front of him just chuckled as he crouched down so they were eye level now. His hands came out to cup the toons’ cheeks, causing him to immediately melt at his touch. He was powerless as the man gently petted him, so desperate for even the slightest physical affection that he’d already started to purr softly, his foot thumping against the floor. He must look like a truly pathetic sight.

He heard Lucky chuckle as he pulled the rabbit closer to him, able to feel their breath now against his lips causing him to whimper softly. This was too much. It was overwhelming. Opening his eyes to finally face the human in front of him, he saw their eyes sparkling with mischievous joy, obviously more than pleased with his reaction. And finally they spoke again.

“M.E. Me~” The teasing tone had gotten to the rabbit as he felt his face beginning to burn as he went completely red. This was not happening. He refused to let this human tease him like this.

He tried to will himself to yank himself free. To tell that human to go and shove it where the sun doesn't shine. Hell, tell him to go swim in the slime for all he cares. But he couldn’t. He wanted this too badly, even if he refused to admit it to himself. He wanted this human to tease him, to mock him, to give him attention, to give him affection. He was helpless and wrapped around his little finger now.

“Good boy, Frankie.” That was the final nail in the coffin as Frankie gave in to the dream as he felt the contestant’s lips crash against his. It was a rough kiss and Frankie didn’t hesitate for a second as he wrapped his arms around the man dragging him in further as he shoved his tongue into their mouth as they crashed to the floor. He wasn’t letting them go now. They were his.

Monster Frankie:

Frankie had to admit he didn’t dream particularly often, and if he did then he normally didn’t really recall them the moment he woke up. Just fleeting memories of previous seasons or predictions for future ones. Nothing particularly interesting. That was until he popped up in one for the first time.

The dream had started off as they always did, Frankie barreling after a gaggle of contestants, all of them screaming and trying desperately to escape the rabbit’s clutches. One by one they fell to him. Each torn to pieces more gruesomely than the one before, until only one remained. This one was sat upon a piece of equipment, their head tilted slightly as they observed him. Growling the monster made his way towards them, stalking up to them, getting ready to pounce the moment they made a run for it. But instead they just sat there, watching him, waiting for him. This was unusual to say the least, no one had done this before except…

Realisation dawned on him as his processors finally realised who it was, the figure finally chuckling as if they could read his mind and had been waiting for this moment. Frankie groaned but he couldn’t deny the sudden rush he felt, his favourite play thing was here. Finally getting to their feet the contestant locked eyes with the rabbit before beckoning to him, a teasing look in their eye. Come and get me.

Frankie didn’t need to be told twice, the provocation only getting him more worked up as he let out a sudden roar and barreled towards them. Of course the contestant was off like a bolt, expertly manoeuvring themselves around the obstacles, but Frankie never let them out of his sight. To have prey that didn’t instantly die, cower or just piss themselves was so exhilarating. To finally have something worthy of him, to have someone who was just as invested in the thrill of the hunt, even if they were the one being hunted, was such a refreshing thing that Frankie had found himself almost hoping they were never caught just so he could do it again. And given the way the contestant would taunt him, the excitement in their eyes, the smile he knew was plastered on their face under that mask, he was sure they wanted the same thing.

Of course tho, they couldn’t keep this up forever. One of them was bound to slip up or tire soon enough, it was an inevitability. This time it was the contestant, who stumbled as Frankie launched a surprise swipe at them causing them to crash to the ground in a heap as Frankie pounced on them, their mask being sent scattering to the floor. He easily pinned them down with one hand as they squirmed under him before finally just shrugging and flopping back as they caught their breath. He liked seeing them like this. Out of breath and trapped beneath him. Powerless but accepting of their loss. Of course they typically would lash out, Frankie haven caught a few wild haymakers to the nose and eyes before, but for now they were accepting their defeat graciously. A low rumbling noise escaped him as he leant over them, teeth bared, ready to end this.

That was until the contestant reached out, scratching him behind the ears. Instantly he let out a low purr and flopped down onto their chest. His one weakness. He couldn’t resist the back of his ears being petted and now was no different as he buried his face under their chin, whining for more. This was how things typically played out whenever he caught the little human. He wasn’t allowed to kill them (yet) but he still demanded some sort of reward for being the victor and this was appropriate compensation.

“Okay, okay I’ve got you. Easy now!” He heard them laugh as they moved down to scratch his cheeks, earning another purr. Such a funny little human. He hadn’t met one like that before, well one that had survived long enough for them to prove interesting enough. He felt them push his head off, making his eyes snap open as he let out a low warning growl.

“Oh hush, I just don’t want you crushing me. You’ll still get your reward…” As promised once he was sat up he placed the rabbit’s head in his lap and resumed petting him.

“See, all good. So no more growling at me alright?” Frankie just huffed and rolled his eyes but did settle down, snuggling against his legs.

He wondered if The Other got this type of attention too? He never honestly thought about it too much, given that he mostly just followed their orders to make the show more interesting or to get information on where contestants were. But he knew the contestant and him were close, but given how he saw them interact he was sure the man wouldn’t let that rabbit within touching distance if he could help it. So maybe this type of interaction was reserved only for him. A special thing only for him for being good at his job.

His thoughts were cut off suddenly as he felt the contestant lifting his head so they could face one another. Frankie was about to snap at him again but instead was cut off as the man pushed his lips to his. The rabbit instantly froze before yanking himself away, his fur on end as he just blinked wide eyed at them. That was definitely new. He’d never been kissed before and couldn’t tell if he hated it or liked it. As he was processing what had just occurred he watched as the contestant just smirked before taking off once more.

“Distraction!” Oh that rotten little fucker! Frankie could only snort and grin as he charged after them, choosing to focus on the fleeing little rabbit in front of him rather than the tingling that still played on his lips. He’d process that more when he woke up, if he remembered it.

The following morning:

The 3 Frankies were in the server room, waiting for Lucky to join them. “Real” Frankie seemed the most chipper out of the 3. His grin wider than usual as he eagerly awaited his little money maker's arrival. Meanwhile “Cartoon” Frankie looked exhausted and pissed off, the background of his screen kept glitching, his teeth showing sharp as he chewed on the end of his 3rd cigarette of the morning. “Monster” Frankie on the other hand seemed to be acting like his typical self, keeping himself preoccupied by scribbling on some pages he had found, unaware of the tension that was mounting in the room.

“Where the fuck is that little shit?! How long does he expect to keep us fucking waiting?” The Frankie on the screen was the first to break the silence as he discarded his cigarette only to pull out a fresh one immediately. “Real” Frankie just shot him a look and shook his head, dismissing him.

“It’s only just turned 8. He’s probably just grabbing breakfast and then he’ll be up. You do realise I only asked him to meet us at 8:30 right?” The screen glitched as Frankie growled at the announcer.

“I don’t care, go do your fucking job and get his ass up here before I send him to go drag him up here in pieces!” The rabbit motioned to their companion who now registered them both, eyes flicking between them before raising an eyebrow at his fellow robot, the implication clear.

Leaning back Frankie, regarded the screen properly.

“Are you okay, boss? You seem… ” The Frankie beside him held up a piece of paper, a word scribbled on it. “Frustrated.”

“I am not frustrated! I’m just pissed at being made to wait! Could you two get off my fucking back!” The robot rabbit just looked at one another, something had definitely happened, the toon usually managed to keep his composure a little better than this.

“Is that so? Guess someone just woke up on the wrong side of the bed today…” Bad choice of words as the toon immediately went bright red as they shot the rabbit a death glare.

“Zip. It.” His voice was low, but the shake in it was clear. He was beyond embarrassed after being forced to remember last night. “Monster” Frankie just looked at his digital counterpart with a confused look while his companion just gave them a cruel smile.

“Oh did something happen in dreamland last night, boss~? Want to share it with the group?”

“Eat shit and die you useless hunk of scrap!”

“I’m going to take that as a yes. I’m also going to assume it had something to do with my little contestant~ Having naughty dreams about him are we.” The teasing tone just made Frankie explode, his eyes turning to fire as he began to scream at his counterpart, cursing him out but confirming it was the truth.

“Nothing happened, you waste of metal! As if I would stoop to dreaming about that hunk of meat!”

“Someone’s protesting a little too much, methings. But whatever, we all dream about our little contestant from time to time. I know I do~” The rabbit could only smirk as the cartoon flipped him off. During this time “Monster” Frankie had just watched this all going on silently, really not caring to butt in. That was until The Other’s comment caused something to flicker in his head. Chirping he pointed at himself, catching both the other Frankies’ attention. They both looked confused until the both immediately caught on, yelling at him in unison.

“What the hell do you mean you dreamt about him too?!” It was at this point that the door to the server room suddenly clanged open as Lucky entered, his mask off as he shoved toast into his mouth.

“Sorry I’m late, burnt my hand on the toaster because it ate my brea… um… you guys all right?” He stalled as the three rabbits swivelled to stare him down, each glaring at him. He obviously didn’t know what was going on but he could feel the tension immediately. And knew he was in trouble.

“FRANKIE GET HIM!” Lucky barely had time to yank his mask back down as “Monster” Frankie suddenly bolted for him on his boss’s command. They both careened out the room, the sound of Lucky cursing them all out as the rabbit eagerly bounded after him, crashing into something as they went, leaving just The Other and the digital Frankie in awkward silence. The toon could only bury his face in his hands, steam pouring off him as the robot just regarded him and snickered.

“Bit of an extreme reaction to having a wet dream about someone.”

“Shut up before I order him back up here to get you instead.”

#my writing #finding frankie #real frankie #cartoon frankie #monster frankie #rabbitroyale #shout out to monster he just chillin #gonna be real toons is my fav. honestly just i wrote his the best cos if one did get this it would be him #would i write the whole dream?? maybe if people wanted it

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