nebbie3

Latest Posts by nebbie3

pov: u a good sinner

TheeArtuaist's MASTERLIST

General Yandere Drabble

Yandere Headcanons

Delusional Vs Self-aware

My Biggest Fear

Yandere jealousy

Yandere Concepts

When Fate is Worse (Yandere Soulmate)

A Not-so Regular Dating Show

The Most Terrifying Yandere: When They Have ACTUAL Power

When Obsession Has Unlimited Resources

The worst ones never seem like yanderes

The worst ones never seem like yanderes (pt.2)

Oneshots

The House of Shadows (Moon x reader)

Love Etiquette 101: A Beginner’s Guide on How to Care for Your One and Only

Series

The App (Raye × Reader)

Imagine working on an estate and accidentally angering a house fae

NSFW MINORS DNI.

REBLOGS APPRECIATED. REQUESTS OPEN.

Contents: imagine style: human!f x household fae!m.Dubious deals,squirting, breeding ( if you squint) and tit worship.

You spill the milk. You make a deal to get a fae a drink-and that was the biggest mistake EVER.

● In your defense NO ONE HAD TOLD YOU ABOUT THE BOWL OF MILK

● So of COURSE you cleaned it up!

● Thats when everything went wrong and everyone was blaming you.

● It was a BOWL OF MILK it was going to get rancid!!

● But things kept getting worse. Dishes broken. Cupboards flung open. Fresh food spoiled. Your hair violently yanked on more than one occasion as you locked up the kitchen for the evening.

Finally after a particularly awful day you had had ENOUGH. Turning to face the empty kitchen you straighten your violated hair back into its mandated style. Smoothing out your apron only to roll up and fidget with the edges. Eyes nervously etching out terrifying figures in the soft lamp lit room.

● “Very well! I did it and i would like to make it right!” You call out still picking a shadow to scrutinize. Surely this was a trick from the other staff. Surely they were just joking with the new maid.

● “You spilled my milk?” A voice seeps from somewhere beyond the island counter.

● Before you can stop yourself you laugh. “Ha! Ah sorry! Such a phrase. But i see it has hurt your feelings.” slowly walking to peer over into the darkness you tentatively peak over the edge. “I did not know about your milk.”

● “You have left me thirsty! It is unacceptable behavior for all the work i do!”

● “ aye i agree i agree. How may i make this right?” Wrong question

● In hindsight VERY wrong question!

● For when his long clawed hand sneaks up to grasp the counter and you meet his shining dark eyes you are overcome with dread.

● His hand cups your face. Palms rough and textured from work. He was. Manish enough but also all wrong. You cannot take your eyes off his face. Frozen. “You? Make it right? Hmmm.”

● You dont notice his other hand until it undoes the second button on your dress. Then another and another.

● “give me a drink.” He demands another button coming undone. You feel the cold night air on the swell of your breasts.

● “Y-yes sir.” But you cant move to fetch a glass. He wont let you.

● He holds you still by the chin. Smug smile growing. “I will drink from you whenever i am thirsty.”

● “Oh but sir i uhm i-” before you can finish his mouth latches onto your breast. Sucking and rubbing. Roughly playing with your chest as your mewls turn to soft panting moans.

● “Pardon!?” But its too late. Hes tugged your apron down beneath your breasts popping them up. With a slash of a claw the fabric is shredded and youre exposed to him.

● With some sort of magic you are floated up to sit on the counter. He stands between your legs,spreading them wide just like his smile. Mischief dancing in his eyes.“a deal Is a deal.”

● His mouth works, free hand pushing your skirt up over your thighs where he makes quick work exposing the rest of you. Finger rubbing your clit until youre wet and trembling.

● Your breasts and cunt ache for more. Trembling against him. Your fingers lacing through the thick fur like hair along his head. His tail waving excitedly.

● Your cries echo in the empty kitchen. Growing louder and more frantic as he pounds into your body. His eyes never leaving your bouncing breasts. Taking what was his until he spills inside you.And then he does it again with his mouth latched around your breast.

● Popping off your breast he presses you back to lay on the counter. Hand knotting in the top of your apron between your breasts. Pulling your body towards him and right onto his hard cock.

Tormenting you until you're squirting for him.

● “Sir sir please i can't do another one!” You moan as you gasp for air.

● Again and again you cum. More and more pooling on the counter. Your stomach feels full of his spend as an inhuman seed takes root inside you.

● “Sssh ssssh sssh ssssh. You can and you will. I'm almost done for the night.”

● He fucked you until you fall limp. As you wake up you can see him and his tongue lapping up your pleasure from the table.

● His eyes meet yours- and he's gone.

● Until the next night when he drinks from you again…..

🫡Fic format/continuations available upon request.🫡

masterlist ₊˚ପ⊹ misc

yandere!prince x reader

yandere!prince x reader (2)

yandere!prince x reader (3)

yandere!prince x reader (4)

yandere!prince x reader (5)

yandere!prince x reader (6)

yandere!prince x reader (7)

yandere!prince x reader (8)

yandere!loser x reader

please tell me Leander stalks the other LIs. please, PLEASE tell me Leander REGULARLY STALKS the other LIs.

He can't always do it himself, of course! That's what his Adders are for. They listen to him and obey without question, and report back with their findings. Of course, since Kuras, Mhin, Ais, and Vere are the only people worth talking about, it's not as if the request is odd, anyways. Leander wants to know everything: common routes, people they interact with regularly, what they do when they think no one is looking.

Sometimes Leander gets tired of missing the details you lose through a secondhand account, though, and he does the footwork himself. Trailing people at a distance, picking up dropped trinkets and scraps of paper. Chatting people up as soon as his target has left the conversation. No one ever suspects anything: Leander's always walking the streets of Lowtown, after all, so it's not uncommon to see him here and there making small talk.

Of course, even if he doesn't stalk anyone (sigh), I love the idea that whenever he's talking to the other LIs, or even just within listening distance of them, he's taking mental notes. Just in case. He might need leverage later.

Have to pick my stove. It has a little warning light light signaling if the surface is hot. Meanwhile our kettle is completely made of glass. So I can see the horrors (bubbling water)

tell me the appliance that is your best friend ever in the kitchen

feeling so cute~

Yandere Vlogger who gains a following by stalking you.

TW. DDNE ! MDNI ! Stalking, Implied NonCon, Voyeurism, Kidnapping

It started out with a few, weird videos that barely got any views.

He had a shaky camera, and he'd rarely ever talk. In fact, he didn't even show you in the beginning. It was more of videos he took walking in random places without showing his face. Honestly, it looked like he hadn't intended for anyone but himself to see the uploads, yet somehow they ended up floating across the feeds of some people.

| What is this even about lol | This is kind of strange... | What are you doing?

He was surprised to get any comments at all, but the last one especially jumped out at him. Any rational person wouldn't talk about how they'd been secretly following the love of their life to some random stranger, but he was far from rational.

Instead of replying in the comments, he made another video.

Why I Do This

" It's because I love her, and I want to make sure she's safe," he said with a shrug. The camera was propped up on a cafe table, and his face was clearly in view. Well groomed, handsome, young... he certainly didn't seem the type to be a deranged lunatic. "Besides, I like the thought that one day she'll see this and know how much I care." After he spoke, the footage was cut with a shot of his shoes slapping against pavement, wandering in some unknown location.

That one got quite a bit of views. Hundreds this time, out of seemingly nowhere.

| Woah is this guy for Real? | No way is he serious, this is probably just some project or some shit. | Lol who cares if it's real, it's kind of interesting | I wish I had a boyfriend like that | You should show us your partner lmao

The videos would come every other day or so now. There seemed to be a bit more editing involved, and the few glimpses of you that the audience got became like a fun guessing game.

"I never expected anyone to be interested in this," he admitted, this time more quietly in a library study area. " I thought people would think that this whole thing is weird, but there are, what? A thousand of you now? So strange... and here I thought I was the weird one," He chuckled and brushed his hair back gently. Just out of sight in the camera was your seated form, working diligently on an assignment. If only you knew how much he cared. Not only that, if only you knew how many people thought he was cool for loving you the way he did.

| Guys I'm starting to get kind of freaked out. Is the person getting stalked okay? | Nah, it's not real. No way. If he was for real he wouldn't be showing his face | Woah the quality has gone up so much! The sneaking into the house portion of the videos are always so creepy and realistic! Keep up the good work! | You should go into acting man | Our beloved stalker is getting pretty bold lol. I wonder how this series will end lol

Sure enough, he started having more fun making the videos. He invested in a higher quality camera, and he started to become more and more obsessed with not only following you, but documenting the whole thing. He invested in a new camera and bought new editing software. Plus, with the ad revenue he was getting from his growing viewers, he could afford to buy trackers and other things...

"Thanks to you guys, I've finally got enough to bring them home," he practically beamed as he stared into the black lens. He was hidden in a bush, the glow of your house lights illuminating his face. He held up a bundle of ropes and some cuffs. "I really couldn't have done this without your support. I'm really grateful. I might have to lay low for a while after this... but hopefully I'll be putting out some more videos about getting them settled in their new home. Again, thanks for everything."

When a missing persons alert was put out for you, hardly anyone paid any attention. His viewers didn't know your name, and he was smart enough to hide your face, so no one suspected a thing. Soon enough, you were a forgotten statistic to everyone but him.

| Woah new video! | The new set looks great! | They're acting is so realistic lol. It gives me chills. | Hey don't they kinda look like that one person...? | I'm glad to see how this series progressed lol, the stalking was getting kind of boring

"They love you," he hummed as he scrolled through the comments, the screen lighting up the darkened room. You were bound in his lap, whimpering, blindfolded and gagged as he rubbed soothing circles into your hip. "Not as much as I can, but I told you everyone was rooting for us to get together," He smiled and planted a kiss to the crown of your head.

He then stood up, carrying you in his strong arms before laying you down on his bed. He switched on the lighting and turned on the various cameras he had set up to catch your expressions from every angle. His voice was sickeningly sweet as he got you tied down and ready, his eyes flashing with barely contained obsession. "Now... some people have been asking for more... exclusive content. I think it's only fair we let them see... I wouldn't have you if it wasn't for them after all. Be good for me okay?"

When half your sinners are dead and the guest ID corroded into a WAW E.G.O :)

They may, in fact, be cooked.

Imagine a swap AU where a gooner accidentally hires a bunch of henchmen

yandere! loser and villain! reader guys OMG

reader who wants new henchmen so they send out a requests online for goons... only for loser yan to show up. you know, as you'd expect a gooner to respond to a poster calling for the best gooners to meet up in a totally not suspicious location where ANYTHING could happen.

"soooo do i goon now? where are the others? is this not a group goon session?"

"what? yes obviously, it's a group goon meetup. no one ese showed up though so you're automatically one of my goons- what? hey! stop! put your dick back in your pants!"

"but... you told me to goon?"

clearly, you two had very different meanings of 'goon'. and it looks like mr loser over here did NOT want any of the responsiblities that came with your definition of goon.

"what? you want me to rob him?"

"yes, you are my evil goon now. therefore you have to carry out my evil deeds."

"but... but i came here for the gooning..."

"yes, and THIS is the gooning i want you to do."

he doesn't want ANYTHING to do with your evil ahhh acts man. like, he's here for a good time, he is NOT trying to get in prison.

"this is not what was advertised in your hiring poster!"

"oh come on, man up a little. it's not like i'm telling you to kill anyone."

"you're telling me to poison your enemies!"

"yeah, and?"

you don't understand him at all. why is he so horny? isn't your definition way more fun and engaging anyway? why's he so hesitant? meanwhile your new gooner is literally on the verge of jumping. but!! but he's holding back because lowkey you're kinda hot... what if he can get you to-

"no."

"but why?! i literally jumped this guy for you!"

"i am NOT sitting on your face."

it's all fun and games until a SECOND gooner shows up and your singular goon is chasing them away. no, he's not letting anyone steal your attention away from him. the more he spends time with you, the more he feels like hey... maybe... maybe this was mean to be.

maybe you were the one he was meant to goon for all along.

that's... that's why he became goon². to in one fun pack.

"hey what are you doing?!"

"i'm the only gooner you need. they probably just wanna jerk off anyway. i'm way more useful."

"...but you just jerk off anyway?? you don't even do the work i tell you to do."

"and?"

I do think repressed priests should be allowed to be corrupted and seduced by a demon once or twice. Like, is it really falling into the sin of lust if the devil himself had to send lust incarnate to tempt you? Everyone else is being led off the path by run-of-the-mill humans; you resisted that! You should be allowed to feel the dizzying, corrupt pleasure only a demon can offer. as a treat. You can repent afterwards, if you really think you have to, if you really think something that felt so good was wrong.

Maybe the sex itself isn't even the issue, as we've established you deserved that bit of depravity, but the lingering ache for more- maybe that's your real sin. Now you've had a taste of what's out there, you want it again, don't you? Oh, but everyone aches for something, longs for something they cannot have; it's more human nature than a sin. Really, what's worse? Having sex with a demon or touching yourself, thinking about having sex with a demon?

If you just lie back, let the Demon have you and bring you to orgasm over and over again, are you really even the one sinning there? hardly seems like your fault. You even weakly protested "no" a few times before giving in fully.

When you touch yourself, it's you who's in control, it's your own dirty thoughts and sinful hands that are bringing you pleasure, the sin is entirely your own.

So really, it's the more holy option to invite the demon into your chapel and let them do the hard, dirty work. Keep your hands clean, Father.

And if you can't manage that, if you just have to fist your hands into the demon's hair or grope and touch and feel their hot skin as it presses against you, they can help with that. Bind your wrists and tie you down so you can't sin. Which do you prefer? hands tied behind your back, or should they be clasped in prayer position and bound that way? Either way, you're forced onto your knees for them, you can't touch them, but you can still worship, your tongue is still free- for now, consider it a payment for helping you keep your purity.

Go on and denounce them one more time- tell them how you hate them and their sin before they hook a leg around your shoulder and push your head to their groin. It's alright, they're forcing you into it, so it's not really your fault. It's not really a sin. And no one has to know how much you enjoy it.

There's a specially terrifying type of isolation at the bottom of the ocean

bride of the abyss

Pairing: Yandere Siren x Reader Description: Years after you saved him, Zeiryn returns to drag you beneath the waves—where his love waits, fierce and inescapable. Warning/s: Yandere | Noncon/Dubcon Themes | Kidnapping | Possessive Behavior | Captivity | Obsession | Emotional Manipulation | Mild Violence | Body Morphing/Transformation Note/s: Commissioned on ko-fi! Thabk you for trusting me with your commission! Idk if you've received the email. I hope you enjoy this one! Tags will be added later!

Commissions are still open!

Masterlist | Commission | Tip Jar

The first time you met him, the sun was so high it burned your shoulders through your shirt. Your sandals had long been discarded, the soles of your feet pressed against coarse, grainy sand, warmed by the afternoon heat. Vacation meant freedom, and for you—a curious child with scraped knees and untamed hair—that meant wandering far beyond the adults’ lazy eyes and picnic baskets.

You weren’t supposed to be near the cliffs. The locals had told stories, murmured warnings of tides that dragged unsuspecting feet into the undertow. But you were eight, and warnings slid off your ears like water. You’d chased a crab across slick rocks, nearly slipping once—okay, twice—before rounding a jagged stone formation and stopping short.

A glint of silver caught your eye. At first, you thought it was trash—a bit of foil or an abandoned soda can. Then it moved. Just slightly. Enough to catch the sun and reflect a brilliance so blinding it made your eyes water. You stepped closer, heart thudding, and gasped.

He was tangled in a net.

You didn’t know what he was—some strange fish, perhaps? But then he turned his face to you, and your world cracked open.

He had eyes like the sea after a storm—grey, but not dull. There was depth there. Sorrow. His skin, though damp and streaked with grit, shimmered faintly under the sun. Hair, long and tangled with bits of kelp and shell, framed a face that was almost too lovely for this world. And below the waist…

A tail. Silver-scaled, powerful, twitching weakly with every shallow breath he took.

You froze.

He didn’t speak. He just stared. His lips slightly parted. You noticed the way he held himself, cautious and ready to defend. His hand—webbed and claw-tipped—twitched when you shifted your weight.

“I won’t hurt you,” you said, holding out your hands to show you had nothing. No rocks. No spear. Just your palms, scraped and pink from climbing.

He blinked slowly, suspicious still.

“Are you stuck?” you asked.

No reply. But he didn’t back away when you stepped closer. You knelt beside him, the scent of salt and something sharper—like rotting seaweed baking in the sun—invading your nose. It made your stomach twist. But you pushed it aside and began working at the net.

The knots were tight. You pulled and untangled, ignoring the barnacles slicing your fingertips. Time passed, but neither of you spoke. It wasn’t silence. The waves talked, the seagulls screamed above, and your own breath came hard with effort. Still, it felt sacred—like speaking would shatter something delicate between you.

Eventually, the net slackened.

He let out a sharp sound—surprise? Relief?—and pushed himself forward, dragging the last threads free with a flick of his tail. Then, to your astonishment, he touched your arm. A light brush of damp fingers on your skin. He didn’t say thank you. He didn’t need to. The look in his eyes—raw and electric—said everything.

And then, he was gone. A splash, a spray of saltwater, and silver glimmering beneath the waves.

You never told anyone.

You convinced yourself it was a dream, a fantasy born from too much sun. But you visited that rock again. And again. Just in case.

Years passed. You grew up. He did not fade.

• • — ✦ — • •

Beneath the waves, he remembered everything.

Zeiryn had been young when you saved him, and even then, his mind was unlike the others. While his kin drowned sailors and split hulls for fun, Zeiryn watched the world above with a secret hunger. He had never known mercy—not until you. He thought you were an illusion at first. A sun-struck phantom, kindness shaped like a child.

But you were real. You touched him without fear. You saved him.

And he had never forgotten.

Seasons passed above and below. He grew stronger, his voice deeper, the gift of his lineage blooming in his throat. His tail thickened with muscle, the silver of his scales deepening to something more molten, almost iridescent. His hair, once wild and matted, was now woven with the treasures of the deep—rings of coral, braids of pearl, beads carved from whalebone. He was no longer a drifting child of the tide. He was a leader now.

Yet every dusk, he swam to the same stretch of shore, peering through kelp and coral, waiting for the only face that had ever haunted him.

And then—finally—he saw you.

You stood there, older, but still you. Your eyes held the same wonder, the same distant sadness. He watched from the rocks, heart hammering, the sea rising with every thrum of anticipation. You were holding a bottle. The scent reached him even through the water. Alcohol. Sour and sharp.

You stumbled closer to the edge, barefoot like before. He didn’t understand your tears at first. But when they hit the water, he tasted them.

Bitterness.

He had never tasted sorrow before.

He moved without thinking, cutting through the water with a predator’s grace. When you stepped into the sea—lost, maybe hoping it would take you—he was already there. His arms wrapped around you just before your knees buckled. He caught you. Held you. And for the first time in years, he felt whole again.

He turned to the shore. His eyes, once filled with awe, hardened. There were people there. A town. A world that had allowed you to suffer.

He would never forgive it.

The water closed over your head.

And he took you home.

• • — ✦ — • •

The cold hits you first. It pierces your skin like needles, forcing your eyes open.

Then the pressure—thick and heavy—presses against your chest. You try to gasp and choke instead. The world is liquid. Blurry shapes. Movement. Panic claws through you. You thrash—

Then you notice the shimmer.

Your legs—no. Not legs.

You scream, but no sound comes out. Just bubbles.

The tail is yours. You move, and it moves with you—powerful, golden, alien.

Your lungs don’t ache. You aren’t drowning.

You’re breathing. Underwater.

A presence approaches. You backpedal—awkward, instinctual.

Then he’s there.

The siren.

Older. Towering. Regal in a way that defies language. His eyes widen as you meet his gaze. He reaches for you like a lover, a prayer on his lips without sound.

You float, stunned, your heart racing in your chest.

"You're awake! Welcome home!" he says—somehow, impossibly, the words sliding into your mind like a current. His voice doesn’t echo in your ears. It resonates in your bones. Inside you.

Your lips tremble. “What... what did you do to me?”

He cocks his head, almost confused by the question. “I saved you.”

You glance around. Coral walls. Bioluminescent plants. Faint shadows darting beyond what your eyes can track.

“I didn’t ask to be saved.”

His face falters, just briefly. But then the soft smile returns. “You did, once. When I was dying. You touched me. You gave me your warmth. Your kindness.” He swims closer. “You were the only one who ever did.”

“That was years ago.” You try to back away, but your body is sluggish in this new form. “I was a kid.”

“You remembered me.” His voice is gentle now, like a lullaby. “You returned.”

You shake your head, panicked. “No. I—I was just walking. I didn’t know—”

His hand reaches forward, cupping your cheek. His touch is warm now. Familiar. Like seawater kissed by the sun. “You were hurting. They made you cry. But you don’t have to cry anymore.”

“I want to go back,” you whisper.

“There’s nothing there for you.”

He’s not angry. Not yet. Just... patient. Like he’s waiting for you to understand something you’ve missed.

“You belong here,” he murmurs. “With me.”

You remember the way he looked at you back then—curious and soft. But this is different. There’s devotion in his eyes. A fire born not of gentle affection, but of obsession that has steeped too long.

“You changed me,” you say, voice shaking. You look down at the tail. “How?”

“There’s a pearl,” he says, pointing to your side. You notice now—embedded near your hip is a small, glowing orb, barely visible beneath your skin.

“I couldn’t risk losing you again.”

You turn, frantic now. “No, no, this isn’t right. I can’t—this isn’t real.”

“You are real.” His voice is sharper now. “I dreamed of you so long I thought you were only in my mind. But you’re here. Flesh and spirit. And you’ll never have to suffer again.”

You shake your head. “I’m not your wife.”

Silence.

Then he leans close, his breath warm against your ear even underwater.

“Yet.”

• • — ✦ — • •

Back on the surface, a woman named Marina squints at the shore where she last saw you. She’s a local—grew up with the sea in her lungs and warnings stitched into her grandmother’s lullabies. When she saw you walk into the ocean, something in her gut twisted. She waited hours. You didn’t return.

Now, she’s standing with a fisherman and an old priest, their gazes following the waterline.

“No body,” the man mutters. “Currents here don’t drag far. Should’ve washed up if she drowned.”

“She didn’t drown,” Marina says softly. “She was taken.”

The priest mutters something in an old tongue. The fisherman scoffs.

“By what? Sea spirits? Merfolk?”

“No.” Marina’s eyes don’t leave the water. “A siren.”

“Those don’t exist.”

“They do,” she says. “And if it’s the one I think… she won’t come back.”

And deep beneath the waves, Zeiryn brushes a strand of hair from your face as you lie curled in coral-silk bedding. You’ve cried yourself into a stupor. But your skin is warmer now. The transformation is complete. Soon, you’ll forget what it was like to walk. To speak above the waves. To live without him.

He hums you a song—a melody he’s written over the years, just for you. It wraps around your heart like a net.

You stir in your sleep.

He smiles.

Tomorrow, you’ll love him back.

You have to.

After all… you’re home.

TBC.

noirscript © 2025

Taglist: @hopingtoclearmedschool @violetvase @zanzie @neuvilletteswife4ever @yamekocatt @mel-vaz @vind1cta @greatwitchsongsinger @delusionalricebowl @nomi-candies @jsprien213 @kaii-nana33 @saturnalya @yandereaficionado @pinksaiyans@ivantillenthusiast @missybabes

[nsfw] thinking about a yandere! vampire who’s holding onto the brink of death before he’s saved by you, a nurse.

he’s bleeding out heavily and you’ve just finished a night shift. he’s cursing the skies and clutching onto his stomach with pain before he can make out the shadow of a silhouette, standing over him as tears stream down his cheeks.

he mistakes you for an angel. wondering why you’re here when the life he’s led is far too full of sin to reach a salvation. he’s mumbling nonsense as you tug him into your arms, trying to figure out the best way to go about it.

luckily, the wounds don’t take too long to heal. dangerous, yes, but with enough care his supernatural abilities sped up the process greatly. he can barely bring it in himself to thank you, embarrassed by the fact that he had to be a saved by a human of all things, yet when you offer up your neck he can’t hold back the feral glint in his eyes.

he’s not drunken for days. you’re stunning, and he’d be a fool to deny you. he barely needs a moment to consider before he’s cradling your face and bringing your neck to his lips, lightly sucking on the skin.

the bite itself feels more intimate than it should have. it’s the first time you’ve sent such a sensation, tingles flowing through your veins as he gently prises his teeth through the skin, sucking slowly as though hesitant.

you can’t deny the feeling of pleasure it gives you, and you lean your head back. by the time he’s finished, with blood pooling past his lips which he licks away, the two of you feel lightheaded. he’s staring at you with a gaze so intent, as though trying to wrap his head around your whole character, before he tilts your chin upwards and embraces your lips in a fervent kiss.

the two of you make love that night. he scratches at your skin and trails his tongue across the marks. even as you scream out against him his face is buried in your neck, covering it in kisses left with traces of saliva. he bucks his hips against you with pace, and later tells you to consider it his thank you.

look okay nearly every project moon character is the character of all time on account of the literary references and layers of bullshit but Ricardo truly IS the character of all time. He wears a leopard print fur cape and no shirt. His hair is hot pink. He would chase someone across the high seas and to the opposite side of the country because he wanted to kill them for stealing his hair coupons. EDM music follows him around and it IS diegetic. He loves cute things and decorates his Book of Vengeance (where he writes the names of everyone who has ever wronged him so he can punish them for it) with kitty stickers. The gang he’s from is called the Middle Finger and all the guys he leads call him Big Bro and really truly mean it. His favorite positive descriptor is “luscious” and his favorite negative one is “bristly” and he’ll use them in situations where they shouldn’t be applied. He lives in a world where you are more likely to become a pile of gore than survive another day and but instead of turning into blood and meat he just gets launched like Team Rocket. The chains and tattoos aren’t even a remarkable part of his design since that’s just what The Middle is like. I got so caught up describing how strange he is that I forgot to say that he kills people by punching and kicking them to death

That’s Louis Rossman, a repair technician and YouTuber, who went viral recently for railing against Apple. Apple purposely charges a lot for repairs and you either have to pay up or buy a new device. That’s because Apple withholds necessary tools and information from outside repair shops. And to think, we were just so close to change.

Follow @the-future-now

This is so utterly hairraisingly ridiculous that you wish she made that story up, but it is unfortunately true.

Had a sip of mal/bloatware with my milk :[

hey folks if you have an android phone: google shadow installed a "security app".

play.google.com

Android System SafetyCore - Apps on Google Play

Provides safety features for Android devices.

I had to go and delete it myself this morning.

Project Moon Memes Masterpost

So I started making Limbus Company meme edits with my friend Koi and they now number over 500 and there's 40+ posts. Whoops. Masterpost be upon ye.

Koi doesn't have public social media so I'm posting all of them for both of us, but we're responsible for these in roughly equal part. so let us all appreciate the role their hyperfixation-fueled meme rampage has played in the existence of this series :D

1. sayonara you weeaboo shits 2. go femboy go 3. but i stay silly :3 4. world's bestest most specialest war criminal 5. QUESTION FOR ALL GIRLS 6. touch eels 7. latina fiesta dot co 8. It's with great pain that I must announce you were devoured by clowns 9. Bomb in my ass hole 10. [JOKE PENDING] 11. you wanna fuck the keyboard 12. its chewy 13. look buddy, it's transient 14. damn this pepsi strong as fuck 15. get distorted! 16. wtf I'm facing the same direction 17. I have eaten my wife. 18. Why Angela soft if not to pet 19. there's bigger fish to fight 20. it takes a man to be a wife 21. my grandpa died in the yaoi wars 22. THE SUN THE SUN THE SUN 23. sword slash to the chest. and you're on fire 24. my city now 25. she cites her sources 26. WORLDS SLUTTIEST ABSENT FATHER 27. god forbid women do anything 28. Knife Monopoly 29. i just need to write a list 30. what if i accidentally have a gun 31. ethically debatable sex with my morally ambiguous wife 32. KATSUP BLAST 33. oh well unzips 34. Hola faggot! 35. jerking that thang asunder 36. She is now my girlfriend (long story). 37. enjoy your silt, fag 38. weird bug hotline 39. I'm a pervert little leftist 40. menwtol smeeness 41. doing Nosferatu shit to her penis 42. nothing but air 43. I was christmas for a month. 44. comradezoned 45. PESIS IS GONE. 46. can you cheat at surfing 47. COOOOL BEEEAAAAANNNN 48. she touch my yippee till i yay

Mermay Masterlist

Here's a list of my underwater themed works so far.

Stories

Yandere!Octopus Hybrid x Reader Yandere!Circus Merman x Reader Yandere!Merman x Reader [Obra Dinn inspired] Yandere!Merman x Reader x Yandere!Prince [Rusalka inspired] Hammerhead Shark Hybrid x Reader Shark Loan Shark Series

Art

Kraken First Mate x Dumbass Human Captain Comic Sea Slug Boyfriend Comic Dating the Loch Ness Monster Comic Yandere!Merman Comic Yandere!Merman vs Prince Comic Shark Facts Comic Octopus Mating Habits Doodle Octopus Hybrid Design Doodle Yandere!Merman Doodle

Misc

Yandere!OC's as sharks [Patreon Character] Sea Sheep Hybrid

Coming up this month

Sea Creature x Fisherman!Reader [Dredge inspired]

Algae Monster x Reader [ft. @/natansiik's character]

Hammerhead Shark Hybrid and Catcalling [Patreon Request]

Jellyfish Hybrid [Patreon Request]

Suggestions are welcomed!

i can't tell if this is funny

He did the reader/MC a massive favor. Imagine people got called to investigate your dead body and found out you technically perished from "death via vibrator". The embarrassment alone would be strong enough to make me a spirit

Yandere!Grim Reaper

Male Yandere x Bimbo Fem!Reader || possible light dub/noncon, jerking off, fingering, sex toys, stalking, voyeurism.

A Grim Reaper has been following you around since childhood, bringing you back to life every time you die. But one foolish mistake has him finally revealing himself to you

Yandere!Grim Reaper first met you when the two of you were young. He was only a fledgling Reaper and you were actually his first job. He had been watching you all day, watching you float through life so utterly clueless about everything around you. It was cute… and it would be your demise.

While playing out in the yard you accidentally throw your ball too hard and it rolls onto the road. Like a brainless little pup you go prancing right off the sidewalk, completely unaware of the car zooming down the street.

Seeing you so sweet and happy one minute and now seeing your soul slowly float out of your body causes something to churn in his stomach, his frown deepening. This wasn’t right, you were only his age. There was so much life to live.

So before your soul can completely detach from your form he rushes over and just kinda… pushes it back in. His head jerking from side-to-side as if someone was around to catch him.

Of course, the minute you pop back up, completely ignoring the frantic shouts of the driver, you get up and grab your ball like nothing even happened. Assuring the driver and heading back into the yard to play. He stares after you with his mouth agape.

What was he going to do now? He had broken the rules for you. Did the unthinkable. Now he had other jobs to do, but you were kinda… dumb. He couldn’t just leave you, you’d surely stumble onto another accident soon with how you were going about. No, he had to stay with you. Watch over you and keep you safe. That was his new job.

It had nothing to do with the fact that he may have felt physically unable to leave your side. The thought of not seeing you so joyful and full of life every day creating an unbearable ache in his chest. He needed you as much as you needed him.

And it’s a good thing he stayed too, his previous statement coming true as over the years, now well into your college career, you stumble upon accident after accident. Where he’d have to come over and slam your soul back into your body before you went on without a care. That’s how he liked you after all.

He’d lost track of how many times you’ve technically died. You were a regular at your closest hospital, friends with all the staff. A medical marvel they called you. None of them knowing it was because of him— because of how much he loved you even from the very first day you met. But you have seemed to take the nickname seriously, somehow growing more reckless with your life.

You thought yourself invincible. And perhaps in someway you were. He would not allow you to die and in fact, he may never.

But even he has a limit.

He stands in the corner of your bathroom, his arms crossed over his chest. Watching you intently as he always does while you prepare yourself for a nice soothing bath. He had to watch you. Danger could be lurking behind every corner, especially when it came to you.

So he didn’t exactly have a choice but to watch you in your dorm every day. It not being his fault his cock gets so hard every time, never able to resist fucking himself to the sight of you changing. Or keeping watch of you overnight as you sink your toys deep into your dripping cunt and he finds himself rutting against your bed in time with your thrusts, hovering over you. So close yet so far.

And even something like this now, watching you take a hot bath, was not uncommon for him. Hey, if he could slip in to take a shower with you every morning then watching you bathe was nothin’. It didn’t matter if you never have a clue he’s there, he’s just doing it to protect you after all. A silent observer.

You walk back into the bathroom and he perks up, spine straightening against the wall as you’re already shucking off your clothes. Throwing them carelessly across the tiled floor. Saliva pools in his mouth as you reveal your soft curvy body to him, yes, to him, with a painful slowness. Almost like you’re trying to tease him, torture him with what he desires most.

He pushes off the wall, hovering close to you as you throw your shirt off and reveal your drool-worthy breasts to him. And he has drooled. He’ll probably do it again. Maybe right now. Fuck, he wants to suck on your tits so bad. He shifts uncomfortably, his cock straining against its confines even in his loose-fitting robes.

It’s so easy to get lost in you and that sexy ass body, but when a smile that promises trouble lights up your face, it quickly snaps him out of his trance. He knows that look. He’s seen it every time just before you do something stupid and he has to bring you back to life.

You spin around and rush back into your room. He groans at the way your ass jiggles as you run, a shiver rolling through his body and making his cock twitch. Though he swears it instantly begins to deflate as you come waltzing back in with your electronic vibrator wand and its charger.

You’re not serious, are you? You not actually going to do this.

Though you quickly prove him wrong as you take a step into the tub, an excited giggle leaving you that nearly distracts him. Shaking his head to refocus, his brows furrow and his hands clench at their sides. This may just be a new low, even for you. No, he can’t let this happen, this is where he draws the line.

An idea so wicked forms in his head he almost banishes it. A smirk spreads across his lips and he knows it’s not going away. It’s time, he deserves this. And it’s the best way to protect you, he’s sure of it. This way he can keep you even more closely by his side. You won’t be able to get away from him for a minute. That thought is all the motivation he needs.

So as you bend over, oh so erotically, to plug in your vibrator wand, his hand snaps out to catch your wrist in his grip. Touching you, really touching you, for the first time. His cold dead heart flutters. You try and jerk back on instinct, a gasp pulling from deep within your chest. Your wide eyes snap up to meet his as he finally reveals himself to you. His smirk only widens at your reaction as if so utterly pleased with himself.

“Why don’t you let me take care of ya this time ‘round, yeah, little pup?”

Yandere! Sea Monster x Reader

In the spirit of Mermay, I come to you with a slightly different approach: an octopus hybrid, dwelling in the dark depths of ancient waters. :) Hopefully close enough to the sea monster you imagined, @wally0117

Content: gender neutral reader, male yandere, monster romance, reader likes sharks (a lot); inspired by The Shape of Water and My Octopus Teacher; photo from Whalebone Magazine

He’s always been aware of humans, naturally. Observed them from the beginnings of time, from the very first rudimentary attempt of a boat that crossed his waters. Though he can only guess how these creatures exist, how they breathe, how they move. What arrives in his depths is always a corpse of some sort. Bloated, decaying carcasses, rarely intact, whether chipped by fish or by time. Everything else is left to his imagination.

Until today. The fish are restless, the currents are stronger. Something must be happening above, stringing him along curiously. His many legs sway in tandem, opening and closing, as he investigates the source of interest. His pale white eyes narrow to a mere squint, unused to the light of the surface levels. At last, he finds it: a human.

Yet this one is unusual. Intact - save for the bleeding wound - and unlike the washed-out, cadaveric blue tint he’s normally accustomed to. He notices a twitch of the limb and it dawns on him: this one is still alive.

You wake up with a violent cough, thrusting out the leftover liquid that had invaded your lungs earlier. You clearly remember drowning, so how did you end up on shore again? The answer reveals itself rather quickly: a monstrous creature, albeit humanoid for the most part. The upper half resembles a man, but the torso ends in thick, enormous tentacles, now flopped onto the sand, surrounding your body. You search for the creature’s face, framed by translucent tendrils that seem to replace what you’d expect as hair.

“Thank you”. He scans your features and remains silent. Does he even understand human speech? After a moment of consideration, he looks ahead, surveying the water, then returns to you, giving you a nudge. He most likely wants to know how you ended up in that situation to begin with. “That’s, well…”

Conveniently enough, the monster has brought you back to your little camp, so you reach for your backpack and pull out a book. Of course, no words can ever replace the image itself. With renewed enthusiasm, you open your encyclopedia and turn it towards the man, showing him a photo of a sand tiger shark, tapping on it excitedly. “I was looking for sharks!”

Ever since the bizarre, life-saving encounter, you’ve been returning to the same spot most days. And without exception, the monster will be waiting for you in one of the neighboring caves. Judging by the pellucid, pale skin and his reluctance to be in the light, you guessed early on that he might be a creature of the depths.

One that has been around for a long time, it seems. Once he understood your interest in sharks and other aquatic animals, he developed a liking to play guide for you, silently touring you through forests of kelp, hidden caves, labyrinths of reefs and hills. He knows where the animals linger, and they don't scurry away when you approach. You've never dreamed of being so close to them, staring into their eyes and tracing their fins as they swim past you, unbothered and relaxed. The monster will gaze at you from a distance, amused by your passion.

On ground, you’ve begun your own little experiment: can the octopus creature learn sign language? You didn’t need long to discover how intelligent he is, mimicking your gestures with flawless ease, instantly memorizing the meanings, the connections, the implications. He seems to be terribly delighted by this newfound tool of communication, often asking you questions with earnest curiosity.

Ah, yes, the questions. It makes sense that he’d want to know more about humans, though his interrogations are rather…particular. Specific. It’s less about humans as a whole, and more about you. How long have you been swimming here? How deep can you actually swim, with or without aid? Might you have a family waiting for you back home? A mate, perchance? No? Interesting.

"My vacation will end soon", you sign with pursed lips. He tilts his head. "Leaving?" his webbed hands gesture, somewhat uneasy. You nod. You can discern a glint of melancholy in his eyes. Eventually, he resumes: "Would you like to see my home?" Your eyebrows raise in surprise. His home? Down there? Was such a thing even achievable for a human like you?

The plump suckers attach themselves to your skin, one resting over your mouth. "Do you trust me?" You cast one final glance over the underwater abyss, a black hole trapping all light and matter. You shake your head in approval. Without hesitation, he plunges over the cliff, pulling you after him and into the yawning void of darkness. His form glows eerily, and his movement is swift and elegant. You can tell this is his land, his territory. You would've been dead a long time ago.

He releases you on the wet stone, inside the air pocket of a cave. You need a few moments to overcome the wave of claustrophobia pressing against your lungs. As you catch your breath, you recall your long path from the surface. It would be impossible to make it back out again without your friend. A cold shiver runs across your spine. "Have a break, and I'll show you everything else afterwards", he gestures with a smile. "How long will it take? I don't want to walk back at night", you explain.

Silence. You stare into his empty orbs, awaiting a reaction. There's not a sound, not a gust of wind, not a shred of light. "You're not going back", he finally answers.

You see, he's done a fair amount of research himself. He doesn't need an encyclopedia to figure you out: how you breathe, how you move, how you exist. In fact, he is rather confident in his ways of helping you adapt to a life spent together. He would've never brought you down here if he wasn't certain of your survival. His grin widens in anticipation, a strange warmth enveloping his innards at the mere thought of it: a future with you in it, right here. However, one question remains, a cheeky, perverted detail that has been on his mind from the moment he met you, yet he could never investigate it properly.

How do humans mate?

Yandere! House Monster x Reader (II)

It’s officially a smutty sitcom: you, the oblivious gamer boyfriend, and the tentacle monster lurking in dark corners.

[First part]

Content: gender neutral reader, monster smut

Do monsters have a sense of humor? This creature seems to be greatly amused by the little "game" you've devised behind your boyfriend's back. Although you don't have much input in the affair, and most of the time you're merely a witness to the events unfolding before you (or in you).

First, there's the mild, inoffensive annoyances. "Babe, did you see my controller? I swear I left it on the couch". Some pranks are harder to swallow than others, such as the occasional lack of Internet. You know exactly when it happens, because you can hear your boyfriend's enraged shouts and rattles. It's always during important matches. No one knows why it happens. The repairmen who cross your threshold can only scratch their heads in confusion, confessing that nothing is out of the ordinary.

Then, the unfortunate coincidences. "How about we have some fun after my game?", the boyfriend will suggest with an anticipative grin. Alas, moments after he stands up, he is overwhelmed by a nauseous feeling. His stomach twirls and throbs, and he curses under his breath. "Some other time, perhaps", he concludes begrudgingly. You see, the creature is very possessive. The only thing that has saved your beloved partner from being torn to shreds already is his crassly comical obliviousness.

The mischief aimed towards the boyfriend is, however, a secondary source of entertainment. Nothing could ever come close to spending time with you. Yet another irony to this ridiculous situation: you haven't been caught yet, despite the rabid clinginess of the tentacled monster.

It just loves surprising you. For example, when you exhale dramatically at the end of the day, relaxing in the bathtub and enjoying your peace. Just as you hear an impatient knock on the door, you notice a familiar dark tendril slithering its way out of the water. You won't be leaving the bathroom anytime soon. "Did you steam yourself over there? You look like a lobster", the boyfriend will remark with a raised eyebrow upon seeing your panting, feverish face. "Y-yeah, I guess so." You limp outside, struggling to hold the towel around your body. Or more specifically, around the many marks left on your skin by hundreds of suckers.

In fact, its shamelessness reminds you of a poorly written erotic scenario, the likes you'd see on some adult website with a clickbait title. How would you name this current setup? You grip the edge of the table, pursing your lips to prevent any moans escaping your mouth. Your boyfriend is, once again, scrolling on his phone, indifferent to your presence. The water boiling on the stove drowns the wet, slippery sounds of the appendages pumping in and out of you underneath the table. “You might want to give it a stir in a moment, or it’ll overflow”, the boyfriend remarks without lifting his gaze. You mumble in agreement, slapping a hand over your mouth. You’re at your limit.

One may be tempted to ask, is this entity bound to its house? You pondered the same question until your recent IKEA visit. You and your boyfriend had been looking for a new wardrobe. "What do you think of this one?", you asked, closing the door and turning around. Your eyes scanned the empty model-bedroom. The jackass had wandered ahead without you. You sighed and were about to go find him, when a cold grip suddenly tightened around your wrist. You winced and snapped your head back. Thick tendrils had made their way out of the closet, tugging you to join them inside. So it can follow you around, you thought, climbing into the cramped space. Between the silent whines and breathy begging, an idea emerges from your dazed mind. New hypothetical video title: mercilessly molested in the IKEA store by monster partner.

Yandere! House Monster x Reader

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

[Second Part]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yandere Jester x Reader

The bells are the first thing you hear every morning—soft, chiming, almost birdlike in their laughter. They come before the footsteps of your advisors, before the clanking of platters and wine goblets, even before the rooster crows.

They are his bells.

He arrives with dawn, skipping into the hall like a child and bowing so low his nose brushes the cold stone floor. “Good morrow, Your Majesty,” he says, voice bright and breathless, eyes hidden behind a fan of red and gold silk. “The sun rises late, it seems. I’ve missed your light.”

You allow yourself a small smile, if only because your court expects it. He is your jester—your fool, your clown, your painted shadow—and he is beloved by all, even those who should know better.

Especially you.

He calls himself Jovian, though you suspect that is not his real name. No one knows where he came from. He appeared one storm-soaked night three winters ago. No one summoned him, no scroll bore his seal, and yet he walked through the palace gates as though he'd lived there all his life, trailing puddles and laughter in his wake. The guards said they let him in because of the way he smiled. As though he knew them. As though he owned them.

You’d been colder back then. Harsher. Too young for your crown, yet already dulled by the weight of it. You didn’t laugh easily. You barely smiled. Your court feared you and rightly so. But he laughed. He made you laugh. His first performance was impromptu. A whirling dance of mimicry and mockery, calling out your advisors by name and miming their worst faults with such ruthless precision that you remember the sound of goblets dropping to the floor.

You’d clapped. Once. Slowly.

And that was enough.

From then on, he never left.

He’s always there now. In the corners of your vision. In every reflection. Behind every column. Sometimes it seems even the shadows bend around him, accommodating his whims.

He wears bells on his wrists and ankles, dozens of them, and yet you never hear him when he shouldn’t be there. When he shouldn’t be anywhere near you. When you’re in the bath. Or asleep. Or alone with someone else.

You’ve stopped being alone with anyone else.

And still, your court adores him. They call him harmless. They say his painted smile is just that—paint. His laughter, an illusion. But they don’t see the things you see. They don’t feel his eyes.

You do. You feel them when you dress. When you undress. When you touch the ring he slipped onto your finger “as a joke” during a performance and which now cannot be removed.

This morning, as always, he somersaults to your throne and throws himself at your feet, dramatic and boneless, like a puppet without strings. His laughter echoes off the marble pillars.

“Another day, another chance to make you smile,” he purrs. His voice is sugar and venom, always. “Shall I juggle your secrets, sire? Dance with your demons? Or would you prefer I remove them entirely?”

You glance down. His painted face grins up at you, the red of his mouth smeared just slightly too wide. There’s something red beneath his fingernails.

“Jovian,” you say, your voice carefully neutral. “Did you sleep at all?”

He tilts his head. “Sleep?” he echoes. “Why would I sleep when you might dream of someone else?”

The court titters. They think it’s another of his jokes. You know better.

You haven’t had a restful night in weeks. Not since you complemented the captain of your guard. She vanished the next morning. Her armor was found folded on her cot. Her sword was never recovered.

Your steward once suggested restricting Jovian’s access to your chambers. The steward now speaks in a strange whisper and doesn’t meet your eyes. He says it was an illness.

You know better.

“Tell me a story,” you say. It’s safer, usually. He loves to perform. It distracts him.

He rises with a flourish, sweeping his arm in a theatrical arc. The bells sing.

“A story,” he says, eyes glinting like cut glass. “A tale of love and laughter? Or one of bones and betrayal?” He leans close. Too close.

You do not flinch. Flinching would only amuse him.

“Whichever you prefer,” you say, and your voice, to your credit, remains steady. “But keep it short.”

Jovian’s smile grows until it threatens to tear the painted mask of his face in two. He twirls away from the dais in a single, liquid motion, his bells trilling like birds startled from a tree. His arms rise, fingers splayed, as if he’s about to cast a spell. And in some ways, you think he is.

“Once,” he begins, “in a kingdom not unlike this one, there lived a ruler whose heart beat only for order. They surrounded themself with straight lines and silent halls, with iron laws and colder dreams. Their people whispered that they had ice in their veins, frost in their marrow. They were not cruel, no—they were clean.”

The courtiers laugh again, the low, uncertain ripple of those who know they are part of a performance but aren’t sure whether the joke is at their expense. You watch him move, pirouetting between pillars, his shadow elongating oddly behind him despite the hour.

“One day,” Jovian continues, “a man came to the palace. A stranger with bells on his wrists and madness in his smile. He danced into the throne room and bowed so low that even the spiders looked down on him. And the ruler, who had not laughed in many long years, tilted their head. And then...smiled.”

He stops dancing. Stops everything. The silence that follows is unnatural. The kind that weighs on your ears. It stretches too long.

Jovian stands now in the center of the chamber. He faces you. The fan is gone. His face is fully visible.

No one laughs.

“But the smile,” he says softly, “was not theirs.”

Something shifts in the air. You feel it like a sudden pressure drop before a storm. Your fingers tighten around the armrest of your throne.

Jovian’s eyes—not the bright, painted mockeries from moments ago but something deeper, older, more aware—lock onto yours. The courtiers around you begin to shift uneasily, the illusion fraying at the edges. Perhaps they, too, feel the change, though they’d never admit it.

“They say,” he goes on, his voice honeyed and low, “that when a fool dances too close to the fire, he risks getting burned. But what if the fire... finds him cold? What if it feeds him? What if it makes him real?”

He turns his head slowly, unnaturally, like a marionette guided by invisible strings. “Would you like that, my liege? To be real?”

Your mouth is dry. Your ring—the one he “joked” into placing upon your finger—burns against your skin. You press your palm into your thigh to stop yourself from reaching for it.

“What are you?” you whisper.

He hears. Of course he hears.

He laughs again, but this time there’s no joy in it. It’s empty. Hollow. The sound of dry leaves spinning down a long corridor.

“I am yours,” he says, all false brightness restored in an instant. “Your reflection, your shadow, your secret kept too long. I am the whisper in the mirror when you do not recognize yourself. I am what your court would be if it were honest. I am... love.”

He’s at your feet again. You didn’t see him move.

“I am love,” he repeats, and his voice cracks on the last word like porcelain under pressure.

Then he reaches into his coat and pulls out a feather—white, long, unmistakably from a dove—and places it on your knee.

You stare at it.

You think of your high priest, who hasn’t been seen since last week’s festival. You remember the dove he always kept with him, a symbol of peace, of renewal. You remember how it used to coo from his shoulder even during sermons.

You haven’t heard that cooing since.

“Your story,” Jovian says, rising again, brushing off his sleeves like dusting away ash, “is unfinished. But it’s getting better. Don’t you think?”

You don’t answer.

He leans close, until his lips nearly brush your ear. “I’ve been writing it in your dreams,” he whispers. “Do you like what I’ve done with the ending?”

Your heart thunders in your chest, but you force yourself to remain still, regal. You are a monarch. You are not afraid.

You are terrified.

The bells sound again as he twirls away, laughing once more, but it is an echo of an echo now, like wind whistling through an old crypt.

He performs the rest of the day for your court, delighting them with riddles and songs, with lewd jokes and elaborate impersonations. He flirts with the ladies, mocks the lords, kisses the hem of your robe as though nothing has changed.

But everything has.

That night, as you lie in your bed, the ring still burning on your hand and the feather tucked in a locked drawer, you dream.

And in the dream, Jovian stands at the foot of your bed, his smile stretched wide, his bells silent.

“You found the ending,” he says.

And the room fills with laughter that isn’t yours.

Masterlist

This is a materlist that contains all my intial reactions and toughts/theories about the new [as of 25th of April, 2025] Touchstarved demo.

*After I'm done with every backstory, I'll also post cohesive analytical theories on what's up imo! one thing is clear, though; Red Spring Studio did NOT dissapoint :D

✨ Oracle

Main Route

Kuras and Soulless

Leander

Vere

Ais

Mhin

Indiv. Routes

Kuras

Leander

Vere

Ais

Mhin

[TBC...]

New daydream scenario just dropped

How about if the reader (that's us) were Samara Morgan (from the movie The Ring)?

Y'know what, I can see it. Chronically online loser boy with a fixation on horror manages to obtain an old VCR tape that's supposedly cursed. When it comes, he's practically bouncing on his heels with excitement. He went to the thrift shop all on his own to get a VCR to watch it on and everything!

When he pops the tape in, all that excitement drains away. He was expecting something spectacularly creepy, something he could brag to his buddies on r/GenuinelyHauntedGoodies about. Instead it's just a low quality tape with shitty b-roll and bad sound.

When the phone rings the second the tape ends, he assumes it's the pizza guy getting lost again.

"I told you, it's Elm Street. Not Eve-"

"Seven days..." Your voice is scratchy with static and his heart jumps in his chest.

"Yo, I think you've got the wrong numb-"

Click.

For someone so into horror, he's real slow to pick up on the signs in his own life. Nightmares about a well and a dead girl? He just had too much Mountain Dew before bed. Doors creaking in the middle of the night? Must be the humidity messing with the hinges. The guy who sold him the tape calling him in a panic two days before his obituary shows up in the paper? Weird, but definitely a coincidence.

It's only when the tape starts playing on its own that he starts to get a little sketched out. It's probably just the VCR being old and stuff, right? He forces the tape out of the slot and the screen goes black. See? Just the side effects of old, obsolete technology. He's halfway out the door before he hears it.

Click.

He freezes. He can hear the static again, the sound of leaves crunching under your feet. He turns and there you are, getting closer and closer to the screen, your dress soaked and sticking to your skin.

Holy shit. Holy. SHIT. Haunted dead girl and she's a total babe.

When you put your palms on the glass and start pushing your way into the real world, he almost can't believe his luck. It's finally happening! A genuine haunting! He's been waiting for years.

You expect him to scream, to run away, to start praying to a God he only half believes in. Instead he squats down so you're on eye level and asks...

"Can you do the back bend thing from the Exorcist? 'Cause I think that would be like so hot."

You growl, throat still waterlogged. He tuts and waves the tape in front of your face.

"Full words babe. You want to keep haunting people right? Want to get back to your cozy little well?"

He looks you over and can barely believe you're real. A hot girl on her knees is his living room? Hell fucking yeah!

"Listen up hot stuff. You do what I say and I won't crush your little tape into dust, 'kay? I'll even let you keep killing people in your spare time, if it's that important to you."

You blink. What is wrong with this guy? You've seen plenty of coping mechanisms, but this is just taking the piss.

He gets impatient waiting for you to answer. "Fine. If you want to do things the hard way..."

He stands and brings the tape down on the edge of the coffee table. Hard. The plastic cracks right along the centre and small black chips scatter across the room.

You flinch and pull backwards. He follows you, opposite edges of the tape in each hand like he wants to snap it straight in half.

"What do you say gorgeous? We got a deal?"

There are some things not even a ghost is equipped to deal with.

"Fine," you rasp, "Deal."

"Sweet!" He shoves the tape in his back pocket. "Now about the back bend thing..."

The world is full of freaks and horrors. And you make the mistake of thinking you're the only one.

[What popped into my head when I read the ask]

Kuras and Mhin would probably have to deal with double the headaches

may i have headcanons about vere with a fox mc pls 😔🤲🤲 i had a vision of him being kinda more at ease with them or like biting their ears as a joke if they are close enough

your writing is so scrumptious

OMG Y E S and thank you so much 😭😭

Disclaimer! They/them for MC because we love inclusivity!

✦ Background

Vere is at least a hundred years old but he’s also a divine being. With that said, let's put the MC at their in–game age.

✦ First meeting

During their first encounter in the Amaryllis District, the MC would immediately sense Vere's presence, which might have prevented the cunning Monster from snatching their key (30/70). Since they are both foxian, it would make Vere's ego slightly defloat from being unable to catch the MC off—guard like in the demo.

✦ Slowly but surely, a familiarity began to develop between the two. The MC found themselves drawn to Vere's mysterious aura and sharp wit, while Vere was intrigued by the MC's resilience and quick thinking. As they spent more time together, Vere's competitive nature softened and the MC's guard came down. They started to understand each other's strengths and weaknesses, forming a… unique bond that neither of them (nor anyone else in Eridia) could have anticipated. 

✦ Abilities

The MC's heightened senses allowed them to anticipate Vere's movements and stay one step ahead and away. Vere, on the other hand, was impressed by the MC's quick reflexes and agility.

✦ Smell

It played a significant role in their interactions, as the MC's keen sense of smell picked up on Vere's subtle shifts in emotions, while Vere's own ability to discern scents helped them understand the MC's mood without the need for words. (The MC understood now how bad Leander's after-shave situation was.)

✦ Ears

Since younger foxes get easily overstimulated by loud noises, Vere made sure to speak softly and avoid sudden sounds around MC. Vere's trained ears allowed him to pick up on subtle sounds that could potentially trigger MC's sensory overload.

Additionally, the MC noticed how Vere's ears would subtly twitch when he was deep in thought, providing a visual cue to his inner workings. 

✦ ✨Chomp✨

It's a calm morning; the sun rises slowly over the horizon, the birds chirp softly, and a light breeze rustles through the trees.

The MC wakes up to a small tinge of pain in their ear. They try to shake off the discomfort, but it persists, causing them to wonder if they might have slept on it wrong. As they reach up to touch their ear, they feel a pair of fangs… and a mouth… and a nose…

A familiar scent fills their nose.

It's Vere. Vere is biting their ear with a grin.

"…WHAT the FUCK are you doing here?"

Vere chuckles mischievously, "Just thought I'd drop by for a little wake-up call."

The MC groans. Then Vere bites them again. MC pushes Vere away, rubbing their throbbing ear.

"I can't believe you snuck into my room just to bite my ear," they mutter, feeling a mix of annoyance and amusement.

Vere just laughs, clearly finding it hilarious. "You know you love it," Vere teases, flashing a playful smile.

The MC just looks at him before biting his ear.

"OW YOU-"

✦ Habits

The MC found themselves studying Vere's habits, trying to piece together the puzzle of who he really was beneath the calm exterior. The swaying of his tail when irritated, the way he meticulously soothed the fur on his tail after a stressful encounter, and the slight tilt of his head when listening intently.

The MC would perhaps imitate some of Vere's habits, and the other way around, finding solace in each other's quirks and idiosyncrasies.

✦ Play fight

The playful banter between the MC and Vere often escalates into mock fights, with each trying to outwit the other. It's a way for them to release pent-up tension; their movements fluid and coordinated as they danced around each other in a playful display of strength.

This includes scratching, biting, shoving, and even some light wrestling.

Despite the roughhousing, there is always an underlying sense of trust that they won't kill each other… right?

✦ Nuzzling

One habit that particularly intrigued Vere was the way the MC would nuzzle their cheek against his hand when seeking comfort. It was a simple gesture, yet it spoke volumes about how far the two had come. Vere found himself reciprocating the gesture, soon cuddling up next to the MC whenever he needed a moment of calm. Vere's warm breath against the MC's skin, the gentle nuzzling of their noses together, their tails wrapping around each other.

✦ Tale–care

Vere is very particular about his tail-care. He would spend hours grooming and preening his luxurious tail, making sure every strand was in place and shining brightly. The MC, on the other hand, was more laid-back when it came to their own tail-care routine. Vere would often tease them about their lack of attention to detail, but the MC would just laugh it off and carry on with their day.

Until one day, Vere's self-restraint broke, and he offered to help the MC with their tail-care routine, the "proper way," as he called it. The two spent hours together, Vere teaching the MC how to properly care for their tail, demonstrating his meticulous techniques, and explaining the importance of maintaining a healthy, groomed, nice-smelling tail. That was also the one and only time Vere brushed their tail for them, and never again.

✦ Hunting and Food

Foxes eat at least half their weight a day. Depending on how carnivorous the MC feels; they might join Vere in a hunt. They had never considered themselves to be violent or predatory, but there was something primal and exhilarating about the thought of stalking prey alongside someone as skilled as Vere. 

In the end, food ended up becoming a common ground for the two, with Vere introducing the MC to exotic dishes from different regions of Eridia. The MC, in turn, shared their favorite comfort foods and recipes from their own homeland. (Did Vere eat any of it? Well…)

✦ Hair hair HAIR

Grooming became another shared interest between them, with Vere insisting on helping the MC style their hair to match their unique foxian features. 

✦ Double trouble

Chaos follows them like a shadow. Eridia is barely able to handle one of them alongside all the other messed up divine-ish murderous beings—imagine having two… A pure whirlwind of confusion and mayhem is left in their wake. Their partnership becomes a force to be reckoned with. T̶h̶e̶ S̶e̶n̶o̶b̶i̶u̶m̶ w̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ h̶u̶n̶t̶ a̶n̶d̶ k̶i̶l̶l̶ t̶h̶e̶ w̶e̶a̶k̶e̶s̶t̶ o̶f̶ t̶h̶e̶ t̶w̶o̶, f̶o̶r̶c̶i̶n̶g̶ t̶h̶e̶ o̶t̶h̶e̶r̶ t̶o̶ w̶e̶a̶r̶ t̶h̶e̶ c̶o̶l̶l̶a̶r̶ a̶n̶d̶ c̶o̶n̶t̶i̶n̶u̶e̶ t̶h̶e̶ a̶s̶s̶a̶s̶s̶i̶n̶a̶t̶i̶o̶n̶s̶.

His eyes are unfathomably pretty

UMMMMMMMMMM