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deadboyswalking · 2 years ago

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The Prince And His Reflection

[One of the horror stories from “Tales From Halloween: An Anthology”]

Prince Shouto shivered, the cold air of the approaching winter cutting through his thick cloak as he made his way home through the woods. Even though he was usually a fan of winter, the lonesome journey on the frigid, clear night made him long for his warm bed, his cat, and a hot cup of tea.

He held his lantern further aloft as he carried on, the new moon leaving the woods even darker than usual, so dark that even his lantern barely penetrated the unmarked footpath in front of him. Though, as a skilled warrior, Shouto was perfectly capable of defending himself from the common cutthroats and bandits on the main road, he wasn’t exactly supposed to be sneaking out at night. The king would be angry if he found out, and his father’s wrath was something Shouto would rather avoid.

The twists in the path were hard to see, and it wasn’t long before Shouto found himself in a beautiful grotto with an unfamiliar waterfall, gleaming in the dark as the waters tumbled down to the small, dark pond under it. Shouto’s eyes widened with wonder and he stumbled forward, as if hypnotized. In the lamp’s light, the clear water showed his reflection perfectly, though the flickering flames and rushing water apparently distorted the image. Mirror Shouto seemed to… smile at him, and Shouto himself was not smiling. Childishly, the prince held up a hand and waved; the reflection waved back, of course, as reflections do.

He laughed at his own foolishness, getting scared of a trick of the light, and turned away from the waterfall to trace his way back to the correct path. The odd hold it had had over him had vanished like smoke, but Shouto immediately noticed something was off when he exited the grotto. He could hear the animals, the insects, the rustling wind, all of the ordinary sounds of the forest washing over him like cool fog.

It was at that moment he realized that despite the free-flowing water, the grotto had been dead silent, not even the sound of Shouto’s heartbeat and breathing able to break through the tranquility.

A shiver ran down his spine; the cold, perhaps.

Or perhaps something else.

Subconsciously, Shouto touched the sword at his hip, assured of its sharp steel, and lifted the lantern higher. The path. He had to find his way back to the path. Feet aching in his boots, he kept his eyes fixed on the ground. Was it two curves left, and then one right? Or two rights and a left? The tree, where was the ancient pine tree with the carving in the center?

Shouto…

The prince’s breath caught in his chest at the sound of the whisper, so quiet and yet so close he could practically feel it against his nape. He whipped around frantically, the lamp casting new shadows in the seclusion of the midnight forest, trying to keep his heart calm as he stared into the endless black that surrounded him.

He was alone.

Shouto was so very tired, it must have been his imagination. Yes, just his imagination. He tried to focus, finding the correct twist on the path and continuing home, the looming silhouette of the ancient pine in the far distance. He had apparently wandered farther than he’d thought to end up in that strange, silent grotto.

Shouto…

“Who’s there?” he shouted, searching for a vagabond who did not appear before his eyes.

Shouto….

“Path.. where’s the path?” Shouto cried out, looking down to see the way had disappeared, gone as if it had never existed. The hair on the back of his neck stood up as a whispering laugh passed across it, like a caress from a dead man’s hand.

Mother hated you, didn’t she, Shouto? Isn’t that why she ruined your pretty face?

His heart beat a rapid tattoo against his ribs and Shouto broke into a run, mismatched eyes fixed on the tree that seemed to get smaller and smaller as he approached it, a perversion of the way things should be, by all natural logic.

Ah, sweet Shouto, but it wasn’t really her, was it? It was him, it was always him. I know you, Shouto.

“You know nothing!” Shouto yelled back at…it.

The whisper, the voice was so intimately familiar, it almost sounded like… no, no, that was impossible! Shouto stopped dead in his tracks.,

Or, at least, he tried to, finding himself pulled forward by that same hypnotic magnetism.

The world went silent again as the divine grotto came into his sight.

He’s the reason Mother’s under the lake.

Shouto stumbled forward, tripping over his own feet as he tried to pull away.

I’ve seen your dreams, Shouto, all that beautiful blood that waltzes through your mind in the night, in the dark.

“Th-that’s not-” Shouto stuttered, the waterfall like a river of ink in front of him, illuminated only by the gradually dimming light of his lantern as the candle burned down to the wick.

Not you?

“Yes,” Shouto gulped.

Oh, but it is you, Shouto. The real you. And so am I.

The lantern flared bright and Shouto nearly dropped it when he beheld the horrific reflection before him, its hands and arms soaked in the vivid crimson that dripped off his sword, a golden crown at its feet.

He was sick, he was going to be sick.

Home, he wanted his room and his bed and his cat and his tea, wanted to be out of these freezing woods and away from the things that slithered and whispered in the dark.

He whirled around, tried to run, tried to break the hold the devil’s grotto held over him.

Strong hands clasped his wrists, coated in an odd mixture of sticky wet and cracking dry.

The last thing Prince Shouto saw before the candle went out was his own face, spattered thoroughly with blood, the rapidly congealing ruby cut through with an unseeing blank stare and a manic grin that threatened to split it in two.

Shouto screamed.

👑👑👑👑👑

Shouto awoke in his bed, his cat curled up on his chest, as usual. He gently lifted her off amid many complaints and stretched, yawning as he blinked himself awake in the early morning light. Funny, he didn’t remember getting home last night…

There was a commotion in the courtyard below, audible even through Shouto’s window, Sir Iida Tenya’s tense voice shouting instructions at the other royal guards. Frowning, Shouto slid out of bed and went to the window to see what the raucous noise at such an early hour was all about.

The blood drained from his pale face as he saw the set of crimson handprints on his windowsill.

Sticky wet.

Cracking dry.

And as he placed his own trembling hands over them, they matched perfectly.

#todoroki shouto #bnha shouto #bnha horror #bnha fantasy au #prince todoroki shouto #prince shouto todoroki #bnha fanfic #bnha todoroki #i want to podfic this someday because i love it so much #saro's writing

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sucker-for-yanderes · 2 months ago

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Simon Henrikkson x f!reader

Contains: noncon/dubcon, self-harm, drugging and mentions of substance abuse, hate sex/revenge sex turned sweet, somnophilia (Simon fucks you when you're blacked out), angst, murder, violence, past bullying, both Simon and reader suffer childhood trauma, schizophrenic Simon listening to a voice in his head (Book Simon)

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Simon snapped that day. He denied that you abandoned him, but it was all just too much for him to handle at once... The overwhelming feeling of everything falling apart was too much for poor Simon to bare. And since then, that voice in his head has been stringing Simon along like a puppet. Filling his head with corrupted thoughts and imagery.

Looking out the window of the classroom, the teacher's voice became muffled due to worrisome thoughts drowning out everything else. Where is Simon? You wondered. It's been two weeks and every passing day your heart continued to sink in your chest bit by bit.

Wait, but why do you care? It's been 2 years. You guys don't even talk anymore, you're not close. Not like that, anyways. Or so, that's what you thought. You had undermined your relationship it seems, along with yourself. Idiot.

That's what you always do. Always denying possibilities to immediately be false, not putting in any effort at all even when it could've been. All because you think of yourself so poorly that you believe you do not deserve love and therefore brush off any 'foolish' thoughts that anyone could see you as more than a friend.

You reflected on how everything started, back when the two of you met.

It was high school and you two were the only juniors in the intro to zoology and botany class. Truth be told, you were nervous to be partnered up with a boy, but I mean he was the only person in your grade. You sure as hell didn't want to partner up with the younger classmates, you'd be doing all the work while they goofed off. Plus, Simon made for a good lab partner. Always making sure he did his part, even offering to do some of your work too despite being just as unsure of the assignment as you were.

Working with him during lab, you'd get a better look at him close up. Despite what everyone else says about him, you actually thought he was kind of cute. Attractive. He just didn't bother to take care of himself for some reason.

He was taller than you, pale ivory skin mixed well with his dark features, and he even had a nice scent to him despite the musk. There was a time when the two of you reached for the same beaker and accidentally grabbed each other's hands. But the moment the two of you touched, your heart skipped a beat. It shocked you. Of course, the two of you quickly pulled back, awkwardly spewing out apologies followed by bashful laughing.

Sure, he was quiet and not the most socially inept, but you found that charming. Simon was authentic to the core, not trying to be anyone else. So, you weren't sure why he was always the target of torment from others in your grade.

You felt terrible, seeing the way it affected him. You always got a bad vibe when he would come to class late, constantly zoning out, and it especially worried you on days where he wouldn't say a peep to you or anyone for that matter. There was even a time where you caught a glimpse of his wrist when he went to grab something off of a shelf you couldn't reach.

You held back your gasp, swallowing it down your throat. You felt yourself shrink inside you. The state of it was just... you'd never seen self inflicted wounds look like... that. It was jagged fresh cuts on top of older ones, his once ivory skin discolored into brown hyperpigmentation from the scarring that spanned so far on his arm.

You were sick to your stomach. But what could you do? You weren't made for confrontation, Simon would only continue to get the same treatment or even worse if you did say something. You didn't want to overstep your boundaries either... I mean, who exactly were you? What did Simon think of you? Wouldn't it be weird for someone superficial to get involved in something so personal? You figured you'd just make things worse if you tried to help, that's how things usually go for you...

So, in other words... You played the role of the bystander. Your biggest regret, your biggest mistake. The only thing you could do for him was simply be there... sometimes.

But when the tormentors saw you and Simon in the halls walking out of class laughing it up together, they sought to ruin that for him too. Simon's bullies targeted you, they considered you his little girlfriend with the way he looks at you. That's when you stopped being there for Simon at all. They had gotten you too, and he didn't even know it...

When you only talked to him about school related things and shut him out completely outside of that, he found himself falling apart. Not you too, he thought to himself. Dark thoughts manifesting in his head. She hates you too. Look at what you did, Simon, you made her leave just like everyone else in your miserable life.

You managed to get through the rest of the semester, passing your classes with flying colors. And now it was summer break, you'd go back to your family's hometown for the summer. Simon spent the summer doing his own thing. He tended to wander around the city, you'd think he was homeless if you didn't know him.

Well, truth is, he hasn't ever felt at home in his life. Never feeling accepted or safe, anywhere. He feels as though the stone-cold streets of the city accepted him. And so he wandered and wandered, doing who knows what. Not even he knew what the fuck he was doing or going on.

His mental health had deteriorated significantly that summer and that voice in his head became louder over time. Instructing Simon to get revenge on those who made his life this way. I know you're sick of feeling like you're the one to blame, so take revenge. The voice would say to him. This inner turmoil and tug of war for sanity would go on for quite some time.

Until finally.

Snap

He's tracked you down, has you cornered. There was no escaping Simon's wrath. Though, you had no idea you were on his shit list. You were genuinely surprised to see him after all this time. He... looked somewhat the same. You don't look tired like him, even though he feels you should be. Your eyes softened, it made you sad to see the state Simon was in. Though as morbid as it sounds, you felt some relief seeing that he hasn't killed himself yet either, as that was always a fear of yours ever since you discovered his suffering back then.

Simon considers letting you go for a moment. He could still turn back and carry on with his life, change for the better... No, he knows that won't be possible. It's now or sometime later, he might as well get it out of the way and incite his revenge now. Vicious, brutal, savage revenge with malice aforethought.

You stood there like a deer in headlights, looking up at him with wide doe eyes as he crept closer. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. You asked him what he wanted and if you could help him. Simon opened his mouth to speak but no words came out.

Before he violently ended the lives of his tormenters he squeezed an apology from them as he watched the life slowly drain out of them, but what he wanted from you wasn't anything so simple that it could be expressed solely with words. No, that just wouldn't do the trick.

He would show you instead.

Simon reached out a tattered hand, only to hesitate, realizing how ugly it was compared to you. He was stuck on grasping how much smaller you look compared to him now. Within a moment's notice, there he was.

With unknown intentions, he had overpowered you, covering your mouth with his gloved hand while he carried you to the nearest alley where no one could find the two of you no matter how much noise you made.

Simon felt thankful in this moment that this was a dead city. The population was so low, it's not even normal to see more than 6 people in the streets at the busiest hours of the day.

Suddenly, Simon had your softer, fragile body tightly pressed up against the hard brick walls of the building lining the alleyway. You begged him to tell you what's wrong so you can fix it, asking what you did to deserve this. Simon goes on to say he wants to make you feel what he felt back then. To let you know what it's like to be beaten, to feel crushed, and utterly alone.

It's clear what he wants now. It's punishment. In your newfound fear, you cry as you beseech him to give you the answer to why. "Why punish me?" You'd asked him. Simon only feels more anger bubbling up as the voice in his head tells him you're trying to deny what you did all those years back. You abandoned him... Left him to be swallowed up by loneliness again. You... you did... You were wrong.

He would punish you for your cruel sin, make you beg for his forgiveness. For the mercy you never had the grace of showing him. Only, he would. Just when you're at your lowest, he'll extend a hand, kiss your forehead, and absolve you of sin. Because he's better than you. Yes, that's what he wants.

He'll bully you to see how you like it, and you'll see how wrong you were to abandon him even when he went through horrible horrible things. Simon would bask in your voice when you cry out that you don't deserve him and his kindness, for you to admit that you were wrong to ever leave him.

Simon watches the moonlight spill from the sky after a cloud reveals it hit your skin. He hastily removes your clothing, jerking you different ways while doing so. Your pleads fall on deaf ears at this point as you try to explain your side of the story, struggling against his forceful movements. You had more than enough time to explain, and now Simon determined you've made it clear how you feel about him. But he would prove you wrong. Make you realize your feelings for him. Even if he has to do it by means of force. You'll never leave his side again.

Simon grabs your jaw, crashing his lips into yours, his teeth pushed into yours from the force he put behind his kiss. His kisses were animalistic, as if he were trying to eat you instead of kiss you. Fear filled your body as Simon turned something that lovers do into something malicious. He even bit your lip to the point of drawing blood. You cringed at the taste of iron in your mouth. Bringing a hand to wipe away the blood, Simon intercepts it, pinning it above your head as you look up at him with blood stained lips. He always thought you were pretty, but right now he adored this version. A lazy smile crept up on his face.

You wince from the pain of your head, your restrained hand, and from the feeling of being pressed so hard up against a brick wall. And suddenly, a potent rag was brought to your face, fearful eyes looking up at Simon. Of course, you were out like a light within seconds. Simon caught you in his arms with fraudulent nobility.

The scene changes to Simon's room. It would be almost empty if not for the small messes here and there along with his bed. Simon carefully set you down on the bed as if he were prince and you, a princess. As much as he wanted to throw you down, Simon held himself back.

Your shirt ripped in his grasp where he churned the fabric in his fist, knuckles white in their strain. It's only until then when Simon slips off your clothes stripping you naked that he sees the abuse your body had endured along with the identical scarring he has on his wrists on your upper thighs. After pausing, Simon's expression turned solemn. Only for a second. No matter. Good. You deserved it. You couldn't possibly feel what he's been feeling. You probably just did that for attention, he curses the thought as he knows you better than that. You'd never once seeked for attention in your life.

Right now, he wanted to feel you. It'd been so long, he hadn't realized how much he had missed you until his body started reacting to your touch despite never feeling it besides the accidental brushing up against each other or awkward side hugs. His demeanor softened the more he touched you while yet remaining domineering despite his newfound gentleness.

Watchful eyes locked on to you, observing your reactions when he touched you here, right here, and here too. Your body reacted very nicely to his touch even in your sleepy, drugged up state. He'd like to keep you at home, all to himself. He'd chain you up and keep you in his basement if that's what it took.

His horrible thoughts had manifested a reality Simon didn't know he wanted. This ever-consuming obsession with you had gotten the best of him. Simon remembers the times he would pump his length vigorously whilst imagining grim fantasies of capturing you. Fantasies of how he would punish you for your crimes against him. For making him fall in love with you and then just abandoning him like he were trash, making you grovel in the dirt. Even still, he'd even had softer fantasies of rescuing you from evildoers, only for you to cry and cling to him, never letting go.

Maybe he could still salvage the real you. Because the real you would've never abandoned him... Never. You wouldn't... Simon continues his inner battle of morality and sanity as he runs his larger and worn hands all over your plush skin, much warmer than his. He was sure to leave bruises on you as the more he touched you, the more intense he felt. Fearing that if he let you go, you'd leave him for good.

Heart pounding heavy, Simon had discarded his clothing and laid up against you skin to skin. The muscles of his upper body flexed with contained rage as he hovered himself above your bare naked body. With that, he began gliding his hands on you. Gentle, at first. And then, not so gentle. His hands meet your neck, to which his grasp tightens and tightens and tightens some more. Your body squirms in reaction, barely conscious. Simon observes the skin he had touched turn red. So sensitive. Now, you were beginning to come into consciousness, eyelids barely lifting despite trying so hard, trying to be alert. Your chest tightens with anticipation when you realize you're in the nude under Simon, who was bare as well. He was so close, closer than you've been with anyone. You feel a foreign heat between your legs, and it's poking at you. With a gulp, your eyes turn back to look at Simon, pleading with him to stop now. Of course he recognized that look, what it meant. He would not oblige.

You whine at his unforgiving touch as Simon continues to touch you. His hot breath puffing out onto your face where you trembled from the soul-seeking coldness in his eyes. You'd never seen him this needy, this inability to hold back. It terrified you, your weak hands pushing on him in a pathetic scramble, to which he was unbothered by. In fact, he loved it. He found himself wanting you to resist him. It only gives him all the more reason to punish you.

With an evil grin, Simon dips his course, long middle finger up into your already slick cunt. You fail holding back slurred out moans, the sound falling so beautifully on Simon's ears. Another sound filled the room, the squish and squelch of your slit being abused by Simon and his moans of anticipation. Just when you're on the edge of something good, he stops.

Simon wastes no time.

"Ah!" You're yelping when Simon bites down harshly on the tender crook of your neck, hard enough to draw blood. Simon's hips hit you with a lewd thwack! The pain was overwhelming, tears streaming down your cheeks. You try to scratch your assailant, dig your fingers into his skin (--though, that would only make him grin), but when you try to, it seems like your arms are so heavy. The most you can do is make measly efforts push him away. Simon chuckles darkly, humored by your thought that you could really stop him. How cute.

You couldn't believe this was Simon.

Simon is practically drooling when the vicious curve of his fat tip draws relentless glides across your g-spot, mapping you from the inside out. Thrusting precariously on top of him while he fucked you over and over-

There's a low, sultry growl coming from the very depths of his chest when Simon's pulling out ever-so-slightly. His vice-like hold around your neck tightens even more, breath puffing in raggedy hot pants against your cheek.

He's gripping the angry red tip of his cock, moving down the shaft to the base, giving the peak of your puffed-up clit a stinging smack! smack! smack! with the very tip of his thick, hot head.

And your slimy pussy just coats his throbbing cock in a milky gloss of cum. Your slick saturated his dick down to form a creamy ring at the very bottom of his thick hilt. As soon as Simon finishes bullying his length back in between your sopping wet pussy lips, he just throws his head back, half-lidded eyes swirling with rageful lust.

He thought to himself how the tables have turned. You'd always looked down on him, now he was the one looking down on you. You probably always thought he was pathetic, always took pity on him. Well who's the pathetic one now? Your moans of pleasure and sweet wails of pain were truly pathetic, he could only let out a dark chuckle.

He had made you submit to him, that meant you were finally his forever now and could not leave. Is this all it took? To make you his? If it was that easy, he thought he should've done this ages ago.

Simon's rough handling on your hips left a trail of more bruises along with neat little fingernail patterns along your skin, making use of each and every bit of strength he had to hammer with such jarring pummels into your poor pussy. It's like his girth was just molding your tight innards to his size.

He barely even slows down, grunting out the hoarse mantra of your name. "Oh fuck-" Simon's breath hitches and he clenches his teeth as his balls pump out his hot load inside you.

Awe, you thought this was over? Oh, no. Simon flipped you over onto your knees, instructing you to keep your head down and your ass up. Gripping your hip firmly with one hand, the other placed his cock at your entrance. Ignoring your desperate cries of resistance, Simon slammed his hips against your cheeks, your jaw slacking open when he did. Whole body trembling at the feeling of being full again, you let out pitiful cries of pleasure.

Despite your fear and sadness, you found yourself become overwhelmed with a desire for Simon and his love-making. Your pupils were practically heart-shaped by how many times he had made you cum by now. His sheets almost completely soaked with both of your love juices. Simon's heart eyes were locked onto the way your ass jiggled every time he slammed his hips into you. "F-fuuhhck, cumming again-" Simon let out a growl as he threw his head back, his grip on your hips tightening.

Round after round, Simon cruelly pounded and came inside you time and time again. His thrusts seemingly becoming more sadistic the more he continued. Eventually, your body was overstimulated to the point of you blacking out. And that still did not stop Simon. You were his, and that meant his all the time.

Hours and hours passed, the effects of the drugs were beginning to weaken, your sensations are feeling more real, the pain and pleasure feeling intenser as all of your nerves start to wake up. You wince in pain as your head pounded, your body aching from Simon's rough handling on you. He had you held close to him in missionary with your legs behind your head. You figured you would try to push him off of you now, but your weakness did not fade. Arms still feeling like static, they fell to your sides.

Simon, still in his lustful dissociation, grabbed hold of your wrists with his hand. His rhythmic thrusting turned jagged as he came close again. You wondered if you could get through to him in the state he was in now but you figured you'd at least try.

"Simon... Simon! Please, I- mm, need you to let mme g.. go." You managed to peep out, searching for him in his eyes. "You n-need to stop tthis... Ple-ase? You're h-urting me-" Simon let go of your wrists and grabbed your jaw, your lips forced into a silly pouty look. "Good. You fucking deserve this after what you did." Simon spoke out in a breathy, yet clear voice.

"You fucking left me. All. alone..." Simon thrusted into you with a thwack! thwack! in between that last part. Your face twisted in agonizing pleasure. "W-what?" Simon was pissed off at the fact you were trying to play dumb with him. "Oh, don't play coy with me. Acting like you're innocent. You know exactly what the fuck you did." Your cries mixed with moans sounded so melodic to Simon as he fucked you harder.

"Bad girl. Bad." He muttered quietly to himself under his breath as his eyes scanned you from your face, to your breasts, to where his cock was pumping in and out of your pussy. Bringing his thumb down to your plump, unsuspecting clit, Simon rubbed you harshly in all the right ways.

At this point, you were seeing stars as the pressure in your lower abdomen began swirling again. "Simon w-wai..." You gave up on your words at the end as all of your focus was on Simon's touch and the way your body was reacting to it. This is bad, you feel like if this continues, you really won't be able to live a normal life and become Simon's personal fuck toy forever.

(Part 2?)

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