#implied noncon cw

[itsyamanjack]

I KNOWWWWWW It's more Overkill but my computer is pissed as hell that it's been open for like over 2 days and I really wanted to draw and also I'm STRESSED so I will continue to draw genius horrifying scenes. And then retiring my laptop for a day so I don't get deltarune spoilers.

Speaking of horrifying scenes: Below here is stuff relating to mostly Dawn's attempted noncon kiss and then one art of dawn's loop 6 death (burning alive, not graphic it's right Before that but still.)

THEY MAKE ME SICK. THEY MAKE ME ILL. I KEEP FUCKING FORGETTING TO TAG OVERKILL HOLD ON @askoverkill give me a dusk charm I need to shake them badly

[pockymorbys]

congrats on being another statistic u fuckign idiot 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉

[angelyuji]

webbed-up

spider-man x f!reader (noncon/kinktober week 1)

cw // noncon, shitty smut, implied stalking, dubcon

18+!!! minors dni!!!

“HELP ME! SOMEONE HELP!” it was the middle of the night and no one was out. you were all alone when someone had snatched your purse and ran. you chase after them, screaming for help, but no one was coming. you follow them into an alley and before you could continue screaming, a familiar voice comes from behind you.

“woah woah, what’s the issue here, cutie?” you turn to see spider-man standing before you.

“s-someone t-took my p-purse.” tears streaked your face as you sobbed.

he tilts his head and lifts his hand, “this purse?” you blink. your purse hung from his arm.

the relief came in waves, “oh my god thank you so much-” as you reach for the purse, he tosses it into the air and webs it to onto the wall of the alley. “-what are you…”

“since i helped you, you can help me, can’t you?” his voice was deep, and as he moved closer, you could feel your heart in your throat.

“y-you’re not spider-man, spider-man wouldn’t…” you back up, alarms going off in your head.

you hear him sigh, “spider-man has needs too, you know…. i mean, it’s only fair." you back up, looking around for a way to get out, “uh oh babe, are you trying to run?” before you could move, you feel your arm slam against the wall. “just stay still.” he grabs your other arm, forcing it against the wall, and webs it. you try to struggle, but you weren’t budging.

“please d-” your words were silenced as he webs your mouth closed.

“for today, i’d prefer your mouth closed.” his spandex-clad fingers go under your shirt, “god, how i’d love to really feel your skin.” chills go down your spine and you choke on your sobs. he coos, softly, his hands wandering down to grope your ass.

you try to scream through the webs, but your sound comes out strangled and muffled. spider-man taps your butt, “we don’t have much time, jump up and wrap your legs around me.” you shake your head and he huffs, “don’t be difficult. the faster we get this done, the better it’ll be for you.” he tilts his head. you test the webs trapping your arms once more, seeing no change, you try to jump in little space you have. he makes sure to grab your ass, letting you wrap your legs around his waist. you could feel his hard cock under the suit, pressing against your cunt. you let out a panicked sound at the feeling. he groans, letting his head drop to your shoulder. slowly, he rolls his hip into you, pressing himself closer. you let out a muffled moan and you hear him chuckle.

“i wish i could taste you.” he groans into your ear, as he grinds against you. you could feel heat starting to pool at your abdomen as he gets rougher. “my good girl, my pretty girl.” his voice was dripping in pleasure as he breathlessly groaned, getting faster. you couldn’t hold back your moans and spider-man gets faster hearing you. you let out muffled pleas, as you feel the coil tighten in your abdomen. “i hear you, cutie, i hear you.” he grinds you against him for the final time and you feel that coil snap as pleasure washes over you in waves. you hear him groan and slump, pulling you as close as he could without hurting you.

a few minutes pass before spider-man collects himself, letting your legs drop to the ground, “this-” he gestures between the two of you, “-was great. let’s do this again sometimes.” he blows you a kiss and swings away, leaving you attached to the wall. after another 15 minutes, you feel the webs start to disintegrate. you rip your arms out and pull the webs covering your mouth off, letting you loudly sob. you snatch your purse off and dig out your phone, in between your choked whimpers.

the phone rings for a few minutes, before he picks up, “p-peter? c-could you come pick me up? p-please?”

his voice was sympathetic, “god, of course, (y/n)… i’ll be right there.”

[icepip]

big brother yuta making you sit on your lap even though you tell him you're too big.. his long fingers gripping your hips too tight when his cock twitches beneath you. you were just trying to get comfortable but it sure felt like you were grinding against him, practically begging for him to just slide the tip inside..

[snail-day]

I love your yandere fics so much!! You write them so well like how imagined them to be! Can i request a yandere!gojo with celebrity reader. Gojo is a smitten fanboy (he finally found his match a beauty that can be on par or surpass his looks) who then kidnaps reader and with somno and mindblowing smut (he is intimate and makes love, very sensual — but sometimes can be cruel when reader is not cooperative), very obsessive and possesive behavior, where reader eventually falls into a stockholm syndrome when she realizes he is the only one who can lover her like that.

Ah, anon, fanboy gojo is a horrifying gojo. I couldn't fit the somno in there my bad but I did let em get frisky. Yan!Gojo x Idol! Reader TW: Yandere Behaviors (Heavy in obsession & manipulation, stalking, trapping), Non Curse AU, Noncon / Dubcon, Stockholm Syndrome, Unbalanced power dynamic, Lifesize Doll, Gojo is just a fucking creep in this one. Reader has bad ending and is going through it. MDNI A/n: There's something absolutely horrifying about just anyone with too much money. Also, this one gave me an icky feeling, like really icky to the point where I had to go play some wii sports for some serotonin . So just fair warning on that everyone.

So this would definitely take place in a non-curse AU where the Gojo family reigns supreme over an empire of companies, including your idol agency. Satoru’s obsession with you began long before his parents handed him the keys to your career as a "gift" for his 21st birthday. By then, he already had an entire shrine dedicated to you—a collage of your debut album covers, grainy videos from your first audition, and meticulously preserved cut-outs of you in your signature frilly stage outfits.

He even went as far as purchasing your stockings and, disturbingly, a vial of your sweat from an online auction. Because when it came to you, no price was too steep, no boundary too sacred.

Satoru had been such a good boy, after all. He kept his record spotless, avoided any scandals, and played the part of the dutiful heir to perfection. So, for his birthday, the Gojo family rewarded him in the grandest way possible: a private concert (in their household theatre)  featuring none other than his favorite obsession.

Lucky you.

"Why do I always end up with the creeps?" you muttered under your breath backstage, steeling yourself for what was to come. You’d been expecting a small, exclusive audience—maybe a handful of elite guests alongside the infamous Gojo Satoru. Instead, the venue was eerily empty, save for one man sitting dead center in the front row.

Of course, it was him.

Satoru lounged in his seat, his long legs spread comfortably and his unrelenting gaze fixed on the stage. Those icy blue eyes shimmered with a kind of deranged excitement.

Still, you plastered on your most radiant smile, the same one that had been drilled into you since your debut, and stepped onto the stage. "Satoru-kun!" you called sweetly, your voice dripping with feigned delight.

That simple acknowledgment sent him into a visible frenzy. He straightened immediately, his grin stretching impossibly wide, the edges almost unhinged. His hands clutched the armrests of his chair as if holding himself back from leaping onto the stage.

"Satoru-kun," you repeated, your tone syrupy enough to mask the bitterness in your throat. The way his eyes sparkled, as though you’d just handed him the universe, made your skin crawl.

Why did he have to smile like that? Why did it feel like this wasn’t just a concert, but some kind of trap?

You swallowed hard and launched into your first song, your voice steady even as your heart raced. Through it all, his gaze never wavered, and you could swear that he wasn’t just listening—he was memorizing every note, every movement, every glance in his direction.

The worst part? You could feel that manic, suffocating grin even with your eyes closed.

The final note faded, and you lowered the mic with a practiced flourish, painting on a dazzling smile despite the tight knot in your stomach. Applause didn’t erupt—just a slow, deliberate clap from the lone figure seated in the otherwise empty venue. Each measured beat sent an icy shiver down your spine.

"Bravo! Amazing, as always," Satoru called, his voice laced with the kind of excitement that made your skin crawl. His bright grin stretched wider, his icy blue eyes fixed on you like a predator watching its prize.

Suppressing the urge to grimace, you clasped your hands in front of you and tilted your head, letting out a bubbly laugh. “Aww, Satoru-kun, you’re too sweet! You always know how to make a girl feel special!” Your voice was light, airy, laced with the charm your agency had drilled into you since day one.

His grin widened, if that was even possible, and he leaned forward in his seat, resting his chin in his palm. “Only because you are special, [Y/N]-chan.”

You swallowed back the bile creeping up your throat and gave a coy wave, bowing deeply. “Thank you so much! I’m so glad you enjoyed the show!”

The second you turned and stepped offstage, the smile dropped from your face like a mask sliding off. Your jaw clenched as you made your way backstage, your mind racing. What is wrong with this guy?

Inside the dressing room, you immediately set to work peeling off your stage outfit and shoving your things into your bag. The faint hum of the mirror bulbs was the only sound as you yanked off your heels, wincing at the ache in your feet. “Just a few more minutes,” you muttered to yourself, your tone dark and venomous, “and I’m out of here.”

A sharp knock at the door shattered the momentary quiet. Your heart sank. “Just a minute!” you chirped, forcing the syrupy sweetness back into your voice. But your hands trembled as you zipped up your bag. He wouldn’t come backstage, would he?

The door creaked open without waiting for a response, and your worst fears were realized.

Satoru stepped in as though he owned the place—which, you supposed, he technically did—and shut the door behind him with a soft click. The sound of the lock sliding into place sent a chill racing down your spine.

You plastered on another sunny smile, turning to face him. “Satoru-kun! What a surprise! Did you come to say goodbye?” Your voice was an octave higher than usual, chipper and fake as it could get, but he didn’t seem to notice. If anything, it only made his smile softer, more adoring.

“Goodbye?” he repeated, tilting his head as if the very idea was foreign to him. “Oh, no, [Y/N]-chan. The night’s just getting started. I thought we could spend some time together. Just the two of us.”

You laughed, the sound forced and overly bright. “Oh, Satoru-kun, you’re so funny! I’m sure you’re busy, though, and I wouldn’t want to keep you—”

He interrupted by stepping closer, and you instinctively took a step back, your spine hitting the edge of the dressing table. His eyes gleamed with something dangerous now, something far too intense.

“I made sure I wouldn’t be busy,” he said softly, his voice unnervingly calm. “This is a special night, after all.”

Your hands tightened around the strap of your bag, but your bubbly mask stayed firmly in place. “You’re so thoughtful, Satoru-kun! But really, I’m just so exhausted from performing—I don’t want to ruin your night by being a boring old workaholic!”

His smile faltered, just for a second. The glint in his eyes shifted to something colder.

“Ruining my night?” he echoed, his voice dropping a pitch. He stepped even closer, his long fingers brushing against the edge of your bag. “Oh, [Y/N]-chan, you could never ruin anything for me. You’re perfect. That’s why I waited so long for this.”

The room suddenly felt too small, the air too thin. Still, you kept the mask on, even as your pulse thundered in your ears. “Satoru-kun, you’re such a charmer!” you said with a giggle, though the sound nearly cracked under the weight of your fear. “But really, I—”

“Enough.” His voice was soft but firm, and it froze you in place. The playful tone was gone, replaced by something sharper. His hands found your hips, firm but not painful—yet. “You don’t have to pretend with me, [Y/N]-chan. I know what you really need. What you deserve.”

For a split second, the mask cracked. Your smile faltered, your eyes betraying the panic clawing at your chest. But you quickly forced it back into place, stretching your lips into something resembling a cheerful grin. This wasn’t just any creep—this was the owner of your agency. The man who could ruin your career with a single word. Rejecting him wasn’t an option.

“Oh, Satoru-kun!” you said with a bright laugh that sounded hollow even to your own ears. “You’re too kind, really!”

His expression softened at your attempt, though the unsettling hunger in his eyes never wavered. “I want to show you something,” he murmured, his voice low and syrupy as he stepped closer.

Before you could react, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. The sharp scent of his cologne—overly expensive and cloyingly strong—invaded your senses, making your head spin. You froze as you heard him inhale deeply, the sound sending an involuntary shudder down your spine.

“That’s it,” he sighed, as if your discomfort was the most intoxicating thing in the world.

You swallowed hard, suppressing the wave of revulsion rising in your chest. “Y-Yeah, sure. Anything you want,” you said, forcing another fake giggle. The bile was starting to creep up your throat, but you choked it back.

Satoru straightened, beaming like you’d just granted him his deepest wish. Without another word, he grabbed your hand and tugged you along, his grip firm but not painful. His long strides made it hard to keep up, and you stumbled slightly as he led you down a long, opulent hallway.

“This way,” he said brightly, his excitement bubbling over as he opened a door at the end of the hall. “I’ve been waiting for the perfect moment to show you this.”

The room you stepped into wasn’t just a bedroom—it was a shrine.

Your face froze in a practiced smile, but your stomach churned violently. Every inch of the walls was covered with photos of you, from professional headshots to candid moments you didn’t even know had been captured. A glass case in the corner held memorabilia from your career: props from music videos, outfits you’d worn onstage, and even a pair of shoes you’d discarded years ago. The bed, an enormous thing with crisp white sheets, was adorned with pillows printed with your image.

And in the center of it all, on a pedestal near the window, was a life-sized figure. You.

Your knees nearly buckled at the sight. It was a doll replica, eerily accurate down to the smallest details. The same smile you forced onstage, the same sparkle in your eyes. But the longer you stared, the more disturbing it became.

“Oh, this isn’t even the best part!” Satoru chirped, oblivious—or perhaps delighting in—your horror. He dropped your hand and strode over to the pedestal, gesturing at the figure like a proud artist showing off their masterpiece. “It’s perfect, don’t you think? Just like the real thing.”

You swallowed hard, your hands trembling as you clutched your bag to your chest. “I-I don’t even know what to say, Satoru-kun,” you managed, your voice strained despite your best efforts to sound enthusiastic.

His gaze snapped to you, a flicker of something dangerous crossing his face. “Say you love it,” he demanded, his tone sharp enough to cut through the air.

“I love it,” you echoed immediately, the words leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. You felt like you might vomit right there on the pristine floor.

Satoru’s grin returned, softening into something almost tender. “I knew you would,” he said, stepping closer until he was mere inches away. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face with a touch that made your skin crawl. “It’s because it’s all for you, [Y/N]-chan. All of it. Everything I do is for you.”

Your smile wavered as you nodded, the muscles in your face aching from the effort to keep it in place. Inside, you screamed.

He began to ramble, his voice drifting into an almost giddy monologue as he circled the room. “The doll is great, don’t get me wrong,” he said, gesturing at the figure with a flourish. “But it’s not you. It doesn’t feel like you.” His words trailed off into something quieter, almost wistful. “At least… not yet.”

You didn’t want to know what he meant by that, and you weren’t about to ask. Instead, you kept your fake smile plastered on and nodded along, praying he’d lose interest and let you leave.

“But…” He stopped mid-sentence, turning to face you with that same soft, disarming smile that would’ve melted hearts if it weren’t attached to someone so terrifying. He stepped closer, and you instinctively backed up, only to find the edge of the bed pressing into the backs of your knees.

“You can be the real thing for me, right?” he asked, his tone almost teasing, as if this were some innocent joke between friends. His hands came to rest on your shoulders, deceptively gentle as he guided you to sit down.

“Satoru-kun…” you began, your voice high and airy with forced politeness. “I-I’m not sure what you mean—”

“Oh, come on.” He crouched down to your level, his face just inches from yours now. The smile on his lips didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t play dumb, [Y/N]-chan. I mean… heh…” His laugh was soft, almost self-deprecating, but the threat behind it was crystal clear. “Imagine if the media found out we did something together? Your career would be over, wouldn’t it?”

Your blood ran cold. The bile that had been simmering in your throat threatened to rise, but you swallowed it down, forcing another laugh. “Satoru-kun, you’re so funny! You know I’d never want to disappoint you, but—”

“You wouldn’t disappoint me.” His interruption was immediate, his voice firm but still unnervingly calm. He tilted his head, studying you like a puzzle he was eager to solve. “You’d make me the happiest man in the world, [Y/N]-chan. That’s all I want.”

The weight of his hands on your shoulders grew heavier, and for the first time, the mask you wore faltered completely. You could feel the edges of your resolve cracking as panic clawed at your chest.

“I—I think I should go,” you stammered, your voice trembling now. “It’s been such a long night, and I’m so tired—”

“Shhh.” His finger pressed lightly against your lips, silencing you. “No need to rush. You’re home now. With me.”

The words hung in the air, suffocating, as he gently pushed you back onto the bed.

You felt caged, trapped beneath him as he leaned down and kissed you with a fervent passion that left no room for doubt. His lips moved against yours with a confidence that sent heat spiraling through your body, surprising you with how skilled he was. How is he this good? you wondered, a flicker of reluctant curiosity slipping into your thoughts. For someone with a room like this, you didn’t expect him to know his way around intimacy so well.

When his kisses trailed down your neck, you couldn’t suppress the small sounds that escaped your lips—tiny, breathy moans that only encouraged him. You hated how natural it felt, how easy it was to let yourself melt just a little under his touch.

His hands moved with practiced ease, unbuttoning your soft frilly blouse and sliding it down your arms. The fabric fell away without ceremony, leaving your skin exposed to the cool air. He unhooked your bra without even looking, his attention fixed on you as if you were the only thing in the universe.

“You’re so perfect,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your collarbone. “So beautiful. I can’t believe you’re real.” His voice was thick with awe, the kind of adoration that would have been flattering in another context. Here, it only added to the strange, heady mix of fear and something else stirring in your chest.

You didn’t stop him.

Instead, you found yourself leaning into his touch, your mind a blur of conflicting emotions. Part of you screamed to push him away, to escape this madness before it consumed you. But another part—a quieter, insidious part—was starting to crave the way he made you feel. The way he looked at you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

When he pulled out a condom, your breath hitched. He held it up with a playful smirk, his icy blue eyes glinting with mischief. “Can’t have my favorite girl off the stage because of a baby,” he teased, the words delivered so casually it made your head spin.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you stared at him, your body caught between tension and reluctant desire. “S-Satoru-kun…” you murmured, your voice softer now, less forced. You weren’t sure what you were trying to say—if you were trying to stop him or if you were giving in.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Don’t worry, [Y/N]-chan. I’ll take care of everything. Just trust me.”

And for some reason, at that moment, you did.

His actions surprised you. For all the unsettling obsession and the manic energy that seemed to define him, he was unexpectedly gentle. Every hitch of your breath, every flinch, had him pausing immediately, his hands soothing against your skin. He pressed soft kisses to your cheeks, your lips, your jawline, as if trying to reassure you, as if trying to prove that this was about more than just possession.

Each movement was careful, each thrust deliberate, his pace slow and measured, as though he was determined not to hurt you. Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but notice how his body seemed to move in perfect rhythm with yours, how his touch sent shivers coursing down your spine—not from fear, but from how good it felt. It felt almost too wrong for it to feel this good. 

“You’re so perfect,” he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with emotion. “So much better than I ever imagined. So much better than… than her.”

You knew exactly what he meant by her—that unsettling doll that resembled you sitting in the room. But there was no malice in his tone, no frustration, only unbridled awe. “I knew you’d feel like this,” he continued, his words tumbling out in a breathless babble. “So warm, so soft… so real.”

His hands caressed your sides, trailing down to grip your hips with a reverence that made your chest tighten. “You don’t understand, [Y/N]-chan. I’ve waited for this. For you. I’ve dreamed of having you here, like this, for so long.” His lips found yours again, and this time, you kissed him back. Perhaps out of fear, perhaps out of obligation—or perhaps something else entirely, something you weren’t ready to confront.

“I’m so happy,” he whispered, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm and steady against your skin. His hips ground against yours with a practiced ease that sent shivers through your body, small, involuntary moans slipping from your lips. You weren’t even sure anymore if they were fake.

His icy blue eyes softened, a vulnerability shining through that you hadn’t expected, a strange mix of desperation and adoration. “So happy you’re finally here with me. You belong here. With me.”

The words sent a wave of unease crashing over you, yet his touch—so deliberate, so intimate—made it harder to hold on to that feeling. His pace quickened, his rhythm building into something that pulled soft cries from your throat, cries you weren’t sure belonged to the person you thought you were.

And then it was over, leaving you breathless, your heart pounding in your ears. You stared blankly at the ceiling, the tension in your body refusing to dissipate even as the room fell silent.

Silently thankful for that condom.

Satoru, however, seemed perfectly at ease. He snuggled into you with a satisfied sigh, his face pressed against your chest, his arms wrapping around you like he was afraid you’d disappear. 

His white hair tickled your skin, and without thinking, your fingers found their way into it, absently threading through the soft strands. The motion felt automatic, like muscle memory from a life you weren’t supposed to be living. Your mind raced with conflicting thoughts, questions you didn’t have answers to. Yet, as he murmured something incoherent against your skin, his voice content and heavy with sleep, you found yourself continuing the motion, stroking his hair in a way that felt far too natural.

Because even if it’s love from some creep, maybe that’s the kind of love you crave.

The thought sat heavy in your chest, an unwelcome truth that made your stomach twist. You’d never had someone hold you like this, never had someone look at you the way he did—as if you were the entire world, as if you were the answer to every question he’d ever asked. It was overwhelming, suffocating, and yet…

It was something.

Your fingers paused in his hair for a moment, hovering as if they’d been burned by the thought. But then his arms tightened around you, his face nuzzling deeper into your chest, and a soft, contented sigh escaped his lips. You couldn’t bring yourself to pull away.

Maybe you didn’t deserve something better. Maybe this was all there was.

So, you let him hold you. You let your fingers tangle in his hair again, let yourself relax just enough to make it through the moment. Because even if it was wrong, even if it wasn’t the love you’d dreamed of, at least it was real. At least it was something.

[kabr0ztrousers]

hi, big fan of your writings!! could you do a fem!reader being free-use’d and bred by anthropomorphic bug people, with noncon/dubcon, and intox/drug venom? the darker and more objectifying, the better!

More bugs? Plus egging, intox, noncon and the reader having a really, really bad time? Sounds like fun!

Kabr0z Writes Episode 45: Resistance

This episode concerns Chitinids, we've seen them before in episodes 25 and 26

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: Noncon; warcrimes; military occupation; intox; freeuse; Interspecies; group sex; oviposition; implied impending character death; parasitic pregnancy; forced breeding;

A/N: Another day, another reminder that requests are open, and that if you want to see anything, send an ask or a DM and it'll be added to the list of stories to tell!

Long-time readers will notice a bit of a retcon with a returning species of alien bugs, but hell to it! Nobody's reading these for the rich, cohesive world

#########################################

The cities were clean. The streets quiet. Everything eerily safe and sterile. The Chitinid gunships patrolling sky saw to that. They were silent, hanging ominously in the air in exactly the way bricks don't.

You hurried from your office, aiming to get to the old library before one of them noticed something awry. There's always people on the streets, going to and fro, everybody had jobs although nobody really did anything at them. The work was just sitting in meetings and firing off salvos of emails that would be diligently opened and summarily ignored. Chitinid tech had ended world hunger, cured almost all disease, even fixed the climate. Only problem is, it came at the cost of billions of human lives.

They didn't try to hide the farms, where people were processed and converted to semi-conscious milk producers, or the trade in human pets where some of the wealthiest of your insectile overlords would own a human or four, implanting them with cruel machinery to force their subservience. They also didn't hide the 60-minute war, the last stand of the old world. London, New York, Washington, LA, every city with more than a million people was emptied within ten minutes of formal first contact. Humanity launched every warhead that seventy years of paranoia and hate had stockpiled. Those suspension fields caught every one, redirecting them to deep space. The last of mankind capitulated.

Except you, and a dozen or so others you knew of. Rebels in the dark. Your cell was in terse contact with another, who told you they knew of at least one other, and so the chain went on. It's safer if no one link in the chain know too much about any of the others, but some interesting word has come down the grapevine. In your bag was a thermos filled with nitroglycerin, one of your friends was working on a detonator, a set of elevator codes had came over the radio.

The plan was simple, get to the parts together, get to the roof of a building, and drop the package onto a gunship. It wouldn't win the war, it wouldn't even reallt slow them down, but it would send a message. They hadn't won yet, far from it.

The cell met in a cellar under the library. The building had been a pub decades ago, and the old cellar still existed under the stone floor, the hatch hidden under a rug behind the reception desk. Nobody said much, the group was too close knit to need signs and countersigns. The device came together gradually, a cacophony of held breath as the mercury fulminate charge was lowered into the flask, and you were set.

No time to lose. The plan was your baby, and you weren't going to leave it to chance. The codes you had were for an office building, likely to be empty this late at night. You dodged the pools of light coming from the streetlamps. The foyer was unlocked, as promised, and the lift code worked. Clutching your flask to your chest, you ascended the building. It used to be some bank or other, now it's the same office as everywhere else, but the building was still tall.

The penthouse office. You moved carefully, an overeager step would echo off the polished marble tile. The huge desk stood unoccupied, the roof access behind it. You made for the rail overlooking the west corner of the building, and there it was. A black shape on the dim streets below. The gunship stopped at the intersection and scanned its surroundings. You dropped the bomb.

An azure light caught it in midair, projected from the gunship. You ran. A confinement field shone down over you, inches from the door back into the office. Dust whipped around you. The world flipped.

You're in a cell now. Three Chitinids stood watching you. They spoke amongst themselves, or maybe they were speaking to you? You never learned the chittering language they used, and they don't normally speak English. You tried to move in the azure light, the tingling numbness stopped that. One of the bugs held a screen to your face. The library. Your stomach knotted up as you realised, this is a live feed.

Gunfire rained on the old building, within seconds it was rubble, a minute reduced it to a hole. You screamed, rage and hate filling your voice. The bugs laughed, keeping up the bombardment.

One approached you, pushing its sharp mandibles into your face. Strong hands gripped your clothing, tearing it off. You floated, naked and immobile as the three bugs paced around you, pinching and prodding, laughing at your yelps and threats. One grabbed your ass, pulling you weightlessly towards it in the field. A sharp barb jutted out from its mouthparts, and sank into your shoulder.

Your yells turned to moans. It had drugged you with something. Your body got hotter. You tried to turn and grapple it, but all the strength in the world wouldn't move you. One in front stepped up to you, both forelimbs on your tits as one of the lower arms grabbed your cunt, sinking angled fingers into you.

Your body spasmed, you swore as you felt yourself clench around him. The one behind you laughed and bit you again, giving you another dose of the venom.

You came around the fingers stuck in you, cursing and crying as you did. It released your tits and knelt down in front of you, using its forelimb to tease your clit as it pumped its hand into you.

Tears welled in your eyes as you felt another orgasm come on, you tried to suppress it. The one forcing its hands into your cunt bit you. Its mouth barb lanced into the flesh above your womb, instantly driving you over the edge again. You felt yourself spasm and squirt uncontrollably as the roaches laughed at you again. They tipped you over, flipping you end over end in the light, bringing you to rest face-up, waist high to them.

They loomed over you. Sizing you up as you quivered and squirmed, your breath catching, fluid still dripping in thick droplets from your cunt. Chitinous plates parted on the one stood near your face. A long, ribbed appendage slid out of the gap, dripping dark fluid of its own onto your face. You felt your legs part and what you imagined would be a similar thing brush the lips of your swollen cunt. A chittered word, and both thrust into you at once.

The slime was thick, and bitter. It hurt your throat to swallow it, but it filled you with heat, stronger than the venom from their mouths. The one in your pussy was having a similar effect, making your walls shudder and clench against it, the ribs of its exoskeletal cock stimulating you as he slid them in and out of you. Tears were streaming down your face now, moans turning to screams, and back to moans as the cocktail of aphrodisiac mingled in you, driving you beyond your breaking point.

All you could feel was the cocks pounding your body, again and again making you cum all over them.

All you could see was the screen, the smoking hole that was the library burned into your mind's eye.

You felt the one in your throat cum. It forced itself further in, spraying a thick slime down your neck. You gagged, the instinct to swallow the only thing stopping you drowning on the thick cock-slime being pumped into your belly.

It hurt. The slow-moving load coating your insides. Every beat of your heart making your head spin. You couldn't even feel the one in your cunt unloading into your clenching womb. The potent drugs in their sexual fluids keeping you dazed and in a constant orgasm.

You didn't notice the third had a different appendage. Wider, with a bulbous tip. You didn't sense it slide into you, pumping eggs into your cunt where they lodged into your womb, fertilising from the ocean of bug spunk in your body. You could half-see it as it lay its ovipositor on your lips, stopping your breathing as it forced its way into your throat. More eggs, pushing down into your stomach, fertilising, embedding.

You wouldn't be able to know what would happen to you when the eggs hatch.

You couldn't know the hosts of Chitinid young rarely survive to tell of what happens next.

You'll find out

######################################

Dark enough for you?

[wildflower-ramblings]

MDNI - 18+

Warnings in the tags - warnings contain spoilers.

Read at your own risk.

Simon Riley x reader

I have no explanation for this.

Simon knows everything about you.

He knows your favourite songs, your favourite movies. How you take your tea. How you sing in the shower and apologise to inanimate objects when you bump into them. The way your eyes light up when you laugh; the way you wrinkle your nose when you’re annoyed or frustrated. Knows every twitch of your mouth and flicker of your eyes, and what emotion they mean. He knows the best way to make you giggle in amusement, or to make you flush in embarrassment. Knows what little things annoy you, or upset you; and more importantly, what makes you happy.

He knows the street you grew up on, and the crack on the side walk that made you fall off your bike and scrape your knee. He knows the exact shape the scar is in now, decades later. He knows the name of your first pet, a goldfish you swore once changed colour ever so slightly and definitely had more than a three second memory. He knows the name of your best friend in kindergarten, and how you wanted to become astronauts together and be the first to land on Saturn. He knows the names of all of your cousins, even the ones you only saw at weddings and funerals. Remembers all of their birthdays, too, and remembers when and where you last saw them.

He knows each and every one of your exes, from the first boy in high school who kissed you then broke your heart, to the thankfully short relationship you’d had in university, who refused to let you meet their friends or go over to their place. About the last relationship you had, the one you thought you were going to marry, and how much it broke you when they told you they couldn’t do it any more. He knows how long it took you to pick yourself up after that, and how much strength it took to shut them down when they tried to tearfully apologise months later.

He knows every single on of your friends, very way they’ve hurt you, which friends seem to flake at the first sign of trouble, which ones will cancel plans at the last minute and leave you on your own. Which ones will stick with you through anything, who will point out the red flags you can’t see, but still be there for you even when they don’t agree with your choices.

He knows everything about your job; your favourite and least favourite coworkers, which ones will chat about your weekend with you and which ones have talked about you behind your back. How much you dread each Monday, and how much you wish you could tell your manager where to shove it. He knows how tired you look every Friday night, collapsing onto the couch with a glass of wine as soon as you can, some mindless show on TV that you swear you’re not really into, but can name every character from.

He knows your entire bed time routine, from the hot drink you make yourself to wind down to the way you dance around whilst brushing yourself. How terrible you are at remembering to take your tablets and the systems you’ve tried (and failed) to keep track of them. All your little tricks to get yourself to sleep when your mind refuses to shut down.

He knows how you are first thing in the morning, all droopy eyes and soft sighs, the sheets tangled around your body. He knows how soft you look in the golden morning light, the way you curl into your pillow when your alarm goes off, and how softly your eyelids flutter open. How you always swear you’ll get up on the first alarm, but end up sleeping an extra five or ten minutes, lulled back in by the warmth of the bed.

He knows that you sleep in nothing but an extra large t-shirt, grumbling about how uncomfortable any extra fabric makes you. How your shirt always rides up and gives him the perfect view of your body. How enticing you are, all spread out for him. How soft your skin is, and how it gives when he grabs at it, his too large hands creating dimples and leaving faint traces – his mark on you.

He knows how pretty you look when you come, your sweat-slicked skin glistening in the glow of the lamp. How breathy you sound when you’re close, the way you try – and fail – to keep your moans in so the neighbours won’t hear. How loud you can get when you truly let yourself go.

He knows exactly how you like to touch yourself and be touched, and just how quickly he can make you cum in every possible way. He knows how you feel on his fingers, how you clench around them when he finds that perfect spot inside you. How pretty you look stretched out on his cock, the slight furrow of your brow when he first pushes into you, and how it quickly morphs into soft gasps of pleasure. The way his come looks dripping out of you, and the whimpers you make when he pushes it back into your sensitive walls. How you come even harder when he cleans you up with his mouth, and how sweet you taste on his tongue.

It’s a shame you have no idea he exists.

He knows how to fix that.

I have literally never written dark content I have no idea what I'm doing

I just got the last two sentences in my head and it just unravelled from there

[angelyuji]

Omg, yandere step dad Wonverine x nerdy/geeky step daughter x yandere Deadpool????

Wade asks Logan to talk about some things with him at his house. Logan telling him no, that they should meet somewhere else but Wade is already there and starts flirting with you. Logan being completely jealous but you two ignore him and keep flirting

Later that night both of them are fucking you in your room

i unfortunately have not seen deadpool and wolverine yet becuz ryan reynolds is a zionist and i've also hated him for awhile becuz of how much he shit talks green lantern, however i will watch it (illegally) one day

BUT i have seen some clips so im gonna push the poolverine agenda😈

tw // noncon/dubcon (under the cut) , sadism, deadpool, implied cheating, stepcest

minors dni!!! 18+!!!!!!

logan and wade have been friends for awhile and wades been dying to meet you. logans been putting off introducing him because you're his!!! he doesn't like to share yk? but wades convinces him "wolvie, baby, i wouldn't dareee touch a hair on her head!! i swear!!"

when wade meets you, he's literally ENAMOUREDDD like ohmygosh you're like a cute cat. and the way you react every time wade says something a little scandelous is sooo funny to him

at first logan's a little jealous and like very "wade fuck off", but logan was starting to be really into how you and wade interact like logans mean to you like he's very much a sadist but wade is sweet and teasing. so logans like... maybe i do like to share! but only with wade.

wade's still sadistic but in a different way. like when logans being an asshole, wade is cooing and soothing you just to immediately start being cruel and teasing you. very hot and cold.

wade would def somehow convince you to sleep with him and while he's eating you out, logans going to find you too and join :)

"don't worry, cutie, logie's not gonna find us." wade traps you against the bed, his lips sucking your neck. you nervously shift, feeling his teeth pierce your neck.

"i-i don't want to do this, wade." you try to push him off, but wade lifts his head away from your sore neck, pouting.

"but we've started already, and look at what you did?" he points down to the bulge in his pants and your eyes go wide, "see? and unless you want me to tell your dad about this, you should zip-" logan mimics zipping his mouth, "-and let me make you feel good." you swallow and nod. wade smiles, "good girl."

wade trails his lips down your chest down to your clothed cunt, you feel his mouth press against your panties, soaking the fabric with spit. but in your disgust, you feel something burning in your stomach. you try to push wades head off, but he uses a hand to smack you away. your thoughts swirled as the pleasure built up in you. you try to press yourself against him, to bring you over the edge, but wade refused. "naughty kitty, i thought you didn't want this?" you can feel the vibration of his voice and you whine.

"wade." your step-father's voice comes from the door. you look over, panicking. wade lifts his head away from you to give him a toothy smile. "i thought you said you wouldn't touch a hair on her head?" he lifts an eyebrow at the man's behavior.

wade rolls his eyes, "come and stop me then, logie." wade wiggles his finger at him. your step-father gives you a strange look, before walking over to the two of you.

"well, i didn't tell you to stop, did i?"

[tragicwithacapitaltodd]

dick whispering "i'm sorry" when jason uses his safe word. :)

[3amfanfiction]

idk if you’ll think this is OOC for simon in the darling and doll series but can you write moments where he was actually kinda sweet/loving to doll? the recent chapters made me feel bad for doll, she doesnt get enough love 😔

feel free to ignore if u dont want to write him a bit ooc

Hi nonnie, this is the best I could do without pulling him so far ooc that we would be talking about a different story. Shoutout to gouge for brainstorming help. I couldn't have done it without them

cw: aftermath of rape, lackluster first-aid, icepacks and haircuts. It's assumed that reader has shorter hair in this.

Simon x reader, part of the Doll and Darling series (this is a dark series, hurt/no comfort, so be aware before you dive in)

~~~~

You jerked back as something hit the bed.

The packaging crinkled. You stared with uncomprehending eyes, trying to figure out what was just thrown at you.

"I know I was too rough with you last night. So. There's an icepack," the man standing over you grumbled. He was frowning down at you, expression put-out that you needed medical attention at all, no matter how lackluster it was.

Your fingers trembled as you reached for it, pulling it in.

He huffed an exasperated breath as the seconds ticked on and you fiddled with it, trying to hold it gingerly to hinge of your hip to help with the pain only to flinch away when you pressed too hard. "It's just a fucking icepack, how do you not know how to use it?" He pulled it from your hands to press it firmly against your body, ignoring your wheezed gasp of air at the pressure against your tender ligaments.

He'd had you in all sorts of stress positions the night before. Pushing and pulling you this way and that. When the morning light had come, you'd barely been able to walk, having to content yourself to wallowing in bed in pain.

You were surprised at his gesture. This wasn't the first time he'd hurt you but it was the first time he'd done something about it. You were hesitant to look a gift horse in the mouth but at the same time you were wary of this kindness. Surely he would expect recompense. Something further he would take from you that you weren't even aware you still held.

Still.

"Thank you."

It was best to stay on his good side while he had one.

You sat there awkwardly as the pain in your hip slowly cooled. It had dulled to a low throb when Simon shifted, bending down to tug you up and over his shoulder.

Well, that was short lived, you thought bitterly as you hung upside down, staring at his back. You wondered what new horrors he had in mind now that he had adequately 'repaired' you.

He sat you down on the bathroom counter, the hard surface cold against your bare thighs. Watching as he bent over to rummage through the drawer, you wondered at your life. You never expected to end up here—held against your will by a man you now knew far too thoroughly. Life was supposed to work out. It was supposed to be this great adventure that you were on, something exciting and full of hope. Not exhausting and full of pain.

You flinched when he stood up. You couldn't help it. A minute twitch that he was sure to have seen. Because he saw everything. There was no hiding from him. And it was constant. An ever-watchful eye over your shoulder that never blinked, never slept, always seeing.

You were the watcher this time as he straightened and stepped closer to you, spreading your knees (slower when he saw your wince at your hip being moved) and stepping in between them. Your spine went rigid when you saw the pair of scissors in his hand.

"W-wait, what are you doing?"

"Hold still," he grumbled, grabbing your chin to keep you from jerking away. "Unless you want these scissors to end up in your eye, you won't move."

Your muscles locked up, spine rigid as you froze at the threat.

"That's a good pet."

Your eyes clenched shut involuntarily as the scissors got closer to your face, leaving you to twitch in surprise at the snip near your ear. You felt strands of hair fall, brushing your bare shoulder on the way down. You sat as still as you could, cradling him in the V of your legs as he looked down on you with a slight frown of concentration. Your eyes cracked open to take a peek at him.

"Why are you doing this?" you whispered through strangled vocal cords.

"Noticed you kept messing with it. Know you don't like your hair this long."

That's right. You'd almost forgotten the time he'd spent stalking you before he kidnapped you. The hours he'd spent outside your house or following you on your errands. He would've seen everything you did. Cataloged everything about you. Including personal appearance preferences.

It was almost sweet in a way. Not really but you could delude yourself into thinking that way. You could pretend that it was care and devotion that had him helping you with your leg and your hair. A concern for you welfare and emotional state. A desire to keep you happy.

You knew it wasn't true but it was fun to pretend. To sit still and let him cut your hair in this musty bathroom, strands falling all over the counter and floor. Shedding more of your DNA around this hellhole to be found if the police ever bothered to look. If they were ever pointed in Simon's direction.

His grip on your chin gentled as he turned your head this way and that. Tilting it as he checked his work.

You sat still, careful to only move in the way he wanted. Eager for this to be over but also thankful for the small kindness he was showing. It was still a relief when it was finally over. You took deep breaths for the first time in ages, filling your lungs and shifting.

Simon took a step back to look at you, "Good as new."

He picked you back up and moved you to the couch, throwing you down onto the cushions with a slight bounce. You winced and readjusted the icepack that was slowly warming against your leg.

Simon sat beside you, pulled you into his lap and turned on a footie match, reaching out to twist a pinch of hair back and forth between two fingers. If he would've been anyone else you would have snapped at him about putting knots in your hair. But it wasn't someone else so you stayed silent, letting him fiddle to his hearts content.

You found yourself slowly relaxing back into his heat, the warmth soothing on a fundamental level. But it was the steady rise and fall of his chest that finally lulled you to sleep, hopeful that this strange mood would continue. This softer Simon that you hadn't seen before. You hoped he stuck around.

[cloroxcasser0le]

The rival gang got his ass! LITERALLY!!!!!1!!!!

(This is the context I speak of)

[kabr0ztrousers]

Kabr0z Writes episode 134: Forevermore

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

Ao3!

CWs: noncon; knotting;

A/N: It is late, and I am on the poorly side, so enjoy another nice short one.

#####################################

The night was freezing. You regretted offering to work late to get the project in, but you needed the overtime hours. It probably wasn't worth it. Now you've missed your last train home and didn't even make enough on top to make up a taxi fare. So you walked.

Your heels clacked against the road surface as you clutched your jacket around yourself. Had you known you'd be walking home tonight, you'd have worn trousers rather than a skirt, and probably gone for a thicker pair of tights. As it was, you could feel the wind on your legs as you went, the pace you were keeping the only thing stopping you shivering.

Noise from a rooftop. A dark shape from above. Dank fur and powerful arms. Dizzying acceleration. You made out the group receding, before landing with a thump on a flat roof. The dark shape that grabbed you was hunched over you, glowing red eyes staring as one brutally clawed hand held you down.

Pain. Tears. Clothes turned to rags. Cold night air. The shape panted above your nude body. Heat radiated from it. A sharp-toothed maw closed about your neck. Claws dug into your thigh. It opened your legs, pressing against you. Warm wetness spread onto you. You struggled. It held you.

You screamed as it entered you. The overwhelming smell of damp fur. Claws cutting your shoulders. The thump-thump-thump against the roof as it drove on. Your fists battered against matted hair. It did not relent. Its jaw tightened. A warning. Screams became whines. Panting turned to grunting. A bulbous swelling slapped against you, threatening entry. You twisted and turned to no avail. It pressed on.

It hilted in you. You sobbed. Stretched out. Twitching and clenching. Heat filled you. Spreading inside. Making you his.

Forevermore

#########################################

This one's probably the shortest I'll try to pass off as an episode, at a super tight 300 words. Unless anyone specifically requests a wordcount less than this, in which case I could go lower.

Either way, hope you all enjoyed it!

[quarterlifekitty]

SAW THE NEW HOTEL WORKER/SIMON SNIPPET AND JUMPED FOR JOY!!!!! (for reference i was the anon that sent the ask about leaving a message for the wrong number) i’m glad you and others enjoyed the silly little thoughts i had at work one day!!!

anyways simon’s the kind of guest to call down to the front desk and ask for shit he doesn’t need (extra pillows, blankets, toiletries etc) just so he has an excuse to keep dragging you back to his room. and you dread when he stays bc he always pulls this shit and you’re not blind. you see the way he looks at you. you’re afraid that one day he’s going to act on whatever dark thoughts lurk behind his eyes. you pray he gets bored of you before he decides that looking at you and ordering you around under the guise of “helping a guest” isn’t enough anymore

lol and here I was thinking on the very same visit where you show him to his room he was gonna ask you to show him the controls of the shower (that shit is arcane it’s different in like every hotel) and he was just gonna casually strip and lock the door heehee

[cruel-hiraeth]

childe changes the bed linens when you begin menstruating. they’re pure white: spotless as the freshly fallen snow piled up on your windowsill. he doesn’t allow you to use pads or tampons—let alone wear clothing or underwear—because he wants to witness and revel in the beauty of your monthly shed. you’re utterly confined to your shared chambers, though you hardly ever leave the bed because he’s intent on enjoying every moment of these few, sacred days—until his mouth and hands and cock are stained claret with your blood.

[niccolites]

simon in the omegaverse to me is like,,,,beta reader but simon Decides you are his omega and will force a mating bite on you even though you don't have the gland. forces you to take his knot even though you were not built for it

[stars-obsession-pit]

…oh.

My brain has had another idea for a problematic/unhealthy relationship for a fic.

CW/TW noncon (explicitly being held captive, possible implications that more might have happened) + kinda selfcest (Danny and Phantom are separated now, but they were originally just one person)

The Ultimate Enemy + Pitch Pearl

It starts with essentially the canon Ultimate Enemy timeline, up until it diverges when Vlad separates Danny’s ghost and human halves.

Unlike the canon version where Phantom is implied to have killed his human half, in this one Phantom’s emotions towards Danny are a bit more possessive.

Phantom hates the world. It hurt them over and over, destroying everything good they had. It’s an evil, corrupt place. Unlike his beautiful, perfect human side. Danny only wanted to help people, to protect them. And those people rejected him.

Danny may have only separated his ghost half to try to remove the pain he was feeling, but Phantom recognizes a different opportunity that he’s been given.

A chance to right the wrongs dealt to them. To show the world the error of their ways for rejecting Danny’s care. This time, Danny is going to be the one protected. Phantom is going to keep him safe. After all, if he destroys everything, there will be nothing left that could potentially harm his Danny.

And so, Phantom begins his rampage.

But in the meantime, he still needs to make sure Danny remains safe. So he takes him captive, locking him up in the most secure fortress he can find. It’s not perfect, but it should be enough to delay anything that could cause him harm. He’ll check in often to make sure Danny is safe. Both from the outside world, and from himself. He knows his human half is lonely, still mourning the losses of his family and friends. But Phantom will be there to remind him that he is loved, that he doesn’t need anyone else, that this is all for him.

And when it’s over, when everyone is gone but the two of them, won’t the night skies be oh so beautiful?