𝐌𝐲 𝐄𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐞 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐭

𝑻𝒘𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝑾𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑩𝒍𝒐𝒈 - 𝑺𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒘𝒆 𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒍𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒘𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅? - 𝑫𝒐𝒏𝒕 𝒃𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒚, 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅~

[myeagleexpert]

Welcome to the blog!

Call me Eagle, I'm 20 years old and I love writing from a different perspective~

Looking forward to RECEIVING REquests! Tell me, what are you thinking about today?

Masterlist Twisted Wonderland Masterlist Dormitories Masterlist Batfamily Masterlist Yandere

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ Every like, repost and comment is very welcome and appreciated. ♥

[ngestwo]

⊹₊⋆All I Really Want is You | Scarabia x GN Reader

synopsis — Jamil invites the prefect to Scarabia for assistance with their assignment, but their private time is interrupted by Kalim. As time passes unnoticed, the prefect accidentally lingers in their dorm longer than intended, much to Viper's and Al-Asim's amusement. Each, in their own unique way, the duo wishes to explore the prefect’s inner world more deeply and understand them better. genre — yandere warning — none more works: masterlist

now playing: all i really want is you - the marías

As the afternoon rolled in and classes concluded, the rain began to pour heavily. This weather pattern has been a consistent feature since Spring arrived at Night Raven College. Students emerged from their classrooms, appearing almost drowsy, while the sky turned a bleak grey and the wind picked up in strength.

Jamil strolled out of his classroom, a yawn slipping from his lips. He waved goodbye to a few classmates he often chatted with before heading toward the Hall of Mirrors. As he walked, he noticed a familiar figure standing by one of the grand arched windows, gazing out at the rain. Observing the prefect from a distance, he confirmed that none of their usual friend group was nearby and decided to approach them.

I need to see you in my window

“The weather has been quite dreadful lately, hasn’t it?” Without glancing at the boy, the prefect acknowledges his presence with a response, remaining facing forward.

In a whisper

Jamil pauses in silence for a moment as an idea takes shape in his mind. He examines every feature of their face closely. Even amidst this gloomy weather, their visage continues to glow. Inside his indifferent demeanor, his heart beats rapidly.

All I really want is you

“Would you like to join me in Scarabia so we can work on the assignment together?”

The prefect finally gazes at Jamil, their eyes sparkling with intrigue. Viper reflects on how effortless it is to decipher their emotions as he scrutinizes those eyes. However, a hint of hesitation stirs within them.

"But is it okay? Are you not busy?"

"I happen to be free today, and why would I say no to you?" A wave of warmth and relief washes over them as they ask him to take the lead. With the hallway now deserted, the two stroll side by side toward the Hall of Mirrors.

It’s quite unusual for him to have their company like this. Previously, he had only watched them from a distance, but now he finds himself comfortably beside them, without the initial lingering apprehension from his overblot incident. He’s having them all to himself, for now. Every word they speak is like a melody meant just for him, and he can't help but hang on to their every syllable.

He savors this moment, engraving every detail into his memory—their scent, the way their eyes glimmer under the dim lights of the hall, and the soft laughter that spills from their lips. He wonders if they realize how much power they hold over him, how every glance fuels a fire that he guards jealously.

The thought of anyone else being this close to them sits uneasily in his mind, like a storm brewing just beneath the surface. Yet, in this moment, the tempest within him is calmed by the gentle cadence of their voice. As they walk, the echoes of their footsteps resonate softly against the grand architecture around them, creating a rhythm that feels as intimate as a heartbeat.

₊˚✩彡

As Jamil and the prefect stroll through the hallways of Scarabia, they unexpectedly encounter Kalim, who is accompanied by three other members of Scarabia. Upon spotting the duo, his eyes light up with excitement as he wraps up his conversation with the other students.

“Alright! Let’s discuss this another time! Please send me the details in the group chat!” As the three figures depart with cheerful smiles, Kalim turns to greet Jamil and the prefect, his smile radiant. Viper feels a pang in his heart, realizing that his time alone with the prefect is coming to an end.

“Prefect! Jamil! It’s wonderful to see you! Especially you, Prefect!” He quickens his pace toward the magicless student and takes both of their hands. “I’m so thrilled to see you here! So, what brings you by?”

The prefect chuckles at the white-haired boy's enthusiasm. "Jamil said he wants to help me with my History of Magic assignment." Kalim’s excitement intensifies, more so since the prefect is staying longer in his dorm. He bounces joyfully on his spot and invites them to his room, saying, “Why don’t we do it in my room? It’ll be more comfy for everyone! Ooh! We could even discuss the topic together!” Jamil's expression darkens at this suggestion, showing reluctance to accept his housemate's invitation.

The prefect glances at Jamil, noticing the slight sweat forming due to Kalim's enthusiasm. With their observant eyes and awareness of the dynamics around them, they understand the relationship Viper and Al-Asim have. They are aware of all of it. Therefore, they need to ensure that the long-haired boy is okay with everything. However, even Jamil finds it hard to decline the white-haired boy's invitation. He shrugs and decides to go along with it.

“Fine by me.” At this, Kalim leaps even higher in joy.

“Yay! Come on! This way!”

₊˚✩彡

Time seems to slip away as the sky deepens into darkness. A cool breeze wafts through the large arched windows of Al-Asim's room, where the moonlight casts a tranquil glow. The warm lighting envelops the space, creating a cozy atmosphere. The prefect, Jamil, and Kalim are seated on the floor, gathered around a low table with textbooks and notes scattered around them. The only voice breaking the silence is Jamil's as he explains the assignment.

“The task for this class is ‘The Origin of Magic from Country A and Historical Resolution.’” The prefect listens quietly, trying their best to comprehend Viper's words, as does Al-Asim. However, his focus lies elsewhere.

“In my opinion... this war was a surprise attack orchestrated by Country B to counter Country A's formidable military strength.” Al-Asim's ruby-red eyes remain fixed on the prefect, propping himself up with both hands on the table as he gazes at them with admiration.

In his eyes, the prefect embodies perfection. It wasn't merely love at first sight; Kalim genuinely believes that their encounter was destined. Their kindness, candid nature, and profound empathy captivate him. He studies those sparkling eyes, yearning to decipher what they truly think of him and how they instinctively know just the right words to make his heart flutter.

Kalim's heart races with each passing moment, a mix of excitement and an overwhelming need to keep the prefect close. He can't help but imagine a world where they belong solely to him, where no distractions or other people could ever come between them. A world where they could bask in each other's presence endlessly.

“However, given how different Country B's culture and civilization are from those of Country A, the concept of Magic A, which is exclusive to Country B, must have been…” Jamil's voice trails off as he notices the prefect’s furrowed brows. Aside from their fatigue, it seems they are struggling to fully grasp everything he just explained. He gently touches their hand for reassurance.

“You're having a hard time, aren't you? History is merely a game of deception among nations.” This snaps Kalim back to reality, and he notices his friend holding the prefect's hand. This action stirs a peculiar feeling in his heart, though he can’t quite place why. The prefect resumes jotting down notes to complete their assignment while Jamil turns to him.

“Prefect, why don't we let you focus for now while we prepare? Right, Kalim?” The Scarabia housewarden feels slightly confused by his vice’s statement but soon realizes it’s already late.

“Y-yes, prefect! If you need to rest, feel free to lie down on the bed! We’ll see you later.” With that, the pair exits through the door.

₊˚✩彡

The door quietly swings open to reveal Jamil and Kalim already dressed in their loungewear. As they step inside, they notice the prefect is not at the low table as expected. Instead, they find the prefect lying on the bed with their back turned to them.

“Wah! Prefect!” Kalim exclaims, dashing over to the bed to get closer. He plops down beside the prefect and gazes at them fondly.

“You must be really tired, huh?” Jamil comments as he picks up the magicless' notebook to read what they’ve written, smiling as he sees they are gradually grasping the subject and his explanations.

“Kalim, since it’s already late, I’m heading back to my room.” However, Kalim stops Jamil.

“Wait! Why don’t you stay here with us? A sleepover! I’m sure the prefect would be happy too…?” Once again, he feels that familiar flutter in his chest. Kalim simply wants to have both of his beloved people close tonight, yet he finds himself hesitating over his own words. Jamil would rather sleep next to the prefect alone, without anyone else, yet he smirks inwardly and accepts this arrangement.

“Alright. I just need to grab something from my room, and I’ll be back.” Kalim shakes off his doubts and continues to watch the prefect as they sleep. There was a lingering silence before he lay down next to them, gently stroking their face with his free hand. Before Viper departs, Al-Asim calls out to him once more.

“Jamil, we should do this more often.” The long-haired boy furrows one brow at the other’s statement, confusion clearly displayed on his face.

“What do you mean by that? The prefect usually sticks with their own group of friends, don’t they?” Kalim's red eyes are locked on the prefect’s expression, a subtle smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“I mean, even if they're busy, you can always use your unique magic, right? That way, we could hang out more often.” At Kalim’s last words, Jamil simply chuckles and exits the room.

“Mom and Dad would love to meet you, even brothers and sisters.” He sighs heavily, as if trying to contain the overwhelming love welling up inside him. He scoots closer, slipping an arm beneath the prefect and another over them. “I’d cherish every night holding you like this in bed. I’d give you anything you want.” His eyes grow heavy, and he whispers,

"All I really want is you."

Not long after, the door swings open to reveal Jamil, wearing the headband he had taken from his room. He notices both figures lying on the bed, nestled beneath the blanket. With a soft sigh, he dims the lights. Viper approaches the bed and spots a space next to the prefect, presumably reserved for him.

His dark charcoal eyes scrutinize every detail of the prefect’s visage. Climbing onto the bed, he reaches for the prefect's tie, swiftly untangling it to ease the constriction around their neck while they sleep. He also removes both their socks, folding them carefully with the necktie and placing the items on the nearest nightstand. Finally, he unbuttons a few buttons on their shirt.

His gaze lingers on the area around their neck, thoughts racing through his mind. He slowly caresses the area with his hand. Deep inside, he grapples with unanswered questions about the prefect that he fears he may never uncover. With his sharp perception, he senses that there are things the prefect knows that remain a mystery to him, including their true feelings toward him.

While they appear to be endlessly friendly with their peers at NRC, he yearns to delve into their innermost thoughts and emotions. They may see themselves as an outsider in this world, but Jamil would do anything to keep them from returning to their own realm, if that is even a possibility.

He settles into the vacant space beside them, gently reaching out to turn their face toward him. Carefully intertwining his fingers with theirs, he closes his eyes, surrendering to the embrace of sleep.

[kirimachi]

There are too many princes on Sage's Island🤴🏻🤴🏼🤴🏽🤴🏾🤴🏿

[castielsloversblog]

Yan! Childe Who..

MDNI // Smut, Fem!Reader, pathetic virgin yandere Childe, stalking, obsessive behavior, crying during sex, panty sniffing, overstimulation, worship kink, reader has him wrapped around her finger, Childe is a soggy horny mess

Yandere! Childe who...lets you clean the blood off his face with your tongue while he fingers you against a corpse-ridden wall

Yandere! Childe who...jerks off with your panties stuffed in his mouth

Yandere! Childe who...has hundreds of pictures of you.. some stolen, some he got without you being aware..

Yandere! Childe who...has printed out your face and stitched it onto a pillow… one of those life-sized body pillows. He sleeps with it, talks to it, fucks it

Yandere! Childe who...while rutting into it like a madman, panting your name as he finishes all sloppy and shaking.

Yandere Childe who...acts all flirty and cocky at first, but the second you smile at him? It’s over. His whole personality just short-circuits. Boner. Instantly. Visible. Tragic. He’s stuttering like "H-haha, y-you’re so cute, ah shit—excuse me! gotta g—gotta go kill someone real quick..!!"

Yandere! Childe who...has to cross his legs at lunch because you laughed and touched his arm and now his brain is melting out of his ears. He’s red in the face, biting his lip like he’s suppressing a moan, not a sigh.

Yandere! Childe who...rubs his cock through his pants under the table..

Yandere! Childe who...the first time you call him "good boy" teasingly. He doesn’t even try to hide it. He just goes home, strips off the soaked fabric, and jerks off five more times to the sound of your voice

Yandere! Childe who…would never lay a finger on you in harm. Never. He’ll butcher twenty people who looked at you wrong, but when it comes to you? He’s the softest, weakest little mutt. Worships the ground you walk on. His knife is for them, not for his angel.

Yandere! Childe who...would never, ever touch you without permission.

Yandere! Childe who...breaks down sobbing the moment you say yes to sleeping with him. Like real body-wracking sobs. He’s trembling, kissing your hands, your cheeks, your stomach like you’re a goddess come down to bless him.

Yandere! Childe who...starts thrusting and immediately tears up again because you’re so warm, so tight, and he can’t take it. He’s panting like a puppy, cheeks wet, hair sticking to his face, whining like a btch.

Yandere! Childe who...lasts three minutes MAX. No rhythm. He cums with a scream, melts on top of you, body twitching, buried deep in your walls while crying into your chest.

Yandere! Childe who...is sweaty, shaking, delirious afterward. Can’t pull out. Won’t. He just clings to you like a baby koala, cock twitching, whispering "I love you" over and over again afraid you're going to disappear or even abandon him, especially now that he is so attached to you? It will hurt him..even kill him mentally.

[stainedkai]

Stalker! choso kamo x male reader

(2/2) part one

synopsis: yuji's quiet older brother choso has been obsessed with you since the first night you visited their apartment. One night you decided to return home early and to your surprise you catch choso red-handed in your apartment. His fantasy doesn’t go as planned, so he takes matters into his own hands.

Tags: DARK THEMES. non-con to dub-con stalking, obsessive choso, yandere behavior, bottom! choso, possesive behavior, delusional choso. clothes sniffing, jerking off, forced sex, anal, breeding kink (mentioned briefly),cockwarming

--

You’d been to yuji’s apartment a handful of times now, enough that it felt routine—kick off your shoes by the door, drop your bag on the couch, raid the fridge like you lived there. Choso was always in the background, quiet and awkward, offering nods instead of full sentences. You figured he was just like that. Protective older brother type. Harmless.

But the last few weeks had felt… off.

Little things at first. Your spare key still missing after you swore you’d replaced it. A hoodie you could’ve sworn was in the laundry suddenly smelling like someone else’s detergent. The way Choso’s eyes would linger on you during movie nights, too long, too intense, before he’d look away shyly. You brushed it off. College stress. Paranoia from too many late nights.

Until tonight.

You were supposed to be out until at least midnight. A group project wrap-up that turned into getting drinks at the nearest bar. But your stomach had been churning from bad sushi, so you bailed early, texting yuji a quick “heading home, catch you tomorrow” before trudging the three blocks back to your apartment. The hallway light flickered like always. You fumbled for your keys, the new one sliding into the lock with a soft click.

The door swung open.

And there he was.

Choso.

Choso froze in the middle of your bedroom like a deer caught in headlights, one of your stolen black hoodies still clutched to his face, the fabric damp from his breath. His other hand was shoved deep inside his sweats, fingers wrapped around his cock, mid-stroke. His black hair hung messy around his shoulders, cheeks flushed, eyes wide with that same awkward, intense stare he always gave you at yuji’s apartment.

But this wasn’t Yuji’s apartment.

This was your place.

And he was inside it. Uninvited.

You stood in the doorway, keys still in hand, the bad sushi that had sent you home early now forgotten. “Choso…? What the actual fuck?”

He yanked his hand out of his pants like it burned. The hoodie dropped to the floor between you. the spare key—the one you’d replaced twice already sat on your nightstand.

“I… I was just—” His voice cracked, the quiet older-brother stammer turning into something raw and desperate. “You weren’t supposed to come back early. yuji said you’d be out late. I was making sure… everything was safe.”

“Safe?” You stepped inside, anger and disbelief rising fast. “You broke in. You stole my shit. You’re jerking off in my bed with my clothes. How long has this been going on?”

Choso’s mouth opened, closed. In his head this moment had played out a thousand times, always ending the same way: you pushing him down, growling that he was pathetic, that you’d known all along, that you’d fuck him raw while he cried and begged for more. But your face wasn’t dark with lust. It was twisted with disgust. Your voice wasn’t rough and commanding. It was sharp. Accusing.

You reached for your phone. “I’m calling yuji. This is fucked up, man. Get the hell out before—”

No.

The word detonated in Choso’s skull. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. You were supposed to want him. You were supposed to see how deep he’d fallen, how every stolen piece of you had been an offering. yuji’s friend. His friend. His.

He moved before thought could catch up.

One stride, then another. His hand clamped over your mouth, the other arm wrapping around your waist and yanking you against him. He spun you, slamming your back against the wall hard enough that a cheap picture frame rattled.

“Don’t,” he hissed against your ear, voice trembling but edged with something feral. “Please. You don’t understand. I’ve been waiting. Watching your window every night. Taking things so I could smell you when I couldn’t have you. You smiled at me. You sat next to me at Yuji’s place. That meant something.”

You thrashed, elbow driving into his ribs. He grunted but didn’t let go. Instead he pressed closer, grinding his still-hard cock against your thigh through his sweats. “Stop fighting. In my head you catch me and you take me. You pin me down and tell me I’m yours. You fuck me until I can’t think about anything else. But you’re not doing that. So I’ll… I’ll make it happen. I’ll fix it.”

Your muffled shout vibrated against his palm. He dragged you backward toward the bed, feet scrambling, you continue fighting against him. One hard shove and you both tumbled onto the mattress. him landing on his back, you on top of him exactly the way he’d fantasized a hundred times. Except in the fantasy you were willing. Here, your hands were already trying to shove him away.

Choso didn’t care anymore.

He hooked his legs around your waist, locking you against him, and yanked his own sweats down with one frantic hand. His cock sprang free, flushed and leaking, but he ignored it. What he needed was lower. He reached blindly for the small bottle of lube he’d hidden in your nightstand weeks ago. (just in case the fantasy ever became real) and shoved it into your hand.

“Fuck me,” he gasped, voice breaking. Not a plea. A demand wrapped in desperation. “Do it. Like in my head. I stole your key. I wore your hoodie. I humped your pillow thinking about you inside me. Now do it. Make it real.”

You stared down at him, stunned, phone still clutched in your other hand. “Choso—what the hell is wrong with you—”

He cut you off by grabbing your wrist and forcing the lube bottle open. With his free hand he reached down, spreading himself open, two fingers already pushing inside his own hole, slicking himself clumsily. “I’ve practiced,” he panted, cheeks burning with shame and arousal. “Every time I came here. Fingering myself on your bed, pretending it was you. I’m ready. Just… just take me. Please. I need you to want this too.”

When you still hesitated, something in him snapped.

Choso surged up, flipping your positions with surprising strength. He shoved you onto your back and straddled your hips, yanking your jeans open with trembling fingers. Your cock sprang out, half-hard from the adrenaline and unwanted friction. He stroked you roughly, spreading the lube he’d squeezed onto his palm, eyes wild.

“You don’t get to say no,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “Not after everything. I’ve been yours since the first night. You just didn’t know it.”

He rose up on his knees, lined you up, and sank down in one desperate motion.

The stretch burned. A broken moan tore from his throat as your cock breached him, thick and hot, forcing him open. He didn’t go slow. He dropped all the way down until his ass was flush against your hips, taking every inch in a single thrust that left him shaking.

“Fuck—” His head fell back, black hair spilling over his shoulders. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, not from pain but from the overwhelming relief of finally having you inside him. “You’re bigger than I imagined… so deep…”

You groaned beneath him, hands instinctively gripping his thighs, whether to push him off or pull him closer, even you weren’t sure. Choso didn’t give you time to decide.

He started moving. Rolling his hips in messy, frantic circles at first, then lifting and dropping, riding you with raw, obsessive need. The wet sound of skin and lube filled the room. His cock bounced against his stomach, untouched and leaking steadily.

“This is how it was supposed to go,” he gasped, voice cracking with every downward thrust. “You catch me. You get angry. But then you fuck me anyway. You use me. You tell me I’m pathetic for breaking in… for stealing your things… for wanting you this bad.”

He leaned forward, bracing his hands on your chest, fucking himself harder on your cock. His hole clenched around you rhythmically, greedy and tight. “Say it,” he begged, eyes glassy. “Call me sick. Call me desperate. Tell me I’m yours now. Even if you hate me for making you do this.”

His pace grew brutal. The bed creaked loudly beneath you both. Every time he slammed down, your cock dragged against his prostate, forcing broken whimpers and moans from his lips. He looked wrecked, hair sticking to his sweat-damp forehead, mouth open, pupils blown wide with that dark, fractured obsession.

“I love you,” he confessed between gasps, the words spilling out like he couldn’t hold them back anymore. “Not like yuji’s friend. More. I’d do anything. Watch you from the alley. Take your clothes. Cum on your sheets and clean it up so you wouldn’t know. I’d kill for you. All of it… just to get here. To have you inside me.”

One of his hands wrapped around his own cock, stroking fast and sloppy in time with his riding. “Touch me,” he demanded, voice hoarse. “Grab my hips. Fuck up into me. Make it hurt if you have to. I don’t care. Just don’t stop.”

When your hands finally tightened on his waist—whether from anger, shock, or the overwhelming heat of his body swallowing you whole. Choso moaned like it was salvation. He rode you harder, ass slapping against your thighs, taking you deeper with every desperate roll of his hips.

“I’ll keep coming back,” he panted, leaning down until his forehead pressed to yours. “Every night. Whether you want me to or not. I’ll let myself in with the key. I’ll wait in your bed naked and ready. And you’ll fuck me again. You’ll fill me up until I’m leaking your cum when I sit across from you at my apartment, pretending everything’s normal.”

At this point you couldn’t register what he was saying.

His strokes on his cock sped up, hole fluttering around you as his orgasm built fast and violent. “Cum inside me,” he begged, voice breaking. “Please. Breed me. Make me yours. I need it—fuck, I need it so bad—”

He came first with a shattered cry, thick ropes of cum painting your stomach and chest in messy streaks. His hole clenched rhythmically around your cock, milking you hard. The feeling dragged you over the edge. You thrust up into him once, twice, and spilled deep inside his guts, flooding him with hot, pulsing cum.

Choso collapsed forward immediately, trembling, but he didn’t pull off.

Instead, he stayed right there. your cock still buried to the hilt inside him, softening slowly in the mess of cum and lube. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, pressing soft, delusional kisses along your jaw and up to your cheek.

“See?” he whispered, voice soft and cracked, heavy with that fractured affection. “It doesn’t have to match the fantasy exactly. I took matters into my own hands… and look where we are. You’re inside me. That means something. That means everything.”

He shifted slightly, a quiet, wet sound escaping as your cock twitched inside his used hole, but he only pressed closer, legs tangled with yours, arms wrapping around your shoulders in a possessive cuddle. His lips found yours. gentle at first, then deeper, kissing you with slow, obsessive tenderness like you were lovers already, acting like that violent mess that happened just moments before never happened.

“You feel so good still inside me,” he murmured against your mouth between kisses, hips giving a tiny, lazy roll that kept you buried deep. “Warm. I can feel your cum leaking a little…” he laughs a little.

Choso tucked his head under your chin, black hair spilling across your chest, body relaxing fully against yours. One hand stroked lazily up and down your side while the other stayed curled possessively around your neck.

“Shh, don’t worry,” he whispered, pressing another soft kiss to your collarbone, voice dreamy and completely delusional. “yuji doesn’t have to know anything. This is our secret. Every night from now on I’ll come here after he falls asleep. I’ll crawl into your bed just like this… and you’ll hold me.. I’ll wake up right next to you. Perfect.”

He smiled against your skin utterly convinced.

“You’ll learn to love this too,” he said quietly, cuddling even closer, legs tightening around you to keep you locked in place. “You already do. Your body knows. It gave me everything I needed. We’re together now. Really together.”

Choso let out a contented sigh, eyes drifting half-closed, content to stay right there,your cock still nestled deep inside his cum-filled hole, his body draped over yours.

He kissed you one more time, slow and sweet, murmuring against your lips.

“I love you… (name). Sleep now. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

[stainedkai]

stalker! choso kamo x male reader

(1/2) part 2

synopsis : yuji’s quiet older brother choso has been obsessed with you since the first night you visited their apartment. What started as stolen glances quickly turned into stalking, theft, and nightly visits to your place using the spare key he took from your bag. He’s built an entire fantasy around you — until the night you come home early and catch him in the act.

Tags: DARK THEMES. non-con to dub-con, stalking, obsessive choso, yandere behavior, bottom! choso, possesive behavior ,really delusional choso. clothes sniffing, jerking off (probably way more I forgot)

————————————————————————

You’d only been to yuji’s apartment once, but that single evening had carved itself into choso’s mind.

It was a random tuesday night, the kind where the air outside still carried the chill of early spring and the streetlights buzzed faintly overhead. yuji had texted you after a brutal study session at the campus library: “Dude come over, my place is like 10 mins away and my older brother always stocks snacks. You’ll like choso, he’s super chill even if he looks kinda scary lol.” You’d laughed at the message, shoulders aching from hours hunched over notes, and replied with a quick “bet” before shoving your laptop into your bag.

Choso had been in the kitchen when the two of you walked through the door. He was rinsing a mug, black hair loose and messy around his shoulders, wearing an oversized gray hoodie that swallowed his frame. The moment he heard your voice—low, easy, laced with that tired laugh, he froze. water ran over his hands, forgotten.

yuji kicked off his shoes. “Yo, bro! This is my friend I was telling you about. We’ve got that group project together.”

You stepped into the light of the living room, offering a casual wave and a smile that reached your eyes. “Hey, man. Nice to meet you. yuji talks about you like you’re some kind of plug or something.”

Choso’s throat tightened. He managed a nod, awkward and stiff, the way he always did around people who weren’t yuji. “…Hello.” His voice came out quieter than intended, almost hoarse. He couldn’t stop staring. The way your jacket hung open over a plain black t-shirt. The faint scent of rain and cheap cologne that clung to you. The easy slope of your shoulders, the way your hair fell when you ran a hand through it. Everything about you was too much for him right now.

You didn’t notice. Why would you? You were just yuji’s friend. Good friends. the kind who made snack runs at 2 a.m. and bitched about professors over cheap ramen. You dropped onto the couch like you belonged there, legs spread comfortably, and started arguing with yuji about which horror movie to put on while choso retreated to the kitchen to “grab snacks.”

He didn’t grab snacks right away. He stood behind the counter, gripping the edge until his knuckles went white, listening to your laugh echo through the thin walls. His heart hammered in a rhythm that felt foreign and addictive. When he finally brought over the bowl of chips and a couple of sodas, his fingers brushed yours as he handed you one. The contact lasted half a second. It burned.

That night was the spark. The obsession didn’t bloom slowly. it ignited in choso.

he’d always been the quiet older brother. The one who faded into the background, calm and reserved, content to watch over yuji with a fierce, protective loyalty that ran deeper than blood. Family was everything to him. But you… you weren’t family. Not yet.

He started with watching. It was easy enough. Your apartment was only three blocks away in that rundown off-campus complex with the flickering hallway bulb that never got fixed. yuji mentioned your schedule in passing once or twice—“My buddy’s got library nights on tuesdays and thursdays, dude always crashes hard after.” choso memorized it.

The first time he followed you home, he told himself it was nothing. Just making sure yuji’s friend got back safe. He kept his hood up, hands shoved deep in his pockets, blending into the shadows between the dumpsters and the chain-link fence across the street. Your window glowed on the second floor. He stood there for hours, unmoving, eyes fixed on the silhouette behind the cheap blinds. When your light finally clicked off around 1 a.m., he didn’t leave right away. He stayed until the sky started to pale, breathing in the cold air that still somehow carried traces of you.

Night after night, it became ritual. He learned the creak of the stairs in your building by listening from the alley. He learned the exact time you usually killed the lights. Sometimes he’d see your shadow pass the window,pacing while on a call, or slumped over your desk. Each glimpse fed the static in his veins until it felt like his whole body was vibrating with it.

He told himself it was protective. yuji cared about you. That made you important. Family-adjacent. The lie tasted sweet on his tongue.

But lies only hold for so long.

The stealing started a week later, on your second visit to their shared apartment.

You’d slung your backpack onto the couch without a second thought while you and yuji raided the fridge, arguing loudly over whether pineapple belonged on pizza. Choso lingered in the doorway, pretending to scroll on his phone. His eyes flicked to the bag. The front pocket was half-open. Careless. Trusting.

His fingers moved before his brain caught up. He slipped them inside and closed around cool metal—a spare key on a plain ring. Not your main one, just the backup you kept for emergencies. He palmed it smoothly and retreated to his room before either of you noticed.

You blamed yourself later when you couldn’t find it. “Shit, I must’ve dropped it somewhere. Whatever, I’ll get a new one.”

Choso used it the very next afternoon while you were in class.

The key turned silently in the lock. His pulse thundered in his ears as he stepped inside your apartment for the first time. It smelled like you—faint sweat from gym clothes, that same cheap cologne, leftover takeout in the trash. The air felt thicker, warmer, alive with your absence.

He didn’t touch anything obvious at first. He wandered like a ghost through the small space. the tiny kitchen with dishes still in the sink, the living room with your gaming controller tossed on the couch, the bathroom where your towel hung damp from the morning shower.

Then he reached the bedroom.

Your bed was unmade, sheets rumpled from where you’d rolled out of them. Choso stood in the doorway for a long minute, just breathing it in. He crossed to the laundry basket in the corner. A black hoodie lay on top, the one you’d been wearing the night you first met. He picked it up with trembling hands and pressed the collar to his face. Your scent flooded his lungs. salt, fabric softener, something uniquely you. His cock twitched hard in his sweats, almost instantly.

He didn’t fight it.

Choso sat on the edge of your bed, knees weak, and shoved the hoodie against his nose with one hand while the other palmed himself through his clothes. The fantasy hit him full force for the first time, vivid and merciless.

In his head, you didn’t come home to an empty apartment. You came home early. You caught him there, standing guilty in your bedroom with your stolen hoodie in his hands. But instead of yelling or calling the cops, your expression shifted. Your eyes darkened with something raw and dangerous. You said his name—“Choso”—low and rough, the way you said it when you were tired but still smiling at yuji’s dumb jokes.

Then you stepped closer. No hesitation. You pushed him back onto the bed with one firm hand on his chest. Your body was heavier than his, solid muscle from whatever sports or training you did. You pinned his wrists above his head with one of your warm hands, leaning down until your breath ghosted his ear.

“You’re sick,” you’d growl, voice thick with mock disgust and real hunger. “Breaking into my place like a desperate little freak. You think I haven’t noticed you watching my window every night? You think I don’t know you took my key?”

Choso whimpered into the hoodie, hips jerking up into his own palm as the fantasy sharpened. In his mind, you didn’t stop at words. You shoved his sweats down roughly, freeing his aching cock. You stroked him once, twice—mean and dry at first—before spitting into your hand and doing it again, faster. “Look at you. Already leaking for me. Pathetic.”

He’d bite back a moan, but you’d force his mouth open with your thumb. “No hiding. Not anymore. You’re mine now. Every time yuji drags me over to your place, you’re gonna sit there acting normal while my cum is still dripping out of your ass from the night before.”

The fantasy crested hard. Choso came with a choked gasp, biting down on the sleeve of your hoodie to muffle the sound. Thick ropes of cum spilled over his fist and onto your sheets. He kept the fabric pressed to his face through the aftershocks, inhaling you like oxygen while his body trembled.

Afterward, shame flickered—but only faintly. He cleaned up meticulously, folding the hoodie exactly as he’d found it and tucking it back into the basket. He even smoothed your sheets, though the wet spot he’d left made his stomach twist with dark satisfaction. He took one more thing before leaving: a single black sock from the basket. The left one. You’d notice the pair being incomplete less than if both vanished.

He went back every few days after that.

The key became his lifeline. He’d slip in during your afternoon classes, heart racing every time the lock clicked. He learned the layout intimately. which floorboard creaked near the bed, how the shower curtain rings sounded when he tested them, the exact drawer where you kept your boxers. He started taking more. A half-used bottle of your body wash from the shower shelf—he’d pour a little into a small container he kept at home so he could smell like you when he showered. The sticky note you’d left on yujis fridge once that said “thanks for the answere, dude” in your messy handwriting. He kept that in a small box under his bed, running his thumb over the ink until the edges frayed.

Some days he’d crawl fully into your bed. He’d lie on his stomach, face buried in your pillow, and hump the mattress slowly while whispering your name like a broken prayer. “Please… just once… let me feel you…” His hips would grind down harder, imagining your weight pinning him, your cock stretching him open while you called him every filthy name he deserved. He’d come untouched sometimes, just from the scent and the fantasy, then lick the mess off your sheets with trembling shame and arousal twisting together.

The fantasies evolved, growing darker and more detailed with each visit.

Sometimes in his head you were angry—furious at the invasion. You’d slam him against the wall the second the door closed behind you, hand around his throat just tight enough to make stars burst behind his eyes. “You’ve been stalking me, haven’t you? Jerking off in my bed like a fucking animal.” You’d force him to his knees and make him suck you off right there in the entryway, tears streaming down his face while you fucked his throat and told him how disgusting he was. How he didn’t deserve it but you’d give it to him anyway because he was too pathetic to stop.

Other times the fantasy was slower, crueler in its tenderness. You’d catch him, but instead of rage you’d smirk like you’d known all along and had been waiting for him to slip up. You’d pull him into your lap on the couch, hands roaming under his hoodie while you whispered, “Been waiting for you to break, choso. always so quiet and proper. But you’re just a desperate slut for me, aren’t you?” You’d edge him for hours, stroking him slow and stopping every time he got close, until he was crying and begging. Only then would you finally fuck him deep, relentless thrusts that had him clawing at your back, moaning your name like it was the only word he knew.

He always came hardest to the versions where you claimed him completely. Where you bit his neck hard enough to bruise while pounding into him from behind, growling that he belonged to you now. That he couldn’t hide anymore. That every family dinner at his apartment would be torture because he’d be sitting there across from you, hole still sore and leaking, trying to act normal while you smiled innocently and asked him to pass the salt.

Back in reality, Choso remained the awkward older brother.

yuji still brought you over every couple of weeks. You’d show up with that same easy smile, bumping knees with Choso on the couch during movie nights, completely oblivious. “You good, man? You seem kinda zoned out tonight.” Your voice was casual, concerned in that friendly way that made Choso’s stomach flip.

He’d nod, forcing a small, tight smile. “Yeah. Just tired.” Under the table, his nails dug crescents into his own thigh to keep from shaking. The fantasy played on loop behind his eyes the entire time, you dragging him into the bathroom the second yuji stepped out for more drinks, bending him over the sink and covering his mouth while you fucked him quick and dirty. “Shut up. Don’t want your little brother hearing what a whore his big bro is for me.”

After you left, Choso would excuse himself to his room and jerk off again, sometimes twice, biting his own forearm so yuji wouldn’t hear the broken whimpers. He’d stare at the collection hidden in his drawer: your spare key, the sock, the empty body wash bottle now refilled with his own cum mixed with traces of yours, the sticky note. He’d press the fabric or paper to his lips and whisper, “Soon.”

He still hadn’t touched you. Not really. Not skin to skin beyond that accidental brush of fingers weeks ago.

But the obsession had gotten worse.

He knew your class schedule better than his own. He knew the friends you texted late at night from the glimpses he caught when you left your phone on the table at yuji’s . He even started following you on rare nights when you went out with the group. still keeping distance, always in the shadows, making sure no one got too close to what was his.

yuji remained unaware. “Choso’s been acting weirder than usual lately,” he’d joke to you once while Choso pretended not to listen from the kitchen. “But he’s harmless. Just a little.. uhrm.. protective, y’know?”

Protective. The word made Choso smile faintly to himself, small and fractured. If only yuji knew how deep that protection had twisted.

Choso waited in the dark now, more patient than ever. He had the key. He had the fantasies. He had pieces of you scattered through his life like talismans.

One day soon, the waiting would end. You’d come home to find him there. not hiding, not running. Maybe you’d finally see the hunger in his eyes that he’d buried under awkward silences and quiet nods. Maybe you’d push him down. Maybe you’d hate him for it. Maybe you’d want him just as badly.

Either way, Choso was ready.

He’d drop to his knees on your shitty apartment carpet without hesitation. He’d let you do whatever you wanted—use him, break him, claim him. Because in the quiet, obsessive corners of his mind, you already owned every piece of him.

You just didn’t know it yet.

And when you finally did… Choso would make sure you never let go.

[monstersholygrail]

Subby Yandere!Boxer gave himself the nickname ‘Big Dog’ in the underground fighting ring as an excuse for you to litter him with bite marks before every match. He’ll still completely still like the good boy he is waiting for you to straddle him on the bench in the locker room.

The minute you go he’s scooping your flesh firmly in his hands, pulling you tight against his hardening bulge. He moans and groans like a freaked out slut as your teeth sink into his throat, chest, shoulders, arms, and hips. Anywhere that’s visible really. Making your way down slowly, dragging it out to torture him, teasing him till he’s fully rock hard.

His hips buck up. The tip of his cock already leaking with pre. But all you do is kiss the sensitive bulge, knowing he’s about to take you against these lockers. Another ritual of his that is unarguable.

Subby Yandere!Boxer always gathers a little bit of your cum before the way match or even just a practice. Whether it’s from fucking you raw or eating out your precious pussy he makes sure to scoop up some of your cum and fill his entire mouth guard with it.

That way he’ll continue to get the taste of you filling up his mouth throughout the whole match. Call it a good luck charm to whatever you want but he won’t step an inch into that ring until your cum is gushing out from the sides of his mouth guard and dripping on his tongue.

Subby Yandere!Boxer can’t get enough of fucking you in the locker room showers late at night. Usually everyone is asleep by then but sometimes he knows Grumpy Yan!Boxer like to practice alone at midnight.

So on nights like that he’ll sneak away with you to the shower closest to the door so there’s no way to avoid the sound. Not that vicinity would be a problem anyway, you were always more vocal when you thought that there was no risk of anyone hearing or being around.

A fact he used to his benefit as he folds you in half against the shower, keeping your body open to him with an arm locked under each of your knees while he pounds into you.

The girth of his shaft splitting you apart. Something you were actually shouting out your praises for at that very moment. The sound of your back hitting the wall with a wet hard plap is drowned out by your wailing pleasure.

Fuck, he loved when you got so desperate like this. He almost always gets lost in you, so deeply drunk on your pussy. But then he’ll catch it, under all the noise you two made, the creak of a door. It’s him. Grumpy Yan!Boxer. So of course, to rub it in, he had to pick up pace.

Pistoning his cock so deep inside you he reaches places you didn’t even know existed. Ruthlessly keeping pace till you explode, squirting your release heavier than the shower pours over you two. Subby Yan!Boxer follows after you with pleasure pulsing through him and triumph thrumming in his veins.

Subby Yandere!Boxer may be the most submissive (yet bratty) man anyone’s ever met but that doesn’t mean he never lets his own frustrations get the better of him. Sometimes when he’s been too long without getting a taste of you and his usual tricks to get your attention don’t work he’ll snap. Venting his frustrations, hitting heavybags till sand spills from them.

Then when you finally do arrive to calm him down he grips his wrappings with his teeth, rips them off, and stuffs the sweaty fabric in your mouth. Then he brings you down onto the mat to make you choke on them and his dick as he finally stuffs it back into your tight cunt after forever.

But by the time you both cum he’s whimpering with tears in his eyes as he kisses and worships your body in appreciation for coming back to him.

Subby Yandere!Boxer is always asked by fans what his favorite form of practice is. But he can never tell them that his favorite by far is practicing punch combos with his tongue while eating you out. Down, fake right, dodge left has his tongue dragging down to your entrance before swirling tight figure eights against your clit.

His opponent is your writhing body as you buck and squirm away from his brutal tongue fucking. Going over his combos time and time again till them and your cries of ecstasy as you cum countless times are burned into his brain.

Even when you’re hissing from the pain of overstimulation and clawing at his back he doesn’t stop until practice is over. It’s what you taught him after all.

But he can’t say all that to the fans though so he just explains as best he can. ‘Endurance Training’ he calls it. With a cocky grin painted on his face that makes them all swoon.

[idealiae]

in which, you carve your name into his flesh.

nsfw 18+, tw blood, masochistic yandere

“Are you sure about this?”

Apprehensively, you fiddle with the blade. A beautiful, ornate dagger, encrusted with jewels, complete with custom engravings he’d done by hand. It pleases him — how you’re holding his gift, how you’re draped in his clothes, how those dazzling eyes of yours are focused only on him.

“Sylvan —”

“[Name],” he says, and it comes out like stolen breath. “Please.”

You sigh. “Fine.”

Climbing onto the bed, you straddle his lap. He slips his shirt off, tossing it to the side carelessly.

Scars, big and small, streak across his flesh. With tender eyes and gentle hands, you ghost your fingers along them all. From his navel, up his abs, coming to rest over his chest. He shudders, just as he did the first time you touched them.

His right hand comes around your waist, while his other grasps your wrist. Tilting his head to the side, he allows you easier access to his neck, guiding the dagger into position.

“Don’t worry,” he reassures you. “Take your time.”

“I just… What if I cut too deep? What if you die? I…”

He chuckles, drinking in the sight of your worried expression. Only you would be this concerned for someone like him.

“Darling, I’ve survived so much worse.”

“If it gets too bad —”

“— I’ll tell you to stop, I promise. Besides, I won’t die. Enhanced healing, remember?”

Though not entirely convinced, he watches as your resolve solidifies. Your back straightens, and your grip on the blade tightens. You draw the first droplet of blood over the edge of the faded brand.

Such a shallow cut barely stings.

“You’ll have to go deeper than that, love,” he urges. “Else, it won’t scar, and you’ll have to do it all over again.”

Grumbling, you go over the line with shaking hands. When that’s done, you move on to the second cut. Then, the third, and it goes on until you’ve completed the first letter of your name.

And by god, it hurts.

The sharp dagger digs mercilessly into his flesh. He can feel every tremble of your fingers, every time you jerk your hands. He can feel his blood dripping from the open wound, rolling down his chest and staining the sheets. His heart pounds. His cock twitches.

Obviously, you feel it. Amusement replaces the worry on your face. Your eyebrow raises, the corner of your lip quirking up.

Guilelessly, he smiles back.

With newfound confidence, you press on. The tangy, metallic taste of blood fills the air, and the pain only grows with each stroke. Nevertheless, he sits nice and still for you, careful not to let anything show.

The funny thing is — it hadn’t hurt at all back then, when they branded him. When they forced red-hot metal onto his neck, stamping his subject code onto his skin as if he were cattle. He had stopped feeling pain long before that. Stopped feeling anything, really. Stopped being human the day they locked him up and called him a number instead of a name.

But now?

His head spins in the most electrifying way. Sparks shoot from his neck to the tips of his fingers, and all the way down to his toes. He can hear the surging blood in his ears, taste his jackrabbiting heart in his mouth. Toes curling, his grip on your waist tightens. A low groan escapes him.

You pause. “Are you alright?”

He’s never felt more alive.

“Go on,” he murmurs. “You’re almost done.”

Do you know how long he’s dreamed of this? Of ridding himself from this hideous brand, of replacing it with your name in its stead? Do you know how good you look, covered all over in his blood?

Do you know that he’s always been yours?

He nearly sobs out loud in relief when you declare that you’ve finished, setting the dagger down on the nightstand beside the bed. Pulling you closer by the small of your back, he devours you with a desperate kiss.

“The wound —!” you protest, “First-aid —”

“— Can wait.”

He kisses you like a man half-starved. Because to him, it’s true. He needs you — needs every inch of your skin on his, needs the very air you breathe. He needs to make up for lost time. He needs —

You grind down hard on his aching cock. His mind goes blank, hips stuttering, a breathy moan leaving his lips. His pants are already soaked through. The heat pooling in his lower abdomen intensifies.

One of your hands sling over his shoulder, while the other rises to cup his cheek. Your touch sears. He leans into it, burying his face into your chest, drowning himself in your scent.

His voice, muffled by the fabric of your clothes, vibrates against your skin. “[Name], I — Ngh…”

Head dipping down, you lap at his earlobe, nibbling the shell of his ear. A full-bodied shiver wracks his frame. All of his limbs tense. His vision swims.

He’s close. He’s so, so close.

“Wanna know something?” you whisper. Your warm breath fans out over his cheek, your voice going directly into his brain.

He nods quickly, enthusiastically, body reacting before he even properly registers the words.

You laugh. It’s divine.

“... I carved a heart next to my name.”

He whites out.

When he comes to, it’s to the sticky mess in his pants and his softening dick. He whines as you attempt to get off of him, sluggishly pulling you back down.

You bat his hands away, huffing. “Stop that. You’ll bleed out, at this rate.”

“Don’t care,” he mutters. “Want you…”

Tightly, he clings onto you, face pressed into your torso, both sets of limbs wrapped around you as if he were a koala. You are so precious to him. He loves you so much, more than you’ll ever know. The thought of you was the only thing that kept him going during all those years he spent in captivity, all that time he spent suffering as some madman’s lab rat.

They called him their saviour but you…

You are his salvation.

And he will never, ever let you go again.

[nymphaemisery]

Warnings: MDNI, NONCON -> DUBCON (coerced), F!Reader, noncon face sitting, forced orgasm, edging, cunnilingus, captivity, yandere themes, obsession, possessiveness, oral f. receiving, clit play, teasing, block me if uncomfortable + not proofread.

do not romanticize or normalize dark content irl.

Yandere!Captor who forces you to sit on his face, he absolutely loves it, being smothered by your cunt is an absolute dream for him.

Your hands are tied behind your back as he tightens his grip on your thighs, holding you down, pressing his lips against the fleshy pads of your cunt before he makes contact with your clit, giving it a few smooches that make you visibly flinch before he captures it into his mouth.

You let out a bunch of protests, struggling against his face as he holds you tight, he would forcefully drag you down whenever you'd lift your hips— breaking contact between your cunt and his lips. It earns a dissatisfactory groan from him, brows furrowed as he grips you tighter until his knuckles were turning white.

He connects his lips to your cunt again, dragging his tongue from your slit to your clit slowly before swirling it around the bud.

When he feels you trying to break away again— even though you can't— he'll use his teeth, clamping his teeth down onto your clit not too harsh that it'll hurt you, but just enough to cause pain which makes your thighs give up reflexively, causing you to lose balance and sit snuggly on his face.

You quickly try to lift yourself up, but you fail when he nibbles on your sensitive bud, making your thighs tremble and your hips move in an effort to soothe the jolts of pain travelling through your spine.

You could feel his smirk before he stops nibbling on it, giving it small flicks with his tongue before he presses it flat against your clit and closes his mouth around it, slowly licking up and down as he tries relieve the same pain he caused.

You let out a sigh of relief as the sharp pain slowly fades, involuntarily bucking your hips against his face without realisation as it feels very soothing.

The wetness seeps out of you in embarassing amounts, which only serves as a device to mock you later when he does this all over again.

“Oh fuck— she's soaking f'me.” You hear his muffled voice, his breath felt warm in between your thights.

You drop your head in shame, because you can hear how disgustingly wet you've gotten due to his actions, the slurrping noises echo in your ears like a mockery and a reminder of how your body chooses to betray you everytime.

All because of him.

He feels his cock twitch in his pants, getting harder and harder each and every second. But he stays focused, continuing to devour your cunt like a man starved.

He groans into it, causing vibrations to shoot up in your core, making you shiver in an unwelcomed satisfaction.

He drinks up all the juices you were leaking like it was nectar, letting out satisfactory noises as if he's eating a fancy meal. You're chest breaks out involuntary moans no matter how much you try to contain them, which only makes him feral knowing that he's the reason, it makes him feel very validated to and egoistic.

“Mhm? At least some part of you is honest with me.” He mutters, rubbing salt into your wound, adding more to the shame you were feeling.

He presses kisses all over it, sighing when he feels your clit flutter in his mouth when he traps it in his mouth.

“Fuck, you're so divine baby. I love you so so so so so much.” He adds breathlessly, face flustered as he dines on your cunt.

You swallow the lump in your throat, toes curling in pleasure when you feel a familiar knot tighten in your stomach. You start squirming again, not wanting the knot in your stomach to snap and betray you wholly.

But it was impossible not when he's below you, working his mouth like he's desperate.

You brace yourself for the impact.

Yet, nothing happens, in fact, you feel the absence of his mouth which makes you look down, he had pulled away right before you could cum.

The feeling in your stomach fades, but not in a way that you expected it to, it left behind a frustrating ache that gnawed in your gut, it made you irritated. You let out a huff in disappointment reflexively.

You thought maybe he'd stop, maybe he's had his fill? whatever that means.

You expect him to pull you off him, but he doesn't do that, he reattaches himself again, once again capturing your cunt wholly, tongue prodding at your entrance as he slowly tries shoving the wet muscles in.

You're left confused, wondering what he's planning, but nonetheless you feel the knot form in your stomach again.

You expect it to snap, but once again, it's abruptly interrupted, leaving a sense of frustration behind. You open your mouth to question— but you're quickly shut up when you feel his mouth on you again.

He repeats it everytime you're near a few more times.

It leaves you more frustrated than ever, overriding every other emotion. You whine in disappointment as your orgasm is abruptly stolen once again.

You let out a frustrated cry, brows furrowed as you feel tears welling up in your eyes, you press your hips down, pushing your cunt against his mouth involuntarily as the irritation of being denied your bliss was driving you insane.

“What is it baby? Wanna cum?” He asked, huffing against your bud. You looked down, staring into his eyes as he gave you a smirk.

He was doing this on purpose.

“If you don't use your voice, I'll just have to keep on doing this.” He mumbled, pressing a kiss to your bottom lips.

You stayed quiet, trying to break away from his grip, hands tugging against the rope to loosen it but it doesn't work.

He starts his shenanigan once again, maneuvering you down and pressing you flush to his face.

You gasp, feeling your high build up slowly, you squirm against his face, pressing your cunt flat against his mouth but he turns his head away, causing you to almost collapse forward in exasperation.

“Please...” You bite your lip, voice coming out meekly.

“Please what baby?” He asks, smooching your inner thigh. “You want to cum?” He adds.

You nod, head moving up and down as you look at him with a neediness you've never experienced before.

“Beg.” He comands, thumb drawing circles on your thigh.

He is so fucking mean, asking you to beg for something you didn't want in the first place— usually he'd make you cum without asking you for anything, but today, he shifted his plans, dead set on making you betray your own self.

You didn't want to, but you know that he'll torture you like this for hours if you didn't.

“P-please, I want to cum.” You murmer, voice shaky as he drags his tongue across your slit after hearing that.

“More.” He tuts.

“Please, I wanna cum, I want to cum so badly. Please let me cum.” You beg, humiliation churning in your gut. “Oh fuck—!” You choke on your words when he pushes his tongue inside you. You could feel the warm muscle invade your depths causing you to see stars, your cunt clenches around it, trying to grip it but it causes the soft muscle to be pushed out instead.

He continues working his mouth, soft pants leaving from him too as he makes out with your pussy.

“Tell me you love me.” He utters, fingers digging into your flesh, causing a little amount of pain.

You shut your eyes, feeling the same knot build up in your stomach for the nth time.

“I'll stop if you don't. I can play the long game.” He threatens, slowing down but you panic, shaking your head.

“No! Please, I love you, I love you.” You chant frantically, not wanting him to stop as the knot begins to feel like it's about to rip apart.

“I love you— I love you so much! please please please,” You repeat it over and over again, earning a satisfactory groan from him. “Ahh! oh!— fuck fuck—” You choke, letting out a loud moan as your high crashes down on you.

It hit harder than any other orgasm you've experienced before, you collapsed forward due to the sheer intensity, face landing into the soft mattress of the bed that you learnt to call your home.

Your body twitched as you collected yourself, hips bucking into his face, riding your orgasm out. Your thighs trembled, body shaking visibly due to the aftermath of your orgasm.

His hands slide up your waist gently before they come down, he lifts one of your thighs planted on the side of his head to pull himself away from beneath and sits up straight as he turns to look at you.

You collapse to your side, hands still behind your back as you gasp for air, chest back and forth.

He smiles cruelly, pushing you onto your back before undoing his pants and lining himself against your freshly abused cunt, he could see the way it was still swollen, still throbbing in desperation.

“I love you too.” He cooes before pushing himself inside without a warning.

— gojo satoru, geto suguru, yuta okkotsu, yuji itadori, tamsy caines, dabi, katuski bakugo, + feel free to imagine any character you like!

all characters mentioned are all obviously aged up.

[rafayelspet]

this is one of rafayel's favorite moments. the type of evening where the breeze is just right, where the moon is high and bright above, and most importantly, you are with him. no distractions, no work, no outside expectations.

just the two of you, alone. moments like these happens all the time, especially with rafayel. you can't escape from him, not that you would want to anyway. no matter how busy work becomes for you both, no matter how hectic life turns, you know without doubt that rafayel will find time to see you, to hear you, to talk to you. it doesn't matter how far, he'll make it happen.

and he has proven you to be a man that keeps his words and promises, through and through. and even if rafayel spends 24 hours with you, from morning til night, sunday to saturday ; it is never enough for him. he is a greedy, insatiable, selfish man. he wants you all the time.

he wants to hear you talk about your day, about your feelings, about something stupid that made you crash out. he wants to watch you doomscroll on your phone, laughing at stupid videos. he wants to cuddle and wrap you in his arms, his precious little pearl. he wants to caress your waist, your thighs, your arms, your hair, your face -- gods, if he could glue himself to you, he would.

he wants to cook, to eat with you. whenever you get ready, rafayel just absolutely melts every single time. his mind is rambling with thoughts of how lucky he is to have you, of how beautiful your curves are, how ravishing your thighs look, how your skin feels so soft and molds perfectly in his big, graceful painter's hands.

you are his muse, his canvas, his art. and rafayel means it every time. his heart never fails to feel the same intensity as the beginning. and rafayel will never get sick of reminding you of how perfect you fit with him. he'll repeat a thousand times a day if needed, about how he'd die for you.

and the worst thing is, rafayel knows this isn't love. it can't be love -- love is too small and minimal of a word to describe what he feels towards you. rafayel doesn't just want to take care of you, to protect and cherish you. no.

he wants more. it goes beyond bare necessities of life. rafayel needs you like his lungs needs air. his skin just doesn't feel right, if you aren't touching him. his mind can't focus, if your eyes aren't on him. he becomes irrationally impatient with others, if he can't stare at you, at your soft and plump chest. and every time you aren't in his line of sight, he can practically feel his heart breaking, tearing.

rafayel doesn't just simply love you. he is obsessed. a completely obsessed and addicted man. so when you ask him if he would still love you after gaining weight, or going on a diet, or having stretch marks, or pimples -- whatever insecurities, it feels like a stab right in his heart. it wouldn't be love if rafayel only loved your physique. it's not just about the stretch marks, the curves, the bones, the fat -- it's about how you mold perfectly with him.

and the only thing he'll ask in return : your full, undivided, and entire attention.

[heygjo0n]

If Valko isn't wanted in Lads, he should go to Savanaclaw, where they actually value beastmen 💪🏽

[luna-azzurra]

[pencintaapelll]

To go on adventure with him 🌄

[captain-price-returns]

[aceofheartsssss]

How my dumb ass looks wasting my life reading and smiling at my own fanfiction at 1 AM:

[jjba-xr-eader]

Polnareff x reader in...

sharing the bed!

somehow even when he's fatigued, Polnareff still has enough energy to ramble and waffle about anything. He'll be deep in dialogue and just before he hooks his arm in around your body he'll say:

"oh! May I?"

this man loves showing his affection with touch, as long as its fine by you, Polnareff will hold you close to his heart content. eventually he'll get tucked out and fall asleep, if you got out before him he'll give you a gentle kiss on your cheek.

though...

Polnareff is plagued with night terrors in his sleep, he'll call out your name and of his friends' in distress. tossing in turning restlessly, Silver chariot would be summoned on occasion; standing guard over the two of you incase those nightmares of his became reality.

of course, if you ever mention these in the mornings, He'll apologize; guilt in his eyes. but if you attempt to quell them, the most effective method is a firm hand on his shoulder or arm, and stable voice easing him into reality - - or at least a calmer dream.

On the rare occasion that his subconscious is blessed by pleasant dreams, you'll hear Polnareff giggle to himself with a content smile and maybe whispering your name lovingly - - happy in his own Polnareff-land with his lover.

[nixdvn]

Business Partners

HEAR ME OUT: they're both bosses, they're smart, they're cunning, they look cool asf, like RLLY cool. Genuinely the biggest aurafarmers when it comes to status.

I imagine these two would go drive off and have meaningful conversations after a gala dinner or a big business meeting or a charity event, DO YOU SEE MY VISIONN??? Like maybe they'd get a few drinks in, Valko can visit Sylus' base in N109 and I imagine the Twins would welcome him too.

Maybe they'd try to outrank each other, friendly competition though because their masculinity ain't fragile, they'd 100% laugh at idiot podcast bros omg. THERE'S SO MUCH POTENTIAL. THE FRIENDSHIP AND BUSINESS PARTNER POTENTIAL.

Anyways, if I put my MC in the picture, she's 100% confused at what they're talking about bc the mind of business alpha males is too complicated for Ms Hunter. That's all folks.

[always-just-red]

How my MC looks trying to get in on these conversations I fear 😔🥀