Penned Daydreams

Cursed writings I want to share with you. beware, yanderes ahead

[theforbiddendraft]

Masterlist

My body was engraved in his mind like sermons on church walls. He was worshipping me and I didn’t know where to take this believer.

-excerpt Cotton Candy Fields

Warning: I mostly write yandere with dark themes, minors do not engage. I am 22

I like to write yans that scare the ever living shit out of the reader, hehehe

I'll do my best to update it regularly. The goal is to fill it up with daydreams. (more like nightmares)

Lastly MAKE SURE when you ask to be tagged for a series it's under the latest chapter of that series. I write for you lovelies to enjoy, so I don't wanna miss your comment 😊.

You can also ask to be in the master taglist by commenting under this post. 💕

You are welcome to spam like my stuff, I won't block you.🫣🤠 Have fun.

Stories:

(These contain several chapters) between 1.5k to 2.5k words per post.

1. Cotton Candy Fields (yan kidnapper cowboy x reader)

2. Love like Unpolished Gold (obsessed industrialist husband X Lady reader)

3. Master and the Novice (Yandere treasurer x Lady reader)

One shots:

(1 to 2 posts)

Lamb for the wolf's delight. {Yan Enemy King x Princess reader} (hiatus, brain not working)

The Impossible Man {Yan ex-boyfriend X fem reader} [completed]

Ruined {Yan Lord x Lady reader} [completed]

In the works

Yan merchant x princess reader

Yan roman general x female reader

Yan master of coin x Lady reader

Yan CEO X desperate Fem reader

[theforbiddendraft]

Do you mind I make Fanart of your ocs and post them in socials? With credit and free of course.

I like cotton fields & love and unpolish gold (sorry if typos)

If u want them in a specific pose or note down important physical features&vibe u can tell me.

go for it love! i have no specific directions for you, draw them the way you like it <3

[theforbiddendraft]

I feel like a lot of people are rushing you to write. And I just wanted to let you know that you owe us nothing. And honestly dont listen to them, write at your own pace in your own time. Your irl priorities are so much more important. Thanks for sharing all of your writing, and I hope everything goes well!!!

Thank you!!! And also to all the other messages all of you sent.

I wanted to write rather than do my assignments several times but I had to make the right choice 😭💔

[theforbiddendraft]

Hi just checking in.. Tumblr has been very lonely and boring to me..since u haven't updated ToT, but no pressure i hope ur doing well! Hope to see an update in the near future!

(sorry if i sound demanding i promise that's not my intentಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ)

That's so sweet anon. Just been stressed about uni and finding a job. 💀 In this economy 'DUN DUN'

[theforbiddendraft]

come backkkkkkk😭😭😭😭💔

Soon babbyyyy ❤️

[theforbiddendraft]

Are you okay, honey?;n;

Yes anon😭 thank you for asking. Just busy with uni. I am hopping to release a oneshot this week. I wrote it to help me face my fear of being a shit writer (lol). But hoping to get back to my series soon.

[theforbiddendraft]

do you post on ao3?

Hey anon, not at the moment. I only started in August of this year and I am still figuring out my posting schedule and writing style. Eventually I will expand to ao3 but for now tumblr is where I post everything. :)

[theforbiddendraft]

Had to gift you!! Your writing is so good and we (I) miss you

Hellooo!!! thank you so much captin <3, I was gonna reply to you but I got distracted and adhd makes me forgetful. I am so grateful for the lovely present (literary badge), displaying it proudly in my feed. Also, thank you all the anons for the kind messages and being patient as I get my life together :)

[theforbiddendraft]

When will you update cotton candy fields༼⁠;⁠´⁠༎ຶ⁠ ⁠۝ ⁠༎ຶ⁠༽

Hello everyone, sorry for disappearing but I have been busy with uni and other stuff irl.

Even though i want to write, I have to do the mature thing and deal with my obligations irl so I won't be able to post for awhile, but I hope to comeback soon.

Sorry for the break 💔.

[theforbiddendraft]

🤩 a little update for y'all.

[theforbiddendraft]

Master and the Novice.

Summary: Yandere treasurer x Lady reader. A master schemer, a man unwavering in purpose, finds his focus shattered by a Lady at court. And when she denies him any consideration, he orchestrates a trap to ensnare her.

Warning: NC, blackmail, age gap (37m,22f), manipulation, parental abuse.

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Chapter 1: An Unusual Appointment

Being summoned by the Master of Coin before supper was not a usual occurrence for you. Having twice rejected his appeal for an audience, the clever wretch had ensured that the third attempt was less of a request and more of a summons. There had been a silent threat in his missive delivered earlier today, disguised behind gaudy penmanship and polite terms.

You were enraged by the man's boldness in sending a written missive; it was solid evidence of his mistreatment of you. Even if he was a trusted advisor to the King of Arclin, the very King you were trying to woo, unsuccessfully thus far. Still, your finer senses insisted that you visit him in secret, for if there was a threat, it was best not to bring attention to it. 

So you found yourself strutting down the hallways of Palace Mirano. Although nothing about your appearance or behavior was atypical, you couldn’t help but feel as though every creature that passed you knew of your unusual appointment, as if his threat was branded on your face.

‘I have some news of great importance, Lady Y/N, surely altering the course of your days here at court.’ 

As you made your way from the south-east wing to the north-east wing, the shift in ambience was evident. The hallways were decorated with superior tapestries, grander embellishments, finer silks. You supposed the closer one was to the king, the finer their existence. How you hated this place —the rotten palace and its rotten politics. As a young girl, you had always dreamt of being at the king's court, but now, after your short time here, you wished to return home to your small keep to the north.

It had been a year since your mother permitted you to follow your father to court. He was a Lord and a member of the King's greater council, along with some thirty other men; some were nobility, while others were ministers from the temple. Your father, the Lord Polinas, had once served as Ambassador to a vassal state—a charge that now fell upon your brother, whom you saw rarely. Your father's ambition ruled your life, for both his children were nothing more than pawns to be abused. Furthermore, having his daughter as a consort to the king would move Lord Polinas from the greater council to the king's inner circle, a rare honor. 

Your thoughts ceased just before the last turn to his private apartments in the palace; your steps faltering. Doubt and apprehension filled you. The truth was, the man vexed you. His fixation with you had been evident the first few months at the palace. It had been odd to have his attention, for whispers at court painted him differently; he was a man unwavering in purpose, wholly devoted to the king. Even at seven and thirty, he hadn’t married or courted any ladies. And yet you had broken his focus, a dent in his devotion. Those pale green irises would follow you during banquets like a hawk following its prey. You, of course, had a king to seduce and ignored his approach when he attempted to court you. Soon his gaze shifted from desire to disdain to indifference. Why then had he initiated this meeting? Sent that godforsaken missive. 

Forcing your legs to move, you made the final turn, waiting for one of his guards to announce you. Not a moment later, you were let in by a servant girl. The petite girl led you through his foyer, walking past several arched doorways till you reached what seemed to be his private receiving room. Your eyes swept over the chamber, beautiful and immense, a clear token of his place as the king’s trusted advisor. Suddenly, realization dawned on you –as if you had been blind before to his position and power in this palace, it had been bold to ignore him, dangerous even. 

“The Lord will be here shortly, please help yourself to the refreshments, my Lady,” spoke the girl, head bowed, much more docile than the servants in your chamber. 

“Thank you”, you replied. The only response you received was another bow, and then she scurried away, leaving you in the quiet of the massive space. 

You didn’t touch a morsel of food; nausea sat tight in your stomach. Your mind drifted once again to the devilish man. He wasn’t exactly beautiful; his face was too harsh, too rugged. Despite his age, he made for an imposing figure at court, lean and tall, demanding respect even from those who abhorred him. In his youth, he had fought by the king’s side as a general; their bond forged in the depths of war, stronger than steel. But now he was regarded as a master schemer, playing his hand with careful consideration and never without his share of dirty tricks.

Your musings were interrupted by a honeyed baritone, “Ah! Forgive my rudeness, Lady Y/n, an unanticipated situation demanded my attention.”

You turned to see him standing by the arched doorway, clad in an embroidered black tunic, its collar standing tall, framing his jaw. Heavy metal clasps ran down the front of the garment, gleaming like armor plates. In contrast to his perfect clothes was his face, littered with scars, the most prominent of which began at his cheekbone, splitting the corner of his lips, ending at his chin.

He watched you with his head slightly tilted, a tight smile on his face.

“I took no slight, Lord Bonnessec,” you tilted your head in turn, mimicking his false politeness, “matters of the state take precedence.”

The shift in his gaze was evident after you tilted your head; you were mocking him, and he knew. 

“Oh, no, I would never wish to make you wait, especially considering how hard it is to secure a fraction of your time.” He bit back, derision replacing propriety. 

So you spoke sweet as nectar, to soothe the situation, “Ah-, the past week has been impossibly bus–”

His voice interrupted, quieter, more thoughtful, “I do believe in the four months past, you have not deigned to speak to me until now.” The words were said as though it was a simple observation, as though keeping track of the last time one spoke to an acquaintance was normal. 

“I am sur–”

“And a little over three weeks since you looked at me, really - looked - at - me.” The longing in his regard made you look away, dread expanded. What is happening?

“Funny, that I should matter so little to you”, he finally moved away from the entrance towards the refreshments, his tone casual and conversational now, the theme of his words anything but. You twisted as he walked, eyes glued to him, like prey watching the predator.

“In this court, I am second only to the King. –Of course, there is the king’s steward, tsk his brother,” the slight disdain evident in his voice, raising a brass pitcher, he poured wine into two goblets. 

“But… between you and me,” his attentive gaze lifted to yours, as if seeking your confidence, “that’s just a token act. To refuse his own brother the Stewardship would have been impolite, –despite the enmity between them.” 

Lifting the goblet of red wine in your direction, he offered it to you. Despite your sudden thirst, you decided that being sober when dealing with this cunning man was far better. 

“Thank you, but I must decline, reds sit sour on my tongue."

He smirked, placing the goblet on the parlor table between the two of you. 

“Shame, it’s one of my favorites. As a matter of fact, the grapes grow not too far from your keep.” He took a sip, a delighted hum reverberating from his chest. “Oh, do sit down, my Lady, we have much to discuss.”

Stiff as a board, you took a seat across from him. Why had you been foolish enough to come here? That cloaked threat seemed minuscule now, to the threat you felt in being here with him all alone. 

No! There were guards nearby. 

His guards, you fool. 

“My post requires that I survey the flow of coin to and from the king's treasury. What is spent, borrowed, and most importantly owed.” You noted the heavy emphasis on the last word. 

“I am sure you are wondering why I am boring you with such stately matters.” His hands reached for a scroll on the table beside him, “After all, you have banquets to attend, and a king to seduce.”

The complete abandonment of decorum was a strike to the face. How dare he say something so crude? No matter the truth it held. It seemed that you alone would have to maintain civility now; such outright hostility, even in private, won’t do.  

Willing yourself to contain your rage, you spoke with cultivated disdain, “Lord Bonnessec, I urge you to maintain decorum, for once it is lost, it is not easily regained. I’ll do you the favor of overlooking your impropriety this once.”

Rather than taking offence, his lips curved with smug amusement, his face similar to a child watching a jester make a fool of itself. 

“How gracious of you, my Lady, but your efforts are wasted. You see, I wish to drop all veils of civility between us.” 

leaning forward, he placed the scroll on the parlor table, expecting you to read the contents, but you were too taken aback by his words.

“I think I ought to leave, excuse me.” You rose to leave.

“Won’t you have a look at what I foun-”, before he could finish, you interject, tired of his games. 

“I will take my leav–”

“DO NOT DISMISS ME”, he roared with unrestrained fury, rattling the very air around you. Slowly, you sat back down, terrified of the man before you. 

“By the saints,” he sighed, “Forgive my oversight, you… you make me forget myself.” 

Knowing that the quiver in your voice would betray you, you kept silent. Raised voices were your vulnerability, undoing you like a child on a thunderous night. And his…, his was the harshest one you had ever been subject to. With a bowed head, you attempted to will the tears away.

“Never mind that, we shan't stray from the matter at hand. I have been examining your father’s affairs at court.” 

Your chest constricted, breathing becoming impossibly difficult. Eyes still glued on your clenched fists, you forced yourself to make sense of his words. 

He continued speaking apathetically, “ My examination revealed lost funds, while your father had served as the ambassador to Tazimra, and the losses have continued even as your brother serves as the ambassador.” 

He fell silent, waiting for you to reply, but it was all too much for you. This court and its games. You were only a girl of two and twenty, and your father told you nothing of his affairs.

“To put it simply, My Lady, your father has been stealing from the King, no small amount, might I add. It’s treason worthy of execution and loss of title for the family.” 

Finally, you look at him, your sight blurred by unshed tears. Had your vision been clearer, you might have noticed the flicker of concern on his face. 

“I will– I will speak to my father, I am sure he would be glad to come to an arrangement with you,” you said shakily, misunderstanding his intentions and desires completely. 

Curiously, he watched you, studying the shake of your leg, the heaving of your chest, the fear seeping from your pores, pungent and intense.

“An arrangement?” he questioned.

You had concluded he wished for a bribe, a share of the stolen goods.

“I assume y-you wish for a share of…”, you hesitated, not wanting to admit to theft you knew nothing of. 

To your utter dismay, he laughed, a powerful and deafening sound, reverberating off the stone walls like a death knell.

“You think I wish to pocket your father’s stolen coin. You insult me, dearest…” he said sweetly, yet you could hear the contempt behind his words. It was your turn to be befuddled. Why else were you here? 

He rose from the armchair to join you on the settee, settling a little too close, patchouli and sandalwood invading your senses. Grabbing a loose tendril resting on your shoulder, he rubbed the luscious lock between his fingers, admiring it. 

“I suppose I do wish to make an arrangement,” lifting it to his face, he took a deep breath, wanting to inhale you entirely, “But it is you who must satisfy the requirements, not your father.”

You tried not to cry, but it seemed you were still a pathetic little girl. Tears fell freely now, thick and heavy, staining your pride. How foolish were you to think you could intimidate Blamore Bonnessec, that you could ignore him and leave unscathed? 

“W-what is it that you want, My Lord?” you asked, each word quivering.

Dropping the lock, he wiped away the tears on your cheek.

“You.”

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This has been sitting in the drafts for awhile, It'll probably only be five chapters. All the names etc are totally made up, I Imagine it to look like game of thrones aesthetically.

and give me time for ccf :))

series taglist is open.

Master Tag list @hopingtocleaemedschool @aenishas @butterflyevans @lilyalone @sachitales @mementomorimo @hugefanofhannibal @eleanor-florista @tesssatruffel @favme01 @prettyjay103 @i-wear-wet-socks313 @afternoonfairy @datoneartist @jkayy-prodian @ilyannailyanna @minshookie29 @sadbirdy @waveewav

[theforbiddendraft]

Do u have any idea how many chapters you think cotton candy fields will end up being? I'm always looking forward to the next chapter :)

Honestly I have no idea, I think I mentioned this before as a comment but I have plot points that will unfold to help the story progress but how many chapters it will take is a mystery. :)

also it'll be a while still till I upload the next chapter.

[theforbiddendraft]

Taglist for love like unpolished love.

 @type-ink @miranexx  @wintersgel  @iamapotatoe @lovemegirl77 @lostintale @colddeerinternet @chiz-zuru @nahnah27  @kalpakahini @cvndiee @lavender543 @magicaldestinyharmony  @soft-moonbeam @alittletiredcry  @uhlexis @fvckcare @aesthetic-dummy @rad4bean @queenfairyfangirl @maria-trisha @why-am-i-here-again-shitheads @bloessom @songbirdgardensworld @moony00lightstar @celestialrage69 @jsprien213@greatwitchsongsinger @angwlart @sirenetheblogger @nickey-diano  @maddielafleuer @waveewav @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni @oyasumipuun @The-hist0rian @avekys @rededfoxy @wintereve3 @mallowryblog @melodic-cats @missdragoona106 @whiteoakoak @l1lacm1st @librincesd @moonkissedgirl @adamsepel @colddeerinternet @scmdsblog @lover-girl009 @e-ccc @flamewings1342 @badidea312322 @darlingmira  @extra-cum-quotient @blueiones @princesssparklekittyqueen @merakicafee@pongpong253@harukihatsune@leelovesmadly @bluesheep095

[theforbiddendraft]

Love like Unpolished Gold. 

Obsessive Rich Industrialist Husband x Lady Reader

Warnings: dub/con, slight abuse (verbal, victim blaming etc), gaslighting, past abuse from parent.

Summary: For Arthur Evans Green, entry into English high society demanded a key—and you were it. You were supposed to be a tool but things were changing, feelings blooming.

chapter 1, <ch 4 [5] 6>

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Chapter 5: Drunken Jealousy

With uncanny agility, Arthur strode away from his wife. The carefully curated mask of propriety he wore was slipping away, threatening to reveal the frenzied man it hid. The guests' pretentious chatter grated against his ears, Why had he ever considered welcoming the pompous lot into his home? He wanted them all gone now. 

The hallway outside the rambunctious ballroom did little to subdue his ire; the commotion of violins and chatter still pricked at his composure. Arthur needed quiet solitude to recollect himself, to remind himself that this marriage was a sham, and he had no right to expect anything of you. Oh! But how desperately he wanted you, all of you. He wanted to be the sole subject of your affection, your devotion, hell! Even your resentment would be welcomed, anything but the agonizing indifference you offered him now.

Arthur headed to his study, rage carrying each thunderous step. He shoved the door open, the sound breaking the stillness, and entered his sanctuary of paper and mahogany, only to find that it had been desecrated by a sophisticated leather box resting on his desk. Of course, you had mentioned the delivery to his study, but in his frenzied state, he had failed to register the information until now. 

The sight of the box undid him. Crossing the room, he flipped it open, wanting to inspect the present his wife had bought for another man. Red velvet lined the inside, and nestled within was a bottle of the finest scotch he had ever seen. A maniac laugh split through him at the sight, a gift fitting for a king, and HIS WIFE had bought it for an insufferable pompous wretch.   

“WE? – We!! How preposterous!” Arthur exclaimed aloud, his mind a tangled mess of unbound fury and jealousy, “Haa! As if I would ever agree to buying anything for that ass!” 

Unable to bear the sight of the hideous object, he slammed it shut and sank into the leather armchair at his desk. Leaning forward, he rested his forehead in his palm and took in a deep breath, failing to calm his frantic heart. Worst of all was that horrible foreign feeling in his belly, a twisting and stabbing ache. Why did his wife care so deeply for another? All that effort for what… “damn you, Y/N…” he whispered, resenting you for his pathetic condition.

While Arthur unraveled in the study, you attempted to converse with the attendees, but his rage-filled gaze was all you could think of. Before unease tore you apart, you decided to seek your husband, to ask him what had troubled him. 

Outside his study, you hesitated for a moment before knocking on the door, the commotion of the ballroom a humming in the background.

“What!!” shouted Arthur. Perhaps seeing him was a bad idea.

“May I come in?” you squeaked. Silence reigned for a painfully long moment, and you almost turned away, when finally a more composed response permitted you in.

The door opened to reveal the most brilliant room you had seen. Imposing mahogany shelves lined each wall, stretching to the ceiling, each one heavy with leather-bound volumes. The window by his desk let in the orange glow of a gas lamp from the street. In your moment of admiration, Arthur watched you, noting the wonderment on your face. 

‘Does she like books?’ he asked himself.

Your wandering gaze finally fell on the man, who looked a mess. His usually well-kept hair hung astray, and his brow seemed to be fixed in a deep frown. Closing the door, you stepped forward.

“Arth–,” you halted, remembering he had disliked hearing his name on your tongue, “Is something the matter?, You seemed – you seemed unhappy." 

A viscous smirk settled on his lips, taking you aback. 

“Is something the matter, Haa!,” he barked out, “Yes, sweet wife, there is a matter of the most vexing nature,” his words sharp and cold, worsened your delicate state. 

“Oh, if there is anything I could do to help…” You murmured hesitantly, unsure if you had overstepped, “Anything at all.”    

Leaning back, Arthur regarded you—his wife, who, while wearing the very satin and pearls he had given her, dared to flirt with another man. How he resented you then, tempting little minx, his minx. At that very moment, Arthur decided that Hadley would never taste a drop of the whiskey you had bought. 

“I have decided not to partner with Hadley.”

The dejection on your face was almost instant; all the effort you had devoted to help appease Lord Hadley had been for nought. Moreover, you felt dejected for Arthur, who had spent days and nights slaving away for this partnership to succeed. 

“I am sorry, it is a shame,” you said, sincerely.

Misled by his false assumptions about your wanton nature, Arthur concluded the sincerity of your dejection was for Hadley. Arthur felt like a victim, swindled and cheated, his manly pride insulted by your actions tonight.   

His gaze hardened, “And you are to cease all contact with that man.”

Ignoring such an influential man would be improper, and since propriety dictated your very being, so naturally you reasoned.

“But… It would be impossible to avoid him outright.”

Through clenched teeth, Arthur spoke, “You’ll do as I say, and I won’t hear any more of this.” 

More than his words, his manner of speaking stung you, but you obeyed, nodding at his cold declaration.  

Trying to resist your subservient nature was a lost cause; years of abuse from your father had trained you into docility — a pet made so by necessity, a creature of self-preservation.

However, even as he watched you submit to his decision, his vehement jealousy was not satiated. It demanded a show of possession, an inconceivable urge to stake his claim, to remind you he was the one in charge. His gaze flicked to the extravagant gift on the desk. 

“It would be a waste to let such good whiskey go to waste. Why don’t you pour us a glass,” Arthur spoke with deceptive sweetness. “A toast to our first ball as husband and wife, yes?” 

I ought to be the first to taste, who has more right over you it.

“Should we not save it for a special occasion?” you said softly.

His lip curled with agitation, “Are we not special, my dear?” .

“That isn’t what I meant,” you murmured, averting your gaze.

Not wasting another moment, you grabbed two glasses from the bar cabinet by the window. Your hands hesitated a second before breaking the wax seal on the bottle; procuring this damned thing had cost a ludicrously large sum. And since the allotted budget for the ball had already been spent, you had decided to sell your gold earrings. The very one you wore on your wedding day, the one that had belonged to your mother. Perhaps it had been foolish to sell them, but holding on to material things seemed frivolous, and all you wanted was to be useful.

A defeated sigh left your exhausted lips as you broke the seal, pouring amber gold. Silently, you handed Arthur the other glass.     

“To us,” he cheered. 

The scotch seared down your throat, warm, sweet, and wasted. Exhausted by the night’s affairs, you leaned against the desk, your shoulders dropping, face relaxing. Besides you, Arthur rose from the chair, slamming the empty glass on the desk.  

“It’s good scotch, would have been wasted on that pig,” he sneered. Callously, he took your unfinished drink, swallowing it in one go.

“Do you realize how disruptive you have been?” he accused, matter-of-factly. With the agility of a fox, Arthur was before you, his arms entrapping you between him and the desk. Instinctively, you leaned back; his nearness, a foreign feeling.

“Arthur?” you questioned breathlessly. 

His gaze fell to your mouth, his gut knotting with desire; the scotch hadn’t been enough to quench the ravenous man, he wanted more. Arthur leaned in, nullifying the torturous distance you had created. 

“Little minx,” he answered, a sultry whisper over your lips. A hand lifted to cradle your nape, warm and stern, and then his mouth was on yours. At first, just a press of lips on yours, and then his lips moved against yours in slow, deliberate strokes. A caress on your arm encouraged you to return his plea, and timidly you did. 

A guttural groan escaped him, his pace increasing. You could only gasp at the obscenity and the strange rush in your belly when his tongue invaded your mouth. Teary eyed you attempted to push him away, lungs burning for air, but he didn’t cease his attack, his body pressing into yours as if wanting to consume you whole

Wrapping his arm around your waist, Arthur forced a knee between your legs, creasing the pretty pink gown. In turn, your hands fisted his jacket, heart racing from adrenaline. His lips moved lower, nipping and kissing your jaw, savoring your taste. 

“Arthurrr,” you moaned out.

His breathy gasps and wet kisses echoed in the silence, like a starved man finally getting his fill. His muscled thigh pressed into your heat, the pressure feeding a carnal need in you; your better senses were lost to euphoria. It was only when Arthur nipped a touch too cruelly at your neck that your bliss broke. You yelped loud enough to shock the beast at your throat. 

Arthur froze when he heard your cry, his mouth hovering over the spot he had just marked, chest heaving along yours. What had he done? Stupid, blind jealousy had caused him to hurt you. Oh, and the shame of it, of cornering his lady wife in the study, no matter the offense. What sort of man was he?  

Slowly, Arthur stepped back, looking you over, and God, were you delightful. Arthur couldn’t help but think that bruised pink lips and a neck stained with his desire suited his wife. But he also saw the hesitation and uncertainty; he had scared you. 

Tenderly, he rested his knuckles under your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. 

“Are you alright?” he asked. You only nodded, not having the strength to speak.

“I’ll send Mary to your chambers… to help you freshen.” Impossibly, the blush on his wife’s face worsened at his words, and if Arthur were anymore cruel, he would have laughed at your loveliness, but he knew better than to tease right now.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Hope y'all had fun. I tried to think what a man like Arthur would feel when his emotions were dictating his choices, and I think he would definitely resent the reader for making him lose his mind. He would also deny his feelings (and try to justify them as logical stuff like with the necklace) while being a love-sick puppy. LOL

Also, a little detail I love is that the reader refers to Hadley as Lord Hadley while Arthur calls him Hadley, cause Arthur hates the man and titles. I also took this chapter as a chance to share why the reader is so eager to please Arthur (past abuse from father)

As always you can ask to be added to either of the tag lists, make sure to specify which one, and if I failed to tag you LET ME KNOW <3

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[theforbiddendraft]

Ruined (one shot)

Yan Lord x Lady reader

Summary: After a year at war, your Lord Husband returns to his keep. What will happen when he learns of your escape attempts?

TW: Abuse, Reduced appetite due to depression.

note: a poker is a tool used for tending fires (A metal rod)

‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙

The firewood cracked and splintered in the stone hearth, casting a golden hue through the room. He stood before it, eyes focused on the flame, his brawny figure casting a shadow on the wall, flickering with the flame. Despite the chill, you didn’t dare seek the warmth of the hearth, for he was standing there, reckoning embodied as your Lord husband. Still as the night air, he stood clad in his travel leathers, the tan hide marred with splattered blood.  His longword, dripping fresh crimson, rested next to the pokers and spare wood, as if pretending to belong there. 

Standing in only a cotton chemise, you waited for him to speak — patiently, every moment torture. You wondered if it was your impudence that had driven your lord husband to kill, and that too as his first act after a year away from his keep—certainly an ill omen.

 Finally, the stillness ended, his hand reached for the sword! Your ribs collapsed from terror, unable to breathe. But no, he had reached for the poker, besides the sword. Lazily, he prodded at the firewood, agitating the flame, while you tried to regain your nerves. Your clenched jaw ached from the effort it took not to cry, but you knew the tears would. He hated it when you cried, welcoming it only if you leaned on him, for faux comfort. 

You jolted when he spoke, his voice calm. “I had expected a warm welcome, poppet. So consider my dismay when I learn of your little adventures in my absence.”

His hand idled with the poker, almost like he needed to busy himself to contain his rage. You remained silent, wishing he had died during battle. 

“Poppet?” He said with cruel tenderness, finally turning to watch you. His eyes lingered on your bare feet squirming on the cold stone floor, then to your collarbone, which stood more prominent, after a year of neglecting yourself, starving yourself.

“My L-Lord, you - you must be tired a-after the long journey. I’ll summon the maids for a bath,” you ramble out, trying to steer the conversation away from your attempted escapes.

“In due time, right now I wish to speak to you, my wife… after an excruciating year at war, a war fought for our marriage … How many times did you run?” he inquired, his words sharper and direct now, leaving you desperate.

“Th-Theon please, I was – I was being foolish, please.” Your voice trembled with every syllable, begging for any kindness, but knowing your cruel husband, it was unlikely.

“I need a number poppet, do not waste my time, I am exhausted after all.” Your husband was gone now; in his place was the merciless Lord Commander of the North, disciplining a soldier who had dared to desert her post. 

It was in your best interest to obey now, so you spoke the truth… partially, for fear made you a fool.

 “Twice, I j-just wanted to s-stroll beyond the keep before the first snow. It was suffocating being locked in the tower and–”

“You know better…”, he hissed with frustration, “It was decided that beyond the keep is only permissible under my supervision, my protection. So why did you even attempt it?” 

He waited for an explanation for the lie you had concocted, but the contempt in his gaze held your tongue hostage. Nothing but trembling breath passed your lips as you watched him, the terror he laid into your soul brick by brick, seizing your throat. His fist tightened around the hot poker, lifting it from the flames. And to your utter dismay, he stalked towards you, the red-hot iron hanging limply from his hand. Did he intend to burn you?

The fear of being branded pushed you to find your voice, albeit only a pathetic babble, “Theon… ple-please, a-a mistake it was just a mistake.” 

You stepped back blindly, trembling like a withered leaf on a branch.

“Please - Theon d-darling,” a palm lifted like a shield, “It was poor judgement, I was s-so alone-e.” 

Your back collided with the bureau, trapping you there. “Theon say – say something… please.”

He remained silent, his steps steady and purposeful.

“Pl-please…” a final plea, before he stopped before you, the poker looming over your calf, close enough to feel the heat emitting from it, close enough to smell the blood on him. 

“You know I despise lies,” he whispered over your lips, “especially from you.”

You swallowed the knot in your throat, “I just wanted fresh air–”

Your own anguished cry interrupted the lie, killing it on your tongue. The poker had grazed your calf for only a breath, a playful tap, but the intensity of its heat had left you scorched instantly.

Your legs gave out from the shock, but Theon caught you. The cold of his blood-soaked tunic a sharp contrast to the burning wound on your leg.  

A blubbering, gasping wreck, you held onto him.  

“Try again,” he whispers, pecking your cheek, his nose caressing your sweaty temple..

“I was—” a hiccup shook through you “—trying to leave,” you confessed finally. 

“Leave what?”

“Y-you,” you tightened your hold on him, expecting another attack. 

Theon wasn’t a delirious fool; he had known your intentions all along. Hell, he had anticipated you would try to escape while he was away. After all, your aversion towards him, and this marriage was no secret. Still, this was just discipline, military and precise. He took no joy in it, or at least that is what he told himself. For his ego wouldn’t allow him to recognize the devastation your actions caused him. 

He watched you, still in his arms, clinging pathetically. Face stained with tears, chemise decorated with dead men’s blood. He ruined you, but in your ruin, you clung to him. Theon decided then, a little ruin suited his wife.

“Thank you for your candor,” he murmured, kissing you on the mouth long and hard, “I hope we don’t find ourselves in this position again. I do not take joy in hurting you.”

The poker was still by your side, too close for comfort. 

“I am sorry, p-please forgive me.” 

“I forgive you, poppet,” he smiled endearingly, “of course.. There is the matter of disciplining the remaining men and women who failed to guard you from your own poor judgment.”

You gaped up at him, not wanting to bear the burden of causing others’ suffering. 

“A beheading perhaps?” 

‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙

I love sadistic men.

Also do you find the stuttering dialogue annoying? I do it to show how afraid the reader is of yan.

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[theforbiddendraft]

Cotton Candy Fields

Summary: Yandere kidnapper x Y/N. Y/n, thought she had finally escaped the basement, but now her past is coming crawling back.

Warning: non/con, dub/con, abuse, kidnapping, slight age gap, manipulation (maybe).

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chapter 1 <9 [10] 11>

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Chapter 10: False Opportunities

Before I could make the situation worse for myself, Maria appeared with a tray, carrying two bowls and a pot. She placed the steel pot on a trivet, lifting the lid to let out the most mouth-watering aroma. 

“I made Chili con carne, I hope you like it, mija,” she smiled infuriatingly, as though I hadn’t been screaming moments ago. Her glee felt like a dismissal of my suffering, invalidation of my emotions… of me.

“I am not supposed to be here,” I insisted, hoping for some recognition from this stranger. Her smile flickered for a moment, hinting at discomfort, but she resumed her pretentious joy, scooping a hearty portion of the chilli into my bowl.

“It’s a family recipe, my mamá taught me. Go on, have a bite,” she blabbered, waiting for me to eat, but how could I?

I looked at her dumb founded. In my periphery, I could feel Edward watching me, anticipating something drastic from me. But I was too devastated by the look she gave me. Her thoughtless stare nullified me, as if I was invisible, as if she couldn’t see the dried blood on my wrist or hear my screams. 

A sharp ache behind my eyes promised tears if things didn’t shift.

“Please just help me,” I murmured, my voice shook, like a taut string fighting strain. 

Anxiously, her gaze shot to Edward, as if seeking permission. “Oh dear, Edward told me about your situation, things will get better,” she reached out, patting my shoulder for encouragement, “just give it time y/n.”

Hearing her use my name was jarring; utterly, unequivocally jarring. She knew of me?

“NO! He lied,” I screamed at her. Maria flinched back, afraid of me.

“I didn’t,” Edward interjected. I turned to him, ready to confront his bullshit. 

“You did! because -because if she knew the truth, she would never allow this, she wouldn’t help you!” I spat out, frustration shaping my words into a jumbling, stuttering mess. 

“Sugar, give it a rest. Let's n–” 

“NO! He kidnapped me, pls help!” I interrupted him, turning to the woman again, but like every other time, she was watching him, wordlessly asking him to rescue her. 

How could Edward be anyone’s saviour? Why was I more terrifying to this lady than the beast of a man? I hated her for choosing him, for helping him.

“I don’t think I should be here, Señor. Clearly, the poor girl is still adjusting,” she spoke, overlooking me.

“What... no, you don’t understand, he hurts me, he rapes me!” I cried when Edward finally snapped. 

His fist struck the table, the sound echoing like a gunshot. The chair scraped violently as he rose, sending it crashing behind him. 

“Enough!” he roared, and I fell silent at once. His eyes fixed on me, he dismissed Maria, all the while I sat frozen, like roadkill. 

He spoke as soon as the door in the kitchen slammed shut, signifying our solitude.“Rape you, huh?.. tell me, is that why you like it so damn much?”  

There it was that inflection in his voice, the one that made me fall apart. His fury had this sick, playful undertone to it when he was at his worst. He used it in the bedroom whenever I resisted, and he used it whenever he was going to push my limits. The ‘Edward’ so far had been patient, shockingly so; the man from seven years ago would have found some humiliating way to punish me the moment I had thrown the plate of food at him. 

He stepped closer, looming over me. His massive hand wrapped over my lips, thumb and fingers digging into either cheek, hurting me. Pushing my head back, he forced me to look up at him. The sight of him, that gorgeous face, mapped by spiteful lines, cobalt eyes clouded with contempt, sent me reeling for air. Terror replaced the blood in my veins. He was angry, really, truly terrifyingly angry. 

“I asked you somethin’,” he spat out, inches from my face, but I couldn’t breathe with his palm on my mouth, let alone speak. 

I yanked on his wrist, desperate for a sip of air. My panic was all-consuming; I shook with it, losing control of myself. Desperately, I cried into his palm, praying for his pity, for his consideration, the very consideration I had pretended not to need moments ago. 

“You force me to become this ugly thing. I fuckin’ try with you, try so fuckin’ hard to be patient, but you.. You push me too gawd damn hard, Sugar.” He confessed with clenched teeth, fingers embedding into my tender flesh. 

With a violent jolt, he let go, leaving me a heaving, sobbing mess. He left as I wheezed and puffed, struggling to steady my breathing, struggling to stave off the panic clawing at my chest. By the time Edward returned, I could breathe again, but the sobbing didn’t relent. 

“Here,” he said, tossing a winter jacket and fur-lined boots onto the table. Confused, I looked up at him.

“It’s one-thirty now. I’ll give you till sundown. Do whatever you please — ask for help, look for the truck keys, or run. I won’t stop ya, I swear,” he said slowly, carefully, leaning in closer to emphasize his sincerity, “But, as soon as the sun’s down, I’ll come get ya, and you. You’ll come willingly. Understood?”

I gape at him, shocked by his words, not comprehending why he would give me this opportunity.

“Why?” I breathe out.

“Because you think I am lyin’, so you should see for yerself, there’s no way out,” he smirks, sure of himself. 

“You swear?” I asked, still naively optimistic.

“On my life, Sugar,” he promised.

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The perfectly fitting suede boots were caked in mud now, clayey black viscous mud like tar, slowing me down. Each breath grated my throat, the dry wind shriveling my lungs from overuse. I had run, then jogged, and now I walked, although my pace brought shame to the word, perhaps calling it a refusal to stop was truer. The dirt road was the only path away from the farmhouse, so I had followed it, the most obvious choice, the only choice, and I followed it. Even though walking this muddy instrument of torture was my only option, I felt like a fucking Idiot. How did he always make me hate myself more than him? 

The path led east; the lower the sun fell, the longer my shadow reached, stretching time thin between me and sundown. For the first time since I started, I stopped and looked up. The sky above me, a deep, rich blue, scattered with only the brightest stars.

The wind cried around me, and I listened, praying for the roar of an engine and rescuer, but only the deafening quiet of nature accompanied my damned soul. Just a million little sounds - the whistling air, chirping of creatures, and my ragged breathing. 

A sharp gust hit then, sending bitter polar air past my winter jacket, chilling my already frozen torso. Pathetically, my knees gave out, sending me plummeting into the mud, the wetness seeping into my leggings instantly. The cold had long made me numb, so it didn’t sting anymore. I was oddly warm. I tried to remember the symptoms of frostbite and hypothermia, but my mind was a haze, and I was tired, so so tired. 

Just a moment of rest, that’s all I needed. I reached a hand out into the mud, squeezing it like playdough. It tickled as it squeezed past my knuckles, and I giggled. Gently, I lowered myself onto my side, lying in the silly putty. Yes, just a little rest, a pit stop, and I’ll be good to go again. The mud shifted with me, nestling my body, and I sighed contentedly. The tall grass, stretching endlessly around me, danced freely with the gust; at least someone enjoyed the frigid cold.   

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I am not horny enough for kinktober.

do you ever look at the pics and think wtf is the context for that?

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[theforbiddendraft]

I'm so excited for more eddy please tell me there will be more soon...

I am literally an asshole cause I said Monday and it's Wednesday. 😭 I am sorry babe, I have started writing the chapter!!!