Hi! Welcome to my Yandere tumblr fanfic blog, which I decided to start because I thought it would help me get through a bit of a creative block. I don't write for any fandoms persay, I just write for oc's I may come up with or about concepts you guys have. Check out my request rules below!
I will write for:
Violence
Platonic or romantic yanderes
All kinds of wacky occupations and concepts
Soft yans, or yans of different kinds.
Smut (Just nothing to violent or gorey)
Step-cest
Angst, fluff, jealousy, all that good stuff!
I wont write for:
Incest
Age stuff
Piss kink or food kink
Please enjoy reading, and thanks for stopping by💞! If your not sure about a request or if I'll write for something, ask!
Happy fourth everyone! It's my birthday, and as I'm sure you know, I've not been writing much. Frankly, I've just been busy and in a bit of a writer's slump. However; my crafty project to remind me of my beloved Yan!One Piece fics is this BAD BOY! Got the ship for my birthday and I'm pretty hyped. Have a fun fourth to all my american readers, and a good weekend to all my other readers! 🎆
Some Frankie and Dante things (Yan!Mafia Brothers OC, not canon to the main story.)
(Original story here!)
"Love you- prettiest fucking girl-" The feeling of lips on your neck, the occasional graze of teeth, and the motion of rhythmic pumping overwhelms you. Yet, you find yourself not wanting or willing to cry, to pull away. For once in this hell-hole, you feel good. Wanted, even possibly safe. What you're not allowed to be, is quiet.
"Come on, piccolina. Don't be quiet, I wanna know I'm making you feel good. Talk about something- ugh-" another pump of the his hips into your warmth, making your back arch slightly.
"About w-what? You're pounding me into the couch, what am I supposed to say?" You whisper, pronpting the bulky man over you too snicker, kissing on your cheek. "Say anything, I don't care. Just want to hear that pretty voice. I like you crying out better than crying. Cmon, baby, say my name?"
He tilts his angle, meaty tip angling up to kiss that spot deep within you, making you seize up again. "Frankie- Frankie!" You cry out; as he thumbs your clit. You arch, but aren't able to move up very far, as he's practically on you luke a weighted blanket, pinning you under his bulk on the couch.
It's not long before he follows suit, a warmth flooding into you. Frankie; however, makes no move to unsheathe himself or roll over.
"Shouldn't you... we should go clean up, I'm all sticky-"
"So? We both are, we'll shower together." He places another kiss to your neck. "In a few minutes. I'm happy right where I am."
Several minutes go by, with you enjoying the warmth but growing uncomfortable.
"Tell you what," he whispers. "You get me off of you, put your back into it, and I'll get of ya."
"You know I can't, you weigh a ton!" You exclaim, defeated and going limp. You just let the rough fabric of the couch press against your skin as you relax your limbs.
"Then get cozy, piccolina. You're gonna be here a bit."
Unable to do anything, you decide to enjoy the moment of respite from the awful situation surrounding this nice, intimate moment. You let your eyes droop closed as Frankie props up on his elbows to just admire your sleepy face. "Like a fuckin' kitten." He coos, carding a hand through your hair. "You gonna purr for me if I-"
"JESUS FUCKING CHRIST-" You go rigid; letting out a screech of your own as you try to cover yourself at the panicked sound of Dante's exclamation. "WHAT THE FUCK PUT YOUR PANTS ON, FRANKIE!"
"Ey' get a good look, Dante!" Frankie cackles, covering you with his body and flexing a bicep as he looks over his shoulder at his aghast brother. "S' all your ever gonna get, a box seat. Get it, piccolina, a box-"
"Frankie!"
"Okay, okay. Cmon, baby, I'll take you upstairs to shower. Won't even let Dante try and look through da keyhole-" A firm 'thud' rings out as a leather shoe makes contact with the back of Frankies permed head.
"Do. Not. You fucking, jack-off, gavone-" Dante slinks off, but you don't like how he never outright denies it.
Off topic for this blog, but Love Island USA just posted a warning for the new season saying to remain kind and respectful, that the cast allows all sorts of opinions. I think it's so funny that they messed up so bad they have to preface the season. Anyways, this is my theory for the line up.
Sorry if anyone else has asked about this but will you ever go back to the Yandere Eltingville club fanfic? I don’t wanna sound pushy it was just so good and I’d kill to read more! :>
Probably at some point, I see no reason to discontinue it. I just enter fandoms and fixation at such a rapid rate I don't know when I'll next be into it. You aren't being pushed at all, don't worry!
Some Live-Action!Luffy and his oral fixation. Suggestive, but not fully NSFW.
18+ Minors dni.
"Luffy!" You giggle, gently pushing the curious captains head from your chest. His tradenark straw-hat is laid on the barrel beside your cot, set aside after you complained it was itchy on your neck and cheeks. "What are you doing?"
"You smell nice, like that fruit parfait Sanji made." Luffy shrugs, pulling away just a bit to meet your gaze. "Can I taste you?"
You flush, coughing for a second as your face goes a shade of scarlet. Of course, to your dear captain this is a perfectly normal sounding question. Luffy was always seeking some sort of flavor or texture. You always joked he had an oral fixation, always chewing or sucking on something while deep in thought. You always thought maybe it was a coping mechanism, the way your typically unbothered stretchy friend dealt with the stress of the high seas. Still... you can't be bothered to apply this context now.
"Luffy, you can't just ask people that!" You whisper, eyes wide as you try to calm down and explain. "It's not-"
"I don't have any germs." He says, head tilted not unlike a confused pup.
"Eh- what?"
"Germs. Chopper says I'm all healthy." He sits up amd crosses his legs, sitting back and rocking a bit on the firm mattress of your cot. "So you won't get sick if I lick you. That's what your worried about, right? I wouldn't do something that would get you sick, silly." He punches your shoulder, oblivious to the confusion on your face. You cannot believe you are having this conversation right now, much more that you are going to have to explain what is actually freaking you out.
"No, Luffy. It's not just that- even though licking people is weird!" You decide that's a problem for another time. "Saying you want to taste someone is like a- it's intimate?"
His brows furrow, framing those big brown eyes. His naivety makes you smile despite the discomfort.
"Luffy- I mean that when people say that, it means they want to kiss, like, heavy." You explain. He just nods along, still not seeing the issue. "Or like a sex thing." You manage to squeak it out, getting annoyed at his lack of reaction. "How are you not more worked up about this? Do you not understand what I'm saying?"
"Yeah. That's okay." He sits up, tucking his knees under him in a kneeling like pose. "I mean, I'm okay kissing you, do you want to kiss me?"
You flush again, somehow the fact he understands what he's suggesting is worse. "I mean... maybe?" He just keep staring at you, and unable to give a solid response, you just nod. His face breaks into a grin, and he launches at you with a whoop.
He grips you by your cheeks, placing his lips on yours. He's by no means an expert, he kisses like you a cartoon character, with a puffy-lipped smooch. He pulls away; but just looks disappointed.
"I couldn't really taste you at all." He frowns, eyes squinting in that way he does when concentrated. "Can I just lick you?"
"No!" You both jolt at your outburst. You run a hand through your hair and swallow. "No, no. You just have to use your tongue, a bit. And go slower. Do you want me to show you?" You don't know how you ended up in this territory, but something keeps pulling you in. He nods eagerly. It's not too long before he's chest to chest with you, eagerly letting his tongue slip past your lips, biting gently on your lip each time you try to pull away.
You're both breathless when you pull away, despite Luffys whines. "I need a sec!" You can't help but giggle at his eagerness.
"You taste like Sanji's parfaits too!"
"Thanks." You just rub at your red hot face, trying to maintain some decorum as you bury your face against your pillow.
He flops down beside you, shoulder to shoulder, and whistles a happy tune for a moment. His brows furrow again, and he rolls over; propping his head up with one arm and just... staring.
"Use your words." You poke him gently, trying to get him to articulate what his problem is.
"Do you kiss Sanji? Or Zoro? Or Ussop? Or Nami-" He asks bluntly, the frown never leaving his face.
"No, Luffy. Geez." You cut him off. "I'm not smooching everyone on the ship. Just... you. Just now."
This seems to snap him right out of it. "Great! Then can we keep kissing, just us? It feels really good. And I care about you. More than just as crew or a friend. More like..." He trails off. It takes him an embarrassingly long time to come up with "A crewmmate I want to kiss."
You agree, but it doesn't take long for him to move from your cheeks, to your neck, to your shoulders. You feel him growing heavier and heavier on your body, till you're both flat on the cot. "Luffy?" You look over at him, only to find his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling gently. His lips are still pressed gently against your shoulder, but it's clear he's been lulled to sleep. "Luffy? Luffy-" You gently try and rouse him, but he doesn't move. You know the only thing worse than trying to move a conscious Luffy is an unconscious one. After it becomes clear he won't be leaving, you pull the blanket over the two of you, tucking him in as best you can. Your eyes drift to his hat, still sat on the barrel. It feels weird to see your beloved captain without his mentors hat. You pick it up by the scratchy straw brim, setting it on the dark curls of the devil-fruit user now laid in your bed. Hard to believe the highest bounty in the east blue belongs to such a goober.
Despite how odd it would have felt to share your bed with Luffy earlier today, you suppose you did just makeout with him. Not to mention, you could use a nap. Shuffling down into the blankets, you feel yourself sinking down into the mattress. Suddenly, there's a gently, comforting pressure on your scalp. Luffys hat, laid gently on your head...
Just some quick 18+ Live Action!Mihawk thoughts with a Marine or Strawhat reader.
Warnings: smut, groping, masturbation, mentions of violence (Mihawk is a warlord), pet names, teasing, fem reader.
"You don't even sound happy to see me." You pout playfully, sitting up. The sheets of whatever hotel you're at pool around your waist. You dressed down in anticipation of him, your top hanging open and just your panties remain on. You had agreed to wait at port for him, whether Marine or strawhat, you happened to know you were going to be in port at the same time. "If you're going to be all quiet and grumpy, maybe we should just call this off."
"Oh, don't be a brat." Mihawk just sighs, shaking his head at you with a feigned annoyance, though you see the quirk at the corner of his lips. He shrugs his long black coat off, draping it over a velvet chair, before setting his hat down as well. "I'm looking forward to this plenty, but I'm not some green cadet or a drunkard from a bar. I keep my manners about me." He's agonizingly slow, you know he enjoys making you wait. He begins unlacing his boots.
Trying to get any form of attention, you make some small talk, crawling to the edge of the bed. "Busy day? You seem tense."
"I carry a 44 pound sword on my back, my dear. I am always tense." He says cooly, golden eyes never leaving his boots. "But yes, the dear vice admiral had me handle some nasty business up north. A small skirmish, no one was particularly hard to fell, but they just kept coming." He kicks off his boots, stretching a bit as he rises back to his full height. "Rats from a nest, I suppose. But no matter. It's over now." He gives you an appraising look, the extremely slight annoyance in his eyes fading. "Now, was there something you wanted?"
You groan, falling back onto the bed, your head hitting the pillows. "Why are you such a horrible tease? I should just go back to my ship-" You pout, glancing coyly over at him. He just cocks his head to the side, a habit of his when he's thinking. Then, he smiles.
"No offense to your dear captain-" (Or vice admiral), he'd say. "But I sincerely doubt you'll find what you're after there. Now, we've both had a day, I'm sure. As much as I'd love to take my time, I find myself eager to cut to the chase."
"Oh, now whose rushing?" You giggle, then close your eyes as his lips come into contact with your collarbone.
"Well, I don't hear you objecting." He whispers, placing a few more small pecks down your chest.
"Lemme kiss you too?" You ask, hand coming to brush over his sculpted side burns. He says nothing, that could be perceived as an intimacy he's not yet ready for, but he nods. Your lips meet his, and he allows some of the tension from his back to loosen, letting himself droop into the kiss.
"Shall we get to the main event?" Hos voice is husky as he pulls away, long calloused fingers drifting to over your panties. He expertly slips them down past the elastics of the fabric. His brows raises slightly at what he feels, the slick between your thighs. "Wet already? Patience is a virtue, dear sailor."
"You're one to talk about virtues." You snicker, arching your hips up into his hand with a moan. "How many men was it you killed today?"
"Only a weak swordsman needs to keep track to boast. Besides, I never was one for most of the virtues." He hisses as your hand comes to cup over his leather pants, having trailed down over the black landing strip of hair and down to the laces. "Well go on. You've never needed my permission before."
You gently tug down the waist band, revealing his semi-erect length. Long and thin, his cock is just as pretty at the rest of him, and just as well groomed. His tip is flushed, and you let your hand come to grasp it, giving it a light pet once, then twice. "So pretty." You coo.
"You truly are." He rasps out, making you flush. Your attempts to flatter him are often turned back around on you, but you've still not gotten used to it. "Perhaps I was being too coy earlier-" He gently rolls his hips back against your hand, his free hand now petting through your hair.
(A/N: Requested by an anon named Captain Bonk! Oh, how I want this deranged man. And who wouldn't, he has a law degree! Just some random spat out thoughts and drabbles, had some free time on my hands.)
18+ minors dni
Warnings: Typical yandere behavior, Buggy being buggy, dub-con, groping, body horror (Buggy's detachable limbs), kidnapping, general piracy, threats of violence, exhibitionism.
"Honey, I'm home!" The grating, loud voice rings out through the side room (tent?) where you sat, wrists bound to a some sort of makeshift throne. You just huff, not casting a glance in his direction. He frowns, dropping his jyous act almost immediately as he stomps over. "Ignoring me? Mature. Once a shit-hat, always a shit-hat, huh?" He flops into the throne, his legs over the side and his head propped up on his hand. He pops one of his hands off, and it flies to your chin, squishing your cheeks together and making your face into a comical 'kissy' look. "Look, honey-bunny-" he grits out. "I've had a real bad day, I've got marines up my ass and on my tail, and those shit-hats of Luffy's are probably still trying to come and get you back. So I'd like a little sympathy? Okay?" He drops your face, letting his hand return.
"I'm hungry." You mumble, not giving him much.
"Yeah, food doesn't sound half bad." He sits up popping his back as he stretches. "Hands out, unless you wanna keep the cuffs on. Not that I mind," he winks, nudging your arm comically. Your lack of response makes him grunt, as he takes the shackle from the chair and puts it back over your free wrist. "You're a tough audience, anyone ever told you that?"
- Buggy hates to admit when he's been beat, but he's gotten whipped by Luffy and his crew quite a few times. He's not afraid to admit when he bags you from them, however underhanded the kidnapping was, that he's pretty proud. He threw a big old celebration among his crew, with you as the guest of honor. He wants to show you off, his newest treasure. It just so happens the best way for him to ensure everyone gets the optimal view is to have you at the head of the table, with him... on his lap. Your back against his chest, him trying to force you to drink some sweet purplish liquid from his goblet. "Come on, don't poop this party!" He would cackle, exasperated. "It's good shit- if that's what your worried about, I don't get cheap with the liquor."
- He's always around, you get used to that pretty quick. His circus is a vast maze of tents, but he really only ever keeps you in one of three places. Shackled up to his throne in the big top, on his lap at dinner, or sitting pretty in his dressing room. He likes having you there, with all his favorite stuff. Makes him feel oddly domestic, coming home to someone at the end of a day of completely self inflicted torment and tiredness.
- He's touchy, even when he's not around. You never get a moments rest, between his detachable limbs ans Cabaji, you're never truly alone. Expect to be resting or killing time, finally enjoying some piece and quiet, only to hear a shrill 'honk-honk' sound, as a floating hand plays a little hand horn, only to drop it and make the same squeezing motion to one of your tits. You can hear a satisfied cackle from a few tents down.
- He enjoys having you around when he does his makeup for the stage. Despite the fact that his makeup is typically smeared to all hell by the end of a 'show' (brutal assault on a small town), he puts a lot of care into his look. Given the problems he has with his nose, he's pretty picky about what he can control when it comes to his looks.
"Cmon, don't be so grouchy. Just a few more minutes, then you can enjoy the big show! You wanna be ringmasters star, huh?" He offers. "I'd let you sit at my feet during the opener, big ol' spotlight on ya." You glare, making him groan and walk over, squatting before you. "You know, if you're gonna be such a grumpy gus, you should find another way to frown. You'll get lines, hot stuff." He pops a hand off, and it skids across his dresser for a moment, before settling over a tin of red grease paint. He summons it back, locking onto his wrist with a comedic 'pop' . He quickly dips an ungloved thumb into the pot, and smears a faux-frown onto your face. He starts cackling, clearly amused at his own antics. You do not.
- He'd keep you on the sidelines for the majority of the show, typically showing you off to the crowd at the beginning. Despite his love for you, he's dedicated to his show. He wants you to see how wonderful his cavalcade of freaks can be. Perhaps a small part of him feels if he puts on a good enough show, that you'll want to stay.
"And a special shout out to my favorite attendee, I love ya babe!" He points a flaming bowling pin in your direction, something he had some poor sap trying to juggle earlier. When you don't respond, he shrugs. "Can't live with em', can't live without em', am I right?" He looks around, at the shivering villagers. A sneer stretches across his face. "I SAID-" He points to the 'Laugh' sign held up by one of his goons. "Am. I. Right?" The raucous applause do little to satisfy him, since you still seem to not care.
- He is a bit of a pervert. He's possessive, so anyway to stake a claim on you gets him going. He marks you up frequently, leaving purple and red bruises all across your neck and chest. Not to mention everyone can tell when he's being loving on you, he never tells you when his makeup is smeared on you.
- On the topic of others noticing what he's doing with you, he is a showman at heart, and with that comes a bit of exhibitionism. Nothing too crazy, it's a fine line with him being turned on and getting jealous enough to yell, throw his detached foot at his nearest goon, and drag you back to his room. Typically it's you on his lap, while he gives some order or grand speech to his men. He'll grope at your chest, or fidget with that pretty face of yours.
- He also gets off on the fact that you're so embarrassed when someone does see the pair of you. Buggy has no shame when it comes to his men, so if they walk in on something, he'll address them, but never cease in what he's doing. Unfortunately, few people have access to his private quarters, so Cabaji is typically the one who walks in.
"Sweet little ass, stop squirming. We're both clothed, s' practically romance for a pirate." He makes a dramatic 'smooch' sound against your neck. "Geez, I give you an inch you want a mile-" He grinds his hips against your ass, he's got you tangled up on some bean bag like surface, your stomach to the fabric and him half-spooning you.
"It's asking for a mile to tell you to stop dry-humping me, you creep?" You whine, squirming again. He's got both your wrists chained, so there's little you can do without just grinding back against him unintentionally.
"I mean- I could be giving you a whole other set of inches, so yeah-" He teases, before an awkward cough cuts through the air. "Captain?"
You both turn, and at seeing the lanky first mate, you bury your face into the bean bag in shame. Buggy just detaches a hand, leaving it clamped on your ass, as he sits up. "Baji, my man. What is it, I'm having some private time with our guest?"
"Marines, spotted- spotted north-" Cabajis eyes keep drifting to the uncomfortable sight before him, his brows burrowing.
"Like what you see?" Buggy cackles, making the goon let out an annoyed huff.
"No, captain."
"Eh- everyone's a critic." He waves a hand dismissively in Cabaji's direction. "Keep an eye on it, if they get too close, you know what to do." Cabaji cannot scramble away quick enough.
- He's a big fan of dressing you up. You got taken with only the clothes on your back, and he's got plenty of costumes laying about. He has you wear loose vests without tops, some sort of striped circus tent pair of booty shorts. He prefers nothing at all- but he does appreciate a fine costume.
- He's insecure at his core. His constant losses with Luffy, problems with his nose, and his past with Shanks. There's nights when he's pissed off, maybe he lost a fight or there's been word that the strawhats are hot on his trail to get you back. Either way, he's throwing a fit.
"What's so wrong with me, huh?" He shouts, throwing his comically large hat down, kicking it away. "I feed you, I clothe, you- it's a new show! Every. Fucking. Night!" He starts cackling, caught between rage and a sick need to shake off the vulnerability. "I could've just killed you, ya know? If you'd been that shitty bounty hunter or the ginger chick- I would have! Strung you up on the wheel and threw some knives! Wouldn't that be a show!" He bolts towards you for a second, hands flared out and approaching your face as if he plans to tear flesh from muscle like paper from a gift. You flinch, and at the last moment, he balls his hands into fists, cheeks puffing up as he holds in a yell, grimacing. "But- agh! Something about that pretty face- you're so- so so so lucky you have that pretty face! Why can't I just bash it in?" He whines now, looking genuinely a bit distraught. "I should want to, I think I want to- but I just can't!"
He goes limp, eyes hollow. He looks at the ground, swallowing. "Heh- hahaha-" he breaks out into a low; weak laugh. "God, some pirate, huh?" He rises back up from his knees, releasing his fists as he swallows again, straightening himself up. "Welp..." he sucks his teeth as he dusts his coat off. "That was rough. *Ahem*, Talk about drama. Maybe I should've gone into theater, I'd have made a killing." It's a less genuine attempt to brush off his episode with humor, you get the sense something has... shifted. "Yeah." He says lowly. Even he doesn't seem convinced by his acting. "Well, show must go on. I've got an audience waiting. Baji will move you to my room. Give you dinner." He slinks away quickly, uncharacteristic for the clingy clown captain.
- As an odd aside, he enjoys a typical romantic date night. Let him play the lover in an opera, the Romeo to your Juliet. Let him hold a rose between his teeth as he drags you around a dusty ring, pretending to waltz to some warped record, both too slow and too fast.
- Let him feed you, he has a horrible habit of playing with his food. Expect him to make train noises as he tries to get you to open up. Stolen from the mayors private stock of whatever town he ransacked. You're soaked by the end of dinner, he hates drinking alone. Wines dribbled down the front of both your clothes, and he's knocked out, snoring away on your lap. At least now you can enjoy your meal in peace.
- He likes sharing the bed with you, but he's a tosser and a turner. Expect to have him laying ontop of you come morning. He'd never admit it (as it feels like an admission of a flaw), but when he slumbers, occasionally he gets so relaxed a part of him pops off, be it a hand or his whole arm. Still, he seeks that closeness to you. It takes several mornings for you to stop screaming when awakening to a detached arm around your waist.
- All in all, Buggy isn't the worst captor you could have. He's not sadistic with you, just extremely needy. He doesn't get off on the idea of hurting you, and flattery will get you everywhere. Play to his ego, be his 'honey bunny', and you might have an easier time escaping. Make it count though, fool him once, shame one you. But he'll never let you get the chance to fool him twice.
"You just had to push it, huh?" The ropes are scratchy against your skin, only growing tighter with each movement of your wrist. "Stop squirming, shit-hat!" That's how you know he's angry- he only acknowledges your allegiance to Luffy when he gets truly furious.
Are you back to writing all oc works again? You can ignore this ask cause I know it annoys some writers this question but it’s something I’ve been looking for, are you working still in the second part for the Crime-family!brothers?
Honestly I don't know, I just got on a kick tonight because its the first free weekend I've had in a bit. But never fear, the brothers are my free time project tomorrow after a bit of cleaning. I have missed my boys.
My college terms ends in three weeks so I'll also likely be picking up some writing again then!
hear ye, hear ye (the monarch, once again, speeks nothing but truth)
but if I'm the one who has to be stuck with opla Sanji, I'm telling this man the only meal he hasn't tried in all the east, west, north, and south blue is in between these legs.
i know the moment this man gets your pants of he's crumbling. probably the first time he's sight in his entire life and not knowing how to proceed while his mind goes hazy from lust
(Opla Sanji, king of yearners...)
"Come on, you know how upset Luffy will be-" You giggle, kicking coyly from your hammock at the blonde-haired pirate cook below you. Sanji has your ankle in his wrist, gently kissing from the bone up to your calf, his intended area clear. He's placing kisses so quickly, but so closely together the time he spends traveling upwards is agonizing.
"It'll be good for 'im." Sanji says with a chuckle, shaking his head as he pauses to meet your eyes with his baby blues. " 'E could stand to learn some patience, and dinna won't be that late. I am a cook of quality and speed." He reminds.
"Speed?" You coo.
He breaks out into a full grin, placing a prolonged kiss to your knee before laying his head against your upper thigh. "Ah, my dear madame protests? Don't worry luv, I plan to take my time. Savoring is half the joy of a gourmet meal."
He works at the laces of your panties, sliding the thin material down off your thighs with reverence. You don't notice how he pockets the material, before sitting up a bit to get a look.
"Finest sight in all the blues." He coos, practically preening as your fingers lace in his hair.
"Some chef you are, shouldn't dessert be the final course?" Coyly, you yank his hair just a little, just enough to make him groan, raising his brows. "I'd feel just awful ruining your sampling outta order." It's corny, but you know he enjoys the word play from how his face heats up, and he fakes a pout.
"Normally, I'd agree-" He removes your hand from his scalp, beginning to kiss the tips of each of your fingers tips, annunciating his sentence. "But I'm a chef, my job is too feed the hungry. And what sorta' hypocrite would I be if I didn't sate my own hunger, huh? Much more, that of my lovely lady." He returns to his task.
A few hours later, Sanji's in the kitchen, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips as he glows with the pride of a man in his element after satisfying the woman he loves. There's a sizzle as he works to deglaze his pan, he got a few quality chicken breasts from the market and knew he'd still have to throw a few more on to meet the demands of his beloved captain.
The sound of the door creaking makes him perk up, as he shifts the cigarette to the corner of his mouth to speak. "Ah, Nami. Dinna's gonna be a touch late, luv. Had a bit of a delay." He grins to himself.
"Delay, huh?" She nods her head up and down a few times as she strolls to the counter. "Cool, cool. I'll let Luffy know, but I can't promise he won't waste away." She begins her retreat, but stops short of the door. "Sanji?"
"Nami?" He responds back, not looking from his pan.
"Tuck your pockets in." She snickers. The confident chef fumbles, speaks of oil flying a bit as the pan clatters back onto the stove as Sanji hastily shoves your intimate scrap of fabric from earlier back into his pocket.
as for the automaton, does uncle vlad periodically update her body so she ages alongside benjamin or does she just. do that herself. somehow.
would love to see more of them!! esp as adults
Yes, Uncle Vlad updates her often. It's kinda silly, but one of my favorite movies as a little girl was 'Robots' and they make jokes about how as the main robot Rodney ages, he has to get new parts, and he keeps getting hand me down parts from his female cousin, which embarrassed him.
I think of it like that, as Benjamin met his growth milestone, Uncle Vlad upgrade our reader, and made cosmetic changes as the asked, like being a bit taller or changing her wefted hair colors. But, he always stressed the importance of loving the way she was made, and that she was beautiful regardless of others standards. Often, our reader was insecure about her differences to humans, especially when she was first made. Uncle Vlad does his best to put those worries to rest.
Warnings: Typical yandere stuff, possessive behaviors, bullying, some body horror (reader is a doll), objectification (literally).
A/N: Probably one of the tamer yanderes I've written, this fic is sweet. Childhood friends, a mostly innocent yandere for the first bit, lots of yearning and crushing. Inspired loosely by the Nutcracker! Sorry I haven't been around been writing in a bit, I've been so busy!
"Put her down!" The voice is shrill, the sound of childrens laughter with a sick undertone of cruelty bounces off the brick walls of the courtyard. A single pale doll, with a frilly petticoat and bright red curls, flies through the air, tossed back and forth between a group of about three rough looking older boys. "Stop it- she's fragile!" Benjamin screams, little face red and splotchy with tears, glasses on the ground chipped and tossed off in the initial scuffle.
"Afraid we'll break your dolly?" One of the older boys, Raul, scoffs as he catches her, holding her by her now frizzy and knotted hair. "You're a boy, and a son of a earl, not some prissy maid. Why are you playing with a doll? You've got tin soldiers." Another boys shoves Benjamins shoulder; smudging his crisp white shirt and making him stumble. "We're old enough to 'ave swords, and yer putting shoes on a dolly. Maybe if we smashed it, ye'd be normal." Benjamin pales as the other boys whoop and holler in agreement. Before he can stop them, s horrific shattering sound rings out, as small shards of a once perfectly painted visage lay smashed and scattered across the cobblestones. "No!" He lets out a guttural scream, curling over on himself, practically wailing as his small hands grip at his hair, tugging and yanking as he sobs. "No- no- no- Annabeth! You broke her- she was my- from my-"
The boys laughter goes quieter after minutes of wailing go by, Benjamin breaking down in a way they've never seen. There amusement turns to disgust.
"God, s' just a doll, you absolute nutcase!" Raul shakes his head, glaring at the boy. He kicks the shards, sending the largest chunk, still holding one of Anabels green glass eyes, skidding towards the sobbing boys knee.
A creaking door cuts through the sobs, causing the boys to pale. "Shit- lets go. Only bloke worse than this little freaks his uncle." The group quickly clamor away, steps leaving a little patterns behind them. A door slams, and hurried steps are drowned out by a dark shadow enveloping Benjamin from behind. "U-uncle-" Benjamin sobs, unable to form more words than that in his grief. A warm wool coat is slid onto the floor, then over him, as he feels himself picked up effortlessly, as if he were a babe.
"Dear boy..." The deep, soothing tone makes him curl deeper into the familiar warmth of Uncle Vlad's coat. "What happened? Tell uncle."
"Those- those awful boys- my classmates! The broke her, they s-shattered Anabelle!" The tall man frowns as he turns away, as to not have the boy face what remains of his favorite item. "I was dressing her in the shoes you got her, from Paris. They laughed at me, they always do- but they took her this time! Raul did, he took her and they tossed her and they-" His breath is quick and rushed, dissolving into dry heaves on the verge of a panic attack. His uncle lets out some soft, soothing hushed, rubbing the boys back.
"I'm so sorry, dear boy. That never should've happened, this blasted school plays favorites with these boys of higher aristocracy." He shakes his head, putting a hand on his face to wipe a tear from his sensitive nephews cheek. "There, there. They'll be dealt with, I'll make sure of it." Uncle Vlad sighs deeply, before setting Benjamin down, eyes full of sympathy for the boys plight. "Now, the more pressing matter at hand. I wouldn't be a very good inventor if I couldn't fix broken things, hm? Chin up." He taps the boys nose, before sliding his winter gloves back on, the cool leather a shield to the chips of porcelain. He sifts through the grit and gravel of the cobblestone, quickly scooping up everything with precision. "We'll take a look in my workshop, get her right as rain, yes?"
Benjamin, too tired and traumatized to muster up much of a response, nods, taking his uncles ungloved hand as he fills the pockets of the wool coat with Anabelle, careful to hide the dolls body from Benjamins view. They walk from the school towards his uncle carriage, little footsteps in the snow disappear halfway from the school, he's being held once again.
Back at Uncle Vlad's workshop, he toils over a workbench, several candles with lenses magnifying the lights to a single point on the wooden table. In a large worn chair covered with burgundy fabric, sits a nervous Benjamin, the chairs size making him appear even smaller than he is. He sits like a parent at a sickly child's bedside, worried and wracked with guilt at his inability to help. "Can you fix her, uncle?"
"Of course, my boy. Come." He waves him over, patting his knee as the boy comes to sit. "See, we apply a light adhesive to the cracks, I learned this from your mother, you know?"
"Truly?"
Uncle Vlad laughs. "Yes. I was a hellion at your age, taking things apart and putting them together. We'd have had no dish plates and I would have gone to bed without supper every evening if not for your mother's quick thinking. She could seal up cracks in China like new." A fond smile graces his face at the memory, as he hands a fine pointed brush to Benjamin. "Gently now, like painting one of your toy soldiers. Just along the cracks." Benjamin focuses, hands suddenly steady with the grave precision of a surgeon, as Annabelle is reformed like a morbid puzzle.
"I can't find her eye." Uncle Vlad searches his pockets at the boys behest, but it seems Anabelles missing glass eye was lost in the vicious attack. "I must have missed it; we can go back in the morning. Or perhaps I have a replacement around her, what shade would you say her eyes are?"
"No." Vlad stops in his searching, hands stilling at the drawers he was rifling through. "Maybe... she can have an eye patch? Like you, uncle? She's still pretty, even with one eye." The mans heart swells at his nephews constant acceptance of his disability, and he nods, shutting the drawer.
"I think she would look lovely with a patch. I shall get to making her one right this instant, perhaps something green? To match those lovely glass eyes? Or perhaps blue." He looks off wistfully. "It was your mother's favorite."
"Uncle?" He snaps out of it, looking at Benjamin, who has gone quiet, tracing the dolls repaired face. "Would... mother be upset with me? For... what happened to Anabelle? She was hers- when-" His eyes well. "I promised her I'd take care of her."
"And you did. Loving someone or something doesn't mean you can protect them from all harm. But your mother knows how much you love her, and her dear old doll. Would someone who doesn't treasure this toy dress her everyday, fix her curls and repair her so carefully?" Benjamin shakes his head. "See? You already knew the answer. Now, we'll set Anabelle to dry, and I'll show you a little project of mine."
The pair rise, passing Uncle Vlads numerous contraptions. An unconventional man, praised by some for his invention and scorned for his outlandish ideas by many more, he's invented a great many things. All the finest steamboats use his new system for separating salt from saltwater, preventing buildup in the machines. His system of compasses which are able to not only tell the directions but tell there relation to sister compasses have led to incredible leaps in travel, and all this isn't to mention his smaller, household conveniences. How Benjamin loves his uncle, who never ceased ro support the young boys creativity.
They approach a small table, not unlike a surgeons operating bench, with a white cloth draped over something. "Do you remember that trip I took to egypt? Fascinating place. I was at the palace of the Khedive and saw a great many things, but what fascinated me most was the automaton." Uncle Vlad muses, turning some lights on and bringing a small rolling table with various instruments over.
"Automaton?"
"Gears and metal, make to mimic a living form. They had copper camels, turning on a style as to draw water up from a hole in the sand. A genius invention, they never grow tired, they need only a bit of oil here and there. They aren't unlike a clock, the only thing they can't mimic is behavior." He shakes his head. "I'm afraid they were about as close to real animals as a rock is, personality wise. But, it got me to thinking. I'm working on a brain, rather, something like a brain. Built like those new calculating machines, but also made to control the rest of the form. An automaton with a sense of life to them."
"That sounds very hard to build, uncle. Will you need help?" Benjamin asks, tracking his fingers absentmindely on his pants in an attempt to seem casual. Uncle Vlad smiles. "But of course. You are such a clever little toymaker, with all your puppets. And you've a sense of invention too, those wonderful little magnet trains you made. I could think of no better apprentice. After all-" He whips the cloth in a rather dramatic fashion off of the table, revealing something grotesquely mechanic.
Metal rods wrapped in copper coil and gears connect to small wires and bolts, a vaguely human shaped amalgamation of copper and bronze. Benjamin shrinks back a bit, both nervous and curious. "Its..."
"Grotesque, I know." The older man sighs, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "I'm afraid that's part of the reason I need your help my dear boy, I've never had your eye for design." He chuckles. Emboldened by the compliment, Benjamin slinks closer. "What about... a shell?"
"A shell? Hardly fits the human form." Vlad grumbles, prompting Benjamin to shake his head. "No, like a casing. Like how we have skin, the metal is the muscles, and we could put something over all the wires and gears. Porcelain, like my dolls, or maybe china?"
His uncle pauses, turning the metal frames head sheet from left to right as if testing mobility. "Movement would run the risk of chipping the China, especially with all the gears. But maybe- if we put a metal form over the armiture, then a thin layer of padding, perhaps felt, then the shell..." he nods, letting the metal face falls back to its neutral position. "Yes! I think that could work quite nicely. Of course, I'll need you to decide what you want them to look like."
"Why me?" Benjamin asks, brows burrowing. The man smiles, then kneels, placing a hand on Benjamins blue felt school coat. "This invention, its all for you, boy. I cannot stand for you to keep enduring without a peer; someone your age. If I had not had your mother at my age, I would..." He shakes his head. "I will not have you lonely when I am away, or toiling away up here. It will be just like one of your dolls, but life size. Able to walk and talk, someone to be your friend. Does that sound nice-" He's cute off as the air is knocked from him.
A pair of small arms wrap tightly around the neck of Vlad, trembling as his white shirt goes Grey and sheer with little tear drops, as the boy in his arms sniffles and sighs. "It sounds wonderful, u-uncle." Benjamin cries, making his uncle smile. "My sweet, sensitive boy. Come, what do you want your friend to look like? I can paint the porcelain most any color, and you can pick the eyes, the hair, the name."
Benjamin shakes his head, glancing back at the table. "Well... all my dolls and toys are so pretty, but-" He chews his lip. "They all look so different. So- so maybe you choose? Whatever gets made, I'll love them. Or maybe- you said they can think?"
"Yes, but it will take time-"
"Then we can let them decide! I-I dress all my toys based on what I think they would like, if they were real! So they can choose, as they get smarter! Then they'll be happy, and I'll be happy, and we'll both be happy." Benjamin insists, and Uncle Vlad puts his hands up. "Alright, if you insist. Let's hope they can even make choices, it's a new technology..."
Thus began months of work and toil, tests of mobility. Vlad rarely allowed Benjamin into the workshop during testing, failed test runs could be rather traumatic. Watching you spark, then freeze, crashing to the ground and scattering cogs across the floor. Or the time he displayed a lovely flower Benjamin had brought him, only for you to crash into the vase and get wet, which somehow lit you on fire (rather ironic, Vlad had thought). Slowly but surely though, you progressed. Steel grip going from crushing the object held in your hand to picking things up gently, able to holding something as soft as a peach without bruising. Reactions, blinking when he snapped or stopping before running into walls. You couldn't talk, but each time he turned you on, he felt as though you'd made progress, not unlike studying then going to sleep. He felt like the training was seeping into the mechanical marvel inside your head.
Soon, it was christmas. Break had begun, and Benjamin could not be more thrilled. Vlad had faced difficulties getting something just write with one of your legs, you had been struggling to maintain balance. As such, he traveled to a sideshow far north where a friend of his was working on automatons for the circus. Less advanced and unthinking, but then balance was the goal, not thought. He had to bring you with him, but with exams coming before break Benjamin had to stay behind. But at last, the family was reunited, and Vlad was excited to present his creation to his nephew.
"Alright, now she's still a bit shy, but I know you can be gentle in your approach."
"Of course. Right." Benjamin is rocking on his heels enthusiastically, the usually calm boy struggling to contain himself. "Wait- she?"
"Yes, that's what she chose on the carriage ride home. You have boy and girl dolls, I figured you wouldn't mind." Benjamin nods. "Yes, I just... I don't have anything to give a girl." He frowns, worried.
"Ah, I'm sure she'll just want to play with your toys, and we'll find her some gowns in time." He assured the young man. "Go, she's in the drawing room. Say hello."
With shaking hands, Benjamin presses the door open, barely able to keep his hold on the handle. Inside, his breath is stopped short in anticipation. There, staring at the fire in the fireplace with the fascination of a newborn, is a girl of his age. A skin tone painted on porcelain, and tufts of hair wefted carefully into your head. You don't look half as robotic, but still fake. Like his dolls, not that he minds.
"Hello?" You turn at the sound, glass eyes looking at him with an emption he recognizes. Shyness. "My name is Benjamin. My uncle, he made us to be friends."
"Yes... he said so to me. As he worked on me." You shyly stand, to face him. "Are we friends?"
"I'd really like to be." He smiles, stepping forward. "We'd play together, and I could show you my dolls. Theyre so pretty, like you. And we can play dress up, or read. I could do your hair, and we could play hide and seek."
"Why would you hide from me? I'm not scary, am I?" You noticed from the moment of your creation you didn't quite look just like your maker, and now you see his nephew bares a different visage to your own as well. Hands connected by skin, no gaps or creases so he can articulate and move. "Are you afraid of me?" You whimper.
He looks aghast, immediately going to placate you, in a way identical to his uncle. "No, no! It is but a game, one person hides and the other seeks. You aren't scary, I think your pretty! So pretty." He promises. The small smile formed on your face plate fills him with a warmth. Your shyness has inadvertently caused his own to fade, it feels good to comfort instead of needing to be comforted. "Come on, I'll show you all my stuff. Uncle Vlad!" He calls into the hall, prompting his uncle to take delight in the sight of two small heads peeking from the drawing room door. "We are going upstairs to play!"
It was over many years the friendship between the pair of you blossomed and grew. Unfortunately, as he grew, it was suggested to his uncle he be sent to a boarding school in London, as most sons of nobility and stature were. Uncle Vlad would have home schooled him, but his work was demanding the point he worried it would not be enough. So, when winter came around once more, a now thirteen year old Benjamin returned from school.
"Uncle!" He called, quickly stepping from the carriage to embrace the older man, folloeing him into the house as they chat, scuffing his shoes as to not drag snow into the house. "My studies are going quite well, I'm able to take several arts and maths courses. I... still struggle to connect with some of my peers. But the younger students love me, I tutor sometimes."
"I never had any doubt you'd excel. Come! I've made some cider, and your dear friend is in the awaiting you."
"Was she frightened while I was away? I've never been gone so long from her side." He prods, trying to discern if you were yearning for him as he yearned for you in his absence. He likes to believe you missed him as much as he missed you, maybe more. The school let the boys wander the nearby town during the weekend, he'd pick up trinkets for you. A ribbon to match your eyes, or a lovely new shade of polish he'd like to see you wear on your nails. A perfume or two.
"Well, she missed you terribly, but I doubt she was scared! I was here, and I'm her maker." He shouldn't feel disappointed. 'It's terrible, wishing for her to have been afraid,' he thinks. 'What friend thinks of such a thing?' He shakes his head as if to physically rattle the thoughts out, and departs for the main parlor. Some light classical record plays, Italian, he thinks. Curled up in a light linen shift and resting on the couch, is you. The sight warms his heart.
"Cmon," he gently pokes your shoulder, a light 'tink' echoing as your shoulder and arm plates collide. You squirm, once then twice, as your lids raise revealing those familiar glass eyes.
"Oh, Benjamin!" You chirp, sitting up quickly. "I had meant to stay up and wait for you, I must have dozed off."
"You don't even need to sleep, some warm welcome this was." He jokes, sitting beside you. He melts into your form as you wrap your arms around him. His uncle had putting a heating element in you some time ago, to keep you warm to the touch. "I missed you."
"I missed you too." Sitting back a bit, you present a small package from your side. He tears it open, to find what looks like a few extra small brushes, for the sake of his detail work on his new creations. "You've gotten so good at making toys, I heard you were even selling a few. Thought maybe some brushes could help. They aren't anything special-"
"Theyre perfect!" He clasps your hands happily, setting the gift aside. "I've been using the tips of pencils for detail work, I'll be able to have such precision now." He just stares for a moment, getting lost in your pleased expression, before he flushes a bit, then looks down, clearing his throat. "Yes, well- I got some things for you too. I picked up a perfume, and this lovely silk ribbon, here-" he turns to affix it to your hair, as he had so many times before. Dressing you was one of his favorite things, though as of late he gets aflush when you're in just your undergarments. He'd be awkward enough if you were just a doll, but you being alive makes it no easier. Still he misses it. "Beautiful."
"I heard your uncle is going to the christmas ball. I was wondering, seeing as the townsfolk are used to me-" you glance down at your marionette like hands. "I thought we could go? Together?"
"What? O-of course, I wouldn't leave you locked up in a cabinet or something! You're my best friend, and its almost Christmas." He adores it, thrives on being your comfort. "We can wear something matching, I'm sure I'll find something perfect for us. But I'm not much of a dancer. Promise you won't laugh."
You giggle.
"Its not funny! Having two left feet is serious, I'm no good!" The pair of you are left giggling and making small little jabs at each other as you relax back into the routine of being with each other.
Nights later, you emerge from your room, padding down the stairs in a crushed velvet gown, warm for the holiday ball. Benjamin and Vlad are chatting, looking up. Vlad smiles at the look he sees on the boys face, how his hands go clammy at the sight of you, looking as beautiful as he's ever seen.
"Does the new gown suit me?" You ask, now a bit self conscious about how you'll present tonight.
"Its beautiful. You're..." he can't say it. He cannot call you beautiful, it seems harder now. He's called you beautiful since the day you were built, your his best friend. So why now is he so tongue tied in before the girl he's always known. "You look wonderful, my dear." Vlad takes your hand, kissing your forehead paternally. You giggle. "Thank you, maker." You curtsy, the epitome of what you imagine a little lady should be.
At the ball, things go as they should. You watch as he enjoys treats, wishing a bit you could enjoy them for yourself. Alas, it would be to complicated for so little value. You danced, or tried too, before Benjamin pulled you away.
"It's just dancing, I want to twirl." You laugh happily. "Is this because you're jealous you can't dance?"
"No-" he frowns, looking around. "What if you slipped and fell, you could chip yourself, or worse!" He acts as if he's scolding a child, which makes you glare.
"What? I'm not that fragile, I'd be okay. And Vlad could fix me, I'm a girl, I'm going to have fun. You don't need to scold me, why are you acting like I'm in need of discipline?"
Your offended tone makes him shrink, and he puts his hands up in a placating gesture. "Please, don't take it like that, I'm only concerned for your wellbeing. I don't mean you can't care for yourself but-"
"I'm going to dance, if not in here then in the gardens." You gently push off of him, clearly upset. He doesn't remember you being so independent when he left, but then your both teens, full of hormones and odd feelings. That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. Can't you see how much he cares about you? He doesn't want you hurt, but he doesn't want you angry at him either. He can't stand the thought of- no, no. He just needs to give you space. 'She'll tire out, then we can talk. I'll make it up to her. A slow waltz, even if I'm not good should please her.' He goes off to find his uncle. As he chats with a few business associates of the family, his blood runs cold. A familiar red wool coat slips through the doors to the garden. Raul.
He excuses himself quickly, only to find Raul holding your wrist firmly in the garden, mocking you. "How is it you work anyways, girl? Some sort of puppet, where are your strings?"
"Let go- I'm an automaton, not a puppet." You struggle, trying to push him back.
Raul had still been a problem for Benjamin, even at the boarding school. Benjamin had always taken it, just keeping his head down. But now, as he sees you being harrassed, his blood boils.
"Let her go, Raul!" He yells, stepping forward to grab your other wrist, tugging like a child fighting over a toy. "She's not some toy!"
"It's a freak of nature, s' what it is. Shoulda' figured it was yours. You and your freaky little doll obsession." He sneers. "Still the same wuss you were back then, huh?" He lets go of you, moving to show down Benjamin, who hits the ground with a rough 'thud'.
"Hey!" You cry. "Get off of him-" as Raul moves to strike the boy, whose arms come to cover his face, you smack the back of his head. You can't hit very hard, you are made to be gentle, but its enough to make him groan and whip around.
"Fuck- you little- I'm going to shatter you like that damn doll of his-" You let out a screech as his fist makes firm content against your face, an audible crunch ringing out as you suddenly feel a bit... lighter. Shocked and frozen in terror, you see a little blood drip from his hand. He just grins, pulling a tiny shard of your own porcelain from his hand, dropping it with little care. In horror, you see a part of your face plate; your left cheek, cracked and laying on the ground. Horrified, your fingers come to brush to hair like, wooly felt that keeps your gears insulated. "No-" You've always been frightened of the way you look deep inside, and Vlad made sure during maintenance you didn't have to be made so aware of the difference between you and a human. But now, as you feel your glass eye slipping a bit, its all you can do to cover half of your face with both hands.
While you tremble, Benjamins face has gone pale; the sight of your cracked visage filling him with a horrifying deja vu. You look just like Anabelle, all those years ago, face shattered and eye damaged. His mother's beloved doll, now his beloved doll, shattered by this- this monster. Its a blur what comes next, he launches himself at Raul. There's another sickening crunch, as Raul screams out in shock.
"You bastard! Don't you ever fucking touch her- you shattered her face- her beautiful face! You're an animal-" He's wailing as he slams Rauls head against the brick path of the garden, one punch after another. He's seeing red. He barely processes when he's yanked off by a partygoer, thrasing like a rabid creature and begging to be let back at Raul, whose cursing as his fathers dragged him off.
"He assaulted my son-"
"HE assaulted my nephew and my prized invention. That's-" Vlad would never call you this, but he knows its the only way to speak to a man like Rauls father, with money. "That's an extremely expensive piece of machinery, an engineering marvel. Will you be covering the damages to both my machine and your businesses reputation? I could call sabotage on my ventures for this!"
Rauls father pales, reluctantly stepping aside to make a deal with Vlad. "Raul- inside."
"But father-"
"INSIDE, BOY! NOW!" The battered boy slinks off, leaving Benjamin to be dropped by the partygoer. He pants, trying to regain his senses when he sees you, still curled and covering your face. He pales and hurries over.
"Oh no! No- don't cry- I'm sorry you had to see that, I didn't mean for all that to happen-" He goes to cover you from the crowd with his jacket.
"My face!" You sob, palming the gap where porcelain once was. "I-I look like a machine- like a steam engine or a furnace. Don't let anyone see!" You beg.
"Of course not. You look beautiful as ever, please know that. Tell me you know that, you are still beautiful-" its easier for him to say it again. "Uncle will fix it, your eye too. And Raul- I won't let him hurt you- never again." He pauses, remembering how you had shoved the bully in an attempt to save him. "You... tried to save me. Thank you."
"Of course." You sniffle, reluctantly facing him. "You're my best friend."
"You should've just let him hit me, then you wouldn't have been shattered."
"What choice did I have? He would've hurt you. And you stepped in to save me, you wouldn't want me to tell you not to rescue me." He smiles, and nods his head reluctantly. "I suppose your right. At least we both look worse for wear?" He motion to a bruise forming, sure to be a black eye come morning.
You giggle despite yourself, looking at your trembling hands. "You really think I'm still beautiful?"
His heart aches. He never wants you to feel like you are anything less that his most prized, precious doll. "Of course I do- I-" In a moment of panic, yearning to prove it, he kisses your porcelain lips. The feeling is odd, but then he's never kissed another girl to compare. He doesn't imagine he'd want too. When you gasp, he pulls off.
You're clearly shocked, hand coming to touch the uncracked part of your molded lips, mouth slightly agape. "You're cut..." you whisper, seeing where his cheek must've cut on a jagged edge during his kiss. Frightened at what hes done and your lack of response, he just swallows, sitting back. He rubs his cheek, and sees a smear of blood left on his hand. "So I am." He mumbles. He can't meet your gaze, till you clear your throat.
"Well... perhaps it's best we try again, when I'm repaired?"
Truly, he could not ask for a better christmas gift.
I'm cooking up a crazy concept, its a new character. This first story I'm going to make with him will be him as a kid, forming his connection with reader in his youth, and end with a small flash forward. Obviously no smut, but mild yearning and crushing.
Feel free once he's debuted to send requests in, and in the future I'll probably add on to him and readers relationship as adults, so feel free to request fluff or smut once he's fully aged uo alongside reader post timeskip. This sounds confusing but I swear it'll make sense once I post the story.
We will all soon be enjoying a trips to the 1890s, in the british countryside. He's a yan!Toy-maker and puppeteer, in a vaguely Nutcracker inspired tale. Get ready for Benjamin!
Thank you, I am! I am just crazy busy with end of semester coming up, but I'm doing great otherwise! Gearing up to suprise my mother for mother's day in a few weeks!
