Novel & Cerita Yandere Drawings

Nicole. “Heidi…” my heart softened as I dropped to my knees beside her. “I’m gonna put them back, I promise. I just wanted mum to stay here for a while.” One of her drawings rested ont he table too, almost covered by mum’s scarf. I pulled it from under there. It wasn’t the best picture but I could tell it was two older women with a child in between them. One of the women’s hair was done with a yellow pencil while the other was black, the child had tiny dots around her head to imitate hair, but what they all had in common was the yellow circles hovering over their heads and the triangle wings.

Maybe years. And then I see the drawings. Taped to the walls, scattered across tables, covering nearly every surface I can see. Sketches in charcoal and pencil, some detailed and finished, most of them half-done like he started and couldn’t bring himself to continue. All of them are the same person. A girl. Young, fourteen or fifteen maybe, with long dark hair and this smile that looks like it could light up an entire room. In some of the drawings she’s laughing at something off the page. In others she’s concentrating hard, her tongue stuck between her teeth the way kids do when they’re focused.

Were they just broken and hurting on the inside? Seeing the glee in the tormenter's eyes--she guessed it was more than that. They genuinely seemed to enjoy it. Jacob dropped the folder he'd been clutching onto for dear life and watched in horror as pieces of paper flew in every direction. On closer inspection, Jenna saw the pieces of paper were drawings. And they were amazing. It appeared to be a hand-drawn comic, inked in black and white, completed with speech bubbles and onomatopoeia. The characters looked like anime drawings, with cute faces and big eyes. They were gorgeous.

Azriel commanded in an utterly casual tone of voice, as if he were only showing a drawing of a natural landscape. Isolde, with trembling fingers, turned the paper to the second page. There, the strokes of the drawing were far more bold and wild. There appeared a sketch of Isolde sitting leaning back with her pair of plump legs forced wide apart. Azriel's head was depicted as buried between the mounds of Isolde's large breasts, as if nursing greedily there. Not stopping there, one of Azriel's hands in the drawing appeared to grope downward, with detailed fingers depicted as penetrating Isolde's sensitive vagina area.

Of course, there are so many others in here admiring the artworks. “This is…” I start, but Michael completes it. “Erotic.” I blush hard. “I’d say sinful. A very sexy, sinful artwork.” I study the drawings starting from the one with a woman shoving a dildo into her big pussy, her face scrawled with desire, and her mouth dropped open to her chest. I move to the next with the drawing of an older man with his cock in hand while his seeds drip from his crown like droplets of water. There’s one with two teenage girls on their knees, their hands bound as they suck a cock from a glory hole.

Half-finished profiles, small studies of my mouth, my knuckles. He didn't just draw my hands. He drew the veins on my forearm. He drew the calluses on my fingers. He drew the scar on my left palm. I feel something in my chest lurch. This isn't a sketch book. It's an obsession, and I’m so here for it. I flip a page and my breath stills in my throat. It’s me, drawn from the side, on my knees. My head is bowed, my hands clasped behind my back. It’s not last night. It’s from a drill. But the focus he’s captured is all sex. The tension in my spine, the line of my ass.

Coloured chalks in hand, she is deep in concentration. The noisy chatter of the young adults as they take their seats behind her barely registering as she concentrates on the task in hand. She has already drawn the parted legs and rounded arse cheeks and was now working on the pussy lips, the outer labia. Her drawing was graphic in its anatomical correctness and state of arousal.

He felt like reading those words was no different from not reading them at all. They were virtually useless! Kate saw Andrius open the ‘Records of Profundity’ and suddenly freeze, and glanced over in curiosity. However, she did not understand the meaning of those words either. “All things flow with Yin and Yang...” Andrius muttered quietly, shifting his gaze to the mural. “Men and women...” His heart skipped a beat as he looked at the small figures. That was it. He had not observed carefully before. Although the small figures were blurry, their gender characteristics were very obvious. Just like the book said, half of them were male, and half were female.

It was beautiful even though it showed a story of blood and darkness. I passed the folder to Hibiki for him. “Nice work, son. I would say you need to adjust your proportions. I know you’ve not seen pictures of Yūri when she was young, so I’m guessing you went off Riko’s proportions for the drawings.” he commented, handing the folder back. “Um, well yeah. Riko didn’t have any pictures of Yūri when she was young. Just a few here and there when Saki was still alive. I also looked at the pictures in the album of Saki when she was young, and her figure was similar to Riko.” Forrest nodded.

​"I'm not trying to cause trouble, Yara. I just... I see you. I see how tired you are. Walking on eggshells around a god who can crush you with a thought." ​He stood up, groaning with the effort. ​"Just... remember who you were. Before the Mark. Before the Lycan. You were whole, Yara. You didn't need him to complete you." ​He limped away, disappearing into the shadows of the keep. ​I sat there for a long time, staring at the folded paper. ​Finally, I reached out and opened it. ​It was a drawing, crude and shaky, done with charcoal. ​It showed three figures holding hands.