#kidnapping.

[pigeonsplayground]

your kidnapper jerking themselves off with your bound hands

[playfully-sadistic]

Why are you shaking already? I grant you a five second headstart, that's more than most prey get, where's your gratitude? Of course we both know how this will end - but the thrill of the chase is as crucial for me as the false hope of freedom is for you, so hide as best as you can and run as fast as your legs allow and pray that I'll be quick once I get you beneath my claws. At least for five seconds, you may think yourself in advantage, and grasp onto naïve optimism, and for the following minutes after, you can drown yourself in instinctive panic, the heavy, defeaning thumping of your own heartbeat and shallow breath as you listen for my steps, for any rustling between the trees... for my voice, suddenly too close to your ear, whispering "Caught you".

And then, only then, should you start shaking, begging, crying, fighting back so pathetically and desperately, as if any of it will stop me from pushing your body into treacherously soft, wet moss, keeping you down with claws digging into your sensitive skin, and making you feel all the more vulnerable, helpless, weak when I force my weight fully onto your body and sink into a hole that certainly should not be this wet and willing to take me as it turns out to be, growls ringing in your ear, tears running down your face, whimpering turning into moaning much faster than it should.

And you will be shaking when I'm finally done with you, left in a puddle of your own slick, mixed with cum and sweat and your blood, when your chest is heaving and your body too exhausted to care or protest when I pick you up and decide that you shall stay my toy for as long as your body can endure it.

[agreeably-ordained]

For all the humility and graciousness your clergyman carries himself with, I truly don't think he'd mind all that much if you stole him away from that church building.

Why, of course he'd put up a fight. Anyone would. That's why it may be more effective to catch the man unawares. Under the cover of night, perhaps? Try wresting a half-awake priest from his bed and into the darkness that yawns beyond the doors with the cool end of your pistol snug against his temple. That tends to yield a better result.

Frightened prayers under his breath as you march him off of the grounds. You could knock him upside the head at this point, if he becomes irksome enough.

You'll have to forgive him, he doesn't understand that he'll be leaving his God behind as well. He hasn't grasped that this is a rescue mission.

Out now, dragging him off behind the church. Keep going. What you do after this doesn't much matter so long as he doesn't find his way back.

[watersmoothstones]

I want a therapist to slowly take over my life and corrupt my mind. They convince me to quit my job, leave my spouse, disconnect from my friends and family, move to a shittier neighborhood because I can’t afford my rent anymore. They loan me money to live on and say my sessions are free. 

Meanwhile they say orgasms are good for my mental health and we can turn our therapy into guided masturbation if I’d like that. 

Then they corrupt my sexual appetites until I can only get off if I’m thinking about being kidnapped or raped or turned into a public glory hole. 

“Someone broke into my apartment,” I tell them. 

“Did they take anything?”

“No, it’s strange. They just rearranged my living room furniture.”

“Do you need help putting it back?”

“No,” I say, flipping up my skirt. I don’t wear panties to their office anymore. “I’ll just keep it the way it is.”

.

“Somebody broke in again,” I tell them. 

“Did they take anything this time?”

“No, they just left the door open and unlocked.”

“And how does that make you feel?”

My fingers are already circling my clit as I say, “Violated.”

.

The next time somebody breaks in, I wake up naked and sore from being fucked.

“How did you stay asleep?” my therapist asks. 

“They must have drugged me,” I say, three fingers already buried in my cunt. “I wish they’d left marks.”

.

The next time they do leave marks. Big, red and purple hickies between my thighs and too high up on my neck to hide. 

“What do you want them to do next?”

“Take me away,” I moan. 

.

When I wake up in a cage, naked and cold from the concrete floor, mildew smell in my nose, I’m terrified. And immediately wet. 

I’m surprised somehow to recognize my therapist as the person looming over me. 

When they let me out of the cage, I crawl directly over to the couch — the same one from their office — and bring my hand up between my spread legs. 

“No.”

My hand falls away immediately making a wet sound against the soft leather. I whine, confused. 

“You’ll have to learn new rules now,” they tell me. 

They walk over to me and stand between my spread open thighs. 

“When we were in my office, I couldn’t touch you. But now, here,” they force three fingers directly into my cunt and I scream with it, “I decide who touches you and when.” 

I hear footsteps through the ceiling. Lots of them. The door to the basement creaks open and the footsteps move to the stairs. 

My therapist’s fingers begin to move and I’m not sure why it feels familiar but I moan loudly. And as more and more booted footsteps descend the stairs, I come hard, knowing that it’s only the first of many orgasms I will be forced to have tonight. 

[x-raykinks]

Seeing your cage bed is giving me all kinds of thoughts... you worked so hard on making it soft and cozy.

I'm imagining waking up in it, still disoriented from whatever you put in my drink the night before. You notice me stirring and tell me about how you lovingly picked out everything for my new home, how you want me to be so comfortable. I'm scared now, but you will teach me to be such a good pet for you, how to obey your every command. You will condition me to forget about everything other than being a perfect fucktoy, and I will learn to love my new home so much that I wouldn't run away even if I could <3

🧚🏻‍♂️✨

At first I have to keep you on leash at all times outside your cage, a simple pup like you can't wander off. But you become so docile it's not even needed. You know exactly what to do, how to do it, when to do it, for how long. You don't even really need the cage after long enough, you just prefer it. It's so that you know you place, on the floor, beside me as a loyal pet. My perfect puppy.

[the-enchanted-archivist]

I just got an ask for a love letter Yandere Philip would write for his Beloved... (I will write an actual love letter from him, just have to decide if it's to a human!Reader or a witch!Reader).

That got me thinking about if he did pine for someone in the human realm. Just think about all the love letters he'd write while in the Boiling Isles that were never sent. The stack would rival Eda's school record.

He'd be in denial that this person would never move on without him (though they may have never known he was into them), and he writes them as if he and his Beloved are set to be engaged. He'd lament to them about having to stay in this 'awful place' in order to save them from evil and he'd be 'home' as soon as his mission is complete. When he realizes that too much time has passed and his Beloved is no longer alive, he goes into full-on denial.

Throughout his years in the Boiling Isles, he has caught glimpses of people that look like his Beloved and those people would disappear from the public eye. He'd keep them (against their will) for a while, shower them with affection, and make them look even more like his Beloved, but when he either got bored or reality slapped him in the face, he'd dispose of them. They were still witches, after all. His Beloved is not a witch, no matter how much they look like them and cutting off the tips of their ears only did so much.

Once he perfected sigil magic, this process became easier, immobilizing his target and allowing him to whisk them away to his hideout and repeat the process over again. He'd also lure them away with the line "The Titan has specifically chosen you...".

When he became emperor, he had a chamber built off of his bedroom that would house his target until their demise. It's soundproof and windowless and absolutely no one in the castle knows about it. If Belos gets wind of someone having knowledge of this chamber, they are swiftly dealt with. He may either invite his target, have his coven scouts bring them to him, or go get them himself. An illusion of the victim is always seen leaving the castle so no one is any the wiser that they're still locked up inside.

[pigeonsplayground]

your kidnapper violating you in different romantic settings. on a carpet by a crackling fire, in a field of wildflowers after a picnic, a beautiful overlook after a little hike, etc