YN/MC alter blog. Currently most aligned with my BC timeline rn but I have BTD and other sourcing as well. Yin=feminine, Mick=masculine. You can choose which you want me to be by using the name you want.
Name: Yin, or Mick. Yin is my feminine name and Mick is my masculine one. Refer to me by whichever you prefer.
Age: Bodily we are 26, but I personally slide around a little bit. Ranges from early 20s to early 30s.
Appearance: I currently look like the typical Broken Colors y/n huevari, but with bigger chompers. The canines are more pronounced when I'm presenting as masculine. All my limbs have been replaced with robotic prosthetics due to my BTD timeline where they were cut off.
Likes: Sushi and other forms of raw fish, shoegaze music, early 2000s aesthetic, emos, cute animals, guys who are dog-coded, girls who are hyena-coded, concerningly rare steaks, collecting bones, weed, alcohol, and obsessive freaks.
Interact: If you're looking for a darling, a fellow weirdo friend, or a paraphile (except pedos we have trauma from one of yall please stay away). Stalkers welcome, but you won't find much - I've learned. It'd be cute to watch you try, though. Keep me updated on that through asks~?
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When you were young, you got lost in the woods after an accident. No one believed you when you said that you met a little boy who found you and helped you. That was years ago now, and you don't really know what you're trying to prove, but you go back into those same woods.
It isn't long before you realize that you're not alone.
[content warning: implied murder and scene of a physical assault]
When you were young, maybe ten years old, you wandered away from a car accident just off a long stretch of road in the middle of nowhere. It had been raining pretty hard and it was dark. You got yourself lost in the woods. You were a little banged up and your head hurt. Your thoughts were scattered and you felt dizzy as you kept moving, not knowing where you were trying to go.
Alone, cold and scared, you froze when you saw a glow from behind the trees. A small boy with an old-looking kerosene lantern came into view, and you didn't know if you were relieved to see someone or frozen at the sight of this little kid all on his own in the woods.
He couldn't've been older than seven, maybe eight, but he was smaller than you. But unlike you, there wasn't a hint of fear on his face.
"Are you lost?" he wondered, and through tears, you nodded, sobbing that you were and that you were hurt. Holding the lantern closer, he saw your injuries and an empathetic sadness spread across his face.
"It's okay... Come on to my house." He offered, but he was already holding your hand to pull you along after him. He led you through the dark, winding woods, and you wondered to yourself how he knew where he was going. But he must have, he finally stopped on a little clearing in the trees with a small cabin.
Despite being so little, he got a fire going all on his own.
"Papa's out huntin', but he'll be back in... three more sunrises." He said matter-of-factly, like it was completely normal. You asked him about his mom.
"Mama's been gone a long, long time." He told you, making sure the fire would keep burning. He went to the cabinet under the sink, grabbing some stuff. He helped clean up your scratches, and put a clean cloth to your forehead. You hadn't known you'd been bleeding.
He didn't look worried at all about being alone, and he seemed used to it, if him cooking you a simple meal on his own was anything to go on.
He looked at you with big eyes as the two of you ate and he asked you so many questions. About everything.
"Do you have any pets? Papa has a dog. Her name is Missy, but she's not very nice. She's out hunting too, but I can't go. Papa says I gotta be the man of the house when he goes out."
"Do you go to school? Papa teaches me stuff, I learn all about all kinds of things!"
"Papa and Missy are all my family. What's your family like?"
At that, you started to sob again, and you weren't sure why. He looked so guilty for making you upset, but you couldn't make yourself stop. He let you sleep in his room, and when he crawled into the bed next to you, He let you hold his stuffed rabbit.
As you slept, the boy thought to himself that it was pretty sad that you were all alone. But as he listened to your soft breathing, he told himself that if no one wanted you, he could keep you. You could be his and he could take care of you. He didn't like to admit he felt lonely, and his papa could be pretty mean and not talk to him sometimes, but maybe he would like you as much as he did? And then no matter what happened, he'd always have you.
He fell asleep holding your hand, wondering if you would stay with him forever.
The next thing you remembered was coming to in a hospital. You hadn't been able to hold onto what you'd seen in the crash, but that was when you learned your family hadn't survived it. You cried for so long and so hard that the nurses had to make the police leave and wait to come back in.
They told you that you'd been found alone in a ditch by part of the search team days later, near frozen with a nasty head wound, no little boy in sight. At the time you'd insisted he'd been real and he was out there, but no one ever found him, or any sign anyone had lived anywhere close in a long while. You weren't sure if you had imagined him with your head injury and your grief, and when you were younger you'd insisted to every police officer, social worker and foster family that he'd been real.
But if he'd told you his name, you couldn't remember... SO much of that time was all one, uncertain blur.
Your therapist said visiting the sight of the crash might finally help you get some closure. Someone had put little cross with plastic flowers in the many years since then, the sight of it made your chest tight. But worse, you kept staring at those woods, telling yourself that it... didn't happen. That he hadn't been real. That you'd just imagined a kind little boy who probably saved your life, that the thought of him had comforted you through the most traumatic event of your life.
You'd just lost your family and your mind had conjured up someone who'd cared for you, and that was all.
But you still went into the trees, unsure if you wanted to find anyone or if you just needed... something. Closure? Proof? A sign? Whatever it could be, you kept walking, trying to retrace your steps from that day. You knew it was damn near impossible, it'd been raining and dark and you'd been concussed and traumatized, but your body kept moving.
It was crazy, and you felt crazy, but he'd never left your mind. The memory of that little boy had carried you through the roughest moments of your life, even after you started to believe he'd been just a figment of your imagination. So it was irresponsible and naive and so many different kinds of dangerous to be wandering the woods alone, the sun going down and temperatures dropping fast. You were armed with little more than a flashlight and a pocket knife you normally used to open packages. And a phone with no signal.
Before long, even your thick coat wasn't enough to keep the chill away, and you wished you'd worn better shoes.
You focused on the sound of your breathing, watching the trailing white puffs hit the air and disappear.
Once.
Twice.
Over and over.
Then.
You heard it.
Someone else's breathing.
You watched your body language, trying not to make it obvious you'd heard anything. Your pace got a little faster, but not an outright run, not yet.
It had a hint of a low pitch behind it if you focused. A man? Footsteps, but not constant. He was trying to stay quiet. You started going a little faster, and he picked up the pace. You needed to run.
You tried to get away, made random turns and grabbing tree trunks to make sudden loops in new directions. You couldn't turn off your flashlight or you'd be running blind, but it was giving you away. You could hear him now, breathing heavy, in your terror it almost sounded like a low growl getting closer and closer.
A hard slam into your back knocked you to the forest floor, and the two of you crashed into a burst of fallen leaves and frantic cries, hands grabbing for any purchase as you tried to rip away from him. His hand grabbed your face, covering your mouth before you could scream. He pressed a hand to your shoulder, pinning you on your back down in the dirt.
"Don't struggle." A low, terrifying voice advised, empty eyes staring into yours. "You'll only make things worse."
For a single, horrifying moment, you truely believed you were going to die.
. . .
But it never came.
"⌠Is⌠that you?"
You didn't want to open your eyes, still thinking this was it, but when he took his hand off your mouth⌠Instead of screaming, you managed to just breathe again. That look in his eyes was gone, replaced by a look that stopped you in your tracks.
The emptiness had been replaced by this⌠warmth, paired with a bright, gentle smile that met his eyes. Why was he looking at you like that?
"It's been so long, I really thoughtâŚ" The man pulled you close to him, squeezing too tight. He was⌠hugging you? Why was he hugging you? "I thought he⌠But it's you! You're okay..."
You pushed back against the stranger, and he saw the confusion and mistrust in your eyes ,still reeling from. you know, being tackled and pinned by a grown man in the woods at night.
"I justâŚ" he seemed⌠ashamed? "I heard someone out here, but I never coulda imagined it would be you. I just⌠"
He was still looking at you with that same warmth. It felt⌠why did it feel⌠familiar?
"I just⌠can't believe you came back to me."
Then, despite it all, you saw it.
He had the same soft brown curls and sweet smile, but that was all that was familiar. He was tall, broad shoulders and a two week-old beard. If you weren't sure it was him, you'd be terrified. But all you felt was... you weren't sure.
You felt happy, vindicated, warm. But you started crying, just ugly bawling where you couldn't catch your breath.
It was him.
Kurt. For the first time in years, you could remember his name. How could you have forgotten?
You called out to him, your voice breaking, and h
"Hey now... " He gingerly touched your face, like he was scared to break you, but you pressed yourself to him, holding on tight. He held on even tighter, resting his head on top of yours.
"I told myself that you'd come back to me..." He sighed. "But you kept me waitin' a long time..."
His voice was deep and rough, but the warmth behind it made you feel... safe again. For the first time in years.
You knew you hadn't made him up. That little boy who'd found you and gave you something to hang onto was safe and all grown up.
You hit him with so much that'd been building up inside you the second you could catch your breath.
That you'd never forgotten him.
That you were glad he was safe, no longer that little boy on his own in the middle of the woods.
That you had missed him.
"I missed you too⌠" He held you tighter, and you let yourself feel⌠safe.
But something nagged at you.
You felt a surge of something that made you feel a bit unsteady again. You pulled back a bit, pushing against his chest to see his face. He blinked.
"What's wrong?" He flashed a soft smile, confused, but still not letting go.
You asked him why the hell had he chased you? Pinned you down? You asked him why he hadn't⌠called out? Made himself known? Was he trying to scare you off?
He paused, his smile unfaltering.
"Ah⌠sorry about all that." He held his hands up, an embarrassed smile on his face. "My place isn't far from here, and this here's my neighbor's property. I saw your flashlight and thought someone was skulkin' around while he's out on a huntin' trip up north. I was just tryin' to scare some trespasser, butâŚ"
He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
"I found you instead, hun."
That hit you dead center, practically knocking the wind out of you. For years, you remembered him as that sweet little boy, but of course he'd grown up, just as you had. So it was hard to reconcile the idea that he'd grown into this tall, lumberjack-looking, sweet talker of a man.
It just wasn't fair, the way he was looking at you. He made your face feel like it was on fire.
"I really did a number with all that, didn't I?" He picked a leaf out of your hair, brushing dirt off your shoulder. You froze, finding yourself hyperaware of his touch. "What're you doin' out here in the middle of the night anyway?"
It was a long story, you said with a sigh.
"At any rate, we should get back to the cabin." He held out a hand. You took it without a second thought and he started to lead you through the trees.
"And I'd turn off that flashlight." He noted with a frown. "Never know what's wanderin' around out here.
With anyone else, you would've felt uneasy about what was practically a stranger leading you in the dark. But as crazy as it sounded, you trusted him. You always had. His rough, weathered palm held tight to your own as you kept close, so much on your mind.
What had his life been like for the last fifteen years? What kept him in the same woods you met him in? Had he grown up happy and loved? All things you'd wondered as you'd grown up on your own, thinking about that lonely little boy.
He'd never forgotten that day when the crying, injured little thing in the woods. He was young then, he didn't understand anything. It was before his father taught him how the world really worked.
When he was small and helpless, he couldn't stop his father from taking you away from him. You'd been with him in that cabin for three days. The two of you ate together, you slept in his bed with him, and he showed you how to start a fire. You'd seemed so surprised about how he could do so much on his own. He wanted to ask you so much about what it was like to grow up outside the forest, but if he asked you about your family, you would get this faraway look in your eyes and start crying again.
He never knew what to do when you cried. His father never let him cry. So when you curled up into yourself, weeping because of something he'd asked, it made him feel so helpless. When he came too close, you would grab him and hold on tight, and while he still felt confused, he held you right back.
His father came back on the third sunrise, just like he'd said.
He took one look at you and he'd gotten so⌠angry.
"Junior." he said in the tone that let Kurt know he'd done the wrong thing. "Look at me."
He grabbed his son by the arm, forcing the boy to face him. He wasn't loud, he didn't yell, but his voice used to make Kurt feel this intense fear that stabbed at his insides. The grip he had on him was starting to hurt, but he knew what would happen if he tried to pull away, even as young as he was.
He was furious with what he'd done. He told his son that he knew that he was never supposed to bring anyone back to the cabin. If he saw someone, he was supposed to hide and tell
That someone would be looking for a kid.
If they came looking, they would find the bodies.
He grabbed you, and you fought him, screaming. One hit with the butt of his rifle and you went down hard. Kurt yelled and cried and begged him to give you back, that you were his. But his father just grabbed him again and squeezed tight, the pain shooting up his arm. The look his father gave him when he cried in pain⌠disgusted with him, telling him that he was soft like his mother.
"Did you tell them your name?"
The biggest rule he was never to break. He wasn't supposed to talk to outsiders, he wasn't supposed to let them follow him back, and he was NEVER to tell them his name.
If he did, his father would kill you like everyone else he hunted in those woods.
"Junior, answer me now."
"No, I did not, sir." He lied, making sure the pain in his arm didn't make him cry again.
He had his hunting dog Missy guard him while he took you away. He'd already been gone for days, and food ran out quickly. It was all to punish him for betraying his father. He couldn't ask him whether he'd killed you or not, but he didn't keep any of your things, and he didn't wait a long time to hunt again like he did after he killed someone.
He never saw you again, until now.
You were older, of course, but you were still weak. Scared. You needed to be protected. Seeing you again made him feel something⌠he wasn't sure what exactly it was.
But his father was gone now. That man took his mother from him, then he took you away. He held onto his loss and rage until he was stronger than him. He thought his son was beaten down, scared into loyalty, that he would keep making himself useful to his father.
Keep helping him kill anyone he chose to. That he needed to.
So he never saw his axe coming.
No one was left who could take away what was his.
He squeezed your hand tighter as he led you to the cabin. He knew your eyes wouldn't've adjusted to the dark yet, so when he felt you lean on him and cling to his side, it made him feel... excited.
He was glad that he hadn't hunted in a while, there wouldn't be any mess to clean up so you didn't get scared. His father used to tell him that one day he would need to choose from his prey and start a family to carry on what he'd taught Kurt. That he needed to keep up the family tradition.
There was a part of him that wanted to stop after his father was gone, but he⌠couldn't. There was something in him, deep down, that made him just like him. He wasn't cold and angry like his father was and he didn't want to hurt anyone, but he stillâŚ
Had to.
You would've been dead too if he hadn't seen it was you he hunted.
He'd already thought he'd lost you once. The warmth of your hand in his made him feel⌠Complete. Like that empty place inside that gnawed away at him from time to time was finally full.
He could finally keep you, like he'd always wanted.
Today was just the start of the rest of your lives together.
reader might have a bit of indirect transference with our boy here, they conflate the pain of losing their family with meeting him and held onto the memory of him in their grief and lonliness, and now it's all come flooding back
Kurt is just so jazzed that you're alive and he found you! he gets his best (and only) friend back! yaaayy!
given the gender-neutral nature of the reader, his dad probably didn't mean for Junior to pick this particular prey for making a family and keeping up the "family tradition", but Junior never was very good at following directions, like he didn't think he ever had to say "don't kill me specifically, son". that one was probably pretty important, pops
currently unsure of the relationship between Kurt's mom and dad. was it more or less consensual? was she aware of the killing? did he kill her or did she just pass? dad never told Kurt, talking's not his strong suit, and im not sure how young he was when she passed either. so that's up in the air for now
just a line of killers raising killers in isolation, a mix of raising them to believe that their urges are normal and not knowing any other way of living.
Kurt's name was proposed by @spiderfly-tree-rat on the discord, and it fit so well that nothing else would do. I didn't want him to just be Junior, even if he is a Jr., technically, but when you're thinkin up yandere names for fictional guys people might be into, Junior by itself isn't the name you think people will be messaging you like "Junior!! that's my wife lol, that's my stabby little golden retriever husband" it's just not the vibe lol
plus, no one calls him Junior anymore, literally, since Senior got axed
i can see future parts to this one being written if people are into Kurt, but nothing is written up as of now. it's currently a blank slate, but i can see great potential with him going full yandere on his hun
also, optional, but in his brain, i think the full beloved's nickname is "hunny bunny", it's a bit too "bunny being chased through the woods by the wolf" fic vibe, but you know what, it's canon now. i typed it out and talked myself into it. he calls the reader hun, but in his brain it's the full thing. Kurt means wolf anyway and im leaning into the cringe element, fight me lol
honestly, i just thought it would sound nice in the possible slight accent im giving him with the present participles ending in apostrophes, plus i love hun, hun is cute)
header is edited from the manga Solo Camping for Two, p much because of the woodsy setting and the main character having a beard lol, it's a cute manga, but the main girl makes a terrible, anime-esque first impression in chapter 1 and the fanservice is a bit gratuitous early on, but i love specific interest manga
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yandere who uses a love potion !! {tw: obsessive behavior, drugging, dub-conish themes, no further than touching}
everything feels so right â
you think through the haze that clouds your mind, seeps and swirls into your vision, where the only thing you can feel is his fingers raking through your hair.
â and yet so, so wrong.
the man in front of you, drunk off of the affection that you're now so unwillingly giving him, can only gush over your expression, leaning in to brush his lips against the apple of your flushed cheek. you blink slowly, feeling your lips turn up in a smile that only encourages him further,
oh, and how you love the way he whispers against your skin, his hooded eyes that peer at you with their undyingâ
no. you don't love him; you hate this man, remember?
remember the way you'd bristle and seethe at his bold and creepy advances, remember the way the pit of your stomach would drop when you saw him at work, remember the way you had slapped him once for his wandering hands and even felt unsafe going home alone, knowing he was out there, watching.
why can't you remember?
i-it's somewhere, you can feel it screaming at the back of your mind, telling you to wake up, to move your limbs out of his tight embrace. you had only started feeling this open since he...
since you had that drink.
your lips part, and you feel like you might say something, anything. he beats you to it, however. swallowing your resistance in his mouth, utterly delighted when your body gives up to the effects of the drug. he admits, it was pretty hard to get a hold of that potion, and even harder to slip it into your drink without you bolting away. cute thing, yeah, he noticed that â the way you'd avoid his eyes at work and rush out, always those pests for friends swarming around you.
no matter, though; the results are worth it. he'd do it all over again if it means witnessing the mess you've become in his hands, melting helplessly without a clue.
the part of you that does have one, withers away now, crumbling under his touch. you can only close your eyes and let it happen.
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Loverboy Werewolf who was never really interested in humans before. Always setting his sights on the other female wolves in the pack. But that was before he happened across you, a perfect and plump thing lying so prettily in the meadow on his packâs grounds.
Loverboy Werewolf who introduces himself to you by chasing a nearby deer into the meadow and promptly âsavingâ you from getting trampled. As if the deer were more dangerous than him.
Loverboy Werewolf whoâs usually so good at talking to women, his tongue silver and his wit quick. But in the face of you he was nothing but a bumbling baboon who could barely utter a word. Luckily it was something you found charming in its own unique way. A soft blush on your cheeks that he couldnât help but mirror.
Loverboy Werewolf who goes to the meadow daily, sometimes multiple times a day, in order to get just a chance at seeing you. Usually youâre there and on the rare occasion youâre not he always feels his heart drop into his stomach. If he could he would spend all waking and sleeping hours with you.
Loverboy Werewolf who will roll around in the flowers with you, talking and laughing your hearts out. Heâll watch as the sunlight casts a glowing warmth across your face. Like it too is drawn to your beauty and craves you as much as he does. All of nature is made more beautiful by you.
Loverboy Werewolf who proves it as he plucks flowers from the meadow and spends days trying to learn how to make flower crowns from a kind older woman in the pack. When he finally gets it down the first thing he does is make one for you, placing it gently on your head. The sight takes his breath away and from that day onward he makes a new one for you to wear.
Loverboy Werewolf who is no doubt in love with you. And he hopes you love him too. He thinks you do. At least the flowers he plucks the petals off of say so. If the way you act around him says anything then you definitely do. Especially when you egg him on to make chase.
Loverboy Werewolf who plays along with your games as he chases you around the meadow. But it never lasts long before heâs tackling you into the grass, protecting your head and rolling over till you lay on top of him.
Loverboy Werewolf who always sucks in a breath as you wiggle on top of him, your body rolling and grinding in a way that canât be on accident. His heated eyes bore into your own, his claws finding their way into your plush waist and guiding your movements. Rocking you back and forth against his growing erection.
Loverboy Werewolf who tries so hard to stay calm but quickly ends up losing himself. Picking up pace and grinding you hard against his bulge. Rolling your hips up so it hits your sensitive clit every single time. He loses further control as your mewl sounds so much like a wolfâs howl. It sends him nearly feral for you every time.
Loverboy Werewolf tries to save your clothes as he undresses you. But his patience wears too thin too fast and your clothes end up a shredded mess no matter what you two do.
Loverboy Werewolf whoâs so impatient to get you on his cock yet the second he bottoms out inside of you he keeps you still. Content just to feel your tight heat wrapped around his twitching girth. No matter how much you squirm or beg he never starts his thrusts until heâs ready. Feeling you and soaking in the sensation. Basking in the warmth of your embrace. He relishes it and wouldnât rush a second of it.
Loverboy Werewolf who fucks you like an absolute beast when he finally is ready. Crushing the flowers beneath you as he ruts into like the wild animal that he is. The force of his thrusts sending your body flying upward before he slams you back down his length. The leaking angry tip of his cock making out with your cervix and smashing against every sensitive spot along your walls.
Loverboy Werewolf who hooks his arms beneath your legs, nearly bending you in half in order to get as close to you as possible. Finding new ways to jackhammer his dick into your silken walls in order to mold them to the shape of his shaft and get as deep within you as possible.
Loverboy Werewolf whose pace is utterly relentless. Fucking into you with only one goal in mind. Your pleasure. And when youâre crying and babbling through broken words, begging for his knot, he gives it to you. Of course, heâd give you anything you desire. He watches in awe as his knot swells up and the second he snaps his hips, popping the last of his knot into your already overstuffed cunt, you immediately cum. Your release triggering his own right after you, his knot locking you two together.
Loverboy Werewolf who inhales deeply, welcoming the perfect mixture of your flowery scent combined with his that wafts from your very pores. He canât get enough of it even as he nuzzles into your throat, nipping at the sensitive flesh and inhaling deep. Your responding giggles send his heart fluttering. Gosh, how he wants to cherish you always.
Loverboy Werewolf who suddenly has the deep urge to sink his fangs into the flesh of your throat. To mark you as his and make you his mate. Whether you were a werewolf, a human, or even a damn vampire, he didnât care.
Loverboy Werewolf who somehow resists the urge, not wanting to do anything rash without having talked to you. To get your unwavering consent. To have you beg to make you his as much as he yearns to beg to be yours. If he spends any longer consumed by your scent he may not last much longer. So he leans back, looking down at you as if you hung the moon and the stars.
Loverboy Werewolf who doesnât say a thing, letting his eyes speak of the depth of his feelings as he plucks a nearby flower from the ground. One that made it intact after your sweaty activities. Gently he tucks it behind your ear, mesmerized by the sight of you once again.
Loverboy Werewolf who is so enchanted he doesnât even notice it was the same type of flower he always picked to test if you were in love with him. The same flower that said yes every time.
yknow, sometimes I think the area I live would genuinely be a better place if it was more open to sex. the culture here is so prudish while being oversexed at the same time. so many people could use the stress relief of a more sex-positive culture...
that's why I think volunteer stations should exist. on every street corner, a little station where people can go to be used, probably not much bigger than a payphone box - completely unobtrusive. it should have all kinds of built-in things - restraints to keep the volunteer toy standing, cushioned seating if the user doesn't want to do things standing with storage inside, and of course in your storage all sorts of toys and plugs and lube and condoms for people to select from.
anyone should be able to just walk down to their nearest open volunteer station, and anyone should be able to use a volunteer however they wish. I should be allowed to go down to my street corner and wait for someone who wants to use my holes. I should be able to tie myself up in one and leave myself vulnerable to whoever decides to stop by.
