Yandere Drawings Novels & Stories

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.

There, hidden behind a curtain of weeping carbon-fiber vines, was a small, dilapidated shack. "What is this?" I asked. "The only place the grid can't see," Xander said. He pulled back the vines, and I saw a wall covered in jagged, hand-drawn charcoal sketches. I gasped. The sketches weren't of buildings or machines. They were of us. There was a drawing of a man and a woman standing in a mountain of gold; a drawing of a girl with a wooden ring; a drawing of a man with orange eyes holding a woman in the rain.

“Darlin’, we’re in New Orleans. You want a crown? I’ll find you a crown.” “Condom crowns don’t count.” My mouth teased into a smirk. “Fuck. Back to my drawin’ board.” “If you can draw anything beyond a stick man and/or a penis, I’ll be very impressed.” “Blow job kind of impressed?” “Aiden.” Elena rested a hand on my thigh softly. “Can you draw anything other than a stick man or a penis?” I ran my tongue over my lips slowly and deliberately and grinned when her eyes flicked down. “I can probably draw an all right pair of tits.”

LYRA POV Even though the room was dimly lit, it couldn't hide what surrounded me. Drawings. Everywhere I looked, there were drawings of me. Me standing in the garden, sunlight catching my hair. Me sleeping, my face peaceful and relaxed. Me walking through corridors, my dress flowing behind me. Me laughing at something, joy captured in careful pencil strokes. My hands shook as I reached out to touch one of the papers. The detail was perfect. Every line of my face, every strand of hair, every small expression—all captured with stunning accuracy.

Her eyes are like And then it ends. My heart begins to pound. I rush towards the Beta’s corpse and pry the piece of paper from his hands, quickly opening it. My breath catches in my throat when I see what’s on the page–a crude drawing of a woman swathed in pencil-scratch gray, with a veil pulled over her head and broken antlers dangling crookedly. There’s something about the mania in the drawing, the panic, the desperation that makes me sick to my stomach.

Just unmarked leather and the weight of secrets waiting to be discovered. I opened it carefully, mindful of pages that looked fragile enough to crumble at a touch. The first page made me gasp aloud. Ink drawings filled the yellowed paper—not the crude sketches of an amateur, but artwork of remarkable skill and disturbing beauty. A wolf, massive and powerful, its eyes rendered in such detail I could swear they were watching me from the page. And beside it, a woman in flowing robes, her hand extended toward the beast as if in offering or benediction.

“You’ve worked hard for this.” I looked at him. “I’m slowly fulfilling my dreams… with your help and Ally’s.” Before Nick could reply, a small tug on his shirt pulled his attention away. “Daddy Nick! Look! I forgot to tell you—I drew you!” Yandrich said proudly, dragging Nick over to the wall where one of his drawings was hanging. Nick followed, pretending to be shocked. “What? That guy is me?” Nick playfully said. Yandrich shook his head.

A scrapping of a chair breaks the deteriorating conversation across the dinner table, Athan moving his chair back and heading out to the hallway. “Athan what are you doing?” His mother calls out after him, her eyes flickering between Calian and me. “I’m…here…I made this earlier on.” He enters back into the room holding a folded piece of paper in his hands. Surprisingly, he doesn’t hand it to his father, or even his mother…but moves towards me, placing it out in front of me. “I drew this.” He looks up at me expectantly, waiting for me to take it from him. I do, unfolding the paper to reveal a drawing of a female dressed in a black jumpsuit, a black cape…long lilac purple hair and glowing eyes