#prompt: cannibalism | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nemesyaaa · 5 months ago

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bones and all au // rafe cameron x reader

summary : “ you're so handsome when I'm all over your mouth. ” strangers by ethel cain.

warnings : if you were not comfortable with the movie by luca guadagnino, don't read this !! mature plot. a lot lot lot of blood. sick and gore attitude. cannibalism used as a form of love. strangers/ode to eaters by ethel cain muse. smut. pomegranate used as a metaphor of cannibalism. jealousy. mentions of organs and anatomy. some b&a refs but you can read it without watching the movie. violence. minors DNI. +18.

author's note : crdits to @starfxkrreloaded for this au. you can reach for her ode to eaters au which is very insane ! please, i know this is very twisted but don't send hate or be mean in the comments. if you dont want to read something like that, it's your right and i respect it, just scroll. to the rest, hope you will enjoy. it's my first time writing something like that so i'm kinda nervous. and by the way, the movie is very beautiful, taylor russell was incredible in this. i highly recommend you.

you lived in an old house in the midwest, the southern gothic type with an empty fridge, broken stairs, carcasses of eaten animals in the garden, a tv too old to be turned on, a radio player too damaged to be listened to , a completely dirty kitchen with dishes full of dishes in the sink, and nasty dirts on the floor. there was also that damn lamp that flickered and came on every other time, that icy water that froze your bones, that cold tiles that creaked under your feets. the windows were rarely open but when they were, the shutters slammed against the wind, your underwear hung over the radiator. but you really liked this place, in fact, it was the only place you could call home without wanting to collapse in tears.

you had your headphones on in that empty quiet space, and a probably dead singer in your ears living through your swaying body. you found this pomegranate on the table while searching. it was intact, still shiny and full of good things.

you didn't need a knife when you had a hungry beast inside you to cut the fruit with your teeths. you had dug your molars inside the seeds, directly into the fresh and virgin skin, opened the eviscerate flesh, tearing away everything you can with your mouth, the still delicious juice ready to feed your thirst and starved your hunger.

you smelled the fruity and juicy scent through your nose, splitted open the pomegranate, discovering the clean and clear inner bones, a pretty red color, even more oozing and sublime than your blood, a perfect complexion reminiscent of the sanguinary meat of your anatomy. your tongue and teeth were sunk in, completely buried in the dripping morsel. your face and cheeks were full of it, shining onto your dirty and sticky fingers. the juice burst, squeezed in your hands as you devoured this fruit, the liquid of which flowed, dripping down your neck and chest, slipping toward your tummy like an unstoppable river.

you were bad as a demon, but nothing stopped you. you bit and bit like a mad dog into the flesh of the fruit like a piece of meat, extracting with your molars everything that you could recover and stuck in your throat.

the more you ate, the more the fruit bled. but you heard nothing, no lamentations. nothing could stop you from eating, from the rage beating. it was sickly, obscene and depraved.

you looked like such an innocent thing, but inside you, there was nothing like that. and you couldn't fool anyone with your tears and your regrets, because you didn't have any.

you had dropped the pomegranate on the ground, there was nothing left except a broken corpse. you had consumed everything from the flesh to the bones, from the skin to every part.

your dress was stained. you stank of pomegranate as much as sin. there was nothing good in you, and above all, there were too many people in you.

rafe had come home in the night while you were waiting in the armchair in the living room, with this juice stuck to your body. you hadn't moved. for some reason you were faithful to your partner. maybe because he scared you, or because you understood that without him you couldn't survive.

he had thrown the key in the table and came before you.

he came toward you in the same state you had seen him for the first time, covered in blood and with glowing blue dilated eyes. you knew that he had eaten, that he had devoured someone because he was not like you. rafe was worse. he understood that nature was to kill but beyond that, it was something he was trying to teach you as your mentor. that we should not regret giving in to impulses, that if we did not listen to them, they would end up killing us.

that we were originally monsters, and that we had to deal with it. you didn't know if he was telling the truth, if he was right. but he was taller than you. you found a maturity in him that fascinated you, that forced you to listen to him.

he had taken off his shirt, and you looked up at his face. he smelled of blood, that strong, metallic smell that you could sniff from several meters away but especially his because you knew him by heart.

“jesus, don’t look at me like that. you wanted to stay at home, i didn't force you to. ”

“it was a girl. what was she like? did you like it ? ”

you didn't know if it was jealousy, or curiosity. you just knew you didn't like knowing he was with some girls even if it wasn't going to last.

with a smirk but at the same time terribly cold face, he answered you. "if you're that jealous, use that energy and mouth to taste it. maybe, you will have some answers. ”

you got up from the chair to join him. you didn't want to share him, even though you knew there was only you in his life. you knew it because since you knew him, he had never talked about his family, nor contacted relatives in the payphone. then, he rarely spoke about his private life. he often made fun of you, because it was more your type of thing to open up about personal moments. you never knew if he was really listening to you but he stayed until the end of your speech.

eagerly, you kissed him, that girl’s blood sliding against your lips, your mouth capturing rafe’s in a kiss, as your cheeks crushed against his bloody face. “ mine, mine.” you whispered, pushing your tongue against his. “ clean that blood, babe. i can't be yours if she's still here. ” he had slipped his hands under your skirt, pressing the flesh of your ass. he had a ring on, the cold metal playing against your skin. you could smell it, just like what he had eaten before coming home.

he sat on the probably moldy and torn couch in your living room, you were almost his height now that you were sitting on top of him. you were hungry, as much for him as for sex. he made you feel so many things, or it was this jealousy, this thirst within you that made you so hungry. you weren’t really sure.

you took one of his fingers still covered in blood, the recent taste of raw flesh now in your cavity. he had pushed his thumb deeper in your mouth, making you suck the pulp properly. the liquid bleeding against your tongue, as his flesh quickly brushed your cavity, your drooling lips curved around him. he pushed it in until he felt your throat.

he was playing with fire, he was playing with you, because he knew you could bite him at any moment but he had also conditioned you not to.

“so, how is it? ”

“nothing tastes better than you.” you simply replied. “ right ? nothing can be as good as me. ” he said in a mocking tone.

he had undone the strap of your dress, revealing one of your tits which he had taken in his palm before taking it in his mouth. your nipple was pressed between his teeth, your skin trapped in his hand as he sucked on your piece of flesh, pinching it only ever so gently in his mouth. he still had remnants of blood, slipping between your body and his tongue.

there was something sensual between this slow sucking, fast suction of the tongue around your throbbing nipple, your spiraling stomach against the void, the movement of his adam's apple in his throat while he tasted every beads of your boobs. rafe was good at it.

he pressed your tits, grabbed them tightly and firmly against his palm, nibbling the tip, caressing the pulp, kissing the flesh. and maybe if he had bitten into it, you would have cum instantly.

his hand was on you, covering your body in blood and sweat, tracing your figure with his soiled and bloody fingers like a canva, letting them run over your skin like a paintbrush.

he was hidden by your sucked breasts. and you wanted him full. you had started to grind against him, even with your underwear separating you from him and his piece of jeans, you managed to be completely soaked on him. your hips moved in motion, lifting delicately like a porcelain doll too afraid of getting hurt.

you were no worse than him, and he was no worse than you. you were both terrible people. there was no hierarchy among people like you.

but the first time you saw him, in that shirt full of blood, with that mouth so red and that oozing dripping neck.

it was dark, but you knew very clearly what he had done, and perfectly well who he had eaten. you had observed it and you had not seen a monster. you weren't afraid.

he wasn't mean and monstruous, just indifferent.

"if you want to eat, that man is still over there." he said simply, not trying to hide or deny what you were seeing.

and you liked it. you instantly liked it.

“ you're the one who interests me.”

“you know the drill, we don’t eat each other.”

“i mean, will you let me come with you?”

"listen to me carefully, i don't have the face of a babysitter, nor the skills to do so. get by, you may be a minor but if you're old enough to do what you do when mom and dad have their backs turned, i swear, you can get through this on your own. ”

“i’m an adult.” you cut him off.

“your age was a nice excuse for me to tell you that i’m not interested. i bet you're an adult. ”

you had followed him when he approached his pickup. "i wouldn't bother you. but i need help. i mean, this is new to me. i don't do this often while you seem to be experienced. i want.. .i want to be like you, not to be afraid of that.”

“what makes you think i’m the right person for this?”

“you may not necessarily be the right person, but you’re the one I want.”

“you know, i already have a lot of problems, i don’t need a burden on all of them.”

“please. i won’t be one. you have my word.”

"you really don't give me a choice. come up crybaby, but if you bother me, i won't hesitate to abandon you, no matter where."

you nodded. it was going back, but in the meantime, you had traveled to many states of america, and probably left a pile of corpses on your way. even though it hadn’t been easy, he had taught you how to drive.

one cold summer night, in the darkness of a tent in the middle of nowhere, you hadn't managed to sleep. but when you opened your eyes, rafe wasn't sleeping either.

“you should sleep, you’re the one driving tomorrow. ”

“you want to know who my first victim was? "

"i guess even if i don't care, you're going to tell me. so go ahead. knock me out, tell me something your little lips haven't told me yet. and don’t say victim, you're much an innocent thing than a killer. but don’t worry, i'm about to raise you very well. ”

his hands had gripped your hips to position you above him. “but for now, tell me about your boring story, maybe it will help me sleep.”

you had told him a lot of your past. the first time you had eaten someone, the babysitter your father had hired who had ended up torn apart on the floor and another part in your mouth. oh it really wasn't beautiful. and this time, in the summer camp where a boy had mysteriously disappeared because you had devoured him in the woods. and that friend at school whose finger you swallowed. it was stronger than you. you needed to eat.

and rafe was the only one to understand it.

the most intimate moments in a relationship should be sex, but for the two of you it was different. it was when you ate together, when you both had blood around your mouth, that you could taste his, and he could taste yours. when there was this connection between you.

he was a different eater from you, he was bestial and cold, sinking his teeth straight into the flesh, tearing off the parts of the body one by one. his bites were mean and cruel. the way, his teeths pulled the organs, the ribcage. you watched him, his hungry raging mouth embracing the darkness of his needs, ripping all the raw meat out roughly. oh the blood, it leaked into every corner of his pretty and bloody lips that you wanted to kiss so badly, to feel the liquid and flesh filling and consuming the space of your throat and your tongue as your body swallowed everything he gave you. oh how much, rafe loved to feed you directly in the mouth, letting you suck the flowing red wet all around his jaw, and down his neck to the cool grass. he was beautiful. insanely handsome. but also, so scary.

his skin was covered in a red, metallic coat. his eyes were consumed with pleasure, while devouring the body of your victim.

he was very different from you, who was more delicate in your movements, or rather clumsy. your bites were messy, your touches lighter, even with the blood all over you.

but it was in those moments that the sex was the best afterwards. when his tongue, still red and famished with blood, circulated over the skin of your stomach, leaving a reddish river against your flesh.

and it went even further than that, when he found himself lost between your legs, his warmth muscle completely buried inside you, lapping your soaked folds, licking you like a starving man, his mouth pressed around your sloppy wet cunt. your juices dripping against his open wided mouth and jaw, the throbbing of your clit against his nose, the way your beating pussy smeared the blood across his lips and cheeks every time he entered and devoured your delicious slick.

since you didn't eat each other, it was your only way to feed him, to make him taste you. you didn't know if he loved your taste but in any case his tongue always came back to find you, to fuck that cunt, lodging itself between your soggy walls.

he forced you to keep your thighs apart, one hand resting on your bruised tummy which contracted every time you felt him on your core.

your legs shaking around his shoulders, the way his bloody mouth nibbled on your clit. you moaned in the middle of this abandoned place. you could shout as loud as you wanted, no one would come, no one would hear you.

you loved feeling his large hands on your bruised skin, especially after eating, because they were dirty and sloppy. you let your tongue clean the blood stuck to his fingers, the drops falling into your mouth.

it was strange how love can be perceived for everyone. ever since you were a child, you have been unable to show affection without hurting people. when you loved someone, it was tragic because you had this need to devour and consume them, to make them a part of you, to make them live within you.

but for rafe, it was different.

you were total opposites. and even though you lived together, you wondered if he felt things for you. if he had ever been in love.

because you liked to think that the way he kept you around, the way he let you stay with him at night, the way he always came home, and was open to doing all these things with you, that was his way to show you that you mattered to him. you even wondered if he came back every night because he couldn't let go of you. yet, at the beginning of your relationship, he wouldn't have hesitated.

here, in this rickety house, you didn't pay rent. it belonged to one of your victims. you always did that, you killed people, and robbed them of their belongings. you took their money, clothes and possessions. you were stealing the lives of these people. at first you felt guilty but now you feel nothing. it was life.

“i love you. ” you told him, as you straddled him on your shared bed, your fists curled in the pieces of sheets. “i really love you, rafe.” you were moaning and feverish, every inch of his thick cock buried in your core, hitting your spot.

while you were bouncing on him, your ass slapped against his muscular thighs. he grabbed your breasts moving over his face, as his dick was ruining you, each of his thrusts destroying your canal. you were as tight as the first time he fucked you in the back of the pickup. he gripped your ass, pinching the flesh.

he wrapped his hand around your throat before losing his face in your neck, his mouth kissing that immaculate part of your body. he placed kisses, before lightly sinking his teeths into your skin, nibbling and sucking on this skin offered to him, while you continued to take him just below him. “yea, you love me. ” with a hard stroke further into you. “still fucking tied to me. ”

and he wasn't wrong, you were so glued to him, completely submissive. he was inside you, filling you completely, every part of his length stuck to your walls, parting your pussy lips, your moans muffled above his head as your arms wrapped around his back. you were desperate and whimpering, the wet sounds of your repeated moans echoing around the room.

you could feel the twitch of his stomach against your skin, the perfect harmony of your two bodies in sync, he speared you violently with his fat cock, let you hear his grunts and heavy breathing against your neck, coming straight from his throat.

you were sweaty and noisy, like one of his victims, but most of all, you were his, his hands all over your body like a prize. every touch was possessive, your head tilted back, and his mouth melted onto your jaw. he fucked you roughly, making you bounce on him and cry.

his blue eyes shone in the darkness of the room. they were on you, in a perfect focus.

“do you love me? " you asked him, your body going through trembling spasms, your skin covering his. you were desperate and suffocating. your breaths were rapid and frantic.

he moved your head with his hand on your throat, his gaze flickering above your collarbones. you felt like you were pretty with the importance his pupils gave you.

you wondered if he had ever wanted to eat you alive, because after all, even if you were an eater, you were still easy prey.

and maybe even sometimes you fantasized about what he could do, because you wouldn't have minded seeing him dug his teeth into your flesh like meat, seeing him consume you one by one, your bones getting sucked, your blood spurting against his tooth.

you would have loved to sacrifice your body to feed him, to be that pomegranate to him, to see him smile through your organs, to see his belly swell because you were in a thousand pieces inside.

you would have loved for him to eat you alive, because you knew rafe would have done it out of love.

“ don't leave me or i will eat you. ” you said to him, his hands brushing your hair like a lover. “ every part of you. like you taught me. ”

“ bones and all ? ”

“ bones and all, my love. ”

and he smiled, fucking smiled all over your kisses, his lips covered yours.

“ then, what are you waiting for ? sunk those teeths in me. scared for what, babe ? nothing that you have not tasted before.”

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unpr0mpted · 2 years ago

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blood, blood, gallons of the stuff ! a collection of icky, bloody prompts for those who like to choose violence. actions are reversible. general warning for blood, violence, murder, death.

𝚂𝙿𝙾𝙺𝙴𝙽 :

" that's a lot of blood. "

" it isn't mine. "

" what did you do ? "

[ sigh ] " what did you do ? "

" come on. have a taste. "

" holy shit, are you okay ? "

" it looks worse than it feels. "

" you should see the other guy. "

" it's a good look on you. you should get covered in blood more often. "

" lean on me. "

" oh my god. oh my god, oh my god, what the fuck ? is that what i fucking think it is ? "

" . . . gross. "

[ standing over a body ] " oops. "

" is that a fucking body ? "

" look, i'm sorry, okay ? "

" what the hell happened ? "

" before you say anything, it wasn't me. "

" at least it wasn't me this time. "

" look at me. this is who i am, no matter how much you pretend it isn't. "

" look at me. this is who i am, no matter how much you wish it wasn't. "

" i'm not scared of you. "

" you don't scare me. "

" shut up and let me help you. "

" i got your shirt all bloody. "

" let's get you cleaned up. "

" that looks like it hurts. "

" i'm fine, just. . . give me a minute. "

" we are so fucked. "

" what the fuck is wrong with you ? "

" are you gonna help me clean it up or not ? "

" the fucker deserved it. "

" red looks good on you. "

" what the hell did you do ; tap - dance all over the body with ice - skates ? "

" what, did you run over the body with your car a couple times after ? "

" i. . . i didn't mean to. . . "

" sorry. fuck, i'm sorry. "

" this isn't what it looks like. "

" it was an accident. "

" motherfucker ran right into my knife, i swear. "

" people need to look both ways before crossing. . . bullets. "

" would you believe me if i said wrong place, wrong time ? "

" hey, look at me. i don't care. are you okay ? "

" they deserved it, right ? please tell me they deserved it. "

" you're bleeding. "

" what the fuck happened to you ? "

" you're getting blood on the carpet. "

" sit down before you fall down. "

" that looks like a you problem. "

𝚄𝙽𝚂𝙿𝙾𝙺𝙴𝙽 :

sender spits out a mouthful of blood at receiver's feet

sender spits out a mouthful of blood on receiver

receiver finds sender covered in blood

sender tries desperately to stop receiver's bleeding

sender helps receiver clean up after a kill

sender wipes blood from receiver's face with a washcloth

sender wipes blood from receiver's face with their thumb

sender licks receiver's blood off a knife

sender licks receiver's blood off their thumb

sender lights up a cigarette a foot away from someone they killed before offering one to receiver

receiver finds sender stood over a body

sender stitches up receiver's wound [ optional wound placement ]

sender digs their finger into receiver's wound [ optional wound placement ]

sender frantically checks receiver for injuries under all the blood

sender guides receiver's bloody hands under a faucet / water source and begins washing them clean

sender bites receiver hard enough to draw blood

sender tilts receiver's head back to staunch a nosebleed

sender draws a smiley face out of the blood they spilled :)

receiver finds sender cleaning up a kill in a daze

sender looks receiver in the eye as they shoot / stab / kill someone

sender ruffles receiver's hair, getting blood all over their hand

sender gets some of receiver's blood on them and makes a face

sender flicks blood at receiver to annoy them

sender stomps in a pool of blood to splash it on receiver

sender slips in their victim's blood but receiver steadies them before they can fall

sender steadies receiver when they slip in the blood sender spilled

receiver comes home to sender covered in blood and waiting for them with all the lights off

sender spits out a tooth and it hits receiver

sender tries to wipe blood off receiver but the blood on their hands just makes it worse

sender takes an injury meant for receiver

sender shows up on receiver's doorstep covered in blood

sender sits down quietly next to receiver after receiver kills someone

sender punches receiver in the mouth

receiver watches sender lick the blood off their fingers like its cheeto dust

sender helps receiver bury a body

sender hugs receiver just to get their victim's blood all over them <3

sender hugs receiver just to get their blood all over them <3

sender leans on receiver for support

sender kills someone to protect receiver

receiver finds sender in a frenzy maiming a body after they've already killed it

sender kills someone and the blood spatters on receiver

receiver finds sender desperately trying to wash the blood off of themself

sender kisses receiver to taste the blood on their busted lip

sender shoots / stabs receiver non - fatally as a warning

#roleplay starters #rp starters #rp meme #roleplay prompts #rp prompts #hurt/comfort prompts #violent prompts #blood //#horror prompts #violence //#cannibalism //#kind of? just in case

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ryuusea · 2 months ago

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Banquet 🍎 Day 2 of #SherliamWeek2024

Woohoo here’s the first piece I was able to do for this year’s sw week!

Yes I am aware of I drew the ring on Sherly’s opposite hand, I did it for the visual effect haha

#ive always wanted to draw something like this #a bit inspired by the first kakegurui opening #not able to do all the prompts this year but here we goooooo #I love drawing liam looking down like this so much djdjdjjddj clearly #sherliam #yuukoku no moriarty #moriarty the patriot #yuumori #liam james moriarty #ynm sherlock Holmes #liam will enjoy his full course #eatadakimasu #it’s been very entertaining seeing the bsky responses ranging from ‘damn cannibalism’ to ‘he’s gonna butter Sherlock’#fun to see I def had no deep thoughts drawing this just wanted to draw inspired by the first kakegurui opening that kinda vibe #sherliamweek2024

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childrenofcain-if · 1 month ago

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CW: CANNIBALISM

W is just the character who'd go all ride-or-die for us 👁️👁️ I am LOOKING! With all the cannibalism allegation, would they join us if there was a Bones and All AU with MC being an eater? Out of all the ROs, I feel like they're the only one who'd accept us like that from the very beginning

the bullying began so long ago that it felt like cicadas in the summer or the thrum of air conditioning inside your house—always there, always insidious.

W was delicate in ways the world found easy to prey upon, not because they were weak but because they felt too much. it showed in the way their hands trembled when they clenched them, in the tears that gathered in their eyes when the laughter of their tormentors reached their ears.

you had spent years trying to stop it. standing in hallways with your fists balled, staring down cole and his cronies, daring them to come closer. sometimes it worked—your defiance could scatter them like pigeons startled from a rooftop—but only for a time. they always returned, like a bad bout of winter, colder and harsher than before.

cole had always been there—a looming, destructive presence that crushed everything in his path. he was bigger than life, in size and ego, in anger and entitlement, and he flaunted his privilege like no other. his father’s influence whispered behind closed doors, his fists a language of violence that left bruises on W’s ribs and a tremor in their voice.

for years, you had tried to shield W, to draw his fire onto yourself when it became too much. for years, W had endured it.

“i told the principal again,” W had said one day, their voice brittle with exhaustion. “he just gave me that look, you know? the one where you can tell he’s already decided not to care.”

and you did know. you’d seen it before, that glazed-over indifference. cole’s father sat on the school board like some sort of king, his power extending over even the smallest squabbles of the student body. but what felt small to the school was enormous to W.

“i’ll fix it,” you had promised them, even as you didn’t know how.

the solution had come from your father, as many of them did. elias, who rarely spoke in anger but could wield his wealth like a weapon when the moment demanded it.

“i’ll buy the entire damn school board if i have to,” he had said when you told him about the bullying. and elias didn’t make empty threats.

cole was ‘transferred’ soon after, the details vague but the outcome seemed decent. and for a while, it seemed like things might actually change.

but cole wasn’t one to let things go.

W had confessed it in a choked whisper the other day, tears carving clean lines down their dirt-smudged cheeks.

“cole’s still… i think he’s following me,” they had said, their voice shaking like a leaf caught in a gale. “he waits for me after school. he knows where i live.”

you’d felt the familiar heat of anger rising in your chest, your fists clenching as you swore you’d make it stop. but what could you possibly do as a high school junior that your father hadn’t already done?

what could you do to a boy like cole, whose world was built on the certainty that no one would ever truly punish him?

the gas station was quiet, the flickering of the neon lights outside the only sound as you paid for your drink and stepped out into the cooling evening air.

the pavement under your sneakers was warm from the day’s sun. you were halfway down the road, the horizon a bleeding canvas of pink and gold, when you heard the blue corvette pull up beside you.

cole’s voice was a venomous drawl as he grinned wolfishly and got out of his car. “hey there, long time no see.”

you took a step back. “leave me the fuck alone, cole.”

he didn’t. of course he didn’t.

before you could react, his arm snaked around your neck, pulling you into a headlock. his strength was overwhelming, his gym-built muscles like iron bars against your skin.

you struggled, your sneakers scraping against the asphalt as he dragged you, half-choking, toward the cornfield on the side of the road.

panic surged through you, hot and electric. you thrashed against him, clawing at his arm, but it was like fighting a mountain. the stalks of corn closed in around you, their rustling leaves swallowing the sound of your gasps.

the field swallowed you both, its towering stalks turning the world into a maze of green and gold shadows.

you’d never liked cornfields. there was something too perfect, too endless about them, rows upon rows standing like soldiers awaiting orders. today, they were silent. watching. waiting.

you stumbled over uneven ground, your sneakers catching on roots, the dirt kicking up into your face. the air stunk with the green smell of crushed stalks and the faint, acrid sting of gasoline from the vehicles that passed the highway after getting a refill from the nearby gas station.

cole’s arm was an iron band around your neck, cutting off air, and you could feel his sweat slick against your skin. you clawed at his forearm, nails digging deep enough to leave crescents, but he didn’t even flinch. his breathing was heavy, labored, as if he were dragging a bag of stones and not another human being.

“stop struggling,” he growled, voice sounding like gravel scraping against a rusted shovel. “it’s not gonna make this easier for you.”

you didn’t answer. not like you could even if you wanted to. your words would be crushed beneath the weight of his arm, your lungs burning. but even if you could have spoken, you wouldn’t have begged. not to him. not to anyone.

the world narrowed to the two of you, his strength against your will. you twisted your body, kicking at his shin with a desperation that sent a flare of pain up your leg, but he only hissed and tightened his grip.

finally, he shoved you forward, and you fell to your knees, gasping for air, the dirt biting into your palms. you scrambled to your feet, but he was faster, grabbing your shoulder and spinning you around. his face was twisted with rage, lips pulled back in something too animal to be called a smile.

“you think you’re so fucking superior, don’t you?” he snarled. “you and that little freak friend of yours. you think you can ruin my life and just walk away?”

your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, glaring up at him.

“you ruined your own life, cole,” you spat out. “you’ve been a bully since the day you learned how to swing your fists in order to get your way. W’s ten times the person you’ll ever be, and you always picked on them for no reason other than to satisfy your own sick pleasure.”

that struck a nerve. his face twisted, the veins in his neck standing out like cords. he lunged, grabbing the front of your shirt and hauling you up so your faces were inches apart.

“shut your fucking mouth if you know what’s good for you,” he hissed. “you don’t know anything about me.”

“oh, i know enough,” you said, the poison in your voice surprising even yourself. “i know your dad’s been cleaning up your messes for years. must be hard to grow up knowing the only time you feel like a man is when you’re picking on other kids.”

“you don’t know anything,” he repeated, his voice trembling now, not with nervousness, but with something far more dangerous.

and then he was on you, his hands around your throat, squeezing until the world started blurring out. your hands scrabbled at his wrists, but his grip was unrelenting, and the familiar panic clawed its way back up your chest.

the world tilted, the cornfield spinning around you, the green and gold blurring together into something surreal and wrong.

you thought of W then, their tear-streaked face, their voice breaking as they confided in you about anything and everything. you thought of all the times you’d tried to protect them, only to fail. and now, here you were, about to become another one of cole’s victims.

your fingers brushed against something cold and hard— a rock, jagged and solid. you didn’t think. you didn’t have the time to think. your body moved on instinct, your arm swinging wide and bringing the rock down on the side of his head.

the sound was wet and final, a krrack! that seemed to echo through the field, bouncing off the stalks and the sky and the earth itself.

cole froze above you, his hands falling away from your neck, his expression slack, his eyes wide and uncomprehending. for a moment, he was just a boy—a scared sixteen-year-old boy. his mouth opening as if to speak, but no words came out. and then he crumpled, his body hitting the ground beside you with a thud that sent a shudder through your own.

you staggered back, the rock slipping from your fingers. your breath came in shallow gasps, your throat raw and burning. you stared at him, at the way his body lay twisted in the dirt, his eyes staring up at the sky, unblinking.

“cole?” you whispered, your voice breaking. “cole.”

he didn’t move.

it hit you then, a wave of horror so strong it nearly made you yell. you’d killed him. you’d killed cole.

the cornfield was silent, the only sound your ragged breathing and the distant whir of cars passing occasionally on the highway. you were alone, and yet you weren’t. the field was watching, the world was watching, and you could feel their eyes on you, accusing and hungry and unrelenting.

your stomach churned, bile rising in your throat, but you couldn’t look away.

his blood was pooling beneath his head, dark and viscous, soaking into the dirt like ink spilling onto a page. the sight of it did something to you, something primal and terrible, like the tearing of a pomegranate, the way the seeds spilled out, red and glistening, the taste sharp and metallic. you felt that same hunger now, a gnawing ache deep in your chest, as if something inside you had been waiting for this moment, waiting to be fed.

but it wasn’t just hunger. it was revulsion, too, a sickening mix of desire and disgust that made you want to scream, to run, to claw at your own skin until you felt clean again. your hands trembled as you reached out, then pulled back, unsure of what to do, of who you even were anymore.

your hands then reached back out as if making up their minds. you stared, horrified and helpless, as they extended toward cole’s still body, fingers curling into claws. they tore through the fabric of his shirt, breaking the fragile barrier of skin with a wet sound that made bile rise to the back of your throat.

but the bile didn’t come, and neither did the disgust you expected earlier. instead, there was only this strange hunger.

it was euphoric, thrumming through your veins like a song you’d always known but never sung aloud. your fingers plunged deeper, seeking, finding, and ripping. there was no hesitation, no thought. just action. your hands disappeared into the cavity of his chest, the slick warmth of blood coating your skin, your nails scraping against bone.

somewhere, far away, a still-sane part of you screamed to stop, to look away, to do anything but this, but the hunger drowned out everything else.

and then your teeth joined the fray. you didn’t remember when you leaned forward, when your lips pressed to his ruined chest, but suddenly you were biting, tearing, devouring. the first taste was an explosion, the metallic flavor tinged with something indescribably sweet, like burnt sugar at the edges of a flame.

it was ambrosia, a feast fit for gods, and it belonged to you.

you tore through the sinew and tissue with an ease that startled you, your jaw working like it had done this a thousand times before. blood smeared across your face, sticky and warm, running down your chin and pooling in the hollow of your throat.

you didn’t give a shit about it though. all that mattered was the taste, the sensation of this human’s flesh yielding beneath your teeth, the way his ribs opened up like a flower blooming only for you.

his heart was your favourite. you held it in your hands for a moment, its weight startlingly small, before sinking your teeth into the tender muscle. it was softer than you’d expected, almost delicate, and the flavor burst across your tongue like a symphony of everything you’d ever craved but never known how to name. your body sang with it, every nerve alight, every sense in perfect harmony.

cole’s hazel eyes came next. you couldn’t stand their glassy, lifeless stare, the way they seemed to accuse you even in death. they were soft, too, yielding easily beneath your teeth, and though the taste was a little bitter, it was satisfying in a way that you hadn’t expected. you chewed them slowly, the squelch of it audible as you savored each bite until there was nothing left to see, nothing left to judge you.

cole had it coming, hadn’t he? the thought floated to the surface of your mind, tenuous and fragile, as if spoken by someone else entirely. he’d hurt W, tormented them, made their life a living hell. he’d hurt you, too, dragged you into this field with the intent to kill, his hands around your throat and his hatred burning in his eyes.

this was your own kind of justice, wasn’t it?

and yet, as the hunger began to ebb, as the primal urge receded like a tide, the horror set in. you sat back on your heels, your hands and face slick with blood, your stomach churning with the realization of what you’d done.

cole’s body—or what remained of it—lay sprawled before you, unrecognizable, torn apart by your own hands and teeth.

you gagged, your body convulsing with dry retches, but nothing came up. the hunger had consumed everything, left no room for regret or revulsion to expel itself.

you pressed a shaking bloody hand to your chest, feeling the rapid thrum of your heartbeat, and fumbled for your phone with the other.

the screen blurred through tears you hadn’t realized were falling, but you managed to pull up W’s number. your fingers shook so badly you almost dropped the phone as you pressed it to your ear. the dial tone felt endless, every second stretching into eternity, until finally, W’s voice crackled through the speaker.

“hello?” their voice was soft, hesitant, as if they could already sense something was wrong.

“W,” you choked out, your voice barely recognizable. “i n-need you. please. please come.”

“where are you?” their tone shifted instantly, concern overtaking caution. “what happened? are you okay?”

“the cornfield,” you said, your words tumbling out in a rush. “somewhere near the gas station which has the neon signs. cole’s car is there. please, just—just come. i can’t—” your voice broke, a sob escaping before you could stop it.

“hey, hey, it’s okay,” W said quickly, their voice soothing, though you could hear the edge of panic creeping in. “i’m on my way. stay there, okay? don’t move.”

the call ended, and you were left alone again, the silence of the field becoming all too much. you looked down at your hands, at the blood smeared across your skin, the pieces of cole’s flesh that clung to your nails, and your stomach twisted.

you couldn’t move. all you could do was wait, the hunger still lurking at the edges of your mind, a shadow that promised it wasn’t finished with you quite yet.

W gripped the steering wheel tightly, their knuckles pale and fingers trembling as they pushed the old sedan past the speed limit. the engine groaned in protest, but they didn’t care. you were out there, somewhere, and you needed them. that was the only thought that mattered, drowning out the rush of adrenaline, the fear gnawing at the edges of their mind.

their sapphire blue eyes scanned the evening road ahead, headlights cutting through the sudden thick fog that clung to the landscape.

the gas station came into view first, a dimly lit beacon with its neon lights, and then after driving past it for a couple more minutes—there it was. the blue corvette. it gleamed faintly under the flicker of a dying streetlamp, its ostentatious frame a cruel reminder of the boy who’d tormented them for years.

W gulped, their hands briefly tightening on the wheel. a part of them wanted to turn back, to leave cole and everything he represented behind, but they shoved the thought aside. you were out there. you were in danger.

if they were going to be brave for anyone, it would be for you.

they parked a little ways down the road, their chuck taylors almost slipping on the wet asphalt as they stepped out into the night.

the rain had begun to fall in earnest now, a steady drizzle that dampened their hair and clothes within seconds. they wiped their hands against their jeans, steeling themselves, and followed the faint drag marks leading into the cornfield.

the stalks towered over them, swaying in the breeze and slapping against their skin as they pushed through. every creak and rustle was amplified by the silence of the evening, but W ignored it, their focus narrowing to the path ahead.

they could hear something now, soft and broken—your voice. crying.

they quickened their pace, the corn whipping against their face, leaving red welts on their cheeks. each step brought new fear, new scenarios conjured by their racing mind. what if cole had hurt you? what if he’d dragged you into the field and left you for dead? what if—

but what they found wasn’t what they’d expected.

W froze, their breath catching in their throat as they stumbled into the clearing. you were there, lying in the dirt, your shoulders hunched and shaking as you sobbed. blood covered you—your face, your hands, your clothes—and it didn’t seem to be yours. it stained the earth around you, pooled in dark puddles, smeared across your mouth like some grotesque parody of a smile.

and then there was cole. or what was left of him, to be precise.

his body lay crumpled nearby, torn open, half-eaten. his chest was a ruin of gore, ribs splintered and jutting out like jagged teeth. his face—what remained of it—was twisted in a rictus of terror: lower jaw torn off and missing, ears half-bitten, empty eye sockets.

W’s stomach lurched, bile rising in their throat, but they swallowed it down.

“oh god,” they whispered, their voice barely audible over the sound of the rain.

you looked up then, your bloodstained face contorted with grief and fear.

“elmo,” you choked out, the nickname slipping past your lips like you were five again. “i didn’t mean to. i don’t know what happened. i didn’t—”

W didn’t let you finish. they crossed the distance between you in three long strides, dropping to their knees in the mud. they wrapped their arms around you, pulling you close despite the blood, despite the gore, despite everything.

“it’s okay,” they murmured, their voice shaking but steady enough for your sake. “it’s okay. i’ve got you. you’re okay.”

you sobbed into their shoulder, your fingers clutching at their shirt as if you could anchor yourself to them, as if they were the only thing keeping you tethered to the earth.

“i didn’t want to,” you whispered. “i didn’t want to do this. it wasn’t my fault.”

“i know,” W said, even as their mind reeled. they couldn’t stop staring at cole’s body, at the brutality you’d left behind, but they forced the thoughts away. you needed them right now, and that was all that mattered.

the rain had begun to fall harder, washing away the blood from your skin and theirs, mixing it with the mud beneath you. W gently cupped your face, their thumb brushing away the streaks of red that the rain hadn’t reached.

“listen to me,” they said, their tone firmer now. you’d never seen them so serious and determined. “you’re coming home with me, okay? my aunt and uncle are out of town. we’ll get you cleaned up, and we’ll figure out what to do next. together.”

you nodded, your eyes wide and glassy, like a child’s. “what about…” you trailed off, glancing at cole’s body, your expression crumpling with fresh grief.

W followed your gaze, their stomach twisting.

“it looks like an animal attack,” they said slowly, the words tasting foreign in their mouth. “there are wolves out here. bears, too. we’ll let the rain do the rest. nobody has to know.”

you nodded again, but your hands still trembled as you tried to wipe the blood from them. W reached into their pocket, pulling out a handkerchief, and started cleaning your face as best they could. the fabric turned red almost instantly, but they didn’t stop until most of the blood was gone.

the rain was on your side, washing away the rest—your footprints, the drag marks, the blood trail leading to the clearing. W pulled you to your feet, steadying you as you swayed, and wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

they led you back to the car, their mind racing. they weren’t sure what to think, what to feel.

cole was dead, and a part of them—a small, shameful part—felt relief. he couldn’t hurt them anymore. he couldn’t hurt you. but the sight of you covered in blood, the memory of his mangled body… it would stay with them forever.

for now, though, they pushed it all aside. they focused on getting you to the car, on getting you home, on making sure you were okay. the rest could wait.

the rest would have to wait.

#well...#i think i cooked too much here #W is 100% gonna match MC’s freak tho 👀#‘bones and all’ is one of my fav movies ever so i got too excited with the prompt #um part 2 anyone?#also lemme know if i should tone down on the gore 💀#tw: cannibalism #cw: cannibalism #cw: gore #if: the ballad of the young gods #interactive fiction #interactive novel #interactive story #twine wip #ro: w ostendorf #ro scenarios

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running-with-kn1ves · 15 days ago

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How about a nsfw yandere cannibal butcher x fem reader? Absolute unit of a man that has a feederism kink and likes to have her cockwarming him (with occasional thrusts) while she is forced to eat his human meals. He likes groping her thighs, breasts, and belly envisioning her weight gain because of him. He's cooing, telling her she's finally eating some good quality food.

A/N: I have been wanting to write this for SO LONG, I hope I did it justice, I think there’s a specific niche for this kind of story but I enjoyed writing it out~

Synopsis: Anon pretty much said it all

CW: NSFW, NON-CON, dead dove do not eat, AFAB Reader, yandere themes, cannibalism (reader consumption), feederism, penetration, groping, objectification

The hazy brown-orange glow of the moon, so far away and yet bigger than you had ever seen it in your hometown, to the old radio humming across from you-- it all was a meaningless distraction away from the sinewy fiber between your teeth. Focusing on anything other than the chewing was better; your eyes searched for cracks between the old renovated farmhouse across from its grandfather clock, running down to the unlit fireplace. The seasonings on your tongue reminded you of herby chicken, maybe something you’d end up cooking and partly burning at your cruddy old apartment. An apartment hundreds of miles away from here. The man beneath you seemed to hum along to the radio, your body sitting atop his as he leaned back in a wooden chair, watching you from behind.

Another finger-full of meat came up to your lips, pressing against them and waiting for them to open once you finished swallowing. You tried to eat it as quickly as possible, faster than he could put the next chunk up to your mouth, but you always failed.

“In we go,” He mumbles, a slight groan following as something beneath you twitches.

You nearly gag as you open your mouth again, the meat resting in between teeth and at the back of your throat as you have yet to finish swallowing.

It almost reminds you of the barbeque you had at your friend’s bachelorette party, which seemed ages ago. Why she picked to have her wedding hours away from where you two grew up, you didn’t know. Maybe if she had chosen somewhere closer to home, you wouldn’t be where you are now, trying to numb your taste buds and the sensation of a thickness your panty-less self was swallowing from below.

“Right there..” He sighs, watching you chew, your cheeks puffing out just slightly from how much food he kept shoving for you to accept.

You wished he would give you a bite of something else, at least a bite of peas or a sip of ice tea to drown out the flavor of something… wrong. Even if it showed resemblances of familiarity in flavor, you knew it wasn’t something you had ever tasted before; something you would have thrown up at the thought of if it weren’t for your survival depending on its consumption. Maybe if you hadn’t seen the chopped forearm in the fridge, the blood trailing to the basement, you'd have an easier time pretending.

He rocked just slightly inside you, enjoying the way your thighs squished against his, how when he thrusted just slightly up, the bottom of the table stopped you from going anywhere-- a wonderful source of friction.

“You’re going to get so pretty; not like you aren’t pretty already, of course… but with me cooking for you… oh baby.” He seemed to stutter, unusually so from how careful he was when he usually spoke; but the grip of your inner cunt’s walls squeezing around him in almost everything but pleasure, it took him to a different place. “I won’t stop until you’re full. And even then.. Well, we need to make sure you’re nice and healthy, all soft with never a moment where you’re hungry. Isn’t that right?”

He seemed almost breathless as he asked, a warm hand snaking up your T-shirt.

He loved to rub the flesh of your stomach, from below your navel at the roundness of your belly, nearly reaching to the depths of where he was comfortably pushed inside, to the top of your abdomen where your skin grew smooth and the round bottoms of your breasts rested, heaving with each shuddered breath.

You nodded compliantly, taking the excuse of a full mouth from having to respond verbally as he had expected you to do so. You hated the stuttering nod of your head, the obediency-- but you were well versed with the potential consequences.

He leaned his chin on your shoulder, sucking through his teeth as you minutely adjusted on top of him, your thighs forcibly spread and squeezing against his. Your ankles could have wrapped around his own if you had dared to do so; but you were afraid of touching him anywhere you didn’t have to. He was a bulging creature, arms large and taut from years of slinging butcher knives and de-gutting anything that was once alive. Maybe if you were with anyone else, you would’ve appreciated the touch of a strong man, stroking you and holding you so close you felt like there was a warm safety net surrounding you.

His hand, far too warm and calloused, rested against your chest as his other grabbed one of your thighs. He readjusted you on top of him by lifting up your upper thigh, thrusting just a teensy bit to tease you-- only to lower you at a painfully slow pace. His hot breath hit the back of your neck, released from a long sigh and a groan between his teeth. It wasn’t nearly as slow as the first time he entered you, only preparing you with slow curls of his index and middle finger, barely wettening you enough to take him.

This time, he had aroused himself enough and hit your sensitive, begrudgingly lustful walls to make a smooth entrance, one that made you clench your eyes shut and swallow so hard you coughed. It felt so deep, now that your tailbone was angled backward, the butcher leaning up to completely indulge himself inside of you. You couldn't help but clench, all the way up to your fists at the new stretch.

He patted your back as you continued to cough, your throat hoarse from layers of dryness.

“You’re okay baby, cough it up,” Pulling you toward him he rested your back against his brick aproned chest, using his free hand to grab the tall glass resting on the table. “Take a drink, nice and slow.”

With its pretty little plastic blue straw, he put the glass up to your mouth. You drank as much as you could, grateful for the mere seconds you got to stop eating.

It wasn’t until you let go of the straw with a great inhale did you feel the warmth cradling your breast, smoothing its underside with wide fingers and running a thumb over your nipple. He teased it, just enough with the scratchy fabric of his T-shirt he made you wear, causing it to perk up and bring goosebumps to your skin.

You would have stayed as far off of him as possible if it weren’t for that hand cradling at your breast to lock you against him, his other putting down the glass only to go right back to your naked hip, running over the wrinkles in your flesh and squeezing gently at the muscle of your thigh.

“Need a break, hm?” He looked at you from behind, nearly putting his cheek to yours as he came close to your ear. “That’s okay, we can enjoy each other’s company for a moment.”

You pretended to cough again, hoping he wouldn’t try to get you to speak. His hands did enough talking for the both of you.

You didn’t know how anyone could stay this hard during the entirety of your long, long meal, and yet he was still a warm rock inside of you, twitching and enjoying the uncomfortable little movements you did to get adjusted. But most of all, he liked to watch you take a piece of meat from his fingers, to have your tongue just slightly lick at his index finger as you graciously accepted it. It was as if he could envision it becoming a part of you already, your body growing pliant and soft and willful for him to meld to his whims, for him to grope and caress as roughly or as soft as he desired.

He would never hurt you though; not unless you needed to be put in your place. And even then, he’d make sure your beautiful body was intact and your willingness towards him ever pliable; still as malleable as he could control. He needed to take care of you, to fix the damage the outside world had caused.

“I’m sure it feels good to eat some real food, hm? Not that garbage they were feeding you at that poor excuse of an event…” The butcher inhaled at the nape of your neck, enjoying the way you perspired from the hot summer night and panic that dominated your body. “It’s hard to come by, you know. Not everyone is as lucky as you are, getting treated like a princess and fed by my hand; all of that preservative trash you’ve had to eat will be replaced with some real, quality, grade A meat. Isn’t that right?”

He waited for your answer, pressing his forehead into your hair and inhaling above your ear.

“...Yes.” You whispered, so faint that he might not have caught it if he weren’t so close.

“Mhm…That’s right.”

Your compliancy, the illusion of your willingness and ‘equal desire’ drove him mad. The butcher put a knuckle to your chin, turning your despondent face toward him, ready to be consumed. He kissed you sloppily, a needy tongue making its way to explore your mouth and taste you; He wanted a part of him inside you, and you within him-- he would never feel satisfied otherwise. The wet echoes of his kisses to your slack jaw resounded around the living room, a place that made you feel transferred back in time, completely out of your element.

You were just a stuffed doll, limp and holding on to the possibility that your disappearance would be noticed eventually, for someone to realize you hadn’t gotten home after your friend’s wedding ceremony, that you were nowhere to be found. With each passing second, that hope seemed to diminish.

The butcher gave a lasting open-mouthed kiss to taste the saltiness of your neck, resting his lips against it as he scoured your half-eaten plate again. He picked up a slivered piece of cooked meat, large enough that you wouldn’t be able to finish it in one bite.

“You won’t ever understand how long I’ve waited so long for you, to find you and fill you up like this.”

He slipped a piece of what you had given up on convincing yourself was chicken in between your hesitant lips, letting his thumb rest against your tongue. Your mouth was so full, you had a hard time chewing, but the butcher didn’t care; he pressed the meat further down your throat, enjoying the texture of saliva and teeth on his fingers.

The electric current of watching your salacious figure, the image of you obeying what he desired-- it ran through him, making him groan at the arousal, running down to his cock pulsing inside of you. It nudged at your G-spot, as if it were actively seeking out your sensitivity with each stuttered thrust upward he made against you.

But you thanked your stars that he was beginning to pant, so transparently getting closer to his finale and would soon be done with you-- at least, you hoped.

“Just getting to see you sit here and eat…My fucking soulmate, my darling…hah... It makes waiting to finish all the more worth it--!”

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suusoh · 6 months ago

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mwehehehehehhhhhheheheh... ok .... so my submission would be...

“Oh, to be eaten alive by you?” Johan chuckles quite loudly. a genuine, sardonically genuine chuckle. “What a pleasant way to die.”

(This one was surprisingly softer than I expected lol. Hope you enjoy riribells! Thank you for sending the dialogue prompt!!)

(tw: cannibalism mention ofc lol, slight yandere? catholic joke at the end, other than that, nothing else surprisingly)

Of course.

Of course, those are the exact things that he would say tonight. Though you really should have known better, than to watch some show with him where cannibalism is the central point of the plot. This one's on you honestly.

"Can—" you take a deep breathe before you continue, "can we please just have one, one, peaceful movie night?"

Johan's sitting beside you on your sofa as both of you stay in for your weekly night in, he's seated one space away from you, a small pillow acting as a barrier between you two. He always maintains that polite way of sitting when he comes over, like how one would sit when being a first time guest in a different home.

The only thing being that this is not in fact, his first time spending time with you here at your place. Numerous hang outs already happening within your humble abode, so maybe it's just your friend's general knack for good posture and deportment.

"Is there something wrong with what I've told you?"

He replies with a slight tilt to his head. You can't tell if it's from feigned or genuine confusion.

Your mouth just silently hangs open in a little 'o' shape. Thinking for a few seconds how you should even respond to that.

"Oh I don't know; the part where we're talking about cannibalism, the part where it's me specifically eating you, or the part where you find it a 'pleasant way to die' as you put it so nicely"

A small smile tugs on his lips.

He always smiles at you when seeing you react. Not in a way that's condescending (sometimes), but out of almost... genuine enjoyment. It didn't matter which approach you took.

Sarcastic or honest, nervous or nonchalant, bantering or silence. it was all the same to him: a front row view to you.

"I'm simply in topic. Are you telling me it's not normal, for people to discuss their thoughts and what they would do in the character's situation, while watching a show or movie?"

He's got you there you gotta admit. But still.

"Are we not even going to dissect your confession?"

"By all means." He nods.

His slight intrigue and the subtle excitement in his posture doesn't go unnoticed by you. You'll brush it off for now, another instance added to your growing personal collection of brushing off Johan's behaviour whenever he's acting kinda odd.

"...Actually, nevermind. I don't know where to begin with this. I'm just gonna not... talk... or think about it anymore."

You huff and lean back on the sofa again. His comment is out of pocket, sure, but you'll just let it go for now. Not really something worth making a big deal over. It's just another case of Johan being, well, Johan. And as he said, it's just harmless talk about what they're watching right now.

He watches you slump. He wants keep up this conversation, but he'll let you have your peace for now.

"Oh, alright then. Should I resume the show? We were— "

"— oh waaaaait wait wait wait a moment... did you say alive?"

You shoot up again. Eyes wide and brows furrowing. You know you look so cartoonishly shocked at him. You don't care. You are shocked. Why hide it?

"Hm, alive, yes. That's what I told you. Do you find this an issue?"

"You are alive in this theoretical cannibalism scenario with me. You are watching it unfold. You are breathing, you are conscious, you are awake, you are whatever else word similar with all those!"

Johan doesn't even move from his position. Still sitting and looking at you all politely. He is amused though.

"Should I not watch it all unfold? I'm sure it would be a pleasant sight..." his eyes look down and to the side as he revisits on some past thoughts. You see what almost looks like affection reflecting inside of it and you don't know how to feel about that. His eyes then return to you, holding his soft gaze with yours.

"I wouldn't mind. I'll even guide you through it."

"you'll... guide... me... through-"

you give up. You're done.

Exasperated groan leaving you as slump and deflate into the sofa . Mind too tired to fully talk about this right now. You grab the pillows near you and stack it around your head to aid in muffling out whatever word Johan says next.

You swear at this point, anything he says just gets progressively worse and worse. Baffling you more than cluing you in.

You enjoy the peace and darkness of your little soundproof world. There's bit of shifting on the sofa, then one by one, the pillows slowly move their way out of your face. He removes the last one, revealing you to the sight of Johan looking over you curiously.

"You know..." he puts the last pillow gently under the base of your head, "... all I'm saying is, just like the characters in the show, if there were truly no presence of food at all, absolutely nothing, and you were starving to the point of dying..."

He lightly pats your head.

"I think it would be a waste to not use my flesh for sustenance. There's nothing bad about it in the situation. Did you know that the people in the Andes mountain plane crash made a pact to their friends, that in the event one of them dies, they want their body to be consumed, in order for the others to keep on living?"

He smiles softly at that and something fills your chest with a slight warmth upon hearing his intentions. His explanation on the matter does make it seem a bit more pragmatic in a survival situation, not to mention it oddly has a sense of camaraderie to it.

"Well that's... very thoughtful of you then." You quirk a brow at him. Playful laugh almost bubbling out of your lips.

"Mhm. The reason I say 'alive'... well, I doubt you'd be able to do it without me instructing you. You'd be a blubbering crying mess while making all the wrong cuts, and I'd have bled out for nothing." He flicks your forehead.

"Hey!"

"Am I wrong?" he follows up by soothingly rubbing the spot where he flicked you.

"If just the mere thought of eating someone who willingly gives up their flesh for you to consume gets you this worried already... I wonder how you'll even be able to fare when you have to do the real thing."

You roll your eyes at him and swat his hand away.

"You're expecting me to act like that's the easiest thing on earth: eating the blood and body of a person you hold dear to you. I can't be normal about that, Johan!"

Johan can feel his finger twitch slightly. He stills himself impassive. How you effortlessly called him a person "dear" to you. Said with so little thought, and yet so undeniably genuine.

He thinks the notion odd, and nearly baseless. He's even sure at one point in his life he'd think you naive for that. But then again, he doesn't blame you. He does present himself as a friend to you... in fact, it's all he's ever been doing with you so far. Surprisingly. Also he did quite literally confess to letting you consume his flesh for your own benefit.

Not that he won't be getting his own benefits in that scenario.

With each bite you'll take, he gets to see parts of himself sustaining you, filling you, going inside of you and eventually being absorbed.

You'll swallow him, and he'd be so deeply ingrained by you at that point that you can't deny that he would be the blood running in your veins, he would be the branches in your lungs making you breathe, the ghost of him living within you, squeezing and squeezing your heart each second to pump it, as he lets you live another day.

He is inside of you;

mentally and physically.

Of course, the sight of you in tears and covered in his blood is just another adorably lovely cherry on top, but he won't tell you that. Saving all those intimate details for himself, preferably when he's alone.

...eating the blood and body of a person you hold dear. I can't be normal about that, Johan!

He chuckles softly. Patting your head again.

"Well, you obviously haven't seen Catholics. If they can do it, so can you."

#c.johan liebert #dialogue prompt series #johan liebert x reader #johan x reader #yandere johan x reader #yandere johan liebert x reader #yandere johan liebert #yandere johan #tw cannibalism mention #tw yandere

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