thedarkestrivernymph

[thedarkestrivernymph]

can we have more charles affection??? he's so ughhhh

In an alternative universe where...

"Beloved," there's a fleeting pair of lips brushing over the slope of your shoulder, "Come back to bed."

You chuckle, sparing the figure dressed in moonlight and sin a glance. "I can't, Charles." Brown eyes, nearly pitch black in the dark of the room look at you rounded, with a quality reminiscent of a puppy.

"I fear someone will notice." leaning back so your lover can embrace you properly, placing a chaste kiss of your own on his forehead as his arms encircle you. Strong and warm, smelling of the new soap you bought him—lavender, fields you recalled the servants sons and daughters playing in.

There's building tension in his hold, muscles strain against you and you can only sigh, knowing the face Charles must be making behind you.

For a moment—everything stays still, and you can watch the flame of your oil lamp dance in the otherwise pitch dark quarters, then his chest heaves, and his chin lands in the crook of your neck.

"He never cares for you. Why should you have to be considerate?" his breathe kisses your throat, tickling the tender flesh there, distracting from the seriousness of his tone, "My brother—what he fool he is. He dare commit adultery, yet you're expected to be abstinent. Just a political figure for his gain. I should stop him. Have him overthrown. His head cut off—"

"Charles." you stop his violent ramblings. The one of a man so hopelessly in love that he started fantasing murdering his own blood to free his love. "You must stop." images conjure up in your mind, of your husband hearing about his treason, of Charles thrown into prison, exiled, worse killed.

You would never allow it. Perhaps you yourself weren't the most virtuous bright-eyed maiden there is, but what you lack in goodness, Charles makes up for it. He's pure hearted. These new bursts of mad ramblings are only the end result of the year-long mistreatment he has wittnessed. He's a good man.

"But how can I stop?" his arms tighten, your own breath hitches, "When my queen is unhappy. When he takes whores to bed! When he curses and speaks ill of you! When he has never once loved you how you must be loved?" his voice quietens down, anguish plaguing it.

"Charles." you breathe.

"Beloved." he answers.

And you're whisked away, resolution forgotten—completely engulfed in warmth, your limbs tangling with his until you both lose sense of where you begin and he ends, with only the velvet sheets to shield the night from the indecency of it all: from the filthy adultery that's been happening since you both fell in love with the wrong person.

[thedarkestrivernymph]

Trepidation

Wealthy! Elven royalty x Beggar! fem! Human Reader

cw: physical abuse, toxic relationship dynamics, insecurities, chains, mentions of poverty, not proofread

You knees were aching, bones trembling in their place.

“Darling.” succulent sweet was her whisper, the gentle caress that would hopefully abide you from repenting further from your sins.

“Are you hungry?” a thumb breeched the barrier of your sealed lips, parting them to slip a buttery soft finger in and to rub against the flat of your tongue. “Aw, baby. I know you are.” your only salvation stared down at you with her hawk-like gaze, eyes so piercing you were close to tears. “You must be,”

Yeah, you must be.

Because she had left you to starve.

Kicked out on a lone’s winter's night, you had been branded for life; a beggar, a deformity, something with less worth than livestock. No one had even spared you a second glance—mother’s would spit at you, children poke fun and fathers were above dirt such as yourself.

But then you had met her.

Iliana.

Your goddess in elven form, plucking you up from the streets like a budding rose between weeds, gifting you the greastest treasure you could ever recall recieving; a last name, a purpose, a home.

However your angel had razor-sharp teeth that were befitted a shark much more than something as regal as her. And her bite stung as terribly as a serpent’s. But she was still your master, still your saviour, was she not? Even when she made you kneel at her feet in the rags she had found you in and with chains around your throat like a common runt.

“Master,” you muffled plead elicited a grin from her, your poor vocal cords straining to form a sound—as if you were a budgie learning imitation for the first time.

“Master, I worship you.”, your chest heaved with pain blooming underneath your left breast, so desperate to just be re-accepted into her chambers again, to be pampered and fed once more as a regal hound, “I—I didn't mean to..”

“What?” her grip tightens. You nearly choke on her thumb as she rams it down your sore throat, making you gurgle and sputter.

She watches you for a moment.

The tears in your eyes, the way your Adam's apple bobs up and down in blind hysteria, the way you can only stare at her puzzled, so confused, so lost like a duckling in need of a mother.

“It's unbecoming of a dog to talk back to its owner.” slanted eyes, that of a vicious fox stare you down and all protest, all desire to explain yourself vanishes as you realise that's not what she's here for.

“Because dogs don't talk. They bark.”

So you do. At least try to while choking on her finger, drool slickening her entire hand as it runs down your chin.

And suddenly she's in high spirits again.

“Good girl.” the brunette purrs, silky-smooth strands of brown encompassing you as she releases you and instead crouches next to you as you keel over, emptying acid and patheticness onto the filthy cellar floors.

“Oh my dear. Look at you,” like a mother would she presses you to her bosom, rich velvet caresses your marred skin, a dress of such great value you feel uneasy to just touch it, “Let's get you back upstairs. It's so cold her, dear. You’ll catch your death.” and with just that she frees you—your salvation takes you back in her heavenly arms to carry you back to what can only be heaven.

Your heaven.

[thedarkestrivernymph]

Greedy Little Angel

God of the Underworld x Yandere! Cupid! Reader

cw: nudity, stalking, suggestive, nsfw at the end

note: I wrote this September last year..., so.. uhm..haha..

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You were a sputtering little mess, always behind, trying your hardest to catch up to your older brothers and sisters—yet failing to do so.

Pristine white wings, albeit too small for your size, making it the more difficult to flutter away effortlessly, decorated your back. While nearly every inch of your buttery smooth skin was exposed, golden leaves the only attire to cover all places indecent to look at—but who would? You were an Angel after all, there wasn't this shameful earth-like pattern of belief burned into you, none of your brothers and sisters, and even Gods wore much. Nudity wasn't something sexual—

or so you believed until you stumbled with your arrow in your hand hunting down the infamous God of the Dead, trying to make him fall for his fated soulmate until you accidentally pricked yourself, tumbling out of your hiding spot to fall right in front of his feet.

“What’s that?” he mused at the sight of something fallen in front of him, an Angel no less while squinting to get a better look at the thing clutched in your arms—a golden tipped arrow pressing right into the supple flesh of your chest. You laid there all out of it, mumbling something incoherently, trying to lift your heavy head up, only to meet his gaze, and fall absolutely lovestruck.

“A cupid? What is one of your kind doing here?” he questioned softly, brows quirked up in amusement—nothing broke his relaxed state of being, so unbelievably cool in your eyes and that's when you felt it, the first pulse of your life, a heartbeat so painful and—shame.

It was hot, it was sizzling beneath your skin and consumed you—making you immediately hide yourself behind feathered wings, large doe-eyes staring at him while you were almost drooling at the sight of his imposing statue, clad in darkness, with shadows racing over his taunt cheekbones and smoldering gaze fixed on you in amusement.

“Did you just prick yourself, little cupid?” he couldn't help let a laugh escape, watching the confusion flitter over your face—startled by your own inexperience. “My—so the Goddess of Love wanted me head over heels? Mhm. Seems that didn't quite work out.” he chuckled darkly.

“C’mon let's get you up on your feet, dove.” the God mumbled with that twinkle in his eyes, regarding you like a mischievous child rather than an angel, planting you firmly on your feet with just a hand, before patting your head. “Now scurry along—no one needs to know about your little mishap.” he uttered, eyes soft and tender, unbelievably kind for a God rumoured to be brutally cruel and what shocked your squirming figure even more was him patting your back, giving you a big push forward to get you walking.

Needless to say you were completely and helplessly—utterly in love.

…

You chased after him through the entire Underworld, heart shaped pupils fixated on him, sighing dreamily each time you had the honour of gazing at him only to turn red—a babbling mess whenever he glanced back.

That little game of yours lasted for days—weeks even before he held you by your wings, allowing you to squirm in the air, squealing in surprise, while staring at him with glossy doe-eyes and a face beat red.

“Look—I caught a little dove prying—sticking your nose into things that do not concern you again? I already ensured you that your little incident is safe with me, what more do you want?” this time it was obvious he was both amused yet irritated, almost annoyed with you stalkerish behaviour so incessant and unrelenting that it gave him a headache.

“But–But!” you attempted to protest, you really did, but you just forgot to talk when he gazed at you—only then did he notice the silky cloth hiding your figure. “Mhm—what’s this? Why cover up—you’re a cupid.” he thought aloud, toying with the neckline of your improvised toga.

“You're acting awfully lot like a human—see that's why I despise falling in love.” suddenly his voice turned gruff and darkness glinted in his eyes. “It makes a fool out of you—you’re even panting, wait, why are you panting?” now he seemed genuinely puzzled, you were so squirmish and skittish just what—Oh.

You were rubbing your thighs together, tongue rolled out, drool running over your chin, as you managed to shoot him right in the heart, lovesick and going mad from the sudden emotions inside of you, you wanted him to love you back, badly.

Immediately he let you go, falling to his knees, groaning in what was close to agony, the Underworld suddenly seemed a tint darker—and then warmer until it was unbearably hot as if the ground was coal.

You didn't even know when or how it happened but he fulfilled your fantasies on the spot, a large hand enclosed your neck, riping the silky material to shreds as he cried out in pain. “Why—you— you're such a horrible cupid. Is that why you hit me with your arrow so you could live out all your debauched desires? What? I thought you were a decent cupid—only skittish, my how wrong I was you're outright lewd. You’re at fault for this now.”

And those were the last words you heard before you felt pure sin shoot through your body, thighs trembling as he pinned them to the sides, sinking into you over and over again—until not a single feather of yours remained even remotely white.

You were still a mess, but neither oblivious nor innocent, now you were the little crow draped over his arm, seated on his thigh on his throne, while you lapped at every speck of affection he gave you—and he gave you lots.

He was bound to you now, as much as you to him—and neither of you could ever let eachother go, because a cupid’s arrow is as strong as the cupid’s heart—and your heart, yours was a particulary strong one.

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[thedarkestrivernymph]

Remembrance

Yandere! Crown Prince x Princess! Reader

cw: gore, blood, yandere tendencies, not proofread

Spikes for fingers, sandpaper skin, isn't that what defines a monster? Inhuman, oddly shaped with a bleary gaze but razor-sharp teeth; nightmare fuel. Simply a life not worth living.

Yet you did.

You breathed, ate, slept, shat.

Still, none seemed enough to counter-argue against the myth of the monster-bride of the prince, of something hideous and evil-ridden.

You remained only a creature of the night—a horrible burden to the fair-skinned man with endless glories to his name who was the most unfortunate to have to wed and bed you.

Well, to be fair no one heard the bellowing cries of anguish at night that ripped your throat raw and left you in limbo between the throb in your bleeding heart and the over-exertion of a body not possessing powers beyond a human shell.

Because no one knew the truth; about the larvae squirming beneath the rotten apple wrapped in gold and silk.

"My dear," syrup drowning a budding rose; stiffling, overwhelming, too much, "you haven't touched your tea even once. And you didn't even finish your pastry."

Azure eyes met yours, deeper than the ocean and brighter than the skies high above; they were pulling everything and everyone under their spell. Once, in a distant past, they had also transfixed you. Those very eyes had made you believe that you weren't a deformity to be removed off the face of earth, but something to be treasured.

Only you had learned for too late that to be treasured by his royal highness meant to burn alive.

"I haven't got an appetite." you knew he wouldn't buy such a weak excuse; you knew how that gaze of his never strayed far from you. But a monster could hope, couldn't it? Even as that pretty set of eyes would burn into the very back of your head, as if you were a commodity, a pretty tablecloth he liked to indulge in—even as he traced the outline of your face like embroidery, not with touch but with reverence.

"Darling." his fingers twitched. Something morphed in the way only a knife could be sharpened. You clung tighter to the sanity that hope provided you with.

"Don't lie to me dear." he clasped a hand around your chin. Claiming you as one would claim a favourite cup—with natural confidence, assurance that it was his birthright to do so.

"Is it the pastries? Are they not to your liking? Is your tea too sweet? Bitter? Unpleasant? What is it my dear?" he had chained you to him, had dragged you, and now possessed you like a puppet.

His puppet.

"No it isn't—" sweat clung to your brows, the familiar buzz spread beneath your skin as his touch descended, down and even further down until his hand came to rest on your lap.

"Dear," something unsightly crossed his features, "Is it that thing again?"

Fuck.

You squirmed—like a bug beneath a shoe, trying to wriggle itself free, to escape a death by the hands of fate. "No, really, it's not that—" bile rose in the back of your throat, terror wracking havoc upon you as you remembered, remembered her.

"Are you still grieving for that thing?" he spat and fingers reached out—spidery webs of agony and before you knew it he had ripped a scream raw from your throat.

He chuckled. Scrutinizingly so as he stared down at the fork sticking out of your thigh, beautiful red strings now decorating the pristine white of your nightgown, spreading and crawling down your lap to trickle onto the wooden floors.

You sobbed. White-hot pain throbbed in your numbing leg, inches from the edge of silver and gold around your crotch. "Please—", you voice trembled. Like a duck with it's feathers plucked, all you could do anymore was beg and plead.

"It's really not about—about her." Her, your pet dove, who he had crushed to death.

"Oh..dear." his hand tightened around the metal sticking out of your flesh. His gaze softened, voice smoothed out as if the monster could actually repent and feel—as if turning you into this shivering, trembling mess, this symphony of chaos, having consumed you all, was making him feel bad. If not for just a moment.

He leaned forward, a mixture of the most expensive soaps wafted around him and under your nose, a scent too conforting consisting of lavishness and wealth for a man so cruel.

And then a voice so quiet—eerily so as he rasped into your ear,

"I don't believe you.",

and he stabbed you again.

For why you were cursed, you didn't know—for all you knew was that you were supposed to be the ugly one. For your visage to fit your insides, yet the devil was a handsome man, friends with foes, and a smooth-talking charmer.

So perhaps that's why he had taken you as his bride. For the ugliness of your flesh matched the evilness of his heart.

Or so your dazed, pain-ridden self liked to believe, as dark clouds crowded your vision, until the last thing you wittnessed was him open-mouthed screaming while something wet slipped down his cheek.

[thedarkestrivernymph]

Temperance

Yandere Prince x Blind! Nymph Reader

Melodies intertwined to dance through the grand garden—weaving through the thicket, through the branches of the magnolia embracing the sun’s last rays of the day, through the hearts of anyone stepping inside the parlor and capturing them under their tantalising spell.

The prince had first been captivated by the distant hum of nature—aching to let his feet travel, let them carry him out and about, flee from the incessant chatter of nobles with misleading saccharine tongues and the almost offensively repetitive rhythm of the waltz—to taste a speck of freedom, that's what he craved. So he ventured, champagne still clad between his fingers decked out in gold, the velvet red hanging from his shoulder like the proud blood soldiers wore after war—yet he couldn't care less about either, as the enchantment worked its magic into his soul.

What once was presumed as only the sweet trilling of birds and the chirping of crickets—soon transformed into a low hum, then words were spun to dance around his head and form a pathway to the mystery—the voice in his gardens. There was a soft caress of the breeze palming through his hair, a nice ringing in his ears—his own blue blood pumping through his veins— and there was dampness on his bottom lip, that he kept licking—nearly foaming at the mouth because the sound was far more savory than the finest royal dishes he had ever had.

So soon, he stepped over the last cobblestone, over the last puzzle piece that would soon reveal the perfect picturesque of beauty— you.

His mind short-circuited. The abstractness of it all faded, the spurts of colours coming together to form an image he would never ever able to forget again. Here amidst the greenery—hidden in the most secluded depths of the seemingly endless royal gardens, were you sat atop the pond’s edge, knee deep in the crystal waters. Your mouth was parted, moving, to let the divinity that escaped you pull him in its enticing ban and hold him shackled in place, timid that if he stepped any closer the sweet illusion—a mirage that a dying man would reach out for—would evaporate and leave him spiralling into insanity.

It wasn't until he risked a step forward, heart hammering in his ribcage like the strong wings of an eagle fighting against its golden cage—that he made a grave mistake.

Snap. A measly twig broke in two. Yet it was enough to alarm you. To make you bleat and fleet like a newborn lamb, and to rob him of his first ever love. However—as much as he ached to shackle you in place, he knew he had to be a real gentleman about it. So instead of dwindling his luck, he let you flee, and allowed you a false sense of security—that you had escaped whatever unknown horror you had assumed.

Like a dying man on his deathbed, he would cling to this image of an Angel, and never let go again.

So just wait for him to claim this angel as his own.

[thedarkestrivernymph]

Yandere! Sukuna x deaf! Reader imagine

genre: soulmate au

warning: not proofread, written more as a concept

Imagine! being shoved into a room with no windows, while one of your sisters writes the words into your palm “Don't make a single sound, don’t look, don't question.” and then she slips your hand out of yours, rushing away, leaving you crouched in one corner of the room.

The air is stale and might be stifling much more suffocating is the unknown; suddenly panic spread through the temple and all the passages were bolted close, shut in the hopes of keeping someone or something out. Just if you knew who it was you were keeping out.

You sighed, rubbing your temples trying to smooth out the lines between your brows. However instead of finding momentary solace, something powerful wracked through the earth, shaking the entire construct. First, you assumed it to be an earthquake, then you could make out just one person walking, and the steps were so heavy that it couldn't be anyone you knew.

So slowly, against your judgement, you crawled to your feet and approached the door, trying to better listen to any movement with your bare feet and hands, attempting to make out the pattern, the rhythm and speed—if you could still escape, if your family was still alive.

Suddenly the steps came nearer and nearer, until the stopped altogether, and the cloth in front of your eyes was ripped of with calloused hands.

Yet what stared down at you was neither man or monster, but both, a creature that shouldn't have been able to exist.

“Found you, little mouse.” the pink creature mouthed with a wicked grin, pointing at his chest and there you saw the treacherous golden band leading right to your own beating heart.

[thedarkestrivernymph]

Maggots

—squirming, crawling, eating.

pairing: Yandere! Hannibal x Gn! Reader

warnings: gore, mentions of infidelity, capture/kidnapping, kinda unstable reader, cannibalism

Maggots infest. Slip out of their soft shells to live the life god's gracious hand laid out for them; to be the cleaner’s of the earth.

Yet sometimes, those little helpers get confused, their minds tricked by baser instincts and they mistakenly crawl beneath skin that still flushes with warmth.

Hannibal isn't a maggot. Isn't something small and skittish. He’s dominating with a heavy-weighting degree, a name for himself in his field—yet it is his very nature that emulates that of a flesh-eating creature, and who is he to go against that?

Unfortunately for you, a creature of the dark never crawls out of his shell and presents itself to its target—never declares ownership loud and proud, but rather subtle.

It started with small things, tics and habits which you could easily brush off. His thumb rubbing your palm in one of your sessions, his gaze that rested on the juncture of your throat a second too long, covered by a lie and feigned interest in your necklace, the way he would hover behind you as you exited his room and watched you drive off from his window with a smile and a wave.

Intricate stitches that slowly weaved his way into your very being—and before you know it, you were coked in red thread that bound you to him like a dog on a leash.

“Isn’t this the same cheap perfume you wore on your little date last month?”, his voice rung—calm, collected, even teasing. Yet there was this cutting edge to it, a warning laced in silk comfort as he further pressed you into the cushioned chair of his dining room.

“I remember him.” he continued, unprompted, eyes wandering over you. Slithering like a snake over hot sand, completely comfortable, at home, as if it was his birthright to gauge and stare.

“He had a bit of an temperament. Loved to only talk about himself, disregarded your feelings. A npd.” he mused as he took one of your shaking wrists, placed it on the arm of your seat and bam, let the handcuffs attached to the wood fall shut trapping you like a squealing mouse as you yelped.

Smiling he moved onto the other.

“Narcissistic personality disorder. That's what the abbreviation stands for.” the blonde added, condescension so thick in his tone that if you weren't quite frankly paralyzed with fear you would tell him to shut it—

Now why were you so terrified out of your mind? Well, it had something to do with the bulging stare burning holes into you—and it wasn't Hannibal's.

A head. A human head was staring up at you from your plate—and it wasn't just anyone's.

It was the guy from the coffe shop.

Bloodied—his brain split open, the gushy matter trickling out of there like a forbidden smoothie, pale skin an unnatural gray and his eyes, they were staring up, terror still clear in them, with their direction straight up and at you in silent judgment.

“No—” you croaked the moment his chair creaked and he picked up the knife and fork, “Please.”

Your voice wavered and broke. You loved Hannibal, you truly did, perhaps that's why you had tried to anger him, make him, such a calm and collected man to seethe with jealousy just because of lil’ ol' you, but how could you have known it would backfire so horribly?

That he would trap you in his office—then lock you in his home, keep you chained at all times, bind you to him by baring all his dirty little secrets to you.

“Come, dear.” he smiled like the devil, yet your heart still beat for this bloodied demon.

“Please—” you shivered, “I can't.”

“You can and will.”

He smiled.

And you knew your fate was sealed the moment he plucked out an eye, sinned for daring to look at you, and pressed it to your bottom lip.

“For me.” he whispered.

And for him, you did.

Even through tears, because he was similar to the maggots infesting the flesh; Hannibal had engrained himself in your dying heart, so deep and puncturing that he left you wounded. Yet that didn't matter, for he would relish your corpse the same way he did value you now—all that mattered to him was that you be with him.

Forever and forevermore.

[thedarkestrivernymph]

do you have any upcoming works

Yeah! There's one I am working on rn + I have tons of unfinished WIPs that I'll, hopefully, be able to find time to finish all this month or next month. 😔🩷 (Also to everyone else in my inbox I see you and I promise I didn't forget you, I am just slow and my life's been so busy this year it's crazy 🫩..)

[thedarkestrivernymph]

Yandere! Sukuna x deaf! Reader imagine

genre: soulmate au

warning: not proofread, written more as a concept

Imagine! being shoved into a room with no windows, while one of your sisters writes the words into your palm “Don't make a single sound, don’t look, don't question.” and then she slips your hand out of yours, rushing away, leaving you crouched in one corner of the room.

The air is stale and might be stifling much more suffocating is the unknown; suddenly panic spread through the temple and all the passages were bolted close, shut in the hopes of keeping someone or something out. Just if you knew who it was you were keeping out.

You sighed, rubbing your temples trying to smooth out the lines between your brows. However instead of finding momentary solace, something powerful wracked through the earth, shaking the entire construct. First, you assumed it to be an earthquake, then you could make out just one person walking, and the steps were so heavy that it couldn't be anyone you knew.

So slowly, against your judgement, you crawled to your feet and approached the door, trying to better listen to any movement with your bare feet and hands, attempting to make out the pattern, the rhythm and speed—if you could still escape, if your family was still alive.

Suddenly the steps came nearer and nearer, until the stopped altogether, and the cloth in front of your eyes was ripped of with calloused hands.

Yet what stared down at you was neither man or monster, but both, a creature that shouldn't have been able to exist.

“Found you, little mouse.” the pink creature mouthed with a wicked grin, pointing at his chest and there you saw the treacherous golden band leading right to your own beating heart.

[thedarkestrivernymph]

plat! Yandere! Butler x Princess! Reader

genre: fluff

warnings: slight manipulation, not proofread

word count: 517

“My lady,” there you were again—sat between silk and velvet, basically a dove with puffed up feathers, artificially beautiful, “Have you no appetite?”

A sigh, then a pause.

“The gardens are lush again this summer, aren't they? Even the pieris rapae, your favourite of the kind is all around us.” nothing, even as he pushed on, tired to appease to your temperament you didn't seem to soften like you used to.

“Just call them white butterflies, Stefan.” you mumbled under your breath with heated cheeks. How could your parents allow this!

“And I liked them when I was eight and hunting them. I am not going to go running like a dog anymore.” you huffed, placing your hands down, “I am of age now!”

He smiled. Not kind, not sympathetic but condescending, as if everything you said went in one ear and came out the other. Because your Butler and babysitter of two decades was an insufferable man who dotted on you as if you were a slobbering babe.

“Well, yes,” the brunette had the audacity to chuckle, “You are. But you are still so young.”

Then came the dramatic sigh as he put the fork down that he had just dug into the piece of strawberry cake—the cake you were currently refusing to eat.

“Not young enough for me to need your assistance with feeding me.” you jabbed back, annoyed. Once again you squirmed in your back, your current gown far too rigid and dollified for your liking; you would much rather dress dignified like the ladies of the court.

“But my lady.” again with the sighing. You nearly rolled your eyes. “I have been watching you grow and flourish all these years. I can't just stop.” his fingers found your hair—weighting carefully styled strands of it.

“The world is such an evil place.” his arm extended and you wondered if he wasn't hot wearing all navy blue on a hot summer’s evening, “So why the rush for growing up? When you can just stay like this for a little while longer.”

He took a strand and kissed it.

“Cared and pampered. Everyone bows to you in the palace, princess, I bow to you and you only. Why don't you want to stay under my protection for a little while longer? I can take care of everything and erase all your worries, that's my job, my lady.” he cupped your cheek, his palm hot against your skin.

“No suitors. No envious ladies of the court and neither your parents. Just us two. Like the old times, right my lady?” your foreheads touched and you felt your resolve melting away because at the end of the day—Stefan was neither just a butler or an annoyance, but he was the very reason why you didn't have to squint when looking up at the sky, for he was your shade, your silent follower and devotee.

“My child.” the words were tender, whispered in one breath as if forbidden.

Then he smiled, again.

And this time you reciprocated.

©Copyright - 2025 - thedarkestrivernymph - All Rights Reserved

[thedarkestrivernymph]

do you plan on making heart of gold a series? I really enjoyed it and wish for a chapter 3!!!

I really wanna write a part 3 to complete the story!! I just need to find the time for that ahaha...😔🩷

[thedarkestrivernymph]

"Oh, my Darling.."

Yandere! f! Soldier x f! Mermaid! Reader

warnings: mentions of war, slight possessiveness, gullible reader

Coldness was all she had known her entire life.

Merciless winds had swept over her and left a myriad of destruction in their wake. All her miserable existence had been filled with picking up the remaining salvageable pieces of herself, mending them together so that she could continue to face the enemy on the battlefield.

Only at some point even that had lost its meaning, and she sometimes found herself wondering who the real enemy was—if slaughtering all these men and women was truly worth it, if the crown even deserved such power and land to its name.

Perhaps that’s why she had wandered off after another blow to her face and after knocking out her opponent with the end of her sword, instead of slicing open his throat to paint the earth an even richer red—perhaps, but she wasn’t sure now. She couldn’t be sure when everything in her ached for an escape from the pressure building up in her skull, the throbbing agony that pulsed in her nose all the way up to behind her eyelids, blurring her sight.

Her thoughts swirled like wine would mingle with water when it met, mixing, resulting in the wine to taste dire—god how she hated the countless cheap taverns her and her comrades had to stay in, with women circling around the other soldiers—sometimes whores other times cheating wives, or even bright-eyed girls tantalized by a charm she herself just had never felt; what was so great about men anyways? They fucking stunk, could never shut up contrary to popular belief and—

Maybe she was getting delirious, because why else would she step into something cool and wet and why else would she welcome the biting cold that engulfed her and that eased the blooming ache in her temples. And why else would she not fight against her airways being flooded as her armor dragged her down to accompany all the other skeletons at the bottom of the pond.

“Fuck” was the first coherent sound that left her scarred mouth after coughing up a seemingly endless stream of water onto the patch of grass beneath her palms, dripping wet—just how much has she swallowed? If she had known that her entire chest would’ve be put aflame with needle-like pricking pain—she sure as heck would’ve ensured to properly drown or never would’ve stepped foot into that fucking shithole, with how much junk was thrown into such ponds and rivers and drunk soldiers would miss and piss in there and—

“Are you a man?” her ramblings were cut short again as you—whatever you were—was staring up at her with the brightest two eyes she had ever seen. Suddenly she seemed stone cold sober from the daze that near death would y’know, usually bring with it. Just what—what were you? You were blue for fuck’s sake!

But one thing was certain— you were the prettiest face she had ever seen, that's for darn sure, with how your big soulless eyes stared up at her like the filets on her plate and even your mouth gaped open like them too, with fins to stick out from between slick strands of hair, not to mention the cute tilt of your head. God, she could squeal.

“Are you man?” you asked again, now prodding at her leg with a webbed finger, confusion plastered all over your face.

“Oh” Zian cleared her throat, stifling a chuckle as she shifted to sit on her arse, the same one that had been subject to crude comments and had earned a few men some broken noses. “No, sweetie, I ain't no man.”

“So why you do—wear big metal?” you elaborated, your agitated tail flicking behind you in the water—the moon was at its full bloom and with the luminescent in the pond’s water you were fully illuminated and hod was it a feast for her eyes to watch your tongue twist uncomfortably and your alien features morph into a cute pout.

“Cuz’ I am a soldier, sweetheart. I fight. War, y’know that?” the brunette was quick to inform her new little companion cough you, while shivering, only then noticing how the night air bit into her skin.

Your eyes widened and it seemed as if even the crickets halted as you sunk further ito the water, concealing yourself more. “War? You fight?” You were panicking, retreating. No, fuck, hey you saved her you couldn't just disappear like that—

“Yeah, but that's a thing of the past now, sweets.” Zian was quick to jump up, waving her hands around as a sign that she was harmless. “You—you saved me, right? Do you like big metal? I can—wait, there!” god she was fumbling for any reason to make you stay.

The intimidatingly big man — ah no woman — she was holding a…actually you had no clue.

“Ta-ta a—spoon(?)” even she looked perplexed, staring down at what she had fished out from beneath her chest plate.

Had her mates played another prank on her because what the fuck man?!

“For me?” you muttered, pointing at yourself as you glided through the water to touch the pond’s edge, the blue glow making you look all the more ethereal up-close. Her gaze softened as you reached out a tentative hand, accompanied with a quick glance at her, as if she was about to just trap you like a hunter would capture a bunny.

As you let your odd-shaped fingers tap against the shiny metal, she couldn't help but sigh, certain that if any other soldier—if she were a man—you would have been in grave danger of being abducted and made into valuable coin or kept as a pet.

You were dazzling, it wasn't really anything specific about you and perhaps the fact that you had saved her played a part in her sudden newfound lust for life but it was just your dumb big eyes so foreign, a tad bit exotic, but just so vastly different from her own hardened gaze and her own soul that had lost its innocence after her first bloodshed. Just some sort of animal-human, part fish, as crazy as it was, you were probably one of the mermaids she had heard myths about her entire miserable life.

And she was for damn sure, that you wouldn't kill for the enjoyment of others, that you wouldn't let a woman on a throne with a crown tie you down—that’s was what probably drew her in to you.

You were just so free.

Celebrating over a spoon, chirping an odd tune, purring like a cat as you nudged her only to shyly and bashfully rest your chin on the grass to look up the tall woman—with no clear thought behind those dumb eyes of yours. So perplexingly trusting.

The brunette staring down at your sheepishly beaming face, so bright-eyed and naive, she felt like a god that stared down at one of its creatures and smiled to herself—smiled for the first time in years. She would protect you, she swore in that exact moment. For the rest of her days to come and pass, Zian would be your knight in a shining armor—she was ready to slit anyone’s throat, if they dared to hurt something as precious as you. You were practically an animal after all, and she found herself in the role of the dutiful civilian that would take a stray and look after them. You were her stray now.

“Don’t worry ‘lass. I will look after you now. I can get you a lot more of these.” her finger pointed at the spoon and you immediately let your fin splash water at her in a show of excitement.

“So cute.” Zian could only chuckle softly. “You will be safe now, little fish. I am here now. You saved me and now no man or woman will ever hurt you—we will be friends.” she spoke all those big words laced with subtle foreshadowing that was lost on you because of the language barrier—nevertheless you flashed her another grin, another show of affection so sweet her heart melted like hot metal.

Her hand reached out to tentatively pat your head like a dog.

“Yeah, let’s be best friends.”

©Copyright - 2025 - thedarkestrivernymph - All Rights Reserved

[thedarkestrivernymph]

First of all I want to state that I am not nearly informed sufficiently enough to present the ask in its entirety and to support it completely. However, I can and will sum up the gist of it. I only would like to mention I am neither mutuals nor an avid reader of both fandokja or yanderedrabbles, so my knowledge is very little.

fangdokja (a 18+ blog posting a lot of non/dub-con and playing around with darker themes; from what I've seen) has posts with statements that seem very dubious/questionable alluding to her being possibly homophobic, racist, etc. (in a post about migrating to her own website/Ao3 she seems to have mentioned child SA and genocide; even saying that she would be 'free' of tumblr's guidelines) you can read up more on here (by @moyazaika).

Yanderedrabbles (Yandere blog also writing about a lot of non/dub-con) seems to have commented and supported her decisions. (Which I can't say is true or false, because I have never seen the OG post this ask is citing from.)

What I can conclude is, that I have seen fandokja state she is uncomfortable with writing queer characters. (all the links below) And the mentions of her wanting to write about themes like child SA I can only link back again to this post, so that whoever is reading this can form their own opinion on this topic.

Here are are the links to read up on:

yanderedrabbles:

https://www.tumblr.com/yanderedrabbles/780435897593315328/hi-idk-if-your-mutuals-with-fangdokja-but-shes?source=share

fandokja:

https://www.tumblr.com/fangdokja/772519993758941184/hello-i-love-your-writing-i-wanted-to-know-if?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/fangdokja/779991873688371200/same-anon-who-asked-about-your-thought-process?source=share

[thedarkestrivernymph]

Entangled with you in hand.

pairing: soft y! girlfriend x f! reader

wc. 454

“Do you think this will last forever?” you breathed, tickling the little hairs on her nape—an uncomfortable sensation, yet she would rather climb a mountain with bare hands and feet than ever admit to that; for your warmth was the blanket of comfort she couldn't live without.

“I hope so.” the reply came fast yet soft, subsided almost, tentative. She feared her intensity, feared that it could scare you away and out of her arms. Feared for you and with you; that one day when she awoke and pushed the curtains back in your idle little cottage, that she wouldn't catch sight of you sitting on the front porch with your morning tea, soaking in the first few rays of the sun like a cat.

God, yes, she not only hoped, but needed this to last forever, for you two to always lay mingled, finding pieces of eachother in one another, melting and morphing until she nor you knew where one began and the other ended.

“I love you.” you admitted and she could have cried in that moment alone—bundled up with you in the soft blankets, sitting on your shared bed with your cat on your lap, your baby as you called her. You would be a great mother, tender, kind, the right kind of petty when needed to be, so loving and devoted. She could imagine it, you round, with another heartbeat under yours, carrying a child that she could love till her last dying breath.

“I love you too.” she entangled her hand from yours, cupping your cheek, “So, so much.” her voice fell into a whisper, her gaze falling with it towards your lips, misty gaze locked on what was hers; what you had allowed to be hers.

And then she kissed you.

Kissed away the furrow in your brows, the confusion about the tears in her eyes and reassured you with soft moving lips that she was nothing more than a fool in love, but never sad. Not with you, anyways. Not when you melted in her arms like butter on pancakes on Sunday mornings and not when you let her deep inside of you, so deep that it might've made you bleed with anyone else, but not her, she wouldn't mess with you, wouldn't dare to hurt you, she would only kiss, caress, admire.

Consume you with hungry kisses and subtle touches and sink her teeth into your flesh, only when you begged for it so nicely.

For she wasn't a monster; she was yours and you hers. So no, she didn't think this would only last forever.

This was meant to last longer.

Forever and more.

©Copyright - 2025 - thedarkestrivernymph - All Rights Reserved

[thedarkestrivernymph]

just wanted to say i adore your writing. one of my favourite pieces is heart of gold, the way it's written each time is so good that im drooling. hope to see more it (and charles).

love you <33

Aww, thank you! I especially adore all your OCs!🩷

Btw, love it whenever you comment on any of my posts (when I see it's you), makes me feel all warm n' mushy inside haha And I feel honoured that you regard A Heart Of Gold so highly! Right now I am a bit of a writing slump though ha ha, let's see when and if I post more regarding it...

Anyways!

Love you too, have good day🫂🩷

[thedarkestrivernymph]

Devastation

pairings: Y! Crazy Scientist x Gn! Reader

warnings: heavy angst, yearning, murder, mentions of death, hints at abuse, toxic relationship dynamics, genre: science fiction

“I’ve always found love in you.” he croaked, softness painting his features eerily alien.

“In the way you glanced, in the way your cheeks flushed ever so subtly, in the way your chest rose, in the way you were always so full of life and—” his voice faltered, left him.

God, it hurt. It hurt so badly.

“What did I do to deserve you?” his throat was too tight, his hands too shaky with his stare too heavy as it bore down onto what remained of you.

Code.

“What did I do to be punished with losing you?”

—and a few teeth and pieces of hair.

He sobbed out loud. A cry so raw, you could practically hear his soul shatter in its confinement.

You were gone.

Truly. Completely. Irreversibly.

And it was his fault. His stupid, stupid fault.

You had begged him to listen. To hear reason. You didn't love anyone but him—no matter how suffocating his presence was, no matter how he left you in shambles, unrecognisable to a person with dignity as he shamelessly consumed every part you offered or not.

So he took the last thing one could take; your breath.

Then he recreated you—downloaded your brain onto his computer. And to add to the insanity of it all, he accessed your memories;

he got to see the truth.

All of it.

“Fuck!” his fists pounded against his desk, untouched coffee from when you were still with him, spilling over his lap.

“Fuck, baby, I am so—so sorry.”

he watched you, or what had been you, in memories, how not once you had been unfaithful. Pain blossomed in his chest so potent, he could've believed it to be a heart attack under other circumstances.

“Angel, m’ Angel.” he mumbled, tongue as heavy as lead, gripping the screen of his monitor so tightly cracks formed in the corners.

“I’ll do it right this time,” he murmured, “I’ll do it better. We gonna be happy, this time. Yeah, my Angel.

Everything’s gonna be fine.”

Only nothing would be fine ever again.

—because he committed the one crime, he had sworn on never doing; hurt you.

He was the villain of your story,

and villains never got their happy end.

©Copyright - 2025 - thedarkestrivernymph - All Rights Reserved

[thedarkestrivernymph]

Tsundere! Very mean! Sukuna x gn! Reader

warnings: hints at/talks about reader having an eating disorder, ptsd, trauma, angst, hints at depression, very mean/toxic! Sukuna, implied forced feeding, bitch as gn

word count: roughly 600

Life was a whirlwind.

Chaotic, overwhelming, gross.

Leaving the cavity in your chest empty, as if someone had ripped your heart out, only to replace the beating muscle with hot tar.

You loathed it. This constant pressure, the tugging and pulling, as if you were a ragdoll, filled with cotton and unfulfilled childhood dreams instead of a bleeding human with limbs that could break and shatter.

Sometimes, in the quiet of the night, you did wish you were nothing more than a doll. When the voices swirled around your head like buzzing flies, ripping away the last shred of hope for something to lay out there that was kinder to you than you could ever be to yourself.

Today was one of those nights you were up to your neck in self pity, practically suffocating on it as you stared down at your dinner and it at you. If the macaroni could open its tramp, you were sure it would've hurled insults at you.

“Eat, fuck. You're slower than a snail.” a voice next to you groaned. The timber familiar, yet still too foreign to consider comforting.

“Sorry, ‘Kuna.” you flicked your tongue over your lips again. Tasting salt and pepper, the very first and last bite—and the guilt, the shame of the voices, of the people expecting so much of you.

“I just—haven’t gotten an appetite.” you unclenched fingers you hadn't noticed before were strangling your poor fork and sat it down next to your plate with a sigh. The rounded kitchen table was set as every other dinner since you both became roommates—two plates, salt, pepper, one bottle of tabasco, one lone fake rose in a funky shaped vase (you insisted on), those neon green coasters you had bought just to spite him and his beer and your water.

He scoffed, “Sure, sure.”something heavy burdened your shoulders and your skin prickled as if needles were scraping against it. His cutlery clattered. Shit.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” there he goes again—the same line and the same trick to guilt-trip you into finishing your portion of the pot.

“Nothing, I just—”

“Bullshit. You tryna kill yourself?” his voice rose in volume, so loud it stunned you for a moment. And then suddenly you were eight again, holding back stinging tears, attempting to be stronger than you could ever dream to be.

“If you continue—” he continued to scream, “you gonna end up dead. Do you want that? Is that what you want?” He smashes his fists onto the table, sending your silverware to clink and causing your water to topple over, spilling all across.

You flinched.

“Pathetic.” he spat, “You’re fucking pathetic. You ruin my appetite too with that face of yours.” tears hot and heavy touched your cheeks as you let your head drop, slumping into yourself like the kid in the back of the class, made fun of, teased, ridiculed—the dumb one, the incapable one, the chubby, ugly, fat fuck.

“I—” you coughed, mouth as dry as if you had swallowed sand, trying to lick wetness onto your lips, “I am sorry.”

For a moment there was only the overwhelmingly erratic thrum of your heartbeat and you. Then, slowly, with the scraping of chair legs against the tiles, he moved.

Towards you.

“Eat.” one heavy hand settled on your shoulder the other one picked up your fork and brought it to your lips. He lowered himself, you soon noticed, slipping down to crouch next to you with a gaze that was no better than the back of a hand.

“Eat or be eaten.” he pressed it to your bottom lip.

“So you better open up, bitch.”

©Copyright - 2025 - thedarkestrivernymph - All Rights Reserved