#cw stalker

[ayyy-imma-ninja]

Hi Meg :D ! Its me again I have another Question for you sorry if Im Filling you with my questions 🥲 because I really love the SK Boys AU well here comes my question What Would Happen if Sun found a St@LK3r in the Library bathrooms with a Little Girl of 7 years Old ?? Sorry if this question is stranger or uncomfortable (I LOVE THE SK BOYS 😭😭✨💗💗💗)

Swift action is taken until the authorities arrive.

[nonsensical-pixels]

so in the last week or so i've started getting these very random, very oddly-timed, and somewhat disturbing anon messages over on my main and @nonsensical-pixels-finds.

as anyone who's been following my blog will know, i most certainly haven't been in any beef recently, i've not received any 'hateful messages' before that first message; literally all i've done is post cc on the weekends and the occasional sims ramble lol. 'downplaying someone's mental disorder' what? i've most definitely not done anything other than reblog cc on my finds blog lmao.

the fact that the second message mentions ableism though, reminds me of @sammysundog's stalker situation. that's the only time that mental health has ever been 'discussed' on this blog to my recollection, and that was weeks ago. really not sure why i'm being targeted given that i've literally only reblogged that post but... 🤷‍♀️

tl;dr i'm turning off anon messages for this blog, and all others. sorry guys, if you've got the courage to ask me to do something for you, like a request, then you've got to have the courage to let me know who you are. and i'm sick of weird anons messaging me for completely off-topic stuff.

have a hopeful piggy praying for the redemption of your soul anon, he hopes you'll see the light and leave his mum alone🤲

[quinloki]

……

I’m want to invent time travel and go back and save younger Quin from all that bc EXCUSE ME

Tucking you away and protecting you from the world in some bubble wrap goddamn

I mean, I have said before it's really a wonder sometimes that I've lived this long.

Some of that wonder comes from the drinking and the orgies, and some of that wonder comes from the fact I had like 6 (maybe 7? I lose count sometimes) stalkers, and some of that wonder comes from the fact that I lost like 6 months of memory during a 9-month relationship because he was that much of a bastard, and some of that comes from

the sheer dumb luck

of things I survived in the work place until I moved states and got my very first second office job.

But hey, you know, the last 13-14 years have been Really Chill comparatively. ^^;

[ink-pocket]

didn't wanna bring it up during the con last week, and i won't go into tons of detail in a public forum, but my con stalker came back. i'm unharmed and looking into potential solutions going forward beyond involving con security. just want the information out there. just in case.

[myperfectvictim]

Sweetheart, you are getting raped. Conscious or not. You're going to want these drugs.

[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”

[faewyld]

I know i don't usually post on this account but this is important! Kayla needs to be safe!

CONTENT WARNING: STALKING

A lot of brewskis have noticed my slow down these last few months and this is the major reason for it. Yes, a person at my work has been following me at the beginnings of my shifts and has not gotten any repercussion. I don't feel safe anymore. My partner and I are moving, but even still we don't feel comfortable with me working at that place, however it's difficult as I don't have a college degree and this place pays more than most jobs around here.

We have some plans in place, but I'm financially struggling. I hate to do this, but I created a ko-fi to help with relocation and to help stifle some of the burden of quitting this job. All the money would go towards things like rent, groceries, and car payments. I do have a Patreon, but it isn't bringing in enough to help with this issue and I'm debating about deleting it due to me not being able to keep up with things over there.

Anything helps, but don't donate if you can't---reading this and sharing it will be a massive help still <3

[zombieplaygrounds]

cw: slutty little drabble, dead dove do not eat (?), f!masturbation, somnophilia/somno, noncon, stalking, mentions of slasher shit, murder, fingers, sex but just the tip ;), nonconsented insemination, breeding, cummy fingers, tasting cum, semi hate fuck? oh yeah afab

a/n: sorry for writing heinous shit. this is the only thing that gets me writing these days ;( not proofread

Slasher!stalker who really did want to kill you, instead fantasizes about spearing you against his fat, girthy cock every hour of the day. Baby, you're a sick and twisted addiction scented like sweet, powdery perfumes and dewy lotion.

He was supposed to hate you, and if he was being honest, he did hate you. Once or twice when he followed you home. You're such a dumb little creature, the classic opening scene in every horror movie. Don't you watch the news, baby? There's a murderer on the loose. You're just a dumb cliche, walking home alone after a late night out with your friends.

God, your friends. They were even worse than you. So he killed them, with the intention of you being his next victim. But of course, he didn't, he couldnt, because at least you intrigued him. Intrigued him with the cute little performances you'd put on every night, your fingers reaching between your thighs every night, whining on your own fantasies of a few little touches to help you sleep through the night. He'd watch your pussy puff up from all your rubbing, huffs and mewls you didn't bother to stifle—like you wanted him to catch you, to man handle you face down and ass up so he could fuck tears out of those pretty eyes.

A shame really. You're so hard to self pleasure. You get so frustrated that you sit up in bed with your blanket fallen to your lap while you needily hump your fingers, rocking your hips and pinching your nipples swollen just to cum, barely able to make yourself orgasm, he'd be in heaven if he got to watch you cream or squirt all over the bed sheets. He'd be liar if he said he didn't record those rare instances you gasped and trembled out of a semi satisfactory finish. A little visual for his own nightly routine, something to fist his cock to after a gorey day of "work". He'd be so much better you, baby. He'd actually make you cum.

A concept he practices every now and then. Proved by those strange mornings you'd wake up with your panties missing, which, honestly wasn't even his fault, you were the one who fell asleep with that damp spot showing off just above your pussy. Could you blame him for wanting to sneak over and taste the product? You were such a deep sleeper too, pratically pleading for him to dip his fingers into your sticky cunt. Your syrupy juices clinging in a neat shine across his long fingers. He'd bring it to his face, sniffing it with a low groan. His cock painfully erect against his jeans, he'd give himself a little rub, suckling his fingers clean as a little reward.

A real treat for a hard days work. Even if you'd probably wake up one day and scream at him for violating you, at least your pussy knew how to appreciate him. It would take just the tip of his cock without much fight, pratically sucking him off the moment he popped in. He'd cum embarrassingly fast, pulling out just to finger his milky expense back in, no reason to let it go to waste.

You'd wake up the later that night, sore in places that felt good, "wet", some dry residue splattered down your inner thighs. Maybe even a chocolate or three left on you night stand. Compensation, anyone?

[quinloki]

no offense meant at all but

SIX STALKERS?!?

I know it was mentioned before but really sinking in now it was brought up again. Wow. God, must’ve been stressful.

Yeah.

Yeah.

After a certain point it was almost a laughable thing, honestly. I mean, chalk that up to I tend to have dark humor and use it to cope because it certainly played a large part in my current anxiety issues, but - I survived them all.

A couple maybe by sheer luck, but considering how lucky I've been in life that might be my best stat honestly. ^^;

One instance got so bad my karate teacher taught me how to disarm someone. I mean, let me be clear - I know the technique, I have practiced it, I still practice it, I do NOT ever want to have to use it.

The problem with giving advice about how to deal with them, is that stalkers are kind of like serial killers - and what I mean by that is, they're all fairly unique. Some are delusional, some are fully aware, some don't realize what they're doing is stalking - and how you handle each one depends on a lot of different factors.

The hard part is knowing what those factors are in time to react correctly. 😩 Hence when I say I've been lucky.

I've been lucky - despite the number of stalkers - because one way or another everything resolved.

I have to admit though, if I ever wake up in bed with someone looming over me who was not supposed to be in my home, ever again, it'll be too soon.

[cloudedcreams]

𝜗𝜚⋆ (unedited) thinking of a yandere caretaker who needs for you to depend on him.

tw: yandere, drugging

you had been sent to spend a few months in a mental asylum after having been falsely accused of torturing someone. the girl had looked you in the eyes as she made her claims, covered in self inflicted burn scars and cuts that she pinned on you. she deceived your family, painting you to be a psychopath and to live your life behind walls.

you never understood why she did so.

you’d been assigned to a caretaker. he never told you his name, so you referred to him simply as ‘sir’ or something along those lines. you asked him why he was there, and he told you that he had been tasked with monitoring you, ensuring your safety and ensuring the fact that you were okay.

you spent a lot of your days in boredom, tasked with trivial things, like drawing or folding origami. he sat in the corner as you did so sometimes, gazing at you with intent as he wrote down his observations. you wondered who he was showing them to, but he flipped the clipboard when you came too close.

it was a dull routine you held.

you were forced into medication. you had never understood the reason in which you were given pills, but had lacked the ability to decline. he had pushed them past your lips, plugging your nose with his fingers as you struggled and held your head back, forcing them into your throat.

you had choked, asking him why he had done so. he had stared at you calmly, giving you a half-hearted response.

“would you have taken them if it was in your control?”

his answer had made you angry. at yet you found you lacked the energy to complain, to hit him as you would have done so. upon noticing your hesitance he had smiled, holding you by your jaw as he noted down the expression on your face.

“ah, so they’re working. you feel fine now, don’t you?”

the pills made you tired, and you were prescribed to consume two every morning. they kept you from defiance and made it difficult for you to refuse. often even in the solitude you were forced into, you found yourself too exhausted to be able to ponder your escape.

he was happy with your compliance. he cleaned up after you, organising things for you as you used them, and fed you your meals when you felt your arms wouldn’t lift up. he tied your hair behind your ears with ribbons so they wouldn’t interfere with your recreation, and he tucked you into bed each night.

[abbyfmc]

Yandere story idea #57

Yandere Psycho patient! X Depressed/Suicidal Patient! Reader:

A yandere killer is a patient in a mental hospital who, despite his calm appearance, was feared by everyone. The doctors believed he was beyond recovery until they saw him being completely calm around you (you being another patient) and chatting animatedly, like two perfectly normal people. The yandere patient felt very comfortable and happy with you, but when he was taken away from you or other patients hurt you… he lost control and became a murderous beast.

The doctors studied his case and found that around you the yandere patient felt calmer, calmer and more relaxed. He spoke openly about his life and never tried to hurt you, he even painted beautiful pictures for you and accepted your hugs; however… the last nurse who tried to take you away from him… he choked her to death and had to be tied up.

However, not everything is rosy, because like every deranged yandere, he has kidnapped you or locked you in his room/cell several times; he doesn't want to let you go at any time; he has bitten you and even licked the blood from your self-harm wounds several times.

Once you saw him hoarding your bandages dirty with your dried blood, which disgusted you. You yourself have seen the massacres he causes when you get away from him, and although he never dared to raise his hand to you, it is chilling to see him go from being a nice and civilized guy to beating a patient to death with a chair or another object… just because this person took you away from him.

If one day he finds out that you have left the hospital or that you committed suicide, he will lose control and kill whoever is in front of him in ways like I said before.

What do you think about this idea?

[deuxide]

🇷🇺🇺🇲

[chloryn]

eddie munson is chronically insane. and i’m talking chronically insane enough to decide one day in his sophomore year, he was going to fuck steve harrington. no matter what it took.

and when eddie realizes he can’t just do that, he gets creative. he starts watching steve, following him home in his van, watching steve’s routine meticulously.

three years later, he would finally have enough information and a perfect opportunity. he would befriend mike first, pulling him in the direction of the dnd club, making this a win/win for eddie.

then sweet, sweet dustin. who loves steve. worships him.

and that’s it, that’s his in.

and after three years of fucking his hand sloppily, cumming with steve’s name on the tip of his tongue. he would finally be that close.

dustin would introduce them, and eddie would be dramatic. pulling out stop after stop, making sure to list all the heinous things steve did to him during his reign of crown prince.

he would spend time at the video store frequently. renting movies he knew steve would watch with him.

he’d bring steve snacks, telling him he knew how hard it must’ve been to work all day in such a small store.

he’d bribe steve with a joint, the catch being he’d have to smoke it at the trailer.

and through his perseverance, eddie would get his wish one night. after drunk kisses and sloppy confessions, a smug grin crossing his face.

eddie pulled out the sealed bottle of lube from his nightstand, drizzling it on his fingers. warming it up. he’d stretch steve so slowly, savoring every noise and movement he made.

he’d slide in so smoothly. and he’d last all of 60 seconds.

but he had done it. and he wouldn’t be able to stop. he’d keep doing it for months. and he’d would get so much better.

he’d keep steve there for hours in his bed, ungodly hours while he had the trailer to himself.

and once that settled, he would propose to have proper dates with steve. he’d bring him flowers, and sing him love songs.

because he had fucked him, but now he had to have him.

steve said yes every time of course, oblivious to the way eddie was eating him up.

tldr; stalker eddie and his oblivious boyfriend

[libingan]

— an unhealthy obsession.

warnings: stalking, dark themes, idk how to put warnings but both simon and the reader are obsessed with each other

a/n: part two, maybe??? idk, if you guys want something sexier just lmk ig

simon has been obsessing over you for months on end. ever since he saw you bartending at the local bar he and his buddies hung out at, he knew he just had to have you. your laugh, your smile, the way you effortlessly moved through the crowd—it all drew him in like a moth to a flame.

he followed you home that very same night to find out where you live. he watched you unlock the door to your apartment complex, making a mental note of the building. the next day, he began the process to secure a place in your building. he contacted the leasing office, inquiring about availability, and swiftly filled out the necessary paperwork: a rental application, proof of income, a background check consent form, and references. he signed the lease agreement with a sense of grim satisfaction, ensuring he was just a few doors down from you.

which is why simon is currently perched on a tree outside your window, giving him a clear view of your bedroom. he observed you intently, watching your favorite sitcom along with you. with a packed dinner and some coffee beside him, he sat silently, his eyes never leaving you as you laughed at the show. he memorized your expressions, your routines, the way you curled up on the couch.

he waited until you fell asleep, then sneaked into your room through your window, moving with the stealth of a shadow. he collected small belongings—items you might not notice missing right away. a pen from your desk, a single pair of underwear hidden at the back of your messy drawer. he snapped a few photos of you as well, capturing your peaceful, unaware state. these mementos were little pieces he could add to his growing shrine, a secret collection that fueled his obsession.

as he slipped back into the night, simon felt a twisted sense of satisfaction. he was getting closer, his presence in your life growing stronger with each passing day. it was only a matter of time before you would realize you were meant to be his.

unbeknownst to simon, his feelings aren’t as unrequited as he thinks.

you had been thanking your lucky stars the moment you saw simon enter the apartment a few doors down. it was hard to get any information about simon without directly asking him. so when you saw a familiar face and a familiar mohawk at the bar you worked at, you immediately recognized this guy as simon's friend.

as a bartender, you knew how to read people and manipulate the situation. you casually served him drinks, adding a little extra alcohol to his glass each time. it was a subtle touch, just enough to make him more talkative and less aware of his surroundings.

by the time he was noticeably tipsy, you engaged him in conversation, guiding it towards simon with a practiced ease. the more intoxicated he became, the more he spilled about simon—his habits, his quirks. but it was when the friend, in his drunken haze, let slip that simon was currently “crushing” on his neighbor that your interest piqued.

“aye, simon’s got this neighbor he’s obsessed wi’,” the friend slurred, his scottish accent thickening as he struggled to keep his balance. “they’ve got this smile that lights up the whole room, and they’re always, like, glowing, ye know? pretty as hell. simon’s always bleedin’ talkin’ about ’em.”

you pressed for more details, feigning curiosity as the friend described you. the way he spoke about your laugh, your style, even the way you move around your apartment—it was all too precise. you realized with a shiver that simon must be paying an unsettling amount of attention to you. but instead of fear, you felt a thrill.

the night ends and you’re thankful for the alcohol. that idiot—simon’s friend—won’t remember a damn thing he’s said tonight. it was a risky move, but it paid off. as you sent him off, a small, satisfied smile played on your lips. you had gained valuable insight into simon’s world and were one step closer to understanding him.

knowing he was so close made your heart race. that’s when you started to notice the little things—how he followed you home, the way he watched you from a distance. however, instead of fear, you felt a thrill. you’d leave your window slightly ajar, hoping he’d sneak in. you even left small items deliberately out of place, knowing he’d take them. hell, you even started sleeping in more… revealing clothes hoping that simon would touch you.

you found yourself dreaming of the day he’d make his move, the day he’d reveal himself to you. each night, as you settled into bed, you whispered a silent invitation, hoping he could hear it.

you were ready for him, ready to show him that his obsession was mirrored in your own heart.

[sleep-0-deprived]

yandere perverted neighbor x reader who is also a depraved pervert?

Yandere perverted neighbor x secretly depraved reader thoughts~! ꒰ᐢ.ㅅ .ᐢ꒱

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A/N: jus lettin m’ pervy thoughts loose with this one

Jus thinkin bout movin into a nice neighborhood, fresh in town bein new eyecandy for the older man next door, he seems real sweet! Always offering to help you with your garden- always staring at your ass when you bend down pickin up boxes luggin em on into your house, such a sweet guy you can’t help the lil bulge that pokes around in your shorts- S’ his fault with his pretty biceps N’ muscular bod havin the perfect amounts of pudge fer you to jus sink your teeth into.

Jus thinkin bout your neighbor lurkin around his house like some dazed green jus tryin to catch peeks at you, his hand between his thighs pantin peakin out his blinds jus watchin you sittin all lonesome at yer kitchen table, ya can feel his eyes rolling all over you givin ya an icky feel that can’t help but turn ya on- you get up swayin your hips bendin down extra low poking yer ass up right in his line of sight jus makin him let out a deep groan— god he just came in his pants cause of you !

Jus thinkin bout your neighbor findin out, knowin yer clumsy personality was jus a slutty lil act tryin to show yerself to him like a whore- he damn near snaps when he sees ya chattin up another guy- he wants T’ jus rip your clothes off N’ fuck you so good in front of that man that tha only thought on yer mind is tha imprint of his cock molding into yer gummy walls- he wants t’ feel those gummy walls so bad ! He wants yer pretty lil hole he wonders how it would twitch after ya take s’many loads..

Jus thinkin bout you who secretly touches ya’self with ya window open at night makin sure he’s awake in his room jus torturing him with tha sounds you make- how you whimper out “mh fuck- hareerr~” N’ “oh’m’hosh jus a lil more- hah” your neighbors jaw jus clenches, his bulge hard as steel in his jeans— ya were bein such a lil shit ya left him no choice but to go stompin over to yer house bangin on yer door with. An almost deranged look- ya couldn’t even mumble a pathetic excuse before he was draggin you off t’ yer couch rippin all your clothes off.

Jus thinkin bout ya neighbor who shoves yer face in that couch cushions holdin yer wrists behind yer back jus pounded away grunting harsh words N’ yer ears “such a fuckin little pervert- if ya wanted dick so bad then fuckin ask” yes cock bobbin between yer thighs an’ all ya can do S’ drool and N’ roll yer glossy eyes into yer skull whinin loudly like a wanton slut- oh you were jus in heaven gettin pounded away with yer insides rearranged havin remarks on yer ass cheeks from his hips slappin them so harshly- he doesn’t bother T’ stop fuckin ya after ya finish, he was far to pent up t’ stop and you were gonna have T’ take each load in yer tummy.

[kechiwrites]

property lines

dark!steve rogers x neighbour!reader

kinktober countdown: day two (facefucking).

synopsis: your neighbour is inappropriate, and you aren’t quite sure how to broach the subject.

wc: 2.2k

cw: dark content, non con, oral (male receiving), femme language + afab!reader, pet names, internal victim blaming, pet names (sweetheart), a touch of misogyny

author’s note: day 2 brings us more dark!steve, i fear i may be incapable of writing him sincerely. he’s just a little too perfect. I like to take off a bit of the shine. thank you @katsukikitten u r my muse.

Your neighbour is inappropriate, and you aren’t quite sure how to broach the subject. Mostly because you can’t be sure if he’s doing it on purpose or if he’s just overly friendly. Maybe it’s the signals you give off, bringing a plate of thick, sweet, cheesecake brownies over to the recently sold house next door, hoping to make a new connection. Suburbia can be isolating, and with all of your friends shaking ass in the city, you need to branch out. It really isn’t the kind of home you figured a single man like Steven Grant Rogers would buy, but then again, you lived in your suburban palace alone, willed to you by your late grandmother and only in need of a few renovations.

He’d been so bright, when you first met him, with a perfect white smile and twinkling blue eyes. He’d been happy to accept the desserts, even happier to return the plate a day later, extolling the praise he and his poker buddies lauded on you over the taste. You’d shrugged it off, “The least I could do for a neighbour. I’m just glad you all liked them.” 

Secretly though, the compliments had thrilled you, especially once you’d gotten a glimpse at the aforementioned “poker buddies”, the whole lot of them, handsome, built, big. All too happy to fix leaky pipes and paint fences in exchange for chocolate cream pie or a dish of homemade lasagna. But Steven  - “Steve, please”  -  was your most loyal customer, always lending a hand, pausing during his early morning jog to check up on you while you watered your flower beds, asking how your book is going, what you do in that “big old house all by yourself” when you aren’t working on “the next great American novel”, of course (his words, not yours).

It’s fine at first, a little disarming to be at the centre of his white hot attention, burning your flesh like he had you under a magnifying glass on a perfect sunny day. But eventually it’s not fine, eventually Steve Rogers takes more and more steps over the property line of overly friendly and into the front yard of wildly overbearing. Eventually, Mr. Rogers insists on weekly visits, popping into your house by using the spare key under the mat he shouldn’t even know about. Slinging his muscled arm over you during the neighbourhood block party, and your neighbour’s son’s 5th birthday party, and the Fourth of July barbeque. He fixes your car without you asking, brings in your groceries when he sees you unloading them in your driveway, brings your mail to you during his daily jog. It’s helpful sometimes, yes, but it’s also suffocating. And you were going to set him straight. You were! But it’s hard, hard to stare into the face of a suburban god, the literal king of the neighbourhood and tell him no. It’s hard to tell him that he’s making you uncomfortable, that you’d like for him to stop being so goddamn friendly all the time. 

So maybe a little of it is your fault. Maybe you should’ve been clearer on your boundaries. Maybe, when handsome, strapping Mr. Rogers came to your front door to ask you to essentially cater one of his poker nights, you shouldn’t have stayed to serve the food, playing happy little housewife in front of Steve’s friends, bringing them cold beers from the fridge and sitting next to Steve, playfully making faces at his hand, then plating up dessert when he asked you to. But it felt good to have his attention. His favour. So when “the boys” start to head home, laying praise and amazement at your feet, you’re sufficiently buttered up for Steve to ask yet another favour of you. It’s not much, of course. Just a little help with cleanup. Then he’ll escort you home himself. After all, there are some real sickos out there.

So you agree. What’s the harm, right?

The harm, it just so happens, comes quickly after you finish drying the dishes Steve washes. You slide the last plate, towel dried as best you could, into his cabinets, sighing in contentment at a job well done. The harm is when Steve turns you around and presses you against the sink, water soaking into the back of your blouse, making the fabric cling to your skin. You stay there for a minute, not processing what’s happening, ready to laugh off another inappropriate joke from Steve. 

You don’t really get the chance.

Two heavy hands clap down on your shoulders, exerting pressure on you until you crumple to the floor, knees hitting the tile of Steve's kitchen painfully. You yelp, struggling against him, pressing, then beating your fist against his tree trunk legs. 

"Stev-" you choke on his name when your neighbour unzips his trousers before you, undoes the fly of the pair you helped him pick out, with him bent over your shoulder while you held his phone, his front pressed close to your back. Pulls his half hard dick out of pants starched and pressed with the iron he'd borrowed from you because his was "on the fritz" again. 

"Open up." He cajoles, and you pin him with an incredulous, confused stare. No. No. This is all wrong. He doesn’t act like that. Steve Rogers isn’t like that.

The hand he doesn't use to stroke himself grabs your jaw, squeezing until you open your mouth, squeezing til it hurts. A sharp, purposeful punch of his hips is all it takes for him to make use of the opening. All it takes to put every little joke, boundary crossing, and stray touch into startling, horrifying perspective.

“It was the baking.” He whispers above you. “Peggy never baked, which was fine.” He sighs above you like he isn’t pistoning his cock deep into your throat with reckless abandon. “But I missed it, y’know? And you, you bake how angels ought to, sweetheart.” 

Tears stream down your face while Steve uses you, dragging your dazed, crying face back and forth on his hard-on. On a particularly strong thrust, he broaches your throat. Your eyes roll up, until he can barely see the perimeter of your irises, and you warble out a miserable moan, begging, all while wrapped around his dick, for a reprieve. Your head is pinned to the counter behind you, and even though you shove against the muscle of his thighs, Steve brooks no quarter.

“Just take it,” he coos, like he wants you to swallow cough syrup, “it’ll be over soon.” his breath stutters when your lips brush against his balls. Steve moves one of his hands to cup the back of your head, keeping you as close as possible when he comes down your throat, groaning in pleasure while you struggle to swallow stream after bitter stream of his seed, lest you choke on it or fucking drown. 

He finally releases you, and you pull back so fast you bang the back of your head on his pristine white counters. The pain radiates through your scalp, grounding you in the moment, cementing you to the spotless linoleum floor of Steve Rogers’ kitchen. You’re both panting, eager to fill your lungs with gulps of air. 

“Whew.” He sighs, hands on his hips, like that took a lot out of him. “I didn’t mean to get so rough with you, just didn’t expect the struggle.” He chuckles, patting you on the head. “But you settled down quick, didn’t ya?” His tone takes on…contentment? Happiness? 

No. That’s not quite right. 

It’s pride. Steve is looking down at you, your spit and cum slick mouth, the weepy, watery state of your eyes, and the disarray of the hair he’d used as a handle, with pride.

Your stomach roils.

He bends low and you flinch away from him, smacking your head on the countertop again. He cocks his head at the involuntary movement, and smiles at you. A familiar, warm thing. One that made your heart flutter with pleasure, beat fast with your own surge of pride when he accepted a pie, or offered a compliment. Now it does the same, your heart speeds up, your palms itch curiously, and your brain doesn’t know if you’re happy or sad. Doesn’t know if it craves those smiles anymore. 

“Just wanna set you on your feet. C’mon.” He speaks quietly, like he’s soothing a frightened animal, and hooks his hand under your armpits, heaving you up with the same startling strength he'd used to face fuck the fight out of you.

“It’s okay.” You bleat, voice as wobbly and unstable as the pair of legs struggling to keep you upright. And it’s not, it’s far from okay, the taste of him lingers in the back of your throat and if you think about it for even a second more you’ll throw up all over his shiny floors, on those godforsaken pants.

“I admit,” he laughs, ducks his head with that small town charm he does so well, “I wanted to last longer. But you were too good.” He winks at you, like you share a secret. Like you’re in league with each other.

He staring, waiting for you to say something, arches a brow like it’s your line and you’re fucking up the show.

But there it is again, that smile, sunny and open, and so pristine.

“Let’s get you home.” He herds you towards his front door, hand glued to the small of your back, his pinky finger stroking the skin exposed by the riding up of your still wet shirt. The two of you walk into the balmy summer air, and the spaces in between the black night, punctuated with the occasional white streetlight, designate your path home. Some of your neighbours’ houses are still illuminated, their warm yellow windows denoting the presence of life. You wonder what goes on behind their doors, you wonder if someone is having a good night somewhere close to you.

You come across your door faster than you were prepared for, the cheery yellow paint job Steve and James had done for caramel apple pie, mocks you. The way he’d smiled in your face, touched you, laughed. Steve shifts next to you, holding onto your extensive tower of pyrex and tupperware, for an instant your blood runs cold at the prospect of Steve inviting himself in, like he’s done so many times before. Not to bring in groceries or put together a dresser, but to pin you prone to the carpet of your bedroom and smile at you.

“So!” He turns, “Same time next week?” You gawk at him, and when you don’t say or do anything, he stoops and slides your extra keys out from under your Garfield emblazoned doormat. The jingle of two, simple metal keys against the little bell shaped key-chain makes your head pound, your blood boil. He unlocks the door, and gestures for you to take a step indoors. You raise both hands, palms upturned so he can give the keys back, so you can hide them, or melt them, or flush them down the toilet. Instead, you get to watch him slip the key-ring into his pocket, before he places your dishes into your uplifted open palms. “I gotta say, the lemon bars were a hit.” He tweaks your nose between his thumb and forefinger, his compliment tempered by the greedy shine in his eyes. You nearly scratch your own eyes out when you get that pleased, soft tingle in your chest.

He smiles and you salivate. He compliments you and your heart responds. He’s proud and your brain tells you ‘I’m happy’.

Why hasn’t it gone away? Will it ever go away?

“Maybe those brownies again, the cream cheese ones?” His voice is hopeful, soft and pliant, like he’s worried you’ll say ‘no’.

Like there’s a world where he’d take no for an answer.

You nod, a jerky, quick gesture that rattles your brain around in your skull. “Sure. Yeah.” You answer, sweaty hands slipping against tempered glass and plastic lids. “Yes. Brownies.” Steve beams, clapping his hands together, once, loud, drawing your eyes to the brutish width of them.

“Fantastic. I can’t wait.” He jogs down your front steps, and the fist secured around your lungs loosens with every step he takes away from you. He pauses at the side walk, one foot still on your property, the other poised to leave it.

“We make a great team. Don’t we?” He turns to you, and this time, he isn’t smiling. This time, his eyes cut through the night and the streetlight and the foggy haze of misfortune clouding your brain.

And the fear finally comes.

You kick your door closed, and you lock your door, and you drop your pyrex and tupperwear and serving spoons in the sink and you lock your windows and you get into bed, still dressed for a poker night you had no business being at, and you pull the covers up and up and over your face.

But the fear doesn’t go away.

And neither will your neighbour.

god i want him so bad. tomorrow, captain soap.

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