thedarkestrivernymph

[thedarkestrivernymph]

Yandere! Sukuna x deaf! Reader imagine

genre: soulmate au

warning: not proofread, written more as a concept

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[thedarkestrivernymph]

Maggots

—squirming, crawling, eating.

pairing: Yandere! Hannibal x Gn! Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Smiling he moved onto the other.

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

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

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

It was the guy from the coffe shop.

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

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

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

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

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

“Please—” you shivered, “I can't.”

“You can and will.”

He smiled.

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

“For me.” he whispered.

And for him, you did.

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

Forever and forevermore.

[thedarkestrivernymph]

do you have any upcoming works

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

[thedarkestrivernymph]

Yandere! Sukuna x deaf! Reader imagine

genre: soulmate au

warning: not proofread, written more as a concept

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[thedarkestrivernymph]

plat! Yandere! Butler x Princess! Reader

genre: fluff

warnings: slight manipulation, not proofread

word count: 517

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

A sigh, then a pause.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He took a strand and kissed it.

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

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

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

Then he smiled, again.

And this time you reciprocated.

©Copyright - 2025 - thedarkestrivernymph - All Rights Reserved

[thedarkestrivernymph]

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

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

[thedarkestrivernymph]

"Oh, my Darling.."

Yandere! f! Soldier x f! Mermaid! Reader

warnings: mentions of war, slight possessiveness, gullible reader

Coldness was all she had known her entire life.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were just so free.

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, let’s be best friends.”

©Copyright - 2025 - thedarkestrivernymph - All Rights Reserved

[thedarkestrivernymph]

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

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

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

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

Here are are the links to read up on:

yanderedrabbles:

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

fandokja:

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

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

[thedarkestrivernymph]

Entangled with you in hand.

pairing: soft y! girlfriend x f! reader

wc. 454

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

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

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

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

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

And then she kissed you.

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

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

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

This was meant to last longer.

Forever and more.

©Copyright - 2025 - thedarkestrivernymph - All Rights Reserved

[thedarkestrivernymph]

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

love you <33

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

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

Anyways!

Love you too, have good day🫂🩷

[thedarkestrivernymph]

Devastation

pairings: Y! Crazy Scientist x Gn! Reader

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

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

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

God, it hurt. It hurt so badly.

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

Code.

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

—and a few teeth and pieces of hair.

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

You were gone.

Truly. Completely. Irreversibly.

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

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

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

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

he got to see the truth.

All of it.

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

“Fuck, baby, I am so—so sorry.”

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

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

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

Everything’s gonna be fine.”

Only nothing would be fine ever again.

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

He was the villain of your story,

and villains never got their happy end.

©Copyright - 2025 - thedarkestrivernymph - All Rights Reserved

[thedarkestrivernymph]

Tsundere! Very mean! Sukuna x gn! Reader

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

word count: roughly 600

Life was a whirlwind.

Chaotic, overwhelming, gross.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nothing, I just—”

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

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

You flinched.

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

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

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

Towards you.

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

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

“So you better open up, bitch.”

©Copyright - 2025 - thedarkestrivernymph - All Rights Reserved

[thedarkestrivernymph]

cw: bad self image, talks about body image, bad self-concept, insecurity, self-hating

“Ma’” your toddler whined drowsily, yawning as you tucked them in bed.

“Yes, sweetheart?” you sighed softly, exhaustion clear under your eyes, drained of ever last bit of energy, as you fought off sleep yourself.

“Am I fat?” that quickly woke you up. Eyes wide with your eyebrows raised you looked down at her big puppy eyes.

“Sweetie—why would you think you’re fat?” you were puzzled. She was a toddler, chubby at best—but healthy at that, but most importantly where could she have picked that up from? Children didn't just think up such things by themselves after all.

“You call yourself fat, mommy. Fat and ugly.” horror shone in your gaze. Fuck, when had she picked up on that?

“Sweetheart—”

“Am I fat and ugly too?” you shook your head, swallowing down the lump in your throat.

“Then why do you call yourself fat and ugly?”

“That's—sweetheart—I—” now you were on brink of tears and at a loss for words.

“I think you're the prettiest on the whole wide world!” she raised her arms spreading them wide and far, “You're the prettiest because you're my mommy!”

You pulled her into a hug before she could make out that you were crying. Inhaling in the faint scent of her favourite mermaid shampoo, the remnants of suncream and her smell that lingered from the time she was a baby—like home. Your home. And you were hers. This tiny human with so much personality considered you her home.

Needless to say, after that you were much more careful with your words around her.

©Copyright - 2025 - thedarkestrivernymph - All Rights Reserved

[thedarkestrivernymph]

can we have more of the death yanders kidnapper fic? I really wanna see our life with him

A normal day in your life..

Y! Kidnapper x f! Reader

warnings: forced infantilization, religious themes, mentions of urine, diaper, baby-talk, forced feeding

the fic -> Death

“You have to.”

“No!” you're as stubborn as a petulant child, “I don't want to.” your voice thins until it wavers and you break into yet another sob.

“Sweetheart,” there's another groan before a warm hand brushes over your scalp, scratching up and down your nape as if you're a cat, “You have to eat, sweetie, if you don't, you know what will happen, won't you?”

There's a thickness that swells in your throat, just the thought of doing that ever again is enough to make your palms sweaty and feet itching to run.

“See?” his voice his smug, while his predatory gaze flicks with recognition of weakness. Of your weakness.

“You don't want to be down there again, right baby? I don't want to chain you up, you get all horribly bruised up.” he sighs softly, deeply with new-found hunger in his chestnut colored eyes. He talks soft and sickeningly sweet, as if his mouth had a mind of its own, apart from the actual ravenous beast inside of him that you have come to know so well. “I would hate for your delicate skin to be blemished.”

Another kiss is presses to your forehead, before he lowers his hand to trace over the pendant with his name engraved hanging from your collar. “Say ‘ahh’.” he urges again, lowering his hand to sit at the curve of your waist, keeping you firmly planted on his lap, dressed in unnecessary frill—like a doll. Like you’re his doll. This fucking creep.

The spoon lifts once again and its contents twist your stomach for the second time.

The spoonful is weirdly pink and brown with colorful sprinkles grinded into it. It is clear that it once was cake but now it is this weird odd paste that he, no doubt, put in the mixer because quote “you’re just a baby, babies don't eat real food”.

Yet this time when he seeks entrance, tapping against your bottom lip you open up with tearful eye, allowing the tooth-rootingly sweet to flood your taste buds. Swallowing is even more difficult as his hand creeps up to settle over your sternum, pressing, waiting to feel your throat bob.

“Good girl” you cry at his praise, because an entire bowl full of this slob is staringback at you.

“If you eat up maybe I’ll even let you play with your dolls again, mh?” there's another wave of nausea, as your lungs constrict and your airways tighten, but this time not because of the prospect of punishment if you disobey, but because of the pressure in your lower abdomen.

It's already worse enough that you have to piss literally every two minutes because of how fucking anxious he makes you, is him taking notice of the building pressure in your bladder.

“Sweetheart, oh? Do you have to go potty again?”

he’s so fucking condescending in his speech, so proud about having reduced you to this, that his smile stretches unsettling wide, inhuman, animalistic, vile—in another universe you hope he's a pig brought to slaughter.

You would rather die than pee into the diaper he put you on in front of him, worse, on him.

But suddenly he cups your tummy with one large hand, rubbing and pressing against it. “Come, you can go here.” your face drains of colour again as you grit your teeth, shaking your head in a firm ‘no’. You would rather die of shame then do that.

But he doesn't take no as an answer, he never does. Because you're his, god-given and all, remember? So he starts messaging your stomach, reaching beneath the layers upon layers of frilly blue to reach your navel and ram his grimy fingers into your flesh.

You cry out, jerk around. You may have lost your dignity, you may be kept like an animal but you won't allow this, no, you're still an adult, you're not a child nor an infant, you're capable of controlling your bladder no matter what—

There's something hot. Sticky and fluid. And as you ruin your diaper you, the realisation of what you just did settling in—the betrayal of your body, you cannot help but sob loder, cry, hiccup and mewl, babbling without coherent sentences as your face burns in shame.

And what does he do?

He grins. As always.

“Good job, Sweetheart.” he pressed his lips to your cheek, before he scoops another spoonful from the bowel and raises the the cool silverware to your mouth again.

“Come now finish, then we can get you all cleaned up.” so you do just that, allow him to fed you this sticky repulsing mess, that makes you gag with each swallow, because what else can you do?

And it isn't long before his face dips into your shoulder and he whispers into your skin the very same set of words he's chanted to you since you have awoken to yet another nightmare.

“I love you, sweetheart, so so much. You're my everything, and soon you'll make me the happiest man on earth. God! I am so excited, I can't wait to meet our little one.”

©Copyright - 2025 - thedarkestrivernymph - All Rights Reserved

[thedarkestrivernymph]

"Please, open your eyes."

warnings: male! yandere x reader, dagger, murder, blood, betrayal, big ouchie misunderstanding, angst :(

“Don't make me do this.” he grit out, pleading.

But what shouldn't you make him do?

“Please, just tell the fucking truth!” he barked at you, knuckles white around the bejeweled handle that belonged to your dagger.

Just what was he talking about?

“Fuck!” another scream entered straight into your ear, as you wheezed, trying to blink away the disorientation.

The stone floor bit into your back. Head mushy, as if it had been stirred up in a mixer and then spilled onto the floor all around you in a velvet blanket of red.

“Just say it!” ah, now you started to piece it back together. His insistence had caused you to crack open your head, with the dagger in his hands to point at your throat. “Say it!” he was close to tears now, you were sure, he always was when his voice began wavering and breaking like a dagger that penetrated skin. Or like the dagger right now that penetrated your skin.

“I don't know.” you chanted hoarsely as before, meeting troubled blues as you blinked the blurriness away. “Eliot, I swear.” your own voice faltered, “I am no traitor. I am yours, Eliot. You know me.” it thinned until you could only stifle a sob.

Recognition painted his face, something tender swirled in his gaze. Did he finally believe you? That you truly were innocent and only framed—

“I am sorry. So sorry, y/n.” tears. For the very first time since you have known him he was crying.

And then—your throat exploded with pain; the kind that travelled down the entire length of your spine, frying every nerve-end, as something hot and suffocating; like tar flooded your lungs.

“So sorry.”

You choked, writhed, failed around, attempted to plead through the suffocating taste of betrayal, yet nothing. It all remained futile. Because death’s lanky fingers strangled you.

And soon,

everything was dark again.

©Copyright - 2025 - thedarkestrivernymph - All Rights Reserved

[thedarkestrivernymph]

"Baby forget him! I'll always be there for you..♡"

warning: nsfw themes, a lil lie(s), infidelity, hurt, insecurity, fem!yandere, wlw, fantasy world

“I hate him!” another mug goes to waste. One of your best ones at that. She cringes.

Shattering on impact as it meets the sturdy craftsmanship that's your shared wooden door.

But she agreed to this, didn't she?

“Dearie—” pick, chuck, scream. You're like a machine uploading and unloading, destroying everything in sight “Love—” she tries again after wetting her lips only to be met with more shards of porcelain flying around in the air like deadly snow.

“Sweetheart!” she cries out in panic as you almost get ahold of her favourite pink mug—one of your many failed attempts at pottery.

The elf cradles it like it was made out of pure gold—her green eyes wide and warning.

“What do you even see in that ugly thing?” you scoff, bleary gaze set on the pile of multicoloured porcelain and glass that now collected in your living room. Great.

“Should’ve asked you that before you got with him.”

You bit your tongue. Nashua wasn't wrong. No matter how much you wished she was. “Touche.”

For a moment everything seemingly froze, even the leaves whipped around from the strong southern wind seemed to halt. Then she stepped closer. Her boots were heavy on the tiles, and the one particular spot moaned as usual. She really needed to have a word with the landlord.

Sighing, she let her lips stiffen into a smile.

“Better now?” her pale green hand came into view, brushing away a strand of damp hair that stubbornly stuck to your sticky cheek, “Got it out of your system?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, almost lifelessly, bringing up your arms—human and weak compared to her, imperfect in a world ruled by only the most powerful—around her in a pathetically desperate embrace.

“It's okay, love. Forget him, that douchebag is none of your concern anymore.” she cradled your skull as always while straining to meet you at eye level—tall and powerful, womanly, with soft breasts that pressed into your collarbone. Just everything you weren't in this godforsaken world, where you had been born a human. A human that couldn't even keep a drow satisfied.

Fuck. Now you were crying again.

Nashua, was quick to help you through it as always. Of course. As her hand wandered down your pants, a rather unorthodox method to help out a friend and roommate in need she must admit, but it got the job done and soon you were screaming her name, while creaming her hand. Finally. A smile slipped onto those beautiful lips of yours, unknowing that this wasn't custom in her culture.

That she only wanted you. And by the heavens finally that prick dumped you for some mindless fae, leaving you all to her. For her to look after, to pamper, to fuck, to love.

Yeah, she loved you single.

Still, which roommate didn't avenge her friend?

Her warm lips pressed to your crown, whispering a promise of death disguised as sympathy.

“Shh, I hate him, too.”

©Copyright - 2025 - thedarkestrivernymph - All Rights Reserved

[thedarkestrivernymph]

our first time meeting yandere clan leader? Feel like it would be great

I mean..I definitely could tell you about the boring, clean, almost business-like official first meeting, where you both were in attendance of your respective clan elders OR I could tell you about the first meeting.

So..

Soft Yandere! Clan Leader x Future! Wife! Reader

warnings: mentions of sexual intercourse, vulgar language, more insight about him in general, this is a few years back, he's a simp haha, made up culture, not proofread, this low key got a lil long..

"My lord! Look at all the goods! It's been a fruitful season this year." background noise always clung to him.

Incessant chatter, menial tasks, small talk his former nursemaid, now one of his permanent servants, always initiated. It was a headache through and through. And now his mother demanded a betrothal. To a stranger no less!

"My lord—look!" another urging had him drag his weary gaze towards one of the stalls, the apples truly bigger and prouder than the past season. But why should it concern him?

Sighing, he acknowledged the flushed merchant with a nod, while her sweaty palms smoothed out invisible lines on her skirts, before brushing a stray hair back, as if her whole head of hair wasn't a wild bird's nest.

He scoffed.

It wasn't of his own choosing to be the future of a whole clan, to carry burdens that most would never have to—to be a man, never a boy.

Yet it was like the gods shunned him for his bright spot on earth. For the very spotlight he never wanted to attract. They were angered, at least it felt as if so—as if him being born as the apple of everyone's eye caused their envy.

Perhaps one of them was the god of sun, guessing as his rays were half-blinding him at this time of the day.

"My lord! Please keep your spirits high, just look around, soak it in, I am sure your mother—" thankfully he was quicker on his feet than her or any of his other circle of servants, towering over them all, sticking out like a sore thumb since childhood, because one more ignorant word out of her mouth and his patience hanging on the thinnest thread known to man would snap in half. And he couldn't get angry. Wasn't allowed to anyways.

He groaned again.

Padding through the bustling center of the market on quick feet. He may have been scolded countless times in his childhood to not wander around alone, as valuable, as he was, but he was an adult now, wasn't he? At least he should have some autonomy. Even if that little didn't apply to which woman he would eventually have to stick his dick in.

His steps grew heavier at just the thought of it, some stranger, someone he had never met before, terrified as he was. "Perhaps mother would even stay and watch, instruct you how to properly put an heir into a womb." He cringed at the words, repulsed by only the memory of his brother's crass teasing.

He grit his teeth. No, never would he allow this marriage to be guided by his parents orders. He would be a leader; the one to fit the role he was molded to be, but never would he allow them to exert anymore power over him after his succession.

Another step, the shade engulfed him, the market more desolate in this little corner, with fewer and scarcer stalls, not the opulent ones in the square of the marketplace, but the ones with the little fishers and mothers selling home-made goods.

The one he was in front of was the former, with a plump woman standing behind a stall full of hand-woven goods, clearly distressed trying to calm her fussy child. A little tuft of blonde, with pink cheeks, babbling and whining in protest, until the woman stuck a thumb into its mouth, quietening his cries.

The sight was almost endearing. So one day, he too, would have to have such a tiny thing? Still, it would be without consent.

"By the heavens—" his head snapped in the direction of the gasp and there; there his heart stopped beating for a hot second.

The air thinned, stifled him, as if something was suffocating him with invisible hands, perhaps fate, perhaps the gods who seemed to look down on him, whether it was it hurt. God it burned.

There—a few stalls away from where he stood—was a woman, barely one, with your head bowed in front of another older one who pried something from your hands in a fit of rage.

"My lady, have you lost your mind! Anything could have happened to you—and for what? To play with children?" the greying one was so enraged, so belittling of the most beautiful flower he had ever seen bloom. He felt mad, angry at her as little zaps of electricity travelled through his veins right into his heart the moment you looked up, with a face kissed surely by the goddess of the moon as an infant. So dazzling, that felt the urge to pinch himself, gaping unlike a member of a prestige clan.

But what could he do? If he moved, he feared you would disappear and god that caused an ache in his usual hollow chest.

"My lady!" he watched wordlessly as she continued to berate you, her words swirling around his head, going in one ear and out the other as even his anger failed him. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, something foreign and wet and all—because of you, the stranger with a tight-shut mouth with such a defeated look in her glittering gaze, with soft cheekbones and lips pursued into a tight line. As if you had just sprung out a folktale with the blue silk wrapped around you—his favourite colour.

"You cannot behave in this manner anymore! Just think about what your father may say—by the gods—and your dear aunt!" she continued her lecture, fussing as she gripped your shoulders tempting to guide you away.

He stepped forward, yet another tear rolling down his cheek—one he would never admit to shedding.

"Please, what will the people think if they see the daughter of.."

She walked off with you and, as he noticed only now, a few more servants, yet that didn't matter, because he had caught on to your title.

"My lord!" he heard frantic calling, but he didn't care, couldn't bring himself to, instead he grinned, manically. Because the gods did seem to be merciful after all.

Finally, finally he would receive something he would consent to—wished for actually, something he would be able to look forward to in this life of endless responsibilities and as he strode forward to pick up one out of the abandoned bunch of marbles on the ground, he picked a white one up to press to his chest.

One untainted—mirroring the look in your eyes,

"My wife."