All Of My Writing Explores Dark Themes Such As Non-consent, Dubious-consent, And A/b/o Subjects. If Any

all of my writing explores dark themes such as non-consent, dubious-consent, and a/b/o subjects. if any of this offends you, this has been your warning!

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The Stalker’s Game

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: yandere

Word count: 1.9k

Trigger Warning: This story contains themes of stalking and invasive behavior, which may be distressing to some readers. Please proceed with caution if these topics are triggering for you.

a/n: The characters and situations depicted in this chapter are fictional and are intended for entertainment purposes only. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The portrayal of emotions and interpersonal dynamics is a creative interpretation and should not be taken as a reflection of real-life relationships or events.

All Rights Reserved ©

@dumbheadblog 2024

You walked quickly down the desolate street, the night air biting at your cheeks and numbing your fingers. Each step felt like a battle against the encroaching darkness, the moon's weak light doing little to push back the shadows that seemed to press in from all sides. A shiver of fear slid down your spine; his presence was a constant, unsettling whisper at the edge of your awareness. He, your stalker, was always near, his invisible gaze a weight on your shoulders. The recent closeness of his stalking was beginning to fray your nerves, each close encounter leaving you more unsettled than the last.

The dim glow of a flickering street lamp ahead offered a glimmer of hope. You quickened your pace, the cold air harsh against your face as you made your way to the bus stop. There, under the sputtering light, a man sat hunched over his phone, his posture rigid with a mix of anxiety and concentration. His eyes flicked up as you approached, and his face blanched in surprise. He shrank back, his body language a clear, involuntary reaction of fear.

Ignoring the man’s frightened retreat, you took a seat next to him. Your movements were deliberate but tense, each shift in position betraying your underlying agitation. You could feel your breath misting in the chill air, coming out in sharp, uneven puffs. The proximity of the stranger, combined with your heightened senses, only intensified the disquiet simmering just beneath the surface.

Your gaze darted to the dim street, searching for any sign of the figure who haunted you. The air around you crackled with an electric tension, thick and heavy with unspoken fears. As you tried to steady your breathing, you couldn’t ignore the closeness of the man beside you. His shift away, his slight tremble—everything about him seemed to resonate with the same uneasy energy you felt.

Every shift of his body, every subtle tremor in his hands, felt charged, almost as if the atmosphere itself was thickening with each breath you took. The warmth of your body contrasted sharply with the frigid night, creating a strange, almost unbearable tension in the confined space. You were painfully aware of the space between you shrinking, the physical closeness amplifying the electric current of anticipation and anxiety that danced between you.

In this eerie cocoon of light and shadow, your sense of isolation seemed to deepen. Each breath you took, each glance towards the darkened street, was a silent plea for the nightmare to end. The bus stop, once a beacon of hope, now felt like a stage set for your deepest fears. The atmosphere pulsed with a charged intensity, a constant reminder of the shadow you couldn’t escape.

The man’s gaze darted nervously between you and the dark street, his eyes wide and frantic. You followed his frantic glances, and your heart dropped like a stone. There he was, emerging from the shadows by the gnarled tree. His towering figure was shrouded in the deep, dark folds of his hoodie, but the cruel smirk curling his lips was unmistakable. He stood there, an immovable sentinel in the gloom, his eyes burning with a predatory satisfaction that sent icy shivers racing down your spine.

Every muscle in your body tensed as you tried to steady your racing heart. The bus’s headlights sliced through the darkness, a sudden, blinding beacon of hope. The man at the stop stiffened, his shoulders jerking up in a barely concealed attempt to escape the mounting tension. As he hurriedly climbed aboard, you felt a wild, desperate urge to follow him. Your fingers grazed the edge of your seat as you half-rose, eyes locked on the bus.

But as you glanced at the route map, the reality struck with a crushing weight. The bus veered off in a direction that had no relation to your destination. The hope that had sparked within you fizzled out, leaving behind a bleak, sinking feeling. Your shoulders slumped, and you sank back into your seat, feeling the oppressive weight of the predator’s gaze grow even more intense.

The bus and the man vanished into the night, and the oppressive stillness of the bus stop seemed to close in on you. Every breath you took was laden with the heavy, electric tension of the moment. The distance between you and the shadowy figure by the tree felt charged with an almost unbearable energy, the air between you thick with an unspoken, menacing promise. The flickering light above did little to dispel the darkness, only deepening the palpable, charged atmosphere around you.

Your stalker began moving again, his strides quick and deliberate, each step a steady, relentless approach. His eyes were locked onto you with an unwavering intensity, and the weight of his gaze felt like a physical force pushing against your back. Panic exploded inside you, and you took off, sprinting down the deserted street. Your bag slipped from your shoulder, hitting the pavement with a hollow thud, but you couldn’t afford to stop. You zigzagged through alleyways, taking sharp turns in a desperate bid to lose him, but his footsteps echoed behind you, a constant, menacing reminder of his pursuit.

Your breath came in ragged gasps, each inhale sharp and desperate. Your legs burned, and every corner you rounded seemed to bring you closer to the edge of collapse. The alleyways were a labyrinth of shadows, but no matter how many turns you took, his presence remained unnervingly close, like a dark cloud stalking your every move.

At last, you had hidden yourself in the corner, your breath coming in harsh, frantic bursts. You pressed yourself against a cold, unforgiving wall, the rough brick scraping your back as you tried to steady your pounding heart. You could hear his footsteps growing louder, each step a slow, deliberate march that amplified the tension between you.

Suddenly, he emerged from the dim light, his imposing figure cutting through the shadows. He moved with a sinuous, almost predatory grace, his presence overwhelming and oppressive. His gaze locked onto you with a fierce intensity, and his smirk deepened, curling in a way that sent shivers down your spine. The shadow he cast was long and menacing, a stark contrast to the flickering, uncertain light around you. His body language exuded both menace and allure, his movements calculated and deliberate, every gesture charged with a dark, magnetic energy that made your pulse race.

You could feel the electric tension between you, a heavy, almost unbearable force that seemed to crackle in the air. The closeness of his presence, combined with the desperation in your own movements, created an almost suffocating intimacy in the dark alley, where every breath felt like a shared secret, fraught with fear and an unsettling, unspoken attraction.

He stepped forward, his body pressing you against the wall with a commanding, almost bruising presence. Your breath hitched as his warmth enveloped you, his breath tickling your neck with a mixture of danger and intimacy. His arms encircled you, the grip tight and possessive, each muscle in his body a solid, unyielding force pressed against your back.

Your heart pounded in your chest, every beat a frantic reminder of the closeness and the overwhelming sensation of his body against yours. His chest was hard and powerful, its heat searing through the thin fabric of your clothes. You could feel every movement of his breathing, the rise and fall of his chest a relentless rhythm that seemed to synchronize with your own erratic breaths.

“Who are you?” you managed to gasp, your voice trembling as you tried to keep the fear out of your tone. “Please, just let me go.”

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear with a chilling, intimate touch. The contact sent shivers down your spine, a mix of terror and something else, something unsettlingly intimate. "I’m Jeon Jungkook," he murmured, his voice a soft, seductive purr that dripped with both menace and allure. "I’ve waited too long for this. I never imagined it would be like this, but they know about you, sweetheart. You need to come with me. I need you alive to survive." His enemies are already hunting you, aware that you’re his only weakness. To get to him, they won’t hesitate to hurt you.

The way he spoke was a blend of dark promise and seductive control, each word an echo of his twisted obsession. His breath was hot against your ear, mingling with the icy fear that clung to your skin. The tension between you was a living, palpable thing, charged with an almost unbearable intensity. Every shift of his body against yours, every brush of his lips, made the air feel thick and electric, a constant reminder of the dangerous allure he wielded.

The name hit you like a freezing wave—Jungkook, the feared mafia boss. Your eyes widened in terror, and a fresh wave of panic surged through you. You could feel your heart hammering wildly in your chest, each beat a frantic reminder of your peril.

He continued speaking, his voice a dark, smooth purr that seemed to graze your skin with every word. “I’ve watched you from afar, admired you. You’re mine now.” His arms tightened around you, pulling you even closer until every inch of your body was pressed against his. “I protect what’s mine with everything I have, and you—” He emphasized his claim by drawing you even tighter against his chest, his breath hot and heavy on your neck, “—you’re my most treasured possession.”

His words dripped with a dark, possessive certainty, each syllable wrapped in a shrouded promise. The heat of his body was overwhelming, a searing pressure that seemed to suffocate the space between you. His breath mixed with yours, creating a taut, almost unbearable intimacy that seemed to charge the air around you.

You tried to plead again, your voice cracking with raw desperation. “Please, let me go.”

His grip remained unyielding, his touch more possessive, almost claiming. “I can’t do that. You’re mine and in danger.” His voice was low, unwavering, and the intensity of his gaze burned into you. “And I protect what’s mine fiercely.”

The closeness of his body, the firmness of his hold, and the relentless, smoldering intensity in his eyes created a charged atmosphere, an almost tangible heat that enveloped you. The air felt thick with the electric tension of his possessive touch, and every movement, every breath shared between you seemed to amplify the dark, unsettling allure of his presence.

His hands roamed over you with an unsettling familiarity, every touch a mix of thrill and terror. His fingers traced possessive paths along your sides, pressing and squeezing with a dominance that was both commanding and unnerving. Each caress seemed to linger longer than necessary, igniting a shiver that ran the length of your spine.

The night seemed to close in around you, the shadows stretching and distorting as if drawn into the gravity of his embrace. The flickering streetlight cast fleeting patterns across your faces, making his features appear both menacing and alluring. His grip tightened, drawing you impossibly closer until your bodies were pressed together, every muscle and curve aligned in an intimate, inescapable closeness.

The tension between you was a live wire, sparking and crackling with an intensity that left you breathless and trembling. His breathing was a warm, steady rhythm against your ear, the sound creating a stifling cocoon of heat around you. The cold of the night was a stark contrast to the searing heat of his touch, making the air between you feel electric and charged.

In the eerie stillness, surrounded by encroaching darkness and the biting chill, you were trapped in his embrace, caught between fear and a dark, undeniable attraction. The oppressive force of his hold was a constant reminder of your helplessness, leaving you tangled in a web of sensation and emotion you couldn’t fully grasp or escape.

a/n: Let me know what you think in any way you like—comments, messages, carrier pigeons, whatever! What's your favorite part of this chapter? I'd love to hear! If you want to be tagged for future chapters, just holler. Also, character asks and drabble requests are open, so hit me up with your wildest ideas.

Yandere BTS OT7 - Mistake

DISCLAIMER: This is a FICTION work only made for entertainment purposes that includes yandere/dark. I do not support or encourage any type of abusive behaviour. 

SUMMARY: You make a big mistake and now you deal with the consequences.

Check more: Masterlist.

OT7 x Female reader

WARNINGS: Implied Kidnapping.

AN: I really made Jimin the bad guy here, but I hope you guys like it 💖

--

You hold your breath for a solid minute, staring at the door as it shakes.

The banging on the door progressively gets more violent as the loud commotion outside of the bathroom you just locked yourself in increases. 

The realization of what you did slowly starts to hit you. 

But you know very clearly how badly you’ve messed up. 

“Y/n! Open this door right now!” Hoseok and Jimin yell, angry voices mixing in. 

“Open it right fucking now!” 

“Don’t you dare ignore us!” 

You wince as a hard punch is thrown at the poor door, silently thanking the strong wood for withstanding the boys’s wrath. 

It’s the only thing keeping you safe from a horrible punishment, although you’re not stupid enough to think you can spend the rest of your life hidden in the bathroom.  

“What is going on here?” a new voice joins, overlapping over the rest of the angry voices, and you guess it’s Namjoon from the deep timbre. 

“Look at this, hyung! Y/n tried pushing Jimin down the stairs and now she’s locked herself in the bathroom.” 

You can practically see Namjoon’s brows rising in disbelief. 

The handle moves and upon realizing that the door is indeed locked shut, there’s a new knock on the door, although this one is much softer than the previous ones. 

“Y/n? Is this true?” he questions you, voice laced with disappointment. “Did you try to hurt Jimin?” 

Hot tears prickle your eyes as the struggle to hold them back proves itself to be worthless.

They’re gonna get so mad at you. They’re gonna hurt you.

“N-No.” 

“Liar!” Jimin cuts you off, and you jump at an unexpected fierce bang to the door. “I was trying to be nice and you fucking pushed me away!”

His explanation is twisted and it awakens flames of annoyance inside you. 

Jimin is not someone you would rank highly when it came to the boys, despite having no clear favorites amongst them.

You hate them all.

They’re all kidnappers, for all you care. But Jimin is particularly pushy when it comes to you and you hate him dearly for that. 

“You’re the liar!” you scream back, still maintaining a safe distance from the door. “You…Why don’t you tell the truth, you asshole?” 

You don’t wait for him to reply before continuing. 

“Namjoon, he tried slipping his hands underneath my shirt.” you sniff, cringing at the fresh memory of Jimin’s cold hands sneaking around your belly, starved to touch any inch of your skin. “He touched me, so I pushed him. He- I didn’t realize the stairs were so close, okay?” 

There’s a moment of silence. 

“Jimin-ah, why would you do that?” 

The muffled question from Jin has a light spark of hope igniting in you. Jin is one of the nicest, he’ll surely understand your situation. 

“I didn’t grope her! It was barely a touch!” 

“Jimin…” Namjoon sighs, clearly having doubts over the younger boy’s dubious explanation.  

“Hyung, I’m telling the truth! Y/n is the one lying!” Jimin argued back, his heated temper making his voice rise. “She’s just making excuses for the fact that she tried hurting me. She’s the one who went crazy on me and tried to shove me down the stairs.” 

“I didn’t-”

“She was probably hoping that I’d break my neck or something.” The malicious tone that Jimin uses upsets you. 

“I already said it was an accident!” you try to defend yourself.

“It didn’t look much like an accident.” Yoongi contradicts you. 

“Yeah, it really didn’t.” You shake your head at Jungkook’s words, feeling yourself getting slightly hysterical. 

You want to scream and shout. Of course they’re gonna take Jimin’s side. 

“It was an accident!” your voice is considerably aggravated, and it shows. “I didn’t mean to!” 

“Then come out.” Jimin challenges you. “What are you hiding for, if it was an accident?” 

You ignore him. 

The boys argue back and forth, with Jimin vehemently insisting it's all your fault against Jin and Taehyung, who try their best to minimize your actions. 

Finally, when the argument threatens to escalate into a fight, Namjoon intervenes.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, guys. There’s no point in fighting like this. Let’s solve the situation like adults.”

There’s a softer knock on the door. 

“Y/n? Can you please come out?” 

You don’t even think before throwing a loud no. 

“Sweetheart, please, we’re not gonna hurt you.” Jin tries.

“Speak for yourself.” Jimin’s voice isn’t low enough to go unheard, and the hair on your arms rises at the implicit threat.

“Jimin!” several boys hiss. 

“Baby, please, just come out!” Taehyung begs. "We can talk things out."

“Y/n, we just want to clear up the situation, okay?” Namjoon tries again, using a pacific tone. “No one is punishing you without having the whole story, I promise.” 

You shake your head, heart pounding in your ears as you walk further away from the door. You don’t believe him.

In the end, they’ll hurt you. You know that. 

Curling yourself into the small space next to the bathtub, you bury your face in your arms.

Any previous anger and energy you had is now fully drained, the seriousness of your situation making you dwell into a light depression. 

You’re tired. So fucking tired of them. 

They’ve turned you into a captive, took away all of your life choices, stripped you away from your freedom. All for a poor excuse of love, as they claimed it. 

Obsessed freaks, that’s what they truly are. 

You cover your ears with your hands, blocking away their circus of begging, threatening and bribing. 

You’re not opening the door. 

It takes less than an hour for them to finally get inside the bathroom. 

By then, you’re slightly more anxious, having cried all the tears you had and yet new ones are ready to spill when Jungkook and Jin’s combined strength finally breaks the door down. 

As already expected, Jimin is the first one to stride in, closely followed by the rest of the boys. 

But what scares you the most is the terrifyingly sly smirk that he dedicates you as he bends down. One of his hands grips your hair, aggressively pulling your head back as he leans down to whisper on your ear. 

“I don’t care what Namjoon hyung said before.” he says, “But you’re getting punished. We’ll see if you can even walk after what I’m about to do to you.”

When The Party’s Over Masterlist (Rafe Cameron x Reader)

summary: Manipulated into a secret relationship with Rafe Cameron, you’re finding it much easier said than done to do the right thing and walk away…especially when he refuses to let you.

➥ Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, abusive relationship, forbidden relationship, violence, public sex, jealousy, underage drinking, drug use, manipulation, corruption, loss of virginity, forced pregnancy, innocent reader, Heyward!reader, dad!Rafe

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Hunter breeding his wife cuz she has been a such a brat these days,she should know he loves only her! No need to be so bratty about it, like what does she mean his love was suffocating? He had to punish her to remind her who she belongs to

TW: Mind control, Dubcon, Noncon, breeding kink

It's March, and the flowers are starting to bloom. Normally, you'd love the weather, but recently you can't enjoy anything due to Hunter. Luckily, Delilah offers some form of relief for you.

"Ae!" Delilah squeals, trying to crawl up to you.

"Good girl!" You coo, opening your arms for your baby.

Delilah stumbles onto her feet and tries to take a couple of steps. All is going well until Hunter opens the door. Then, Delilah falls to her knees.

"I'm home, and I brought food!" Hunter yells, bringing bags of fast food.

"Really, Hunter?! Delilah was about to take her first steps, and you ruined it!" You snap, making Hunter a bit uncomfortable.

"Sorry, darling. I was really excited to see my family," Hunter says, trying to kiss you on the cheek.

"Well, I'd like it if you saw us less often," You reply, moving your cheek away.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I'm saying your love is a suffocating force that strangles the life and joy out of everyone around you."

"You don't mean that. My love helped create our babies."

"More like your kinks and persistence did. If anything, I should be worried that they're related to you."

"There's no reason to act so bratty. If you're upset, take it out on me. Don't take it out on the children."

"I'm going to bed. Lauren, time for dinner!"

You put Delilah into her high chair and walk to your bedroom. You sit on the bed and look at a photo of you from the beginning of senior year. You were happy, and best of all, you didn't know him.

"Mamamama!" Lauren coos, walking into your room.

Delilah crawls in, following behind her sister. They climb onto the bed and snuggle next to you.

"Aww! Are my babies all full?" You ask, kissing their cheek.

Lauren nods her head and hugs your chest.

"Daddy even fed us desert!" Lauren squeals, becoming bouncy and hyper.

Hunter walks into the room, and you shoot him a glare.

"Alright, you two. Mommy is tired and needs her rest," Hunter says, making Delilah and Lauren climb down.

The two babies go into their playroom.

"Really? Desert? Right before bedtime? They'll be hyper till the next morning," You scold, hitting Hunter with a pillow.

"Is it so wrong to treat my babies right? Besides, at least I ate dinner with them," Hunter comments, making you snap.

"At least I don't uproot their lives and force them to be with me all the time. At least I let them have their choice of friends. At least they know I give them unconditional love," You snarl, breaking Hunter's last straw.

Hunter pins you to the bed and kisses you.

"You need to be punished. I'm not letting our children get raised by a brat," Hunter says, flipping you over.

Your stomach is on the bed, and you know what's going to happen.

"Oh please, a couple of spankings aren't going to hurt me. I'm used to your hands by now," You comment, laughing at your husband.

"Which is why I bought this paddle. I was going to save this for the weekend during our getaway, but I see you need it now," Hunter says, making your eyes widen.

"You-ah!"

Hunter slaps your ass with the paddle. He takes off your pants and underwear, and you're only left with your shirt on.

"Keep talking, and you'll end up with one hundred hits to the ass. If your pussy starts to get wet, I will command you when to cum. If you squirt, you'll get one hundred more hits."

Hunter keeps paddling your ass, and eventually, he notices your pussy is dripping wet.

"How pitiful. You only made it to fifty before getting wet. In that case, you'll need to cum every time the paddle touches your ass," Hunter says, shocking you.

"Hunter, that isn't even possible!" You exclaim, trying to move your hands from the cuffs he put them in.

"Of course, it is. You see, Heath and Henry are having relationship problems with their wives, too. So, Henry used his tech company to create a collar we call the Commando. Once that pretty thing is around your neck, you can't help but do anything I say," Hunter explains, bringing the black and pink collar around your neck.

"Hunter, stop it! Hunter-ooh...why does it feel so good?" You moan, feeling everything in you go hot.

"There are temporary nanobots in the heart. Right now, those bots are in your bloodstream, traveling to your brain and taking it over so you can be perfect. Don't worry. Once the caller is off, you'll be free."

"Hunter, you've just hit a new low."

Your head feels dizzy, and suddenly you black out. When you awaken, you feel the need to follow Hunter's orders.

"What should I do for my husband?" You ask, smiling gleefully.

"Cum every time I hit you with this paddle," Hunter replies, making your pussy get wetter than before.

Hunter hits you with a paddle, and you cum instantaneously. He laughs and hits you fifty more times. You cum so much that it's leaking onto the bed sheets.

"What else should I do for my wonderful husband?" You ask, turning to face Hunter.

"Tell me, are you highly fertile right now? I know you check your menstrual chart every day," Hunter commands, grabbing your phone from your nightstand.

"Of course, honey!" You chirp, pulling up your period tracker and pulling up today's date. "I'm very fertile today. Are you going to make me a mommy of three?"

"God, I love the way you talk with this collar."

Hunter takes his pants off and puts his dick inside you.

"Oh, master!" You moan, holding your legs open for him. "And to think naughty me was going to get birth control and an IUD."

"If that's what you thought you were going to do, then I'm going to make sure the only thing that always belongs in this pussy is my cock."

Hunter speeds up his thrusts, and he cums in you. You moan with satisfaction and beg for him to breed you again.

"If my loyal wife commands it," Hunter says, thrusting in you again.

"Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!" You squeal, groping your boobs. "Make my boobies full of even more milk!"

Hunter climaxes and sends a wave of cum into you.

"Cuddle, Y/N."

"Yes, hubby."

The two of you cuddle while Hunter is still inside you. When you wake up, your pelvis is hurting like no tomorrow.

"Hunter, what did you do?" You groan, holding your stomach.

"I bred the brat out of you," Hunter answers, bringing breakfast and painkillers. "Don't worry. You'll be okay, and you'll deliver another child for our babies to play with."

You cry, and he soothes you.

"I'll provide the best maternal services for you like I've always done. As much as I want you to be carrying my babies, you can't do that if you're stressed."

"What would you know about stress, you demonic, horny bitch."

"I can tell being a mother is stressing you out so after this baby, I'll be wearing a condom. You're also getting that nexaplon implant I took out back in college. We both need a break."

"Thank you, Hunter."

For once, things were going your way. At least you'll have another nine months without a period.

Older-boyfriend!König thots™

CW: AGE DIFFERENCE/GAP — MDNI 18+

To claim that König is desperate is an understatement, and that isn't an exaggeration whatsoever. He's pushy, embarrassingly eager to get into a relationship with you. Perhaps it stems from the lack of affection and attention he's received his entire life, and the guilt of denying him weighs heavily on your shoulders. He's determined, his goal being to convince you to move in with him. He's already talking about marriage and having children together on your second date. But, you feel horrible rejecting this poor, older pervert who yearns for someone to love him, despite his disturbing depravity and sickening perversion.

Older-boyfriend!König is jealous and insecure, to the point where it affects your only social life. Oh, you want to go out with your close friends to a party? You'll get intoxicated and will be too delirious and tipsy to answer your phone! Anything could happen, you're being irresponsible. You need someone to accompany you and if you're not willing to walk around with a forty-something year old social recluse, then you're not leaving his sight.

And when you allow König to come along with you, he doesn't leave your side. He'll wait outside the bathroom, glaring and snarling at the young twenty-something year olds who have a chance with someone like you. They're younger, fitter, and more attractive. He feels disgusted with himself for clinging to a younger woman, but he can't help himself — he's infatuated with you.

Oh, and during sex? Yeah, he's a total mess, out of breath and heaving uncontrollably at the tightness wrapped around his girthy, fat cock. Can barely last two rounds and rolls over onto his back, pleading with you to continue. Just ride him, Mauschen. Rock your hips back and forth while he digs his calloused, rough fingertips into the flesh and plush on your hips. He'll throw his head backwards, his eyes fluttering closed through the stimulation and euphoria against his large, meaty cock.

He could barely get it up before, but with you? He has a raging hard-on 24/7. You make him feel young again.