Minty

Yandere demon x reader

Type: small story

Authors note: reader is gender neutral for all readers to enjoy. Armaros is referred to as it, because it does not have a gender nor needs one. It is not a sensual demon so no need for those bodily parts. This fic will be quite Graphic in description when it comes to creepy stuff, not so much gore in my standards but be warned. This can be taken platonically or romantic, due to the fact Armaros itself can’t distinguish them properly.

Warnings: forced captivity, forced proximity, mentions of uncanny bodily image, mentions of body horror, blood, murder.

Beads of sweat trinkled down your forehead, meeting the cold, moist air that made it cling to you. The disgusting stickiness of its fluid was an unpleasant sensation that made your insides crawl, hot breaths puffing out of your mouth in a desperate attempt to hear something, anything to distract yourself from the sickening sound of bones popping and the wet squelch of limps dragging across the aged stone, staining it a crimson red with each movement.

The world wasn’t what it looked like, walls disorientated as if they were alive themself, thick bricks squirming within your vision as black and white spots danced over them. Every movement was uncalculated, unable to comprehend it when the overwhelming feeling of dread and haziness overtook you, strangling you in a grip so tight it hurt. You were so close. So close to that feeling of death you so wished would embrace you. Yet you were never satisfied with that desire, the hope that this would all end, even if you never got to see the sun rays glimmer on the tree tops again, the seas crashing waves and the sweetness of life.

Bitterness is all that was left down here, to rot and decay along with you. Every desire, every wish and prayer that you could be something was stripped away from you just like that. So close to the door yet so far away from freedom you could barely make it out. You hated it, the thing that took everything away from you. How foolish you were. Now stuck in this endless and mindless torture, no matter how much you pleaded and cried, begged for mercy on your soul.

It stared. Its long, uncanny limps that stretched to long and its eyes. Its eyes you could barely look into before you wanted to vomit. In these times of sorrow, it told you things. Things you didn’t want to hear as it dragged its nail a crossed your pale cheek, cutting into the deprived of sunlight skin effortlessly, down to your lips and then to you neck, grassing your jugular teasingly, mockingly. No voice, no emotion, nothing except the cracking of its neck bending unnaturally to meet your gaze that wandered away from it. This was it, the rest of your days, down here in this wicked cellar, surrounded by mold and decay and the metallic smell of the red liquid that clumped to together, smeared all around the walls.

You couldn’t look at it. You can’t. You won’t. You won’t give it the satisfaction. You couldn’t. Chucks of flesh between its jaws was guzzled down into its tattered and rotting throat, blood pooling out of the gaps onto the stone. Those poor young men who’d happened to stumble down into this hellhole were quickly caught by it. You should have thanked them, for trying to save you, but you didn’t. It wouldn’t like that. It didn’t like it when you looked away from it, when you looked at them. It was a split second, a fraction of a moment your eyes met, before those teeth came down onto the poor man’s head, ripping it clean off his body along with part of his clavicle.

The last of your adrenaline had kicked in at that moment when it started to tear into the second man to death, sending your body flying towards the mangled stairs. With each quick step the wood pierced into your calf’s, but you didn’t care, even when your vision blurred, you could still see the light on the other side, waiting for you to return. A sharp pain shot through your body like lightning, a wet scraping feeling on your now exposed ankle bone made you cry out in excruciating agony. Please. Please let me die. Everything hurts. Please. Until a power force tugged you back down the stairs, head clashing into the wood with each descending step. The wood sliced through your fingers in your desperate attempt at clawing your way back up.

“Please”

Snapping out of your daze and shivered at the cold presence now by your side, its watchful gaze burning into the back of your head. Everything was feverish, now hot and gross as your body heat increased by 10 fold, anxiety building up within you sending your mind into a panic. You refused to turn its way. And it didn’t like that one bit. A sudden movement in the corner of your eye caught your attention, until it caught you. Dislocated fingers wrapped itself around your head, almost entirely encasing it whole as you were forcibly turned to face it.

A wet, thick layer of saliva was coated onto your cheeks, cleaning your wounds from the nasty fall, or was it to enjoy the rich flavour of your blood? You tried to turn your head away, you can’t look you can’t. But it refused to let you go. Teeth bared at your disobedience. With a swift motion, it slammed its hands on the other side of your head, bending abnormally to better accommodate the position. Now trapped between its arm and body. You can’t look you can’t. Please look. Look.

It hurt so bad. It hurts. Please stop. Please.

Yandere demon x reader

Type: small story

Authors note: reader is gender neutral for all readers to enjoy. Armaros is referred to as it, because it does not have a gender nor needs one. It is not a sensual demon so no need for those bodily parts. This fic will be quite Graphic in description when it comes to creepy stuff, not so much gore in my standards but be warned. This can be taken platonically or romantic, due to the fact Armaros itself can’t distinguish them properly.

Warnings: forced captivity, forced proximity, mentions of uncanny bodily image, mentions of body horror, blood, murder.

Beads of sweat trinkled down your forehead, meeting the cold, moist air that made it cling to you. The disgusting stickiness of its fluid was an unpleasant sensation that made your insides crawl, hot breaths puffing out of your mouth in a desperate attempt to hear something, anything to distract yourself from the sickening sound of bones popping and the wet squelch of limps dragging across the aged stone, staining it a crimson red with each movement.

The world wasn’t what it looked like, walls disorientated as if they were alive themself, thick bricks squirming within your vision as black and white spots danced over them. Every movement was uncalculated, unable to comprehend it when the overwhelming feeling of dread and haziness overtook you, strangling you in a grip so tight it hurt. You were so close. So close to that feeling of death you so wished would embrace you. Yet you were never satisfied with that desire, the hope that this would all end, even if you never got to see the sun rays glimmer on the tree tops again, the seas crashing waves and the sweetness of life.

Bitterness is all that was left down here, to rot and decay along with you. Every desire, every wish and prayer that you could be something was stripped away from you just like that. So close to the door yet so far away from freedom you could barely make it out. You hated it, the thing that took everything away from you. How foolish you were. Now stuck in this endless and mindless torture, no matter how much you pleaded and cried, begged for mercy on your soul.

It stared. Its long, uncanny limps that stretched to long and its eyes. Its eyes you could barely look into before you wanted to vomit. In these times of sorrow, it told you things. Things you didn’t want to hear as it dragged its nail a crossed your pale cheek, cutting into the deprived of sunlight skin effortlessly, down to your lips and then to you neck, grassing your jugular teasingly, mockingly. No voice, no emotion, nothing except the cracking of its neck bending unnaturally to meet your gaze that wandered away from it. This was it, the rest of your days, down here in this wicked cellar, surrounded by mold and decay and the metallic smell of the red liquid that clumped to together, smeared all around the walls.

You couldn’t look at it. You can’t. You won’t. You won’t give it the satisfaction. You couldn’t. Chucks of flesh between its jaws was guzzled down into its tattered and rotting throat, blood pooling out of the gaps onto the stone. Those poor young men who’d happened to stumble down into this hellhole were quickly caught by it. You should have thanked them, for trying to save you, but you didn’t. It wouldn’t like that. It didn’t like it when you looked away from it, when you looked at them. It was a split second, a fraction of a moment your eyes met, before those teeth came down onto the poor man’s head, ripping it clean off his body along with part of his clavicle.

The last of your adrenaline had kicked in at that moment when it started to tear into the second man to death, sending your body flying towards the mangled stairs. With each quick step the wood pierced into your calf’s, but you didn’t care, even when your vision blurred, you could still see the light on the other side, waiting for you to return. A sharp pain shot through your body like lightning, a wet scraping feeling on your now exposed ankle bone made you cry out in excruciating agony. Please. Please let me die. Everything hurts. Please. Until a power force tugged you back down the stairs, head clashing into the wood with each descending step. The wood sliced through your fingers in your desperate attempt at clawing your way back up.

“Please”

Snapping out of your daze and shivered at the cold presence now by your side, its watchful gaze burning into the back of your head. Everything was feverish, now hot and gross as your body heat increased by 10 fold, anxiety building up within you sending your mind into a panic. You refused to turn its way. And it didn’t like that one bit. A sudden movement in the corner of your eye caught your attention, until it caught you. Dislocated fingers wrapped itself around your head, almost entirely encasing it whole as you were forcibly turned to face it.

A wet, thick layer of saliva was coated onto your cheeks, cleaning your wounds from the nasty fall, or was it to enjoy the rich flavour of your blood? You tried to turn your head away, you can’t look you can’t. But it refused to let you go. Teeth bared at your disobedience. With a swift motion, it slammed its hands on the other side of your head, bending abnormally to better accommodate the position. Now trapped between its arm and body. You can’t look you can’t. Please look. Look.

It hurt so bad. It hurts. Please stop. Please.

Ósnjallr maðr hyggsk munu ey lifa ef hann við víg varask en elli gefr honum engi frið þótt honum geirar gefi

- Havamal

Blood On The Asphalt

[perfect for intros and pinned posts! ✨]

[Free] Masterlist Headers & Dividers!

for @thevillainswhore

please like, reblog, and tag @rookthornesartistry if you use the dividers below.

𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 @sebstanwhore

𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦, 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘢𝘨 @rookthornesartistry 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘸.

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I made text dividers from some paintings I liked. I think it's good?

Cuddling Head-cannons!

Shadow Milk Cookie:

He’s super into cuddling, but only when he wants too. Like, man is clingy in the same way a cat is.

He would totally want to crawl up the inside of your sleeve like a gremlin and curl up on your chest.

Speaking of chest, that’s his favorite place to snuggle up too, either that or your face. Specifically your cheek since he’s tiny. (He likes to be a presence you can’t ignore.)

If you love cuddles prepare to be absolutely smothered in them. He wants to be all you can focus on in this world, and allowing him to cling to you is an opportunity he just can’t pass up.

If you don’t like cuddles then you are fresh outta luck because he does not care. It doesn’t matter to him how large you are, or how intimidating you can be. He’s snuggled up to you and he’s comfortable. Plus… since when were you in charge?

Like, if you’re resting he’s all up in your business, IMMEDIATELY. If you try to push him away enough times, he’ll walk off in a fake huff talking about ‘diva(s)’. But once you finally fall asleep he’s right back where he wants to be.

Ironically enough if you try to cuddle up to him without his prompting, he’ll play hard to get. Might even bat your hand away too- (well, as much as a itty-bitty cookie his size can to a human).

When he’s cuddled up on your chest, sometimes he’ll worm his way up to your ear. He’ll begin to whisper things, things he couldn’t possibly know. Tidbits about your day you never told him, stuff that has yet to happen, knowledge on how to help you succeed in future endeavors. You are normally asleep by the time this advice comes, so why does he do this?

Is it the joy he feels knowing that he has all the answers you need and all the control to tell you only when you’re not listening? Or is it something else? Only he has the answer to that.

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Mystic Flour Cookie:

She’s definitely not clingy, but she doesn’t mind it when you two cuddle.

I imagine since she’s the Beast of Apathy she is quite neutral about where she lays in accordance to you in bed. You could have her in your arms, your hands, heck probably even on the top of your head and she’d be ok with it.

She won’t admit this, but her favorite way to cuddle is with your head in her lap and her hand in your hair. Yes, you are still human sized. Also yes, she is still cookie sized. (You guys make it work though.)

Love cuddles or hate cuddles, she couldn’t care either way. Calm and composed, she decides when and when not to allow you to breach her personal space.

Although, if you do catch her off guard with a pick up and cuddle attack from behind. Even if she may not show it immediately, she doesn’t like when people just take what they want from her. Expect the cold shoulder.

On rare occasions, Mystic Flour can and will ask to be held. There’s something unusual about her tone, something more..alive.

When you have long since fallen asleep, she finds her hand stroking your hair absentmindedly. She then slowly lowers her body to lay against your head, all of HER own volition. For cuddling you was her choice, not your will. Hers.

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Burning Spice Cookie:

Normally, I would never think that Burning Spice would go for cuddles. Too boring and stagnant for his tastes.

But if you did manage to get him to cuddle, you bet you had to earn that. And it wasn’t easy. So if you like fighting tooth and nail for the right to cuddle, then Burning Spice is your man!

Battle against him, he doesn’t care how large and fleshy you are. He wants a fight, he needs a fight. If you want to cuddle The Great Destroyer, then show him you can handle it! (This is an every night before bed thing too).

Finally you win—(because let’s be honest..he’s like what, 3 inches tall?) —and now you’ve earned the right to cuddle. Burning Spice’s favorite place to cuddle is right against your stomach or heart, things he can hear.

Sometimes during these sessions, you can catch a glimpse of Burning Spice’s face, it looks empty as he listens to your body work and breathe. You wonder whats going though his head.

But as soon as it’s there, it’s gone and is replaced with his usual scowl as he loudly exclaims how ‘bored’ he is with the current situation.

As I’ve already explained, if you want cuddles Burning Spice is definitely going to play hard to get. Much like Shadow Milk in that sense. But on another note, much like Mystic Flour he doesn’t care if he gets cuddles or not. (If anything he seems to project more no than yes. But if that’s really true, why does he still offer to fight you each night?)

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Eternal Sugar Cookie:

Are you a couch potato with big emotions?! Do you like to cuddle?! Then maybe you should consider getting yourself an Eternal Sugar Cookie to keep you company!

They are a MASSIVE cuddle monster, (they might even be clinger than Shadow Milk in this sense) you’re like a big warm pillow! They are perched or nestled somewhere on you from 24/7 to eternity.

Their favorite place to cuddle is curled up on your neck. Wings draped over the sides of your shoulders in a sort of possessive hug. Feeling your pulse.

If you like cuddles Eternal Sugar is definitely a provider, and is pretty good at making you feel right at ease. I could imagine them curled up, tangled in your hair and lazily strumming at their lyre with droopy eyes.

Being the Beast of Sloth, I could see them using their power to perhaps make you feel a bit more lethargic than usual.

After a while with Eternal Sugar you might start missing your morning alarm, sleeping in, missing breakfast, lunch, maybe even dinner too…a couple days go by…wait, how long have you been sleeping for again?

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Silent Salt Cookie:

Tbh, I see this cookie as very hit or miss when it comes to cuddle time. Either they’re all in on some nice quiet quality time or they want absolutely nothing to do with it.

If they are into it I could see them liking sleeping tangled up in your legs (keeps you from moving too much) or I could see them resting in your hands, especially if you sleep with them curled up to your face.

Don’t expect any kind of talk though, if you start yapping while you two are snuggled up close they’ll just end up getting up and walking away. It’s silence or nothing. (And if you talk in your sleep, just forget about it.)

If they are not in the mood for cuddles, don’t try and convince them. Begging and pleading will only serve to annoy this beast. You gotta let them come to you, like a stray cat you gotta earn the trust of before they come inside your home.

On the days you guys cuddle, if you stay really quiet and still, you can feel Silent Salt press into you almost longingly. Is it despair? Is it loneliness? Want, need? It’s impossible to tell which emotion the beast is feeling with that helmet on. All you can guess is that they are comfortable in the palms of your hands. That’s all that matters…right?

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