Man I Loved This Series SO MUCH When I First Read It But I Think I Was Too Shy To Say Anything…………

man i loved this series SO MUCH when i first read it but i think i was too shy to say anything………… gonna reread it and see how many worms it puts in my brain this time i guess <3

Language Barrier (Yandere male x reader) p1

tw; non con touching, infantalization, violence, general yandere shenanigans, afab reader

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked, dni please

hi okay so this does get heavy inspiration from Eden from DOL, but i guess with the horny kinda dialed all the way down

trying 2 make another oc with defined looks and name and shit so bear with wmee idk what to name this fucker so im just gonnna go with the unoriginal "The Man Oc"

also unedited so dont expect much kay <3

Part 2

He stopped when you tugged on his sleeve. There was a pebble in your shoe. He lets go of your wrist from his large, calloused hand.

He watches you hop on one leg, using his arm for support as you shook the offending rock out of your footwear. Saying nothing this entire time.

You looked back at him and see his stoic face. Old scars litter his countenance as choppy, short, blond bangs did poorly to hide some of it on his forehead. No doubt, he is a man of many experiences and battles. He seems neither annoyed, happy or sad, it was hard to get a read on him.

But, you were... grateful for this stranger. In some ways. Waking up in a foreign land where you can't speak the language or understand the culture, or understand why everyone is out there to get you-- must be horrifying when facing alone.

Had he not found you struggling against the bandits that caught you as you were running away from another hostile group, you don't know what situation you would be in right now. And you don't want to think about it.

You initially thought he was another person trying to capture you for his nefarious needs, hollering, thrashing and crying as he pinned you down against the sandy ground with very little effort. He tied your wrists and ankles up using the clothes of the bandits he killed swiftly. It was strange he didn't use the rough and painful rope that was in their possession already, instead opting to go the extra mile to obtain the softer fabric.

He gagged you too, muffling the screams and shouts. And that is still not enough, he pulled a sack over your head, obscuring your vision. But at least it provided a bit of heat relief from the blazing, desert sun.

The stranger carried you with an arm as he calmly walked away from the bloodied scene. His grip on you was unrelenting and strides unwavering.

He walked for hours, his boots scraping against the abrasive ground and he would rub soothing circles on your back with his free hand, pressing his cheek against your head. It was confusing and terrifying.

All you would do is whimper in fear and take whatever unwanted touches at the time. It's not like anyone would save you, calling for help only replaces the person trying to harm you.

At one point, he stopped momentarily and you felt the coolness from a shade wash over you. Hearing something click and something creak open told you that he must have reached his home. Or at least, a building that required him to unlock the door before entering it.

He sets you down gently on something soft.

The pressure on your wrists and ankles were removed when he slashed the cloth with something cold and sharp. His footsteps were moving away from you, maybe it was the best time to remove the sack and gag.

And so, you did. Shaking like a leaf in the process, fearing your fate.

You regained your vision and squinted as the environment was brighter than you expected. It was a wooden abode... of some sort. Very humble and cozy, if it wasn't for the fact that you were taken here against your will.

You're sitting on a slightly worn couch. Right in front of a Cathode Ray Television that's turned off and layered with dust. There is a small dining table in the corner of the living room, enough chairs for three. a modest, wooden shelf stood next to the television, holding various books written in a foreign language, along with other miscellaneous objects such as figurines made out of glass and completed puzzles.

You cower in fearfully as the man emerges from a room, closing the door behind him.

He sets a tray down on the coffee table in front of you. The stranger relocated the gag and sack away to make space for him on the couch.

He picked something up from the tray and gently pried your arms away from your face. It looks like a golden brown biscuit, plain and simple. He prodded your lips with it, Smells nothing out of the ordinary, it should be edible, right?

The man held a hand under your chin to catch the crumbs as you hesitantly took a bite. A small, approving smile made its way to his chiseled face.

It tasted fine. If not, a little bland. You slowly grabbed it out of his hand and munched on it with your cautious eyes on him. He looked away from you, pretending that he lets his guard down so that you would do the same, he picked up a cup filled with dark, steaming liquid. You would like to assume it's coffee, but it smells savory.

You finished your biscuit and discretely dusted your hands against your clothes. You woke up finding yourself clad in a long sleeved dress that reaches half your shin, frills decorated your neck area and sleeve cuffs. There were some damages from your run ins with the offenders. It doesn't help with the heat.

You made yourself as small as possible, hunching over and watching the man switch the television on by merely twitching his forefinger. Well, that's not very probable, isn't it? You doubt you're even in the same world as your peers.

He took a sip of his drink as he gave you a side eye glance. He picked up the other cup filled with the same substance and carefully hand it over to you.

Your nerves are slowly easing up. You're thirsty after all that running and screaming anyways, might as well help yourself.

To your surprise, the beverage is nothing other than... beef broth, at least, it tastes like it. It's delicious, but it's odd to have it served like this.

Your savior picked up a biscuit and dunked it in his savory drink. He paid no mind to you anymore, he seems to be more interested in the infomercial showing on the TV screen. You have no idea what the presenters are promoting, but they're holding a glass figurine, similar to what he has on his shelf.

He set his cup down and rubbed his chin, chewing on the soggy biscuit in the process. He turned to you and stared at you for a while. His blank gaze intimidated you, so you scoot yourself away from him.

The man extended his hand and grabbed your chin. Using his thumb, he wiped your lips clean from the brothy residue. You felt his rough digit dragging your skin, you pushed his hand away from you. He did not protest.

The both of you spent a few more hours watching the television and finishing the food. The man progressively slouching into the couch and your shoulders relaxing from the tension.

The television turned itself off when daylight disappeared. The man groaned tiredly as he forced himself up on his feet. He placed his hands on his back and straightened it, sounding a satisfying series of cracks in the process.

You remained silent. Wondering what is going to happen to you next.

He turned to you, snapping his fingers near your hand before presenting an open palm. Not understand what he wants, you meekly raised your hand, only to have him grab it in a firm hold.

He pulled you along with him into a room, he illuminated the room using an oil lantern nearby. You noted that he didn't bring any matches or lighters or anything that can easily start flames.

He closed the door behind him before sauntering towards the wooden tub, he twisted the metal knob nearby and let clean water rush into it.

He began to remove his leather vest, then began unbuttoning his shirt.

He paused when he looked over his shoulder to see you desperately trying to escape the room, yanking on the door knob.

He sighed and advanced towards you, seemingly a lot more impatient than before.

You let out a yelp as he grabbed you by the collar of your dress, lifting you up in mid air. You flail around, trying to gain purchase on anything stable. He walked back to the tub and dropped you in, causing a splash and the tub to overflow.

You were soaked, the warm water was causing your dress to feel ten pounds heavier. You splutter and gasped as you wiped the droplets off your face, this distracted you from the man's nudity. He joined you, having his wide, bare chest pressing against your clothed back, his strong arms locking you in place.

He restrained you until you calmed down from your panic, until you tire yourself out from squirming too much.

Eventually you did, he gave out a grunt of approval. Grabbing the bar of soap on the caddy, he worked up a lather and slathered you with the suds.

The man mostly focused on you, scrubbing parts of you with his palm. You gave up on swatting his hands away and reluctantly allowed him to stick his hands under your dress. It felt violating as he roamed all over your naked body, passing over your breasts and inner thighs a couple times.

You sniffled, crying in embarrassment and upset. He stopped upon realization. The man paused for a little while as you whine and wipe the tears off your eyes.

He turned you around, so you would rest your chin on his shoulder as your chest meets his. He slung your arms around his neck as he worked on your back and hair.

You continued sobbing as he tried his best to remove your soaked clothes without hurting you. He did, in the end. You were completely exposed to him and you were frowning.

He washed you with the water surrounding the both of you. Once he lets go, you tried to hastily remove yourself from the tub.

He grabbed you by the wrist and yanked you back in, trapping you with an arm again. He shook his head as he went on to wash himself with the soap.

You remember that you were hopelessly crying the entire time, also scrubbing yourself at times to try and remove the filthy feeling from being touched without your consent.

He drained the tub and carried you out with him, not before drying your hair with a towel. The man left your dress in the tub.

You were given a fresh shirt of his to wear, he took it from a cabinet in the bathroom.

He went on to dress himself up.

He returned to you to see you still in tears, rubbing your eyes with both hands. Maybe he doesn't understand why you're in so much distress, maybe he does. You don't know, maybe he understands and he gets some sick kick out of this.

He cupped your cheeks and wiped the tears away with his finger. The man brought you closer to him and pressed his lips against your forehead. He also brushes your hair with his fingers.

You forced yourself to settle down, knowing that he will only continue this as long as you seem upset.

Satisfied with your behavior, he lets you go and took something off a shelf near a mirror.

He handed you a toothbrush with toothpaste readily applied.

You hiccupped as you unwillingly stuck it in your mouth and proceed to brush your teeth with it. You hated his gaze on you, you felt so dirty.

Once you were done, you spat the bubbles into the sink and rinsed your mouth with the running tap water.

The door flung open by some unseen forces. You bolted out of the bathroom and into the living room, just wanting to get away from him

You did catch a glimpse of him using the same toothbrush to clean his own teeth.

You tucked your knees under your chin as you hid yourself under the coffee table. All the other doors were locked except one; the bedroom. You didn't want to go in there as it seems like the man has somewhat of a supernatural control over his home.

And the proportions of his furniture is way off, you had to tiptoe to reach the sink.

The technology or lacking thereof is strange, it felt like you traveled back in time and forward simultaneously. Everything was scaring you but you were smart enough to realize that this man is so far the lesser evil if you had to choose between him and fending yourself off from the maniacs outside.

You heard him whistling, but in no particular melody. Just short bursts of high pitched whistles and finger snapping. Is he... Is he trying to call you over like a dog?

He found you anyways. This time, he pulled you out of your hiding place by your sides. He raised an eyebrow as he pulled you into his arms, carrying you on his hip.

As expected, he brought you into his bedroom. Setting you down on the well used, soft mattress.

He tucked you in before slipping under the covers with you. Lights dim without him flicking any switches or snuffing any flames.

You scrambled away from him. Of course, that was proven futile as he brought you back and positioned you in such a way that you're laying on him, using him as a gigantic pillow.

You can hear his heartbeat as your ear is pressed against his chest. It's slow and serene.

He rhythmically pats your rear, trying to lull you into a deep slumber.

It would go on like this for four days. Wake up, watch TV, drink broth from a tea cup, eat biscuits, or carrots, or slabs of cooked mystery meat, or weird fruit, struggle with bath-time, sleep. With each passing day somewhat easing you into his presence.

The man spoke very little. Preferring to communicate in huffs, grunts and sighs.

You tried finding a common, intelligent language to talk to him with. You tried many times to indicate that you have a name, contrary to his belief. Still, he addresses you with whistles and finger snapping.

You did the same to get his attention. Aside from a brief glance, he would ignore you. Unless you tug on his sleeves or poke him. You couldn't get a name out of him.

He developed a hobby of giving you back massages as he watches TV. He lets you sprawl over his lap as he kneads you with his knuckles and fingers, it would be nice if he did it with your consent.

Every meal, he would attempt to feed you. You're not sure if it's something he likes to do, or he just thinks you're not smart enough to do it yourself. Moreover, when he feeds you something new, he would hold his hand under your chin, expecting you to dislike it enough to spew it out. There was a piece of fruit that was so atrocious to you, that you spat it out onto his hand as soon as it reaches your tongue.

It disgusted you when he would nonchalantly pop the mildly chewed up fruit into his own mouth. Eating it like it's a fresh piece.

After knowing that you don't like something, he would return to the kitchen to prepare something that he knows you eat.

It is confirmed that he bakes his own biscuits. He is fast on his hands when it comes to cooking. He is using a wood-burning stove. You still don't know how is he lighting fires that quickly and easily, there aren't any lighters or matches in sight.

He owns a refrigerator, it's by no means new or very modern. It looks like an average white fridge from the 1980's, there were some stains here. But... why use a stove that was out of date since the 1890's?

There were some occasions where he would have visitors. You don't know what his relation to them is, but there was always an air of animosity between him and them. You dare not to ask for help or even make yourself known as it might just make more trouble for yourself. You preferred to hide in the bedroom when that happens. He didn't give you any hints on what to do when visitors do appear, which is odd.

It usually ends with the man getting a piece of paper, a book, a weapon, a scroll, a heavy bag that makes clinking noises when shaken or a dead body to clean up, namely, the visitor's.

He would drag those who were unfortunate enough die by his dagger into the kitchen. Making you wonder if the broth of the day is made of whoever-- whatever he killed.

On the fifth day though, the man packed a full waterskin and carried a modified saddlebag on his back. He doesn't have a horse or a vehicle, but he has a glass figurine of a... peach? Well, some sort of fruit.

He would dress you up like how he found you, he washed the dress by hand and dried them under the sun. So you assumed.

For the first time ever, you step foot out of his home. Only to see that the nearest building is probably a couple miles away, it looks like a dot from his porch.

He picked you up and carried you on his hip, staring deeply into your eyes. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck.

Suddenly, He flung the figurine against the ground, shattering it into numerous pieces.

Before you realize what was happening, your surroundings began to warp and distort. Flashes of colors and shapes spooked you to no end, everything felt liquid, solid and gaseous at the same time. The only thing that is constant is the man, he has his eyes closed and maintained an iron grip on you.

You scream, but you hear nothing of the sort. You hear a whole orchestra playing, a trumpet playing, a harp string vibrating- anything but your own scream. It is absolutely nauseating.

Soon, the phenomenon subsided and everything clears up. Your ears pick up the sound of a busy market, your skin felt the burn of the sun, your eyes see tents and tents with merchants selling various goods. Everything seems relatively normal for now. The relief you felt, you do not want to go through that again.

He sets you on the stone floor. You spotted other entities and humanoids manifesting out of thin air too, they must have used similar methods to get here. But, they're all appearing within this massive circle, with ancient glowing runes etched onto it.

You immediately emptied your stomach, vomiting violently onto the ground. Hunched over with your arms clutching your abdomen. Garnering the interests of a couple onlookers.

They quickly looked away as soon as your companion shot them a fierce glare, though.

He has his hands around you, steadying you.

You leant against his leg, gripping onto his shirt. He popped the lid open to his waterskin bag and urged you to drink its contents.

The feeling of cool, fresh water soothed your throat. He allowed you to take your sweet time, either ignoring or snarling in retaliation to the stares of others. No doubt, they have that nefarious glint in their eyes, there is something about you that screams "fresh meat" to them. Luckily, the majority of them get the message that you're already claimed.

You didn't notice that he tenderly placed his wide, cowboy hat onto your head. Shielding you away from the merciless sunrays and hiding you from the eyes of others.

And that, brings you to the present. There was still quite a long walk before you enter the heart of the market. You insisted on walking by yourself, persistently wriggling out of his hold when he tries to carry you. He understood and allowed it. Provided that he holds your hand... or wrist.

You put your shoe back on and dusted your hands off.

You grabbed his hand that he has been offering. He protectively wrapped his fingers around it and the both of you moved on. Letting the chatter of other patrons and the scraping of boots drown the silence between the two of you.