#non-con touch

[auroragehenna]

WR: „Now do you remember what I said about flinching?“

WU: …

WR: „Good.“ Touches and tips chin up subtly. Fingertips disappear for a moment until they come back wrapping around Whumpees throat

[shipcest-f-f]

Noncon but the aggressor is super gentle while doing it, wiping away their tears and telling them how good they are doing

[dorealis]

Series Title: Pound of Flesh

pt.1 pt.2 ->

Summary: Simon has always wanted something soft to call his. The problem is that he's always had issues with women. When he stumbles across a dark website that traffics people, he knows he should tell someone. But that thought goes out the window when he sees her.

Content Warning: non-con. Reader is a trafficking victim. Stockholm Syndrome. Simon is not a good man here.

Simon never claimed to be a moral man. He knows that he's fucked up. He knows that what he is doing is wrong. He is aware that if people knew about his more perverted desires, he'd be questioned to hell and back. He knows that if his new pretty lover escapes, he's going to prison. Maybe even under it.

He knows. He just doesn't care.

So when he pins the pretty young girl beneath him in their bed, he doesn't think about the consequences. He only thinks about how good her cunt feels around his cock. He likes the struggle that she puts up, the way she claws at him. She cries, wails that he's too big, to just let her go, she won't tell anyone. She doesn't know that her begging gets him off.

"Please, it hurts." She hiccups through a moan. Her eyes are glassy with tears, "You're hurting me." Her breath comes through gasps, and he only adds pressure to her throat.

"Shh," He shushes her and kisses the tears on her cheeks. They taste like salt, and under that, he can taste her blush and makeup. It's sweet that she got herself all done up for him. "Just a bit more lovie, you're okay."

He can tell that she doesn't believe him. Her kiss swollen lips wobble. Another orgasm she doesn't want but needs is crashing into her. She's screaming, voice turning hoarse. It feels good when she clings to him. The clutch of her cunt around him is euphoric. He's happy that he found her and bought her. Such a pretty thing like her was worth the trouble and the price.

She was soft and smaller than him. Her skin blemish and mark free, a blank canvas for him to cut and draw his love upon her. There are already dark bruises blooming on her chest and on various places where he's sunk his teeth into her. He watches as her eyes roll back into her skull, head flopping to the side. Her body is limp but he keeps going.

His own release is at the base of his spine. It slinks up and spreads throughout his body. His hips stuttering and a low groan escapes him. He keeps himself flushed tight up against her. He can feel his balls draw up and the release he's been looking for finally, finally, hits him.

His Lovie, his pretty young thing, lays naked against the bed. She's sweet like this, still like a statue in repose. Everything about her is lovely, and she's all his. He doesn't have much in this world, but he now has her.

He doesn't pull out right away. He enjoys the softness of her flesh. In the back of his mind, he knows that he is no better than the terrorists and traffickers that he's killed. But again, he doesn't care. He bought his Lovie fair and square. She belongs to him and him only.

Her eyes open, and she's staring at him. Brows drawn up in confusion before she sighed in resignation. "Please, I wanna go home." She whispers.

Simon only smiles and brushes his thumb against her lips.

"Lovie. You are home."

[diejager]

I need to add something to the request I put in

(totes okay if you don’t accept this)

bunny hybrid probs has to deal with a lot of racism because most think they’re just breeders and stuff, so reader has gone as far as to swear they’ll never become a breeder (which is fucking hard not to with soap around lmao)

~🧋

Cw: sexism?, racism/xenophobia?, non-con touching, soap being horny, tell me if I missed any.

Despite wanting to fight for your cause, you knew there wasn’t anything you could give - excuse - to reason your biting, the lingering taste of spoiled and rotten blood on the back of your throat and the stains of red on your lips were a constant reminder of your aggression. You knew Price wouldn’t fault you for lashing back at them, insulting and disgusting pigs whose eyesight went as far as the end of their noses, with an ego so high up their arse that they couldn’t differentiate a softer and domestic rabbit to a hardened and trained one. 

It felt degrading, being constantly reminded that you could’ve been a small breeder, a broodmare to another mate, forgoing your person for a duty others seemed to have filled. The world didn’t need more bunnies than it already had. It didn’t help that you were softer than them, wider hips, tender skin and rounder curves, charmingly feminine despite the rough material of your fatigues or your growls and snarls. They’d often ignore your hisses when their hands lingered, ignoring the signs of aggression because what- bunnies weren’t inherently aggressive? You fought, you bled and you killed, so how would biting and clawing be any different?

But Price wasn’t proud of your manner of escape —self-defence, anger issues, rage, whichever word he used. He grumbled lowly, placing down his precious hat to fist at his hair, the gleaming silver strands a physical reminder of the stress and pressure he lived when he had you all under his care. A dedicated leader. An empathetic friend. A good captain. A loving man. He was all and more, but there were things even he couldn’t do, and the constant complaints and reports on your “biting problem” was souring his bitter tea. 

“Biting won’t do any good,” he mumbled your name in slight disappointment, sighing at your sudden pout, ears drooping sorrowfully.

“I know, but they keep saying things,” your snarled, fisting the fabric of your pants, “These p- men keep touching me and Soap isn’t hel-”

“Helping you with all the times he’s pulled you into his room or a closet. I’m aware,” he breathed out a puff of smoke, rolling his head back with a satisfied feel of ash and tabacco, “I’ll remind him to be mindful.”

You flashed him a grateful smile, small but happy, shoulders slumping lighting at the small respite Price had given you. It might not be a fix-it-all, but it would mellow down the on-going rumours of you being both a bunny hybrid and a barracks bunny —however insulting and debasing that was. 

“Now, onto the actual issue,” you were keenly aware of his hand, running along the seams of his beard and against his lips, “Reckon they’d enjoy longer drills.”

You couldn’t help the grin that curled your lips into a cruel smirk, teeth flashing at your captain’s planned punishment. 

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @haven-1307 @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

[sourtomatola]

Needed to draw these two so I thought I'd start with something simple. Hand kiss

also

Bonus: Preening cause bird

[auroragehenna]

I'm excited for your OC's Bingo Soup!!!!

Here's my ask : Drugged and ofc with Lyra and Adam

Happy Writing!!!

OC soup Bingo

Calculations

TW/CW: Non-con drugging, threats, non-con touch, maybe a tad tiny bit suggestive language but its SFW, creepy/intimate whumper, defiant whumpee, non-con kiss Word count: 1'259

Adam clasped the tiny test tube filled with the yellowish powder. It had been a hassle to get it but it would be worth it. He mixed all of it into a tiny water flask and shook it. He would make damn sure of that…

…

„Oh absolutely not!“, Lyra said when she saw Adam approach her with a sadistic grin painted on his face and his hands behind his back.

„Funny how you act like you have a choice in the matter.“, he replies coldly.

Lyra gulps, a hard look in her eyes. „Well at least I’m not gonna let you win without sacrifices.“

Adam scoffs. „See this is exactly the problem.“ Then he suddenly lunges at her. He grapples her to the ground but struggles to restrain her completely. Then he has an idea. He sneaks his hand over her head and manages to cover her eyes and nose. Now shredded in darkness Lyra's trashing slows down a bit.

"What are you doing?", she asks nervously.

"Oh, don't break your little head about it just open up."

Lyra's mouth snapped close.

Adam sighed theatrically, strengehing his graps on her nose. "See where that get's you."

Lyra’s fought to throw him off but without sucsess. And her movements were becoming more and more frantic.

“You think you can fight me but you can’t.”

Lyra’s eyes widened as the need for oxygen got worse and worse.

“So just admit it to yourself.”

Lyra gasped and Adam instantly shoved the flask into her mouth. She coughed but in her desperate gasping for oxygen couldn’t prevent the weird tasting water from going down her throat. Adam still not letting go of her face turned her head around and kissed her. Stealing her only source of oxygen again. Eventually he let go of her and allowed her to sprawl out on the floor.

Adam laughed as she pushed herself away from him fear and disgust. He didn’t say anything only checked his watch.

Lyra breathed heavily. “What did you do to me? What was in there?”

“Just a little funny drug. I think I used way more than what I was instructed to use but ah well. I’m sure you don’t mind, right?”, he grinned.

Lyra opened her mouth but the look on Adam’s face made her close it again.

“Good girl.”, Adam commented smugly.

Lyra grit her teeth in anger and tried to stand up instinctively. But her knees buckled underneath her weight and she fell over again.

Adam walked up to her with slow, deliberate steps. “Now, now. What was that supposed to be?”

“I just wanted to give you a much needed punch in the face!”

“Hmm. No that wasn’t it. Try again.”

“What?”

“Try. Again.”

“I tried to stand up?”

“Yes. And why would you do that?

“Because you were getting on my nerves and being a bastard?!”

“Hmm. And do you see what’s wrong with that behaviour?"

“Your unbelviably fragile ego can’t handle it?”

Adam was now standing right in front of Lyra. He grabbed her jaw with a grip he was sure would bruise and tilted her head up so she would look at him.

“This. Do you see this right here? This is how the power dynamic is.”, he was speaking ever so calmly now, “Over all my little games I allowed you to play and all my generiosity it seems that you forgot who actually has the power here.”

Lyra struggles now to keep her body upright and Adam seems to notice it. Suddenly he let’s go of her jaw and her body betrays her by simply dropping to the floor. She can hear him laugh over her.

“Oh that’s just beautifully pathetic. Here let me help you.”, he adds and crouches down. He grabs her gently by the arms and turns her around so she now lays on her back, looking up at him as he stands up again.

“Now…This is much better…”, he purred.

Lyra can only move her eyes by now, everything else won’t obey her commands.

“What do you think of this change, Thyma?”

She tries to open her mouth-to talk-to give a snarky remark but her tongue felt like it had turned to lead.

“Oh right.”, Adam laughs, “You’re too weak to talk right now.”

“You wanna know what I think about this change?” He sat down again next to the lying Lyra and gently moved a few stray strands of hair out of Lyra‘s face. Seemingly deep in thought. „I think it’s quite charming. You’re so helpless like this. Vulnerable for me to do whatever I want.”, he mused and caressed a nail over the length of her arm.

Lyra would have shivered if she could have.

“But I don’t really need this to make you feel this way, do I? So…Defeated. You’re quite strong minded I will not lie about that. But…If you know where to apply pressure…” He sneaked his hand under her limp body and pressed into the curve of her spine earning him a sharp breath from his plaything. He locked eyes with her. “You crumble like a sand castle. And there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it. As much as you try you can’t eradicate them, can you? Why else would you still be so scared from the same things as four-five years ago?” Adam went back to caressing his nails over every exposed inch of Lyra’s skin. “Why else do you flinch at my touch even if you tell yourself not to? And why do none of your attempts to escape my clutches sucseed? Whatever you do…Whatever you try…You will always end up in the same position as before. At my mercy. Trembling like a deer in headlights but trying to act stoic. And you’re already breaking, can’t you tell?”

Lyra shot him an outraged look, the fear momentarily dissapearing from her eyes.

“No?” Adam chuckled softly. “Poor, sweet, dumb Lyra. Why else did you so eagerly give up names and intel when I caught you again? Only to spare yourself a bit of pain.” He gently cupped her cheek. “I didn’t even torture you that time.”

Lyra felt tears of shame fill her eyes but she mustered up every bit of energy she had to hold them back. He would not see her cry. He couldn’t also take that from her. She wished he would stop touching her, every touch seemed to burn her skin and the nails felt no different than knifes.

Adam saw how her eyes practically pleaded with him to understand that that was not how it was. And a sadistic grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “You from a few years ago would never have done that...I mean, I expected some changes after your short vacation but…You surprised even my with that. By obeying so…easily. So you see, you understood it before, so I’m sure you can do it again. Right?” He brushed his thumb over her lips before removing his hands and standing up. “You’re lucky that I am…patient. For now. But understand that in here I am what counts. I am your government. Your religion. Your…rules. And you will obey or I will stop playing games and get serious with you. Do we understand each other?”

Lyra couldn’t speak.

“Come on, you have other ways of showing me you understood your place.”

They were both just staring at each other, holding stubborn eye contact until Lyra broke it and lowerded her gaze below Adams eyes.

“Good bunny.”

Taglist: @yourlocalgaefae33, @princessofhe11, @greatkittencloud, @bisexuawolfsalt, @imnotamurdereripromise

[magpie-angel-boy]

Cws: Non con touching, creepy/intimate whumper, winged whumpee, captive whumpee.

Their wings are beautiful-

Whumpee is chained to the floor, on their knees, with a short chain keeping their wrists bound to a bolt. Their wings drape around them, shimmering feathers spread out over the concrete.

Their gaze is downcast, and they tense as the cell door opens- whumper steps in and lowers himself in front of them.

“Hello little birdie, you’re looking lovely today.”

They don’t speak. So whumper frowns and steps behind them. They flinch as they feel a hand on their wing. Stroking through feathers, gentle and steady. The feeling makes their stomach turn- no one should touch their wings, not without their trust. Especially not their captor… who’s already done so much to them.

But they know what happens if they protest. It’s much worse than a little discomfort. So they stay still, breathing steady.

Whumpers hand continued through their feathers, his fingers deftly gliding between quills. Sending shivers up whumpees back.

Their wings are beautiful.

[shipcest-f-f]

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Yandere coworker (part 7)

Tw: non con touching and kissing, reader being cringe on main, cyprus being a horndog as usual

Masterlists, part 1, part 8

You had a mild fever and didn't realize it. You can't believe that it took Cyprus of all people to figure it out. Maybe it's the adrenaline and anxiety that's keeping you chock full of energy.

It was embarrassing when you saw the doctor glancing at the very visible Hickey Cyprus left on your neck. But she doesn't seem to care, all she said was to try and not be so stressed even if it's hard. Because that is most likely whatever is causing your immune system to weaken.

Overall, it's nothing too serious. You just needed a couple of paracetamols and a night of rest. She advised you to come back if any other symptoms arise. You accepted the medical certificate that allows you to be absent from work for 24 hours.

Cyprus paid the bills and collected your medication for you despite your protests and whining about how you can cover it yourself. It isn't because you didn't want to burden him, it's because you knew Cyprus would use this against you later.

You were curled into a pathetic ball on his couch, finally feeling the effects of your fever despite eating a couple of pills earlier. Cyprus made you rest your head on his lap as he watches TV. His arm hanging off the back of the sofa, while the other tangled his fingers in your hair.

He told you that the match doesn't start until later at night, you should take a nap.

You told him straight up that you don't want to, and you rather sleep at home alone. He simply rolled his eyes and huffed at your difficultness.

There was a beat of silence before you asked him another question; why you, out of all the other women he could have pulled? There are others who wanted this... Dynamic between him and them.

"I told you." He leaned in. "You're the only respectful one in that office- you're fishing for compliments, aren't you?" A teasing smirk made it's way to his face.

You vehemently denied, saying that you're no different than anyone else. You bring nothing to the table.

He laughed. "You bring your cute little ass to the table." Cyprus brought his digits to your sides, tickling you to the point of cackling. "You're just what I want. What I need. A genuine, humble, pretty girl for me to spoil rotten."

You tried swatting his hands away, but he ended up firmly pushing you off him and onto the soft cushions, before you could do anything else, Cyprus is already straddling your hips. He grinned as he sees you squirming under him, you had nowhere to escape since he's caging you between his sculpted arms.

"You're such a princess too. So small and so weak against me." He whispered in your ears before brushing his lips against the side of your neck. "I love it. I know I'll love fucking my princess in bed too."

You whined and mewled as he assaulted your jaw with kisses, you couldn't move your head because he was grabbing handfuls of your hair.

You felt yourself heating up, you're unsure whether it's due to your fever or something else.

"But you're not ready yet..." He mumbled against your skin and ceased all movements, he's draped over you like a weighted blanket. Finally, he lifted himself off you, but still hovering over your form.

"You're still so shy." He kissed your forehead, yet his lips never parted with you. "So... meek." Cyprus continued talking. He pulled away and stared deep into your eyes, you noted that his glasses weren't on his face anymore.

"Loosen up, baby. I will make you feel good." Purred Cyprus as he slowly slid his hand under your shirt, feeling up your bare skin.

You stared back while holding your breath, eyes wide and cautious. He snorted and grinned.

"You're so funny, doll. I like your cute, little reactions." He retracted his hand and returned to his original seat beside you.

"Happy now?" He laughed at your flustered state. "Want more? I can give you more. Trust me, I have a lot more to say." Cyprus licked his lips while eyeing you sleazily.

You frantically shook your head, that was enough. You're convinced that he likes you for something that you're trying to get rid of: Your pushover trait. Well, you can't start swinging at him. He's still quadruple your size and you would like to keep all your teeth in your gums.

He guffawed, putting his glasses back onto his face. You flinched when he brought the back of his hand close to you, but somewhat relaxed when you realized that he was only trying to check your temperature.

Cyprus then checked the time on his watch. He got up to go elsewhere but came back a few minutes later with a glass of crisp, refreshing water and your pills.

You muttered a thanks as you went ahead and took another dose.

"Screw the match." You turned your head to him as you took a gulp.

"I'm not going." He slumped back onto the sofa, having his steely grey eyes trained on the television.

You asked why. He narrowed his eyes at you, pointing the remote control at the monitor as he changed the channel.

"My girl is sick. I don't like seeing their ugly mugs and we haven't had dinner yet." You continued staring at him.

"Duh." He concluded his sentence before tossing the remote control onto your lap.

You said that you can take care of yourself. You told him to just let you go home and you'll be out of his hair.

"I don't want you to get out of my hair." He got up and walked to the kitchen. You twisted your head and saw that he was rolling his sleeves up.

Cyprus opened the fridge door to collect the ingredients for dinner. "I'll be taking care of you. What fucking bastard wouldn't care for his girlfriend?"

You said you don't want him to. And you never agreed to be his woman in the first place, you do not care about him as a person at all. You're only here because he kept stealing your belongings, you asked him where your bags are.

"Soap operas are on channel 132, Reality TV, 123." He cut you off as he washed his hands.

You frowned. You said Cyprus is going to let the organizers down.

"And you think I give a crap?" He shot back, putting a metal pot on the stove.

You said they might not let him participate in the future.

"So?" He began julienning some carrots skillfully on a chopping board, you wonder if he had any prior culinary experience with the way he would slice through the vegetable with such precision and speed.

He might... lose his friends? his reputation? And feel bad? You don't know how else to put it.

Cyprus simply hummed and fell into silence, focusing on his cooking instead. You wonder how he could chop a whole onion without tearing up, its invisible fumes are already stinging your eyes at this distance.

You said that he should at least give them a call that he's not coming tonight.

"You know, for someone who doesn't give a damn about me 'as a person', you sure do care a lot. About me." He drizzled some olive oil into the pot. "...As a person." Cyprus continued.

You said that it's common courtesy. You felt bad for the audience and the ones who invited him.

Cyprus scoffed as he went ahead to chop some potatoes. "Are you bored, doll?" He asked. "If you wanted to help out with dinner, you could have just said so."

You're actually bored without your phone, you would take anything at this point to entertain you. The TV isn't showing you anything good. So you asked if there was anything he could let you do.

"You could take a nap." He nonchalantly replied, sauteeing the onions he prepared earlier.

You said you don't want to. You don't trust him.

"Then, let's talk." His eyes never flitted towards you, always on his workbench and stove. "How do you like your foreplay?" Cyprus went on to cut a slab of chicken breast into small cubes, and he threw them into the pot.

You said you don't want anything to do with it.

"So you prefer to fuck straight away?" Once the onions and meat were sufficiently browned, he poured in enough water to cover everything. "Figures. You're always rushing to get to "the point". You should try enjoying the journey sometimes."

You said that you don't want anything to do with sex.

"Whatever you say, beautiful." He laughed.

You sighed and slumped back onto the sofa. Your ears picked up on the sounds of the soup bubbling.

You decided to ask more about him. Might as well gain knowledge that you could use against Cyprus later. You asked about his family.

"Why? Do you want to meet them? I didn't know we were at that stage already. But I'm not complaining." He used a teasing tone when speaking to you.

You stayed silent, wishing that it was easier to talk to him.

He took a deep breath and exhaled, the smile dropped and was replaced with a neutral look. "I have an older sister. Raised by a single mom."

You asked where his father is. He stopped his cooking to look you incredulously in the eyes.

"Really? Not even an "I'm sorry" before asking that straight up? God, you're..." His shoulders sagged in defeat upon seeing your clueless face. "...really something else."

You waited for him to continue. But he simply frowned, almost scowled at your lack of social elegance. Looks like he isn't comfortable telling you about his father.

You asked more about his childhood.

"It was fine." He took out another pot, poured in some raw rice, and washed it under the tap.

You asked about his relationship with his mother.

"She worked three jobs to feed the two of us. Never really saw her around."

What about his sister?

"She raised me. Taught me how to fight, taught me how to cook, built me a backbone, and..." He paused momentarily. "Well. You wouldn't expect a nine-year-old kid to be the best mother in the world. Especially when she never asked for a brother that acts like her son."

He subconsciously brought his hand up to the back of his shoulder.

You asked about the relationship between him and his family now.

"We're doing fine." He placed the lid on the pot of rice and turned the heat up. "My sister lives a couple hours away from me. My mom..."

Now invested in his life story, you stared at him.

"She lives down the street." He placed another lid on the pot containing the soup. Cyprus then walked to the sofa, plopping down next to you.

"She's retired. Good for her, though. She deserves to rest."

You asked if he talks to her. To which, he nods.

"She would sometimes bring some food over. It's weird, I never knew what my own mom's cooking tasted like until I was 19. I only knew my sister's and my own."

You asked if he talks to his sister.

"Nope. Can't say I blame her, though. I was a piece of shit to raise." He brought his hands behind his head and leaned backward.

"What about you?" He asked, his grey eyes piercing into yours.

You gave him a summary of your life since birth and your current status with your family and other relatives, most of them are back in your hometown and home country.

He hummed in acknowledgment. Cyprus went on to check your temperature again, this time by touching the back of your neck.

There was silence between the both of you, accompanied by the sounds of dinner cooking away on the stovetops.

"You look like you have something on your mind. Spit it out." He broke the quietness by gently nudging your leg with his feet.

You blurted out if he chose you because you reminded him of a maternal figure he wanted.

His jaw went slack as he stared at you in disbelief. "What the fuck are you talking about, doll?"

You said that you couldn't give him what he wanted. You suggested going to therapy to work his "mommy issues" out before dating, so he wouldn't get hurt when his girlfriends couldn't fulfill that requirement of his. You do not have a single motherly bone in you, apologizing if you have accidentally come off as that way at first. You can't take care of him like how a proper mothering girlfriend would.

"Obviously! You can't even take care of yourself! What the fuck are you even on about? I'm not looking for another mom. I'm looking for a girlfriend! You-" He took off his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose. He groaned in frustration and in extreme bafflement.

"Christ, what is with your thoughts? If I was looking for a woman to baby me, you don't even come close. Look at yourself! You barely feed yourself, you either sleep too little or too much, you can't even tell that you've had a fever, You didn't even know when to take your meds, you can't get off that damn phone and you let everyone walk all over you at work. If anything, it's the opposite, I'm looking to baby someone!"

You sat still and listened to his exasperated rant. You cringed internally; yes, you were definitely reaching, desperately trying to get him to let you go by reasoning. You were so sure that this argument would work, because you held this bias where men that have rocky relationships with their maternal figures would want a partner who is motherly. Thanks to your excessive internet usage and limited interaction with the real world.

He tiredly rubbed his face. "You have got to go out more, doll. That... fucking website is rotting you from the inside out."

You looked away in embarrassment.

"You were spewing the exact same bullshit I see online. I can't believe you're--" He heaved a sigh.

"It's fine. Our brains do not work the same during an active addiction." He stood back up and headed to the stove.

You told him you're not addicted to your phone.

"Yeah. And I'm totally not addicted to smoking." He took out a stack of paper bowls from a cabinet. He pulled out a couple of disposable wooden spoons and forks from his drawers.

"Come on, dinner's ready."

[tara-the-quiet-bookworm-2016]

Home Alone Yandere! Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Female Reader Chapter One

Summary- You didn't know when it started, but lately you constantly felt like you were being watched. At first you thought you were being paranoid, until you started catching glimpse of someone in the shadows. Someone wearing a mask with a skull on it, he seemed to be everywhere you went, and sometimes it felt like he was in your house. For your sake, Y/N I hope you made sure the doors and windows were locked before you went to bed...

Authors Notes- And here I am back again with yet another COD Yandere fic. This time I'm trying my hand writing Yandere Ghost. Let's see how well I do his character justice. And let's see what terrifying stuff poor reader will have to endure because of his twisted obsession, huh?

As you can gather by now I like to mention trigger warnings to my Authors Notes. So this Chapter will feature stalking, paranoid thoughts, breaking and entering, non-con touching. Nothing over the top...yet. But I hope you enjoy. Without further ado here is chapter one. Of Home Alone.

Chapter 1: In The Shadows.

Today had started out as a normal day, in fact it had started out pretty damn good if you were being honest. You had got to work with little to no car troubles, and had got to your job at the local craft store with time to spare. Not like it would have mattered as most of the time you were normally on time. And your day started out pretty smoothly, aside from some kids knocking over a display that is but at least the kids seemed rather apologetic and helped you clean it up. So that was good.

But the odd thing you did notice when you went about your work was the man that seemed to be looming around the store in the aisles you were in. Once or twice you asked him if he needed something but he only shook his head or stared at you. You couldn't quite put your finger on it but something about him seemed odd, of course a lot of odd people came in here but they always seemed innocent. But something about the way he stared at you sent shivers down your spine. Maybe it was his eyes the way they seemed to see right through you, how dark they were. Creepy.

You know that was mean, but he unnerved you, and the way it seemed like he was following you? No, you were being paranoid, it was kind of a small store and such so there was that. And after a while he did leave without buying anything, though you did wonder why he wore that mask, it seemed odd. Giving your head a shake you went about your work until it was finally time to clock out.

And that was when things started to feel odd. As you stepped out into the cool night air you instantly felt like you were being watched. Looking over your shoulder you could only see your coworkers and customers milling around. But still that feeling of being watched persisted. Maybe you've been watching too many crime shows and novels. You told yourself as you shrugged your shoulders and got into your car. Intent on driving home and cooking yourself a nice dinner.

***

Simon didn't know what it was about you. Something about you just seemed to catch his interest, something that intrigued him. Simon didn't know what it was but there was something about you, something that called out to him, something he wanted to possess. Something he wanted to keep all too himself, keep locked away for his eyes only.

God what was it about you? How had he become so obsessed with someone like you? Shaking his head Simon turned away from you as you drove on home, while he decided with some reluctance to return to his own apartment, pulling his jacket closer around himself as he walked down the street. Several people moving out of his way as he did so, some casting looks in his direction as he reached his home. He if he could it that, considering that he was away most of the time he never really considered it home. And thus kept the place sparsely furnished.

Shrugging his jacket off he hung it up before pulling off his mask and tossing it onto a worn chair before moving to the bedroom. Turning on the light he looked around the room, his eyes settling on the wall by his bed. There on the wall were pictures, not of his friends, and certainly not of his family. But of you.

Pictures of you at work, laughing at something a coworker said, of you out in the city window shopping, a faint smile on your lips. And then there were the ones he took of you while were at home, lounging on the couch in nothing but an other sized t-shirt and panties, a half eaten bowl of popcorn on the next to you. Gaze fixed on whatever show you had been watching, unaware that he was so close. Others of you in your kitchen cooking dinner. You really should get better curtains, love. Anyone could be watching you, waiting to strike. Maybe that was why Simon was so obsessed with you, you were so innocent compared to him. Maybe because of that is why he took it upon himself to watch over you, to keep you safe from people that would harm you.

At least that's what Simon convinced himself was the case. Turning away from the wall he slumped down on the bed with a tired sounding sigh. The pictures he had of you were perfect, but nothing compared to the videos he had of you on his phone. Videos he took of you during one of his many visits inside your house, you were completely unaware though as you sat in your darkened living room completely oblivious. Or the one he took of you when you were asleep, a worn out teddy bear wrapped tightly in your arms as Simon sat by the window. The one he knew you were unable to lock, the one he crept through every night to watch you sleep.

The last time he had watched you had been last night after a particularly exhausting day, you had all but stumbled into your bedroom without pulling on your pj's. Or even crawling under the covers, leaving you exposed to his hungry gaze. He remembered ever so slowly creeping towards your bed, fingers brushing against your cheek, thumb brushing against your plush lips as you shifted ever so slightly in your sleep. Completely unaware of his presence.

And Simon wouldn't deny that there was a part of him that wanted more, that wanted to possess you, to keep you locked away for his eyes only. And while he tried to deny it he knew it was only a matter of time before that was a case. Pulling off his shirt he got ready for bed. He hoped you would enjoy your freedom while it lasted, because someday you would be his...

Authors Notes- I don't often post two works in the same day. But here I am. Sorry this is a rather weak start, I assure it'll get better as the story goes on. But I hope you enjoyed it.

[whumblr]

can you write a prompt for an intimate whumper x whumpee? 😭

"Sshh, it's okay, loved one, it's okay. I know you don't like being touched. That's fine. I don't mind. You're allowed to feel that way. You know, I might even prefer it that way. What you're not allowed to do, however, is pull away from me."

[shipcest-f-f]

soft noncon but the rapist cares more about your pleasure than their own, they are trying to find out what makes your feel good, they care about your pained faces and expressions, but instead of stopping, they just find something else, it won't stop until YOU climax

YES! You get it 🙂‍↕️☝️

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Yandere coworker (part 8)

Tw: noncon touching, noncon kissing, afab reader anatomy, violence, toxic family dynamics

Masterlists, part 1, part 9

Thanks for the asks about cyprus guys, it do be helping me to unclog that authors block for this stimky

Especially the ones who wanted to know more about him, got the idea from themm

"...She's sick and she has a cert' to prove it. I'll ask her to send an email after this call."

You were awoken by Cyprus's voice early morning. Softly grumbling under your breath, you pushed yourself up and rubbed your eyes. Realizing that you were lying on top of his bare chest the entire night. A calloused hand holds you in place by the ass, while the other held onto his phone that is being pressed against his ear.

"Me? I told you. I'm not coming in today. An emergency came up." The annoyance on his face evaporated away as soon as he saw that you were awake. You grunted in displeasure as he pressed an audible kiss on your very sleepy form.

You tried focusing on his banter with Jane. But everything was gibberish to you as you struggled to keep your eyes open. Cyprus gently pushed you back down onto his broad chest as he saw you swaying side to side, obviously not at all fit to go to work.

You pressed your cheek against him and closed your eyes, letting your consciousness slowly drift away again.

"You figure it out, you're the manager." He barked before hanging up on her. Cyprus stretched his arm to open the drawer of his nightstand, dropping his phone next to yours inside it.

The brunette turned his attention to you. He groped your buttocks, it made you stir a little, but it looked like you were too tuckered out to care.

"Hey."

You replied with a weak hum.

"I want to smoke."

You let out a grunt of annoyance. Struggling to push yourself off him.

"What the hell are you doing?" Cyprus pressed you closer to him.

You said that you're trying to get out of the way so he could do his thing.

He huffed. "You're supposed to stop me."

You said that he is an adult. You have no right to tell him what to do or stop whatever urges he may have. You told him that you wished he would extend the same courtesy to you.

"Oh yeah? Well, I have the urge to fuck you stupid right now." This woke you up immediately, making you push him away and creating as much distance as possible. You would have run away if it wasn't for him caging you against the bed.

You began whining and whimpering, about to break into a loud scream, until,

"Relax. I'm not doing that today." His voice took on a condescending tone. However, his fingers are still digging into your soft flesh, keeping you in place under him.

"Help me fight the urge to smoke." He ordered. "I won't let you go until you do something about it."

You frowned, forcing your brain to think early this morning.

You asked when and why he started smoking. His eyes darted to the side as he actively recalled the first time he did it.

"I started when I was twelve." He rolled to your side, but his arm still kept you in place. "My sister tried her best to keep me away from it, but I was a little shit. I stole a pack from her handbag and the rest was history."

You asked what kept him going. He shrugged.

"I looked... cool. And it calms me down, I had to work after school, to pull my own weight around the house. Juice boxes and candies weren't enough to soothe my nerves after a long night of dealing with fucking morons." Cyprus absentmindedly played with your hair as he reminisced about his youth.

You asked him what work he could have possibly done as a 12-year-old.

"You know, like. Shady ones. I would sell random shit on the streets, become a delivery boy for some local gangs, weirdos paid me to leave dead animals on doorsteps of specific people..." He trailed off.

You asked what he used the money on.

"Well, firstly, to keep the lights on. Secondly, on more cigarettes."

You asked how come the money from his mother and sister wasn't enough, that a young boy like him had to be robbed of his childhood to work. To that, he scowled, but not necessarily at you for asking such a question, but it was more like he wasn't fond of the memory.

"Looking expensive was apparently more important than her kids getting three meals a day." You waited for him to elaborate on that.

"We had a coffee machine when we couldn't even afford the right coffee. She had to outshine her so-called friends at church, wearing a new dress every week in her favorite color; gold. While we had to go insane and sleepless trying to put food on the table." He spat, feeling resentment for his mother for prioritizing her image.

"My sister was just like me, she had to juggle her studies while raising me and my mom." He mindlessly touched the back of his shoulder again. You wonder if his sister did something to him on that body part of his.

You asked if he still resents his mother for being materialistic.

He sighed. "...A little."

You asked him if she still is like this.

"Not anymore. It took me running away for a few days to sober her up. She was still shit at managing her money- my sister had to handle that on her own, but at least she knows she was a massive idiot back then."

You asked him how old he was when he ran away.

"Fifteen." A guilty look crossed his face. "My sister freaked the fuck out. It wasn't pretty when I finally decided to show my face again." You eyed the hand that touched the same spot as before.

You asked him if she hit him before.

"More times than I can count. She uses anything and everything, but it's mostly her cha- Slippers." He laughed.

You asked if she usually hit him on the spot that he kept rubbing whenever she was mentioned.

"Oh... no." He turned around to show you what he was touching. It's a long, large raised scar with mild discoloration, but it's clearly healed a while ago. You thought he had that while fighting. "She fucking stabbed me with a kitchen knife. Only once. But it hurt like a bitch, especially when she screamed that I was her biggest burden."

You offered him words of sympathy this time. He snorted.

"She didn't mean it. Because I heard her yell the same thing when she stabbed my mom in the hand. Plus, I was only 8, it wasn't my fault everything was the way it was."

You asked him if he gets to stab her as revenge. He chuckled at your question.

"Nope. My mom did, though. I stole her money and told her boyfriends that she has some sort of contagious disease instead." He pursed his lips and stroked his chin as he thought about the past deeply. "Yeah, I held a grudge against her for a while. I kept stealing her shit and laughed in her face whenever she breaks down. I have taken dodging and blocking seriously ever since I got stabbed."

You asked when you stopped being an asshole to his sister.

"About... fourteen. When I realized that my sister was more of a parent than my mom would ever be. It was awkward as hell, trying to make up for being this devil who's been sabotaging her for years."

You asked if he ran away out of guilt. He looked at you confused.

"Why would I..." He paused and thought about it for a while.

You continued, explaining that maybe he didn't want to be a burden to his sister anymore, so he thought running away was the solution?

"I ran away because I was sick of my mom leeching off me. She was the burden."

You asked if he thought about his sister when he took off.

"Yeah, I thought about how she's going to be fine without me. But I was mostly thinking about how I'm finally free from my mom siphoning my hard earned cash into her wallet."

You asked Cyprus what made him come back. He was chewing on his bottom lip throughout this conversation, possibly to try and suppress the urge to get up and smoke.

"My sister managed to find me one day and tore me a new one. She set my ass straight and put me back into school, kept an eye on me until I turned 18. Then, she told me that I'm free to fuck off and do whatever."

You asked him what he did.

"Finished university. I had some financial backing from my mom and my sister, but I still had to work like a dog to pay off my tuition fees. Thanks to them, I'm here today. Playing with my girl's cute and squishy ass."

You realized that he was fondling your rear during the entirety of this conversation. It made you slap his hand away.

He snickered when you angrily hit him on the chest.

"Oh come on, you liked it." Cyprus brought his face close to yours, to which you pushed him away with your palms.

You said that you did something about his urge to smoke. You asked if he would let you go now.

"Nope."

Exasperated, you let out a whine. Asking what more does he want.

Cyprus puckered his lips dramatically, even to a comical extent and made loud kissy noises. His thumb brushed your bottom lip, silently telling you that he isn't content just giving you kisses on the cheeks or forehead.

You told him that you're not interested in doing such things with him. But he cuts you off mid sentence by shoving his lips against yours.

You struggled, having Cyprus's unusually long tongue muffle your screams. But it only took a couple of seconds for you to calm down and grow limp in astonishment.

He is a... really, really good kisser. You grew more and more embarrassed each second you lingered, pathetically fighting back but clearly enjoying the dance of tongues. You liked the warmth, the erotic sounds he makes without the help of his vocal chords, the slickness and his rhythm. It's oddly satisfying and enjoyable.

He smelled of his body wash, a strong, earthy masculine odor mixed with a hint of cigarette smoke.

You couldn't tell what he tasted like except for the fact that he tasted nice.

You were too distracted by his skills to notice that his hands slipped under your oversized shirt that once belonged to your boyfriend. He's kneading your breasts and buttocks, perhaps adding to the pleasure train that you're experiencing.

However, despite not being a smoker, your lung capacity is much more inferior than Cyprus's. You panicked, repeatedly whacking him on the back as you tried to get him off you so you wouldn't pass out from oxygen deprivation.

He slowly pulled away from you, retreating his lewd hands along with him, admiring the string of saliva connecting your lips to his full ones. You're the only one panting in the room, Cyprus was calm and collected, yet you're there greedily gasping for air with your chest rapidly rising up and down.

"Thanks for the meal, princess. Next time, I'd like to know how it tastes down..." He brushed his fingertips against your clothed clit teasingly, making you jerk your hips away and squeeze your thighs together to process the sudden exciting stimulation. "...here. I bet it'll taste fucking delicious." Purred Cyprus with a pair of grey, bedroom eyes.

He laughed as you shied away from him. "You're funny" Cyprus cooed, tickling your sides until you audibly cackled.

He sat on the edge of the bed, yawning and stretching. He puts on his glasses as he rises from his seat, stretching his back muscles and arms even more.

"Oh and, thank you, doll." He looked back at you.

You asked what for.

"i don't feel like smoking anymore." He bent down to give you an appreciative kiss on the temple. "For now, at least." Cyprus continued.

"Come out in ten minutes." He said, walking out of the bedroom door and into the kitchen. You hear him start to gather the cooking vessels, utensils and ingredients needed for breakfast.

[blackberrysummerblog]

Happy Sunday everyone! I had so many tags last Sunday and I had the best time reading/enjoying everyone’s shares! I didn’t have anything to share then, but thanks so much @artsyunderstudy, @monbons, @thehoneyedhufflepuff, @facewithoutheart, @roomwithanopenfire, @rimeswithpurple, @drowninginships, @larkral, @ileadacharmedlife, @fiend-for-culture, @prettygoododds, @forabeatofadrum, @tender-ministrations, and @mooncello for thinking of me this week!

Today I’m sharing another snippet from my increasingly un-secret COBB. I’m putting it under the cut for sleazy harassment and non-con touching. I censored a name with ** just to keep certain details under wraps for a bit longer.

** slaps his hand over Dev’s mouth and pulls him close, grinning in the rear view mirror.

“Take your paw off my cousin right now, unless you’re prepared to lose it,” I suggest, my voice low, dangerous. Dev’s eyes widen slightly, and then he gasps in a breath as ** pushes him away, laughing.

“You’re the good one, aren’t you, Basilton?” ** teases, leaning forward. His seat belt isn’t buckled, and if Dev’s was, I’d seriously consider slamming on the brakes. If ** went through the fucking windscreen, the world would know no great loss. “Always living by the rules, doing what you’re supposed to.”

He’s touching my hair now, coiling a strand around his finger. I’m less offended than when he was mauling Dev, but it still makes my skin crawl. “You don’t know anything about me,” I say softly. Least of all how far I’ll go for the people I love.

“You have an aristocratic profile, Basil,” ** coos, his breath warm on my neck. “I can see the family resemblance.” He takes another glug from whatever cheap fuckboy liquor he’s got wrapped in that paper bag, and then I grimace when his lips brush beneath my ear. “I could be feeling very into cousins tonight.”

And with that, have a great week everybody! No pressure tags to: @cutestkilla @supercutedinosaurs @aristocratic-otter @iamamythologicalcreature @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @orange-peony @thewholelemon @beastmonstertitan @shrekgogurt @bookish-bogwitch @raenestee @letraspal @arthurkko @papierhaikuphoto @stitchy-queerista @c0nsumemy5oul @asocialpessimist @skee3000 @cows4247 @ic3-que3n @nausikaaa @palimpsessed @alexalexinii @youarenevertooold and anybody else who’d like to share!

[magpie-angel-boy]

Boys like it when you tie them to a chair, sit in their lap, and slowly glide a blade over their cheek while threatening them with torture

[howlsofbloodhounds]

WHO'S IN THE MOOD FOR ME SPEWING RANDOM HEADCANONS BECAUSE I HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO MAKE THEM IN AN ACTUAL ASK

if you dont who cares you gettin them anyways 🫵

Nightmare is constantly cold, dream is constantly warm

Nightmare continuesly cuddled up with his human friends because of that, humans have body heat, he doesnt, therefore he will steal yours and you better shut your trap about he's cold because he knows that. Deal with it.

When they were younger nightmare and dream used to cuddle up whenever possibly because they're hot and cold so they balance eachother out

(You know the thing of signanothername where nightmare went 'back' to his previous form? Yeah heres some about that)

In my head it isnt nightmares legs thats fucked up its his back, i mean he got like 4 tendril thingies his back has gotta be fucked up

(Gonna use my mothers back problems as reference for this 😎)

He can walk on his own, on bad days it may look a bit more like a limp but offer him help and he will hiss at you, quite literally

Especially right after the whole going back he was weaker then before, both because yk, he went back to his previous form, and injuries (they were probably battling, so like, yeah) so after internally panicking he decided to start judging dream for everything, and not hesitating to tell him

If he cant hurt you physically he'll hurt your feelings

Nightmare continuesly hisses at anyone who comes 6 feet near him, if they keep getting closer he'll bite

The ghosts are still with him, they kept throwing stuff at people whenever they came close to nightmare

Nightmare hissing is a hilarious image. But of course he’d been an asshole even when he’s injured or otherwise bedridden. Dream forget about his ass ong. /j

But yeah I can definitely see nightmare having fucked up legs and a messed up back. his corruption seemed pretty violent, especially for a 6 year old. (It still kills me how the twins were only 6. like why tf these villagers abusing and using and manipulating these babies. like what the hell guys)

And I love how the twins cuddle because they run different temperatures, and also likely because they can only really trust or give touch with eachother.

if they went to the villagers for anything like that, nightmare would’ve been shunned or hurt, and Dream would’ve only likely been given a hug if he did or gave something to them first; and perhaps the touches and hugs would go on longer than he wants.

{ @brokenramunebottle }