#cw: dark themes

[bunny-jpeg]

john price would trap you with a baby. no questions asked. he knew the years were catching up to him. he knew that wouldn't be much longer before he couldn't pass on the price genes.

he felt bad when he masturbated, felt like he was wasting his boys. spurts of hot cum down his large shaft wishing that it was inside a pretty little things smaller cunt. his hand was too rough even with lubrication. he needed something with supple flesh that he could sink his teeth into and a wet pussy to stuff full. he wanted to feel himself impregnating someone.

that was where you came in.

you felt amazing, sex with you was something else. the way you were like a bunny when you rode his cock. you bounced on him, not slowing down until he wrung at least three orgasms out of you. he found it endearing that you could take him. and while cowgirl was fun and missionary felt classic.

if price wanted to get you pregnant then, he knew that doggy style would be the best course of action. sadly, that position was a little more difficult given your size difference. price the bear and his little cub, those weren't just terms of endearment. he was burly, hairy, but you were so much shorter that he couldn't easily slip into you. but things could always be modified.

he smothered you under him as you laid on the bed with your legs spread and price was on top of you with his cock invading your slick entrance. the feeling was different and the weight on top of you only added to the pleasure.

his mind was focused, as he worked himself into you. he slid in easily, little resistance from you. your pussy was greedy for him, not that price could blame you. you were just so perfect for him. he shaped you into the perfect thing for him. you were his angel, the sweetest fruit, the woman he wanted to carry his child. if you liked it or not.

thoughts of you dark puffy nipples, the waddle in your step, the complaints of back pain. how your body changed because of him, he marked you in a way that no other man could. price boys grew strong and were a handful both in the womb and out. hungry boys too, but price would happily massage your fat tits to make sure there was more than enough milk for his boys. might have a little taste himself, see what all the fuss was. the heavy milk on his tongue as he fucked his pretty wife.

no need to go out and find a job. price's got enough to make sure that your wallet and your womb were packed full. no need to worry your little head, just make sure the babies are taken care of and price will do all the thinking in the relationship. he knew your dream was to see your diploma on the wall, but he thought that a family photo would be much better.

hard to complete your degree when your pregnant belly doesn't fit in the lecture hall seat or it was feeding time for john jr. there was nowhere for you to nurse his hefty son and you'd in the end miss too much class because price would be keeping you at home to start on the next one.

"that's it, doll. that's my girl. she suckin' me right in. she know what she wants and she's takin' it. made just for, huh, petal?" he growled as he pressed into you further, his cock didn't slip out. he fucked you feverishly.

he felt you tremble as you came not once, but twice, back to back. price continued to fuck you, ruin your pretty little folds and let him feel as much as he could of your sweet sex. you felt amazing, only pussy price would want. he fucked you roughly with his hands pressed into the covers on either side of your head. you were too blissed out by the time he finished inside of you that you didn't even ask for him to pull out.

a good wife took every drop.

he soon after pulled his cock out, the sight of his cum sticking to your slick pussy lips with most of his seed inside of you. made his cock peek at attention once more. "there she is." he purred, "messy girl." he tipped your hips up and held them in his large hands. he dipped between your legs and played with your pussy. something to distract you while his cum slid into the back of your pussy.

now be good, and get pregnant <3

a/n: i don't know what came over me... i'm sorry

[random-thot-generator]

POUND CAKE

—No good deed goes unpunished.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x reader

cw: (MDNI-18+ ONLY) explicit sexual content, dark themes, allusions to stalking, manipulation/coercion, dubcon

mdni banner: @cafekitsune

-

You were just trying to be nice to the guy, show him a little customer appreciation. You should've known better.

Whenever the big blonde Manc showed up at your shop, he always ordered a hot cuppa and a slice of lemon pound cake. Didn't matter what was on special that day or what was in the display case, he always asked for the pound cake. Nothing else would do.

You hadn't seen him in a couple of months, which over the past year or so you had learned was sort of his MO. He'd stop in every day for several weeks in a row, then poof! He'd vanish until, months later, he'd just suddenly reappear again. You never asked why; it wasn't that kind of relationship. He never was much of a talker, that one.

So, yesterday he showed up again—just suddenly out of the blue, like always—and wouldn't ya know it, you were completely sold out of the pound cake. Usually you wouldn't be, but it just so happened that an old bird had popped in before lunch and bought the last of what you had for an afternoon tea she was hosting for her knitting circle.

You obviously had no way of knowing that would happen, but still you felt bad because you could tell he was disappointed. You even offered him some free macarons to make up for it, but he just grunted and shook his head, then paid for his tea and left.

Well, of course, you wanted to make it up to him, him being one of your regulars and all. It's simply good business, you told yourself, looking after your loyal customers and what not.

So, the next day you were ready for him. You even went so far as to set out the tin of his favorite brand of earl grey in anticipation of his arrival. You then fretted for hours, keeping a close eye out for him, until he finally showed up. You were all smiles as he approached the counter.

"Got any uh tha' pound cake left t'day?" he'd asked in that grumbly, gruff way of his.

"I do!" you told him, giving him a coy smirk.

"Gimma a slice then, an' my usual brew."

You were on pins and needles while making his tea, giddy with nerves as you slid the green-and-white striped cake box across to him with his to-go cup. You were keen to see his reaction. His dark eyes squinted at it, darting back and forth between you and the box.

"Wha's this, then? I asked fer a slice, not a whole bloomin' cake, ya muppet." He scoffed and pushed the cake box back towards you.

Well! Not exactly the reaction you were hoping for. Feeling a bit peeved, you pushed it back. When he glared, you shrugged, trying to be nonchalant about it.

"I felt bad that you left empty-handed yesterday, so I wanted to make it up to you. That's an entire lemon pound cake, made just for you."

He blinked, his pale brows furrowing into a bothered little frown. He eyed the cake box, looking a bit perturbed, then reached for his wallet.

"No no!" you blurted out, waving him off. You gave him a sheepish look, suddenly feeling put on the spot. "It's um—It's on the house." You scratched at the back of your burning neck, eyes sliding off to the side. "Gotta take care of my loyal customers, don't I? Wouldn't want to lose ya."

And he just stared at you. Didn't say a word in response.

In fact, he stared at you for so long, you started to fidget. Sweat began gathering in your pits, your body tense and overheated. Had you overstepped, offended him somehow? Your mouth fell open, but nothing came out of it. You weren't quite sure what to say to him, so you just gaped up at him like a stupid, daft cow.

He tilted his head, eyes hooded and lazy. "Ya sayin' ya made this especially f'me, pet?" he finally asked.

The situation was growing more uncomfortable by the minute. "Um... Well... Y-Yes, I suppose I did."

Planting his hands on the counter, he leaned forward, his dark, glinting eyes raking over you as he hummed in consideration. Just when you thought you might spontaneously combust from embarrassment, he straightened to his full height and the corners of his mouth curled up into a wicked little smirk.

"Wha' time do ya usually get outta here?"

Your breath gusted out in a rush, and you realized you'd been holding it the whole time. "Around seven," you croaked, then cleared your throat. "S-Seven o'clock..."

"Christ," he grunted, making your eyes bug when he reached down and shamelessly adjusted himself. "Olright then. I'll be back 'round seven f'ya." His eyes bore into yours as he took his tea and cake from the counter. "I'll walk ya home."

Then out the door he went.

Your mind was in a daze for the remainder of the day, the passing hours little more than a blur. He's coming back; he's walking me home, your mind kept repeating.

Your anxiety eventually got the best of you. You'd pretty much talked yourself into nicking out early to avoid him, but your plan of escape went completely awry when he walked back into the shop at six-thirty.

Oh, dear God...

"You're early," you squeaked.

He rolled his massive shoulders, then took a seat at one of the tables. He stretched his long, tree trunk legs out and crossed them at the ankles. "Figured I'd wait while ya finished closin' up. Care t'make me a brew first, though?"

Your body went on autopilot, making him a tea while your mind screamed into the void. Then you shuffled off to finish closing up for the night while he sipped his tea. He helped you turn up the chairs to speed things along, and was right on your heels when you finally locked up for the night.

It was all you could do to keep up with him as he led you by the hand a few streets over to your flat. You were so flustered, it didn't even occur to you at the time that he somehow already knew the way.

The next thing you knew, he was herding you up the stairs to your floor, taking the keys from your trembling hand to unlock the door himself. Maybe it was an attempt at self-preservation that gave you the courage to balk at the threshold and turn to face him.

"Thank you for walking me home, Mister..." Your lashes fluttered and a nervous titter bubbled out. "I'm sorry. I never even asked for your name."

Heavy hands landed on your shoulders, sliding down to your biceps as he smirked a wicked grin and walked you backwards through the doorway.

"Name's Simon, lovie. Simon Riley."

The gravel in his voice sent a chill shuddering down your spine. He laughed low and wicked when you jumped after he kicked the door shut behind him.

"'S olright, li'l girlie. 'M gonna take real good care uh ya. Jus' relax an' let it happen, yeah?"

That was the extent of your conversation for the next few hours. You really weren't capable of speech during that time, and he mainly just growled out orders at you.

"Get yer knickers off an' spread those pretty thighs, doll."

"Fuck. Tha's it, lovie. Keep suckin' it just like tha'. Told ya you could take more."

"Quit squirmin' an' keep them legs open. Can't eat properly wiff ya squeezin' my head."

"Just breathe, sweet'art. You can take it all. I'll make it fit."

"On yer belly, arse up, princess. 'M not done wiff ya yet."

"Quit yer whingin' an' come f'me again."

That's not to say he wasn't generous with the praise too, though...

"Lookit tha' sweet li'l cunt. Olready drippin' wet f'me."

"Ya look s'pretty wiff my cock in yer mouth. Like a fuckin' angel."

"Mmm... Never tasted a pussy this good. Could eat ya all night."

"Bloody hell, 's tight. Feels like heaven."

"Good. Fuckin'. Girl. Nngh! Knew ya could take it all."

"Christ... 'Got me 'bout t'come olready, lovie."

"Look bloody gorgeous sittin' on my cock, lass. An' lookit how yer tits bounce. Fuck... FUCK!"

"Not gonna last—feel too bloody good. Gonna fill this pussy up!"

And he did. He filled you up to the brim and left you a boneless, quivering mess. Then he cleaned you up and tucked you into his side. Best sex ever, you thought before drifting off to sleep.

It was so good, in fact, that you didn't even get mad when he ghosted a kiss on your cheek and slipped out of your bed then out of your flat before dawn. He never was much for chatting anyway, so you figured he'd rather skip the awkward goodbye the next morning. It was a bit disappointing to know you'd probably lost a good customer, though.

And yeah, maybe you were a little sad when he didn't stop in for his usual slice and cuppa the next day, but honestly, it was probably for the best. He always did strike you as a little too intense, maybe even slightly unhinged. Yet it was probably that hint of danger that drew you to him in the first place, like a moth to a flame.

It might be fun to dance in the flames on occasion, but his brand of fire would consume you if you stayed too close for too long. Ah well. At least he left you with some good memories to keep you warm at night.

By six that evening the store is dead, your last customer having departed a half hour ago. Deciding to close up early, you flip the sign on the door and turn the lock, then head to the back to clean. You're already planning on a long soak in the tub with a glass of wine once you get home. Simon left you with sore muscles and a bone-deep ache between your thighs. You swear you could still feel the shape of him impressed into your inner walls.

You're in the process of shelving a stack of loaf pans, dithering over Chinese or pizza for dinner, when you hear the telltale jingle of the bell above the door. Startled, you gasp and loaf pans go scattering across the floor, making a terrible racket. Hissing a curse, you toss your hands up in frustration before stomping back to the front.

"Sorry! We're closed," you call out as you shove through the kitchen door, then come to an abrupt halt.

Wait. Didn't you lock the door?

"'Ello, lovie."

Simon's leaning against the counter, a devilish little quirk on his lips.

"How did you get in here?" is all you can think to say.

"Took yer spare set uh keys before I left this mornin'. Needed the key t'yer flat, but didn't wanna wake ya, so I helped myself. What was oll tha' racket?"

"I dropped the loaf pans," you mutter, in a daze.

He huffs a dry laugh. "Sorry if I startled ya. Was gonna call, but figured ya'd be busy closin' up the shop." He starts flipping the chairs up onto the tables. "Ya almost done? 'M ready t'go home an' relax. Been movin' house all day."

"Moving house?" you parrot, a sense of dread settling like a stone in your gut.

"Yeah. Figured I'd move tuh yers since yer flat's bigger than mine. Nicer, too." He smirks. "But don't worry. I didn't toss any uh yer shit. Got rid uh mine instead. 'S all secondhand junk, anyway."

You feel like you're in some sort of surreal dreamscape, where up is down and right is wrong and nothing makes sense anymore. Alice taking a header right down the old rabbit hole.

"You... You moved into my flat? But... But—why?!"

He rounds the counter, steps slow and steady, a predator stalking his prey. Scared little rabbit that you are, you tremble but don't move, some deep-rooted, primal instinct warning you to stay very, very still. Your head tilts back, eyes wide and unblinking, fearful of what you see smoldering in the dark depths of his eyes. Hellfire. Damnation.

"Shh..." he shushes you, placing a rough palm against your cheek. "We both know why. Yer just scared 'cause now ya know that I can see ya. But I've always seen ya, lovie. Always knew what ya wanted, what ya needed. Was just waitin' f'ya tuh figure it out."

Wrapping his fingers around your throat he draws you close, licks into your mouth like it's his to possess, like you're his to claim. He then spins you around and swats your bum to get you moving.

"Go grab yer stuff. We'll take care uh the rest uh this in the mornin'. 'S time t'go home."

You stumble to the back to get your things, mind numb, thoughts empty.

Later that night, eyes staring blindly up at the shifting shadows on the ceiling, you quake as he sinks slowly between your thighs, listen to the filthy praise he mumbles against your lips. His breath tastes sweet, like pound cake, and you swallow it down, make it your own.

You were just trying to be nice, but you should've known better. You can't feed a feral stray like him without consequences. Because a beast like him is bound to follow you home.

-

[ominouspuff]

Gift-piece for @ghosts-of-rishi for some ideas we were playing around with. Fives discovering Echo is alive but possibly even more cursed than they already were.

They say there’s no good that can come from making deals with the Piper, but what Jango’s after is hardly what most people’d call ‘good’.

(Featuring Cursed!Jango, who went looking for a son in the wrong places, made a deal with a sea-god, double-crossed said sea-god, and now has three million cursed children.)

“Flesh and blood, you said,” the sea-witch taunted, gloated, condemned. And they are, they are — Jango’s split up, every bit of him, flesh and blood he never even had, divided between every blessed child — but no amount of clever carving of meat can account for a soul, and that’s the real curse. It is not Jango, not Jango alone, who is caged within the unnatural ribs and skull and pounding veins. “Watch them grow, fool; nurture them.” The sea-witch sentenced, and Jango does, he does; silently screaming, unable to separate himself from a single one, unable to sleep even when they sleep, too split up in too many inhuman ways to speak or think beyond wishing it was over… but they know he’s there, and speak to him sometimes. He can hear them cursing, over three million souls better left dead at the bottom of the seas, plucked and borrowed and wiped clean with new flesh sewn together. Why didn’t you leave us be? One is sobbing because he knows he should be dead and they say that’s as good as being at peace, and he is neither of those things.

His children are his spitting image, but they have old, old eyes and no memories of how they came to be that way, and there are three million of them — and not a soul that ever knew Jango Fett before — before — before — can explain it. He watches them all try through six million eyes.

[ebitenoisii]

clottedsapphire eloping AU

[arlerts-angel]

REMEMBERING SUNDAY — k. hanemiya

determined to show kazutora what love really is, the two of you become surprisingly close... but one day, kazutora disappears without a word.

💛 note: heed the warnings. it is not my intention to romanticize dv in any way, shape, or form. if this is triggering for you - skip this one and i'll see you next time <3 this fic is my first contribution to the fics for gaza initiative! thank you @reiners-milkbiddies for the donation and i hope you love it. 🫶 @ficsforgaza

⚠️ warnings: dark content. allusions to dv (kazutora's dad) | brief mention of murder x2 | hurt no comfort | canon-adjacent | gender neutral + physically ambiguous reader

if you asked kazutora what love was a couple of years ago, his answer would've been his fist in your face.

that's what he learned from his father.

you were determined to show his broken soul what real, true love was.

every day.

you pissed him off every day in the first year. so much so, that you learned how to take a punch.

slowly, but surely, kazutora started feeling remorse for his actions. he realized he didn't like hurting you when all you did was show him compassion.

it was a hard realization for him; that you were a lot like his mother, who only ever loved him, and his father, even when it hurt her.

you quickly became his solace. kazutora would start using different coping mechanisms until he learned not to be violent in the name of love.

some days were harder for kazutora, and he'd need some time alone. "healing isn't linear," you told him, "i'm here when you're ready."

he started going to your house instead of his every day - it became his home away from hell.

he'd tell you all about this new gang he founded with a few of his buddies. he knew you didn't like it, but always assured you that it was good, and it was good for him.

a couple years passed and the two of you grew together, as did your feelings. you never addressed it. the way your relationship was, there was no need to. you were happy. he was happy. "if it's not broke, don't fix it" type of thing.

he held your hand every day to and from school. he'd walk you home even if he had a meeting with the gang.

he'd go over to your house and stay as long as he could on sunday's until your parents said it was time for him to go home. he'd kiss your forehead in secret and say "i'll see you in the morning".

but one monday morning, kazutora didn't show up to your house.

he didn't walk you to school and he didn't walk you home.

you heard through the grapevine all day that he went to juvie for third degree murder.

your parents explained to you what they saw on the news. kazutora had, in fact, been sent to juvenile detention for killing his friend's brother.

kazutora...? no... not my 'tora.

the only people allowed to call or visit were his immediate family.

you didn't see him for two years.

you didn't hear from him for two years.

two agonizing years.

at your locker, you heard a jingle. soft, yet loud enough to grab your attention. it came from someone's earring. he had a thousand-yard stare, as if he'd been through the trenches. his face seemed familiar.

kazutora?

he looked at you only for a second, and in that second you swore the life returned to his eyes.

maybe he didn't forget...

he blinked, and his eyes were lifeless again. he muttered to himself and carried on - he never looked back.

kazutora wanted nothing more than to hold you and cry. it pained him to walk away from you, deep down.

i don't have time... must kill mikey...

banner + dividers by cafekitsune

taglist: @milky-aeons @lees-chaotic-brain @katkusuo @tetta-kissaki @priv-rose

@toji-girl-main @blueberrisdove @darkstarlight82 @kodzukein @trevengersprincess

@little-miss-chaoss @i-literally-cant-with-this @ravereina

[queermentaldisaster]

Ghost who's extremely mentally unstable yet good at masking it.

Ghost who's not a good person.

Ghost who's twisted, deranged, and willing to do anything to get what he wants.

And when this pretty little new sergeant, basically fresh meat, joins the Task Force and immediately catches Ghost's eye...

...who is he to be able to control himself?

[ladylucksrogue]

Whumpuary

Day 23: Can't Do This Anymore (Rex)

Rex struggles with nightmares after Kadavo

Shoutout to @whyamismall for the ideas on this one! You have have the best ideas on how to whump poor Rex, really, and I couldn't help but combine a few.

cw: mention of slavery, injuries. It's dark but nothing explicit.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/61978897/chapters/159897505

[tsmwrites]

It comes around

You try again.

The linden wood molds easily beneath your touch, amenable to pressure from the carving gouges, acquiescing easily in deference to the decades of mastery over your craft. You realize you forgot to eat again when your stomach whines out in despair and you can't stop the images from flooding your mind: Roasted potatoes and broiled lamb served with red wine in candlelight. The wrinkle around her eyes when she smiles. Her fingers reaching for yours—

You carve too deeply. It's not right. It's not good enough. You curse and throw your tools on the table, the untied apron soon following. Your fingers dip into the crater, remembering the way her veins were visible underneath translucent skin near the end.

You imagine the wood shuddering in response.

No more. Picking up the wood, you cross the room and open a chest filled with wooden batten, planks, and splintering—a cavity for failed pieces—and toss it in. You shut the chest with a heavy thump.

In the silence that follows, your thoughts are loud.

When you reach the top of the stairs into the kitchen, you decide to forgo dinner for sleep.

You try again.

You finally perfect the arm, but struggle with the joints—her hands were never a mystery to you until now. Under the bright light of your workstation, everything looks wrong, each finger pointing at you accusingly. You discard imperfect shapes into the chest. As you climb the stairs, you hear a rebellion of thumps against the lid, like a symphony of bones. You go back to make sure you locked it.

You can't sleep; your mind is mired in schematics, in twisted fingers, in the thump thump thump of your pulse like the ticking of a clock.

You try again.

You carefully drill holes, attach strings to joints, work the ball and socket for the wrist. You fixate on the details, refining the shape of her arm, the abrasive against skin like bark.

You take away too much—it's an awl to your heart as you examine your mistakes, your misdeeds.

You throw the arm into the chest.

At night, the pulsing turns thick and intricate—the thumps a heartbeat echoing in your ears.

You try again.

You haven't slept in days when you finish. Digging into your pocket, you pull out a ring and slide it delicately onto the wooden finger.

The arm twitches upon the table, flexing where the phalanges and carpal bones are absent. The string at the elbow relaxes as the arm extends towards you, fingers caressing your cheek.

You cry out. "My love. Forgive me." You will the words out, an aching in your throat. "I never meant to—"

You feel your tears wiped away, watch as it seeps into the grain of the wood. The hand moves and is suddenly at your neck, grasping, gripping, squeezing.

"Together…" your voice is barely a rasp, "Forever." You feel your consciousness slipping, your mistakes, your misdeeds catching up to you.

[skysaunter]

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐏𝐈𝐍 : : 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐒. verse affiliated with: @techniiciian @tapalslegacy

nowadays, anakin skywalker can be found at his new york restaurant, azure angel. here, amidst the clinking of glasses and the murmurs of the elite, anakin presents himself as a simple businessman with a passion for cars and hell-bent on spreading the taste of his late mother’s cooking. but beneath this façade lies a man known by a different moniker—VADER: the widowed mechanic turned automotive tycoon, restaurateur, UNDERWORLD KINGPIN, ARMS TRAFFICKER, CONTRABAND DEALER, EXTORTIONIST, and COLD-BLOODED MURDERER.

[bunny-jpeg]

better than home (kidnapper!simon) - you had seen enough horror movies to know that being kidnapped meant being on the news, being butchered, and being a cold case. but simon wasn't like that. except for the bruises he left when he took you, his touch had gentle. kind in a way that someone would brush their cat.

you flinched under his touch, but he just simply shushed you. "not gonna break a thing on ya, angel." that was his name for you. angel. he said that it was like you were given to him fro heaven, "if i do, i give ya the right to put a knife between my ribs."

it was unnerving to say the least. in the tiny home you both shared, locks on the windows, you had never seen a front door that needed a key to unlock from the outside. you tried getting out, but simon was simply so much bigger and stronger, that he didn't need to hurt you herd you back into a safer place.

"don't need to think about much anymore. safer here." he said in his gruff voice. you didn't know what kind of life this man had lived, but with the hunting knife on the coffee table, the well-used rifle over the fireplace and the old army formals in his closet. you knew that there was a story.

it didn't sink in till the first week, but you didn't have to worry about anything. you moved through the house on your own, when you scurried into rooms simon sometimes didn't follow. it was like he was bird-watching. keeping a close eye and admiring you. except you weren't exactly a free bird, rather a delicate beauty in a shiny cage.

you were surprised that simon had your favourite snacks in the pantry, even the same brand of plant-based milk you enjoyed. it was like he knew everything about you, and yet he was a total mystery.

"scary world out there." simon said, kept his distance from you in the recliner while you were curled up in the couch. you had taken a liking to a black and white checkered flannel blanket. it reminded you of the one back home, that you wondered if he just broke in a took it. he eyed you, which made it hard to read one of your many books, "pretty things like you need to be protected... bad men out there." as if this massive mountain of a man wasn't one of those so-called bad men.

you were in no place to argue. you still felt like you were in a spring locked trap and one wrong move would have it clamped down on you. that this was just some sick game before simon buried your body in the field behind the house.

"when can i go home?" you asked, finding your voice.

"this is better than home."

"are you going to kill me?" you asked before you swallowed the lump in your throat.

he shook his head, "no, ma'am. never." sounded like wedding vows rather than an answer. your curiosity only grew with each day. when you finished the books he brought you, he simply put them back in a bag and returned them from where they came from and came back with new ones.

"saw them on the shelf at the library, thought a woman like you would like them." he gave a curt nod as he dropped the canvas bag by your little nest of blankets on the floor by the television. you hadn't been able to watch television yet. primarily busied with sleeping, books, puzzles and notebooks where you had been writing.

and while it started a journal in the event the police found you. it had become more about fictional stories. for your personal pleasure. you thought about being a writer as a child, but the grind of corporate work in your adulthood seemed to dash that dream.

"next time." you said, feeling a little bold, "can you get some science fiction books too...." it felt uneasy to make any demands. he was your captor.

"well then, angel. be good for me then." he said, smiled under that mask. you looked over and made a face at him. you scampered off back into your nest of books and puzzles. maybe he was right, this was better than home. <3

a/n: this is unwell, i hope you enjoyed it. thank you!!

[happy-lincoln]

DEAR LINCOLN LOUD

MR. HAPPY WILL BE READY TO ASSIST CUSTOMERS VERY SOON

KEEP YOUR HEAD UP

:)

[thedarkestrivernymph]

Yandere! Kidnapper

warnings: captivity, forced infantilization, nonconsensual themes, physical violence, drugging, collaring, stalking, dead dove: do not eat

—becomes increasingly more unhinged, lowkey inspired by a disturbing manga I accidentally read twice, so take that as you will.., so yeah that's my last post of 2024, happy 2025 people!

©Copyright -2024- thedarkestrivernymph - All Rights Reserved

Y! Kidnapper that hunts you through the forest and tackles you to the ground after an escape attempt only to scold and berate you for every little scrape on your body, as if it wasn't his fault in the first place, as if you're just too clumsy for your own good.

Y! Kidnapper that never would do anything sexual without consent, but doesn't take no for an answer when you tell him you don't want him to bathe you—you are his, so of course he will rub you clean, even the spot between your legs.

Y! Kidnapper who tells you his entire day, everything, as if you're his lifeless oversized doll, only to pinch your nipples whenever he asks a question, daring you to answer and enjoys your torment in staying quiet and pliant for him

Y! Kidnapper who sits you down, clips even your toenails for you, kneads your sore muscles from doing nothing all day, carries you everywhere, doesn't even let your feet catch callous from walking on them, only to treat you absolutely diabolical in bed, branding each inch of skin he took such good care of either with his hand, a belt or whatever he gets his hands on..

Y! Kidnapper who's obsessed with providing warm meals for you, the highest quality ingredients are used—everything to accommodate your sensitive gut, only to drug you out of your mind and giggle while doing nothing else but cuddle you while watching TV and popping chips in his mouth, all while commenting on the script of the particular horror movie he’s watching and listing thousand of things he would've done better than the director

Y! Kidnapper who before capturing you was the weirdest fucking stalker in existence— openly groping you, offering you food with a smile (mind you he’s a complete stranger???), appearing in front of your doorstep at night to holler at you, banging his fists on your door and actively breaking in only to stare at your sleeping form while jacking off. Did I also mention he would email you like you're his secret rendezvous? Oh and he went along and introduced himself to your whole family with a fake identity over email (like—wtf is whatsapp?), hahaha..

Y! Kidnapper who wants to control every single aspect of your life—from how you pluck your brows to when you're allowed to use the restroom. Will literally stare you down with a hand on the chain connected to your collar, that he forced on you after your latest escape attempt, while you're pants are pooling at your feet and you’re trying to pee. (Why? Because the window is a few feet away..)

Y! Kidnapper from who, let's be honest here, you will only ever escape in death and that will probably be in old age, with how well he takes care of you, having baby proofed his home enough to ensure that you couldn't hurt yourself even on accident and don't even think about using a razor! he will do that for you, just sit down in the bathtub, all drugged out of your mind, dumb and drooling, losing touch with reality, while he does everything for you

—just be his passive little kitten he declawed, and that's enough for him, just dependent on him and he will paint your cage gold, even if the paint will chip away one day

[sleep-0-deprived]

Before I start, I just wanna say I love your work, keep it up!!

A bit of a feminine m!reader and a stalker, kind of like the song stalker’s tango by autoheart (praise kink and anything you wanna add)

Love me love me love me~! (Stalker Oc x feminine male reader) ໒꒰ྀི˶˃ᆺ˂˶ ꒱ྀིა

WC:. 1.5k

Tags: praise kink, back shots, creepy character, dub con (reader doesn’t say but he wants it), stalking, spit as lube, men in panties, college AU, p in a sex, bad prepping(basically no prep cause he wants reader to feel em), slight Yandere themes?, coming inside panties, lil come play<33

A/N thanks for the request! I didn’t know your kinks so I tried to keep it pretty vanil for the fic but I just get the vibe that the stalker is a lil bit of a yandere ૮꒰◞ ˕ ◟ ྀི꒱ა

College was the time you were supposed to be the most happiest. freedom, no parents breathing down your neck and looking at you wearing your new skirts and finally away from Him…anyway this is the beginning of something new and that made you terrified excited.

Here you were grabbing boxes from the back of a hand me down car you bought last year, your hands full walking around campus searching for your dorm room. The sound of other college students bustling past even a frat boy running through the corridor laughing while another man smacks his shoulder.

Your heels clicking on the floors getting into the elevator finally out of view of the other students, not caring if they stared at you when you walked past them in your little skirt.

Finally finding your door room, room 234 in the third wing on campus. Pulling the door open and then it happens, the boxes nearly dropping from your hand “Jasper?..” the man that single handedly ruined your teen years, the man you filed a restraining order against- the one that stalked you since middle school, putting cameras inside your shower, under your bed.

There he stood in all his glory, black hair all messy with his green eyes piercing you over like an interested cat, a crooked grin on his lips looking at you like some god before him. You quickly sit your boxes down on the twin bed to the left of the room with your hands now by your side looking at him.

“Did you miss me any [name]? I really missed you, so goddamn much” he walks over to you leaning down and shoving his face into your neck breathing in your scent without a care in the world “how’d you find me Jasper…my parents made sure you didn’t know the colleges I applied for” your lips pressed into a thin line standing stiff and finding no comfort in the man’s touch.

“I total you I’d never leave you baby? Can’t live without you [name] I wouldn’t wanna” he kisses his way down grabbing at the hem of your shirt slipping under it and massaging his palms into your sides.

“Y’know I don’t want you Jasper, I never have so just stop” you mutter out all squeaky trying to get away even if your body knew you wanted it, even if you couldn’t deny you found him hot you’d never admit it so you did the next best thing and tried to push away but only failing in return.

“Don’t lie to me baby, you’re already getting hard so hard in that little skirt, it’s like you’re asking for me to fuck you?” His lips muffle themselves against your skin starting to suck it red while holding you pined between him and the wall while his second hand makes its way down to your mini skirt starting to lift it.

“Dammit Jasper… stop that” you speak out because you’re in to deep to say otherwise feeling your cock bulging in the pink panties you were wearing. You had no stockings under your skirt letting your bulge get exposed while you go red in the face feeling jaspers hand snaking down giving it a rough squeeze before pulling his lips off your neck breathing heavy in your ear.

“Just be a good boy and bend over for me sweetheart” you don’t know why but you walked over to your twin size bed, not even getting on it just bending over on the side of it and shoving your face into the sheets standing in a pair of heels spreading your thighs.

“Mh, baby so fucking beautiful, no idea how long I’ve been imagining this” he lifts your skirt in the back showing off the cotton fabric with little bows riding up between your cheeks making him smile reading his hands down and grabbing your cheeks spreading them and watching how your rim puckers up against the panties.

His thumb rubbing down your crack spitting on your panties and using his thumb to rub the now translucent fabric against your bud making sure to get it nice and wet while you lay with your cock weeping against the mattress feeling your knees buckle from the feeling.

“O-h you’re a pervert Jasper!” You yelp out and try to yell at him but fail when he reaches his hand off your ass cheek and grabs the back of your neck shoving it into the bed making your voice get muffled, “such a cruel accusation [name] I’m not perverse, I just love you baby?”

He’d coo to you from behind while the hand messing and teasing with your rim finally pulls your panties to the side of your ass just admiring how you’d clench around the air so effortlessly, your rim half prepped from all those nights you’d whine and finger yourself in your bed. Which of course he knew about back then, he had cameras?

“Want me to fuck it?” He’d ask you softly even though you knew he was going to fuck you either way “y-eah” you nod into the pillows gasping when he lets go of the back of your neck to undo his jeans making sure your skirt was pushed upwards on your waist, “you should really get a tramp stamp sweetheart, get me something all pretty to aim at when I’m coming all over that pretty arch”

Your face went red as a beat becoming more thankful he was behind you so he couldn’t see your reaction but he already knew it when your rim winked at him again trying to swallow his finger tip like quicksand having him all giddy and infatuated with you. Jasper having been waiting years to get his cock nuzzled between those perky little cheeks.

“So warm sweetie, just gonna fuck you so nice baby” his voice comes out rigid pulling his boxers down letting his manhood spring free finally standing tall against his t shirt before he presses his dick between your cheeks and uses his hands to grip both cheeks sandwiching his cock between them as he rocks his hips spitting down on your ass again using it as lube fucking between your cheeks having your face down and your ankles bending out in your heels.

“Just push in already Jasper, don’t fuckin tease me~” you moan reaching your hand down to your panties starting to palm yourself through the panties feeling yourself soaking the Cotten closing your eyes just feeling what’s happening to your body having you melting like ice cream during summer.

“Always a greedy boy weren’t you?…well doesn’t matter, still love you” he speaks nudging his pudgy cock head against your rim spreading the muscle open wide making him hiss “fuck that’s it sweetie” he tilts his head back rubbing your ass cheeks softly trying to get you to loosen up around him having him on cloud nine scrunching his nose up bottoming out inside you ready to come on the spot.

“Jas— oh’m g-od” you croak and choke on your words going loose and fuzzy in the head just laying with your ankle wobbling to stay bent in your heels just screwing your eyes shut only opening them with he gives your ass cheek a little smack letting you adjust to his girth. Jasper bucks his hips forward making your face droop back down as his hips squish your plump skin.

Your hands going limp like jello under you unable to palm your neglected cock, just laying with your body limp letting him have his way with you praying to whatever was up in the sky that other students didn’t hear Jasper giving you back-shots on your first day at campus. “You have no idea h’many nights I imagined getting myself inside your pretty body, mmh you’re worth the wait sweetheart”

You feel your rim on fire when his base stretches you wider making your back arch trying to take him, your cock jumps in your panties at his dirty praises having you in hysterics hating the man but also just wanting him to hold you close and fuck you like you deserve, you’d never tell him though. “You can start movin-!” You cry out arching under him gripping the bedsheets tight.

“Shh stay quite sweetheart, stay nice and sweet for me [name]” Jasper speaks softly moaning under his breath bucking his hips feeling a hot flash in his abdomen trying not to come before you but goddamn you were like heaven around him, you were his addiction, his ambrosia and he couldn’t get enough.

The sound of flesh in flesh filling up the dorm, his hands gliding over your body gripping the skin like a feral dog fucking you from behind having you reaching for the wall while the bed creaks shaking back and forth while your eyes open back up going wide and dumb when his cock assaults York inner walls hitting your sweet spot having you loosening up not clenching his cock so tight, jaspers hands pulling in your panties from behind making them tighter in the front, making your cock pulse against the firm fabric

“Please Jas, please just—“ you beg, you break you fold flush like a bad poker game not even knowing what you were pleading for just knowing you needed to come so bad your balls were swelling up going red in your panties about to explode when his cock halts pushing further and further against your prostate like a rubber band being stretched and pressed further and further about to snap.

“Please what sweetheart? Tell me what you want, promise I’ll give it to you” he speaks to you like a doll in complete opposites to how he was fucking you, his hands reaching letting go of your panties making you squeal from the release of pressure, he keeps fucking you thrusting and pumping his hips pressing his pubes to York lower back reaching up under you to your stomach to hold you up.

Holding you up half off the bed fucking you harder with your face still in the sheets and your hips raised high for him mewling feeling your favorite skirt go higher up on you. “Please make me cum, please get me off Jasper” you whine and you spasm around his dick. Your rim trying to take more until his balls press against yours, running together when he fucks into you.

“Come for me baby, just let go, lemme make it all better for you doll” his pace picks up fucking you like some jack rabbit in heat. His hands tugging at your belly leaning forwards leaning back down laying on top of you bent over the bed heaving in your ear kissing the red marks he made on your neck snaking one hand down inside your panties tugging on your cock.

“S’ happening jas, gonna come” you can’t help but to shiver and let go of the bedsheets arching your back against his stomach crying out wailing all cock drunk slurring your words while your cock pulses in his hand coming all inside your panties only further soiling them when the thick ropes leave your red cock head feeling like a release through your whole body having your balls relax a little once they’re fully emptied.

“There’s my good boy, I knew you were a sweetheart, just needed a little pounding to bring it out” Jasper kisses your neck sucking on the red marks using his canines to pinch the skin letting go York your cock and slamming into you harder becoming less in rhythm and more desperate to get off.

You can feel his balls drawling up when they press against your ass, his veins rubbing more prominent against your inner walls having you biting your bottom lip with your toes curling in your heels while he thrusts one more time inside you piling out with a loud gasp “o-h fuck [name] feel what you do to me?” He asks shuddering behind you fucking between your spit slick ass cheeks letting his cock nudge your rim but never actually pushing in.

The next thing you know hot ropes of cum pump out spewing all over your hole getting between your cheeks feeling the hot liquid running down your arch getting on your back and your skirt practically coating you like he meant it. “Thought you were pretty before but admit seeing you covered in my cum makes you even prettier”

He lifts his head from your neck whispering the words out to you before slipping his hands from under you and massaging the cum all over your body rubbing your cheeks down with it slipping two slickened fingers inside you again playing with you before pulling out.

“Let me have a date baby, I promise I can treat you so good, I’ll be so sweet to you I’ll be s’much better than your ex was” he whispers to you cooing like a snake in the garden of Eden ready to tempt you into his sinful world. “You’re fucking crazy Jasper” you huff lifting your head laying now lifting yourself up on your elbows with your body aching from the rough fucking you just took, his hand marks and imprints leaving your skin swollen.

“I’m only crazy for you, you’re the only man that makes me feel it…only wanna kiss N’ love, only wanna come on you sweetie”

[tojisun]

[head in my hands] i think that older bf! simon gets off at how dependent you are on him. that every waking hour, you seek him out. it makes him thrum with something sinister; his heart heady with something dark.

you don't even notice—that's the best thing.

it was just natural for you to come to him, curling to his side like being beside him alone gives you the courage you need or grants you the peace of your mind.

he pushes your hair away from your face and you turn to him with a shy little smile, cheeks round and lips twitching. you don't ask him but he gives it to you anyway—a kiss on your forehead, because you're his precious love.

so good for him. so needy.

simon adores it. he adores the way you can't live without him; how you've made it so you two would be inseparable. he is your rock, you are his lifeline. sure, you don't know just how deep his greed runs—murky waters, blood dripping from the corners of his lips—but it's not like you had to know, anyway.

all you had to do was to stay close, for him to spoil and cherish. for him to love.

"y'need me so much, don't you doll?" simon asks, crooned words pressed on your fever-hot skin. "can't think without me. can't live without me. such a darlin', y'are."

you keen, breathless, unable to speak past warbled gasps. you feel the slow stretch of his cock as you rise, the glide torturous, hitting every of your sensitive spots, before you sink back down again, stuffed whole, his cockhead breaching into depths you never knew was even possible.

too mu'—!

simon's hands move, jostling you from where you are on his lap. they hook on your waist, dimpling your skin as they sink into your fat. it makes him groan, seeing how full you are against him. how full you are of him. seeing your softness, your tenderness, immortalized in his hold like this—weeping, leaking, cunt gushing—makes him whimper, mind splintering at the overwhelming pleasure.

not enough. s'not enough.

(simon doesn't realize how needy he is of you too.)

[ladylucksrogue]

Whumpurary Day 27

A day in the life of Fox

CW: a crime scene, a body, dark themes

[tsmwrites]

wobble

It wobbles for a while upon dropping—the sound of laminated glass against wood ringing out like an armonica, haloing her in sound. Her hands are already gripping the sides of the counter before the silence comes, knuckle-white and covered in suds. It arrives like this: abruptly, inexorably—a churn of black tides swallowing her into voids, an inevitability waiting patiently to greet her, the tempting caress of darkness. She breathes, deeply and tenderly, and marvels at dark waters—she wonders what it would mean to let it fill her lungs and make a home of her.