#t2kwrites

Thank you again @yanderecrazysie !!

Tw: mentions of captivity, a slight mention of previous noncon OR consensual sex if you prefer it to read that way, yandere

All characters are aged to over 18

The Queen of Hearts was a jealous Queen. You could already hear the stomping of heeled shoes overhead somewhere further in the palace. Following the shoe was the slamming of the scepter and then finally—

“Where is ____________!? If they aren’t here within the next 15 seconds it’s off with your heads!”

Then the scramble began…you figured you had at least 5 minutes before one of his card soldiers found you and dragged you back inside.

Your time would be over so soon that you wouldn’t have to worry about frost bite…the bite of the chill slid across your exposed skin like a lover. Actually no, not like your lover.

Riddle was many things but cold was not one of them. His hands were always hot against your body, his mouth insistent, his cock a throbbing source of heat between your legs…no. You didn’t have the luxury of being “cold”

The court poets sang about love at first sight between the monarch and his love. Those same poets also knew it wasn’t truly a love match, but an infatuation that had gotten out of hand.

Riddle’s strick mother, the previous Queen, had never given him love. So when you, a child of a servant had deigned to smile at him, he had fallen hard. 20 something years later your place was at his side—by choice or by force.

Snowflakes fluttered in the wind and a few kissed your face and nose, stinging but somehow fresh. You remembered the first snow Riddle had seen when you were 7; you’d snuck him out of the castle to experience a moment of liberation and when his face split into the sweetest smile…

Your chest hurt at the memory. He was such a sweet boy who had been twisted by his mother. If things were different, you could have loved that boy…

“Dearest, it’s not befitting to be out in such weather.” The voice sounded calm, but you were used to the rage that laid layered underneath.

You turned and looked at him. Instead of that sweet smile filled with wonder, you see a man whose hardened face and hardened heart held the key to a freedom he would never reciprocate.

Thank you for letting me participate @yanderecrazysie

TW: choking, mentions of choking, Yandere, mentions of captivity

All characters are aged up over 18

The leather bite of the collar against your throat had you gasping. Someone was pulling it so hard, you couldn’t force out any real words…but you fought harder–as if you could stop your worst nightmare from coming true.

Drunken howls and maniacal laughter mocked your efforts. You looked behind to see who held your leash. Ironically, it was Jack. He at least had the decency to look somewhat shamed at what his mates were doing. But not shamed enough to loosen his grip. 

“You aren’t going to want to miss this ________.” Your gaze swung back to Ace who held a baseball bat aloft, swaying on his feet, his eyes hazy from the eggnog. You lost your breathe as he took a swing at the mirror–the mirror that was supposed to be your way home. But he stopped just short of hitting the glass. You knew he was taunting you. Making you suffer. Suffer like how he thought he was suffering.

You weren’t sure how you missed it all this time: the furtive glances, the longing gazes, and reaching hands. But now it was all so clear. Somehow your closest compatriots were obsessed with you and had finally snapped. It all started a few hours before when you’d run into Deuce and Ace and told them the good news: Crowley had secured a way back to your world. You invited them and anyone else to drinks at Ramshackle in celebration as you packed a few keepsakes. Deuce had brought Jack while Ace wrangled Epel who pulled Sebek along. You all drank and were merry You never expected them all to share a look before Deuce apologized and squeezed your neck, his calloused fingers tenderly but firmly cutting off your air. 

You woke up in the mirror chamber, collared and hands bound behind your back along with your ankles. The rough rope burned as you writhed, but none of your captors seemed to care. Ace and Deuce must have recruited Jack, Epel, and Sebek to help with their scheme. 

“Why?” You’d asked, not yet broken.

“This is for your own good ____________,” Deuce tried to reassure, but Ace had cut in cruelly, “You don’t get to worm your way in our hearts and just leave. Especially not on Christmas.”

Christmas. It was an unfamiliar holiday to you and your world, something Twisted Wonderland celebrated. Apparently it was about joy, goodwill, and peace on earth. You’d even enjoyed the thought of the celebrations before the chance to go home loomed. What a joke. 

Now, Ace stood before the mirror taking practice swings. Deuce stood look out. Jack kept you docile. Epel and Sebek waited, grim faced.

“Stop taunting ‘em Ace.” Epel slurred his words and wobbled. “Just get it over with so we can go home and kick off the first night of Christmas.”

“If you aren’t going to do it, I will.” Sebek’s voice still boomed despite the subdued resignation. 

“Nah, nah. I got this. Excuse me for wanting to savor the moment and really hit home how unkind it was to even consider leaving.”

You garble your response, the leash being pulled too tight. 

“Yeah I thought you’d say that, ______”. 

And then he smashed the mirror. Glass showered. Your heart stopped and your body went cold. It was over. 

But before you had a chance to mourn, Ace had the butt of the bat jutted under your chin and lifted your wet eyes to meet his crazed ones. “And if you so much as even think of looking in another mirror…” He let the threat trail off. 

Then Epel was in front of you, pushing the bat away. “Merry Christmas, honey!” A chorus of joyous “Merry Christmas”es responded. When you said nothing back, Sebek pushed his way to you and squeezed your cheeks in his huge palm. “What do we say, darling?” Another unspoken threat. 

Tw: yandere, Pervy Deuce Spade

All characters are aged up. Thanks again to @yanderecrazysie

You and a dangerous man were caught together under the mistletoe.

Heat suffused your whole face and the tips of your ears. Deuce Spade, the Heartslyabul mafia family’s enforcer had you pinned in the threshold between the main bar area and the private rooms. His crime family had rented out the back for their yearly Christmas celebration, and you were a server bringing out drinks and small plates.

Normally you could have laughed off bumping into someone, but the fact that it was Deuce fucking Spade made it a hundred times more awkward. Deuce Spade, the very man who had been making mooning eyes at you for the past year. The same man who insisted on walking you to your car every night you worked, and who’d broken more than a few arms of patrons who’d dared to touch you.

His face usually held a hint of vitality, a man who enjoyed being out in the sun a fair amount but his job kept him indoors. Now that same face was flushed red. His green eyes held a hopeful longing that gutted you…he was going to go in for the kiss…

The closure was painfully slow; it was as if he expected you to shove him away or turn and run at any second…but you couldn’t find the courage to do either.

Teeth clashed. His tongue worshiped your lower lip, an attempt to entice your own tongue to join with his. Soon his hand fisted in your hair, hard. His other strong palm pressed into your back so that you were chest to chest.

To you, it was an innocent albeit sloppy kiss. Maybe he was tipsy and that made him bold—again, his crush was evident.

But to Deuce, this was more than a kiss. It was a promise. The next time he walked you to your car he would do more than secretly follow you home and stand outside your window for hours. No longer would he break into your apartment to pilfer through your dirty clothes and sniff your underwear. After this kiss, he would have the real thing, your legs wrapped around his head, crying out his name—-

Gorgon!Kenma x Reader

This is my contribution to the amazing Creature Feature Collab! 

Thank you to @natsuonii​ and @viixens​  for letting me join! Please be sure to check out everyone else’s amazing work for this collab as well!

Synopsis: You’re a little frustrated and your neighbor, Kenma, is more than willing to help you out.

Word Count: 3,129

Part 2 Just dropped and can be found here

Warnings: This is for readers who are 18 and older. All characters are over the age of 18. This includes: smut, monsterfucking, teratophilia, drugging (if you squint/want it to be there), feels.

MINORS DNI

The clatter of pens crashing into your living room wall wasn’t nearly as cathartic as it was supposed to be. You weren’t sure why it would be, anyhow. Clawing out the pages of your sketchbook, gnawing down all your erasers, and breaking every point on your pencils hadn’t tamed the roiling irritation flooding your lungs.

Was it too early to call your agent and curse him, his mother, and his little dog too? It was his fault--this was all his fault. Just when you’d finally gotten the hang of your new job, your agent just had to force you into illustrating some sort of monster fucking piece for a pulp fiction magazine…what did that even mean?! What does it look like?! Monster as in mono-eyed fuzzy bear things?

Just as you were about to hit the dial tone to cancel the contract, a soft knocking at your front door stayed your thumb. You would have ignored it, but it came again, this time more insistent. When you opened the door, you were greeted by your cute and introverted neighbor offering you an energy drink while staring at the hallway carpet. 

“Hey Kenma.” You couldn’t swallow the words quick enough--technically there wasn’t any reason for you to know his name. The only reason you knew it was because his loud friend would sometimes yell it down the halls. And then you had committed it to memory like you’d memorized the planes of his stoic face and sweatshirt hidden build. Calling it a simple crush would be the understatement of the decade. 

If he noticed or cared about your use of his first name, he didn’t comment or alter the trajectory of his gaze. You knew that he took some time to meet your gaze anytime the two of you would run into each other. Whether you tried to return his mail when you’d picked it up by mistake or when he’d hold the entrance door open for you, he always kept eye contact with the floor before attempting to lock onto a person. And when his focus honed in on you…

Each interaction with him shortened the delay, and regardless of his slightly pouting lips, his golden, intense eyes scrutinized everything. It seemed like nothing could escape his notice. His gaze took a sharp turn to look behind you, and when you turned to see what he was looking at, heat suffused your cheeks. Your wrecked workspace was on clear display and you could happily die in a hole. 

Gorgon!Kenma x Reader 

This is my contribution to the savior collab! Thank you to the amazing @katsuhera for letting me join! Please be sure to check out everyone else’s stunning work for this collab as well! 

Synopsis: While thinking about your future with Kenma, someone attacks. Apparently, not everyone approves of your relationship with the gorgon.

This can be read as a stand-alone or as a sequel to Anatomically Correct.

Word Count: 2401

Warnings: This in intended more mature audiences as it references to past and future sexual situations. 

Your cheeks stung from the whip of the frigid air while your lungs labored through another half mile of the jog. Staying cooped up in Kenma’s bed, his nest, had been his idea of exercise, but you had wanted to get out of the apartment, move your limbs, and feel some sunshine after burying yourself in work for the past two weeks, desperate to meet a deadline. 

When you’d told Kenma that you would rather go out, he had reluctantly let you go with a pout. Yet, you’d clearly heard him say to your back, “I’ll have hot chocolate for you when you get back.” The memory of that morning was enough to heat your bones, bracing you from the worst of the early winter chill. 

After Kenma had shown his true self to you that summer, your feelings for your introverted neighbor grew--and so did your sexual repertoire. Every three to four nights you’d be back at his door, or he at yours, clawing at the other’s clothes and pressing ravenous mouths together. That had been the norm until, in early September, Kenma had insisted that the two of you were dating and should be monogamous. The way his fervent, golden eyes had shone with determination and a hint of apprehension squeezed your heart. For you it had never been in question. You were his...and he wanted to be yours, too.

Now, in the first stirrings of winter, you were faced with the next step in your relationship... Legs sore, sides aching, you decided to rest on a bench along the park’s route. Getting out of the house hadn’t been the only motivator to have some time alone.

The previous evening, after he’d turned out the light, he voiced a question that electrified the air and shifted the world around you.

“Would you...maybe...think about moving in with me?” 

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about it; for the past while you could swear he murmured the big L-word into your hair before drifting to sleep, and he often referred to you as “his person.” But you’d always envisioned something like this happening months in the future, if not years.

You practically lived at Kenma’s now, but the thought of making it official sent a spike of trepidation down your spine. There was still so much you didn’t know about Kenma and his...deeper nature. He’d answered any questions with honesty and had even hinted that come spring he would be insatiable because of some sort of mating season and all that. With intent, you had avoided delving any further than that; it sounded important and more permanent than what you were comfortable with.

Rolling your neck and flexing your feet, you enjoyed the thrum of adrenaline tingling beneath the skin, despite the ache. It always helped you think. And the more you thought about it, the more you warmed to the idea of experiencing more with Kenma. 

Between one breath and the next, something polar and sharp pressed into your neck, a rough hand fisting into your hair. A scream built in your throat but died when your frantic gaze jerked down to your throat. Your assailant didn’t have a knife--it was a claw. Kenma’s talons couldn’t compare to the full set that was poised to impale your shivering skin.

Your attacker wasn’t human. 

“Stand up slowly,” your assailant said with an easy tone, as if he weren’t holding a human hostage in broad daylight. You obeyed despite your body trembling.

“Just like that,” he continued. For a moment he retracted the claws at your neck, but you didn’t get much of a reprieve before he shoved his hands into the front pouch of your sweatshirt. The sharp ends of his talons rested against the vulnerable flesh of your stomach.

To anyone passing by, you two would look like a couple snuggling in the brisk morning air. Your stomach churned at the thought; he wasn’t Kenma, and the idea that you could be close to anyone like that tasted abhorrent. 

“Why are you doing this?” You tried to keep your voice even, hoping he attributed the shudder to the cold. “I don’t have my wallet on me.” You knew he wasn’t after money, but couldn't  guess at what he did want.

The monster’s face pressed to the back of your ear, and you felt the sneer against the chilled tip. “You’re funny.” The intimacy of the moment ignited a simmering anger in your veins.

Keeping it in check, you let him lead you down the path to a less traveled part of the park. You thought he would remain quiet, giving you nothing, but then he said, “I knew you were pathetic.”

You seized on the snippet of information. “I don’t know you.”

“Well everyone knows you.” Under other circumstances, the disgust in his voice might have hurt, but his tone only flamed the rage building in your bones. This fucker was messing with you, but he made it sound like you were the problem. But you kept a leash on your temper, feelling the deadly claws against your abdomen with each step. 

However, the tether snapped when you saw that he was leading you towards a black van. No way in hell was he going to take you to a secondary location. Acting on instinct, you dropped your weight, causing him to stumble. But before he could react, you straightened your leg and slammed the edge of your tennis shoe just below his knee and spent all your strength on scraping the skin of his shin.

His howl of pain skittered down your spine, but the way he shoved you away from him validated the risk of provoking him. Unfortunately, you weren’t able to plant your feet. The concrete grated your hands and forearms, but you were otherwise fine. Scrambling to your feet, your only thought was to escape. Injuries could be checked later. 

“Fucking bitch!” A heavy hand grabbed your hood and your scream was cut off as he pulled you back, choking you on the neckline of your sweatshirt. 

Your arms swung behind you to try and knock him away, but he caught both your wrists easily in his giant grip. “Try it with the legs and I’ll snap ‘em in half.”

Vision blurred from tears, breaths labored, you couldn’t stop to think of your next move. The rational part of your brain tried to reign in the impulsive part that demanded you stomp into his stomach. 

The battle waging inside your head froze as a menacing hiss resounded throughout the trees. The temperature felt like it dropped several degrees in seconds. The assailant's grasp on you loosened and some deep, primal knowledge led your feet away. Somehow, you knew which direction to go in.

You only took a few steps before strong, warm arms embraced you, engulfing you in a protective hold. The smell of aftershave and cedar told you who it was before you even had to look. Instead, you sought out the monster who almost abducted you. Disappointment drained the adrenaline spurring you on; he looked so normal and forgettable, his claws the only menacing feature to separate him from a regular man. 

He started to say something, but before he could utter a single syllable, Kenma’s sharp voice cut into the air. “Save it.” Animosity and authority pulsed in his tone; you’d never heard this side of him, but he spoke with an authority that couldn’t be feigned or brand-new. 

“The Federation,” the assailant tried again but he didn’t finish as a milky white bled into his wild eyes. His mouth dropped open, drool and foam spilled from his lips. The sickening sound of his knees colliding with the cold cement jolted you out of the semi-trance caused by Kenma’s close proximity. 

Your gaze jerked to look up at your boyfriend. His golden eyes blazed with an indignant blaze. But what alarmed you was his kaleidoscope scales shining in the sun along his bare arms. 

“Why are you still in your pajamas?!” All your attention focused on his t-shirt, sweatpants, and naked feet. He must be freezing, his supernatural nature already despising the cold weather. “What is wrong with you?” You tried to strip off your own clothes to try and cover him.

But before you could completely unzip your jacket, Kenma scooped you into his arms and pressed you into his chest. “ ‘m okay. Are you okay?” You know he saw your scrapes and bruises and figured he was asking for something a little more specific. 

“I’m alright. Just confused.” Which was the truth. You thought you should be more shaken up than you actually were. It was like Kenma’s presence alleviated your fears. “You came for me. That’s all that matters.” And you realized that he would always rush to your side. He had some sort of added sense when it came to you: whether you burned yourself trying to help with dinner or stubbed your toe on the coffee table. Some mysterious force attuned the two of you together. 

“Of course.” Kenma started back towards home. Your shared home. With each step his human guise melded back into place. 

“What did you do to him?” You knew gorgons could manipulate a person’s senses and sanity. But Kenma had only ever used his abilities to give you pleasure in the bedroom. Whatever he did to that guy...it was on a whole other level.

“He’ll relive his deepest nightmares until someone can pull him back into reality.” Something about his tone told you that that monster would be suffering for a while. You couldn’t find it in yourself to care, though.

Neither of you spoke after that, which was fine with you. While he looked to be deep in contemplation, you were also honed in on a thought: when you pictured home, you thought of Kenma...and how your instincts knew how to get to him in those chaotic moments…

Once he got you both inside, he sat you on the kitchen counter and started to fret over the scratches on your hands and arms. “The bandages and rubbing alcohol are under the bathroom sink. Three cabinets from the end,” you said, adorned with a new comfort in his apartment. “But that can wait,” you continued, “we need to talk.” The words burned in your throat--it was like you combust if you didn’t tell him how much you wanted him and that you couldn’t see yourself being anywhere else.

“Kenma--”

“Listen--”

You both spoke at the same time. But in the following pause, he took the initiative. “This is all my fault.” Each word was strained and tears clouded his beautiful eyes. “I should have known the Federation would come after you.” 

Suddenly, you weren't in such a rush to share your epiphany. He needed your attention more. Cupping his cheeks in your hands, brushing the tears away with your thumbs, you waited patiently for him to explain everything to you.

Apparently dating a human was frowned upon in Kenma’s world. When you asked how they could even know about your relationship, Kenma acted troubled. He started to answer, thought better of it, and for a while said nothing. Finally, after a few more failed attempts, you decided to show him that it didn’t matter. 

Pressing your lips to his, you tried to convey all the feelings overflowing in your chest. The particulars didn’t matter--not as long as you were together.

“Tell me after you fuck my brains out,” you said, reaching for the waist of his sweatpants. Sex was a time you could reset time and reconnect with each other. Yet, he gripped your hand with both of his. Your heart pounded for another reason now; his long, usually sure fingers trembled. The events of the day rattled him more than they had you.

“Talk to me,” you urged, pulling him close. 

That seemed to be the final wave that felled the dam keeping Kenma’s words at bay. From one breath to the next, his crumbling arms wrapped around you and he buried his face into your hair. Shudders rocked his body as he gasped out, “its all my fault. I should have been honest with you.” Frantic energy thrummed between each pulse. What was he talking about?

“I shouldn’t have started anything with you--”

Your insistent mouth cut him off. This time, your kiss was firm and full of teeth, tongue, and ferocity. “You don’t get to say that to me. Not after making me love you.” This wasn’t how you wanted to reveal how you shared his feelings. 

Kenma’s vibrant eyes dimmed. “You don’t even know me.”

“How can you say that?” Softness melted to stubbornness as he kept spouting ridiculous sayings. “Of course I know you.” 

You knew his gentle caress, as well as the face he made when he laughed at some stupid cat meme. You knew the way he would hold his breath and refuse to blink while tackling a particularly challenging level of one of his games. You knew his disgusted face when he would have to deal with an incompetent buisness associate. 

You knew all of these facets and more of him…

But he just shook his head, muttering about distancing himself from you.

Like fucking hell

“Kenma…! Just tell me! Stop with all this dodgy bullshit…!”

“I’m the future archon of the Gorgon clan!” 

A buzzing sound shrilled in your ears; the world flickered in and out of focus. Well...that was something. The silence of the kitchen felt more suffocating than when your attacker had strangled you with your sweatshirt collar. 

“Were you ever going to mention that?”

“I thought we could just...hide away from it all. Be normal.”

You nodded slowly without looking at him, unsure of what you would see in his face. “Then that’s what we’ll do.” While you didn’t approve of him keeping his title to himself, it didn’t change what you wanted: Kenma. And really, how was it supposed to have come up?

Maybe, once you could process everything, you would have a different reaction. But for now…

“The Federation,” you spat the name, “has no part in dictating our lives.” 

“No,” Kenma said, sounding more dynamic. “They don’t.” 

I cross-post what I write here on there.