⥠âË⧠đĽ.đđđđđđ đđđđđđ. doesn't realise that his mean girl fuck buddy is obsessed with him. . . & is dropping off bodies in his dorm for him to feed.
Ë ŕŁŞŕŤŽâ yandere!reader :: toxic obsession :: dark aspects :: possessiveness :: murder :: violence :: reader is fucking insane :: blood drinking :: smut :: obsessions with being killed by a vampire. . . :: p in v :: fuck buddies :: blood play :: handjob :: biting :: public sex :: satoru drinks from dead animals :: guys something is wrong with reader ࣪á ࣪Ë
Ë ŕŁŞę° VAMPIRE NERDJO ęą ËË struggled with his bloodlust day in and day out. one thing that vampires often glossed over was the sheer, carnal, instability of being a young vampire. think hormonesâ but instead of sex, risks and emotional meltdowns, you're two seconds from draining your peers down in the middle of the hallway.
satoru often distracted himself with his studies. nose buried in a book and hands writing equations and essays until they cramped. anything that kept him from the dryness in his throat, the swelling in his fangs, and the disgusting, devastating need to tear into something fresh and tear it open until it stopped squirming.
another thing he could distract those violent thoughts with? sex.
Ë ŕŁŞę° VAMPIRE NERDJO ęą ËË wished he could say that his sex life was something he could ground himself in. but alas, that's where you came in.
pretty, preppy, popular and so. fucking. pretentious.
the perfect princess in his bio lab and unfortunately his lab partner. with more insults on your sharp tongue than charms on your nails. as bratty as you were beautiful. something infuriatingly and infatuatingâ wrapped in a pink ribbon and audaciously high stilettos.
he fucked you once. back of the library. you just pushes him too far that night and before he knew it; your shoulders were cramped into the bookshelf and your knees were over his shoulders. heels digging into his shoulder blades and pretty, sharp nails gripping onto the shelf. as he pulled your skimpy little panties aside and fucked you with the kind of dick that stupid nerds like him shouldn't have.
satoru remembers the way you went dumb on his cock. how you squeezed, and squirted, and sobbed for him until every bratty trace had slid off in drool on your limp tongue.
fuck, he remembers how he felt every thrum of your heart, your pulse. how he wanted to sink his fangs so far into your throat that you'd never bitch at him again.
he didn't, of course.
he wished he stopped there. wished he didn't come back as much as he did. wished he could just say no to the campus' bratty princess and her attitude problem.
but alas, he loved your pussy. and loved fucking the brattiness right out of it. even if you gave him hell for it.
Ë ŕŁŞę° VAMPIRE NERDJO ęą ËË didn't know that your bitchiness concealed something deeper. darker:
obsession.
it frustrated you at first. the fact that the loser nerd was clouding up your mind more than the latest gossip and your dreadful assignments.
it was whenever he glared at you over those rimless glasses. you got all hot and bothered. had to stop yourself from pressing your thighs together under your plaited skirt.
it was when he answered questions in class. so confident and calm. how his voice thrummed a chord in you that had you abandoning a party just to hump your pillow to the thought of him.
it was the way he never backed down from your attitude. how he dished it back. bit back. no one had ever done that before. most guys either gave you what you wanted or flat out ignored you.
satoru though. . . he was different.
so really, should you be blamed for all the pictures you took of him? for that pen you stole from him to touch yourself with in the girls' bathroom? for all the little souvenirs you started collecting?
you knew his routine. knew his classes. knew his favourite cafe and the exact order of his drink: something sweet.
you could be sweet for him. so sweet. if he'd just let you.
Ë ŕŁŞę° VAMPIRE NERDJO ęą ËË was supposedly the hunterâ and yet he didn't know he was being stalked. didn't know that hungry eyes lingered from beneath mascara and perfect eyeliner.
you followed him whenever you had the chance. just to learn more about him. his likes, dislikes, anything that you could use to make yourself perfect for him. the object of his every desire. to drive his obsession with you the same way he had so crudely ruined your mind.
the nerd wanted you obsessed with him? you'd show him obsession.
so imagine your disgust when one day, in the dead of night when all had gone quiet and even the insects vowed silenceâ you heard it. soft, and strained.
"s-sat. . . satoru. . ."
coming from around the dorm building. somewhere concealed by the hedges. the gardens.
was he. . . fucking someone else?
jealousy spurred in your sinner heart as you drove forward before you could stop yourself. somehow not breaking an ankle in your high heels as you slipped through the hedges until you could catch sight of him.
sure enoughâ a shock of white hair caught your attention. pale hands pinning another's to the brick wall. his tall body hunched over him.
hell burned in your eyes. in your balled hands and your nails that dug into your palms. how could he.
how could heâ
the person's eyes were wide. not with pleasure.
terror.
they spot you lingering. locked eyes with your cold glare. reached shaky fingers out in a gesture that you could only decipher as a cry for help.
and only then did you see the deep, dark liquid dripping down their throat. exactly where satoru buried his face into.
the street lamps glinted at just the right angle. showed just enough.
your eyes widened when you realised exactly what it was.
when you saw his fangs. heard him gulping.
without a doubt, that was blood.
satoru's jaw was latched onto their throat. his nails digging into their wrists. his adam's apple bobbing as he. . .
drank.
your mind scrambled. nerves tense. muscles frozen.
you should have ran.
you should have ran, should have screamed, should have jumped out of your very skin because what you were staring at was something that wasn't human.
instead?
you. . . pressed your thighs together.
and vanished from the scene as quick as you could. not from fear, but because of the throbbing dampness in your panties.
you weren't stupid. you knew exactly what that was. what he was.
and it. . . aroused you.
Ë ŕŁŞę° VAMPIRE NERDJO ęą ËË didn't bat an eye when your attitude problem seemed to grow by the day. he knew you by now. knew what you wanted. you pissed him off to get a reaction out of him. so that he could push you down into a desk in some abandoned classroom and fuck you until your knees jittered and your pretty panties were stained in his cum.
what he didn't realise was that you had another incentive now.
a new obsession.
after that night outside the dorm buildings, you dived head first into research. the biology of it allâ vampirism.
folklore, documentaries, myths, whatever you could get your hands on. call it a hypothesis.
and what's the first thing about any hypothesis? field research. so of course you dedicated more hours to your watchful activities over your nerdy classmate.
you saw it again. saw him drain someone dry. saw him clean his fangs in the morning. saw him drink from birds in the night. your theory was correct.
and it fucking turned you on.
made you wanna be in their shoes. the bird in his clawed grasp. the bloodbag clutched in his palms. the victim under his fangs as he drained you dry of everything you had to offer.
for someone who just found out that their hatefuck buddy wasn't human, you sure had your priorities straight.
Ë ŕŁŞę° VAMPIRE NERDJO ęą ËË wasn't quite sure what was going on. lately, he hasn't had to go rob a hospital, catch a bird, or pick out a new classmate to sink his fangs into.
they were delivered right to his door.
dead birds outside his dorm complex. in the gardens. convenient. with finals approaching, he never really questioned it. too buzzed on caffeine and too tired from hours hunched over a textbook to really care.
what did have him questioning, though?
the bodies.
dumped outside where the birds were. on the verge of death. puncture wounds in their throat and bleeding out.
he never could control himself.
feed first, ask questions later.
he'd drag them into his dorm. lay them out on his bed and feast to his heart's content. until his legs were shaking and he was gasping.
only then would he look at the puncture wounds. another vampire in town?
maybe trying to make an ally? he'd have to find them and personally thank them for giving him a little boost for dreadful finals.
little did he know that the "puncture wounds" were inflicted by your favourite pencil.
Ë ŕŁŞę° VAMPIRE NERDJO ęą ËË didn't question the rise in your sexual encounters. how your attitude seemed solely directed on him. how you bitched more, sneered harder, seemingly did everything in your power to drive him up the wall until he snapped and dragged you off to either finger you in an empty hallway or fuck you in the bathroom stall.
didn't question the way you'd grip his hair and bury his face into your neck. how you'd slip into his lap and smother him in yourself. how you wanted to be as close to him as possible.
he thought you needy.
what you really were was desperate.
desperate for him to lose that pesky restraint you noticed he had around you. desperate to snap his control so that he buried his fangs into whatever part of you he desired and drained you dry.
you wanted it. your blood on his fangs. your hands in his hair while he did it. your cunt clenching around his cock too.
let him shatter you, take you, ruin youâ death by his hands started to sound like the sweetest fantasy.
it's what got you squirting around him every time he buried himself balls-deep. what had you sensitive to the smallest touches. with his face buried between your thighs and his glasses fogged.
you'd squeeze around his head. hope you'd allure him enough to lose his mind and bite on your thigh. gorge on your blood like he did your pussy.
if only.
if only.
Ë ŕŁŞę° VAMPIRE NERDJO ęą ËË swore he tasted blood on your lipstick.
you were starting to get desperate. starting to grow tired of squeezing, and squirting, and sobbing for himâ hoping he'd finally lose it. hoping he'd take you in another way that wasn't just fucking you stupid into his mattress.
so that's when you did it. you were already killing off students and dragging their bodies to that same damned gardenâ would this really make you any more of a sinner?
it was just a few droplets. three to be exact. not enough for you to notice. but enough that he would.
you kissed him at every opportunity you had. pushing him into the lockers in the middle of the hallway. crashing your lips into his and loving the way his whole body ticked up. how he froze.
god, a sick part of you wanted him to drain you in front of everyone.
you kissed him in the library, in the study room, the cafeteria, wherever you could get your hands on him just so you could feel his shake on your waist.
bingo.
you might just be getting this nerd obsessed with you after all.
Ë ŕŁŞę° VAMPIRE NERDJO ęą ËË didn't like that thought. the idea of needing you more than for just some desperate fuck to keep his mind off of his bloodlust.
now? he was really starting to imagine you in his bed whenever he pushes another body into his sheets and stained them scarlet.
maybe that's why he didn't stop your bolder touches. how you seemed to stop caring about being seen with him in public. how you wanted him at every hour of the day.
maybe, just maybe.
whatever he was feeling was threading a line on something dangerous.
it's why he didn't stop you when you got touchy with him. one late friday night in the lab. jerking him off under the table when you both should be dedicating the time to your looming research deadline.
instead: his head was tossed back. blunt nails digging into the smooth lab table as his glasses fogged and condensed with his heavy pants.
"fuckâ fuck. 'm gonna cum if you don't stopâ" he huffed, free hand gripping around your wrist as you squeezed him at the base.
your eyes were dilated. dare he say feral. he's been seeing that look from you more and more lately.
it throbbed that prominent underside vein of his.
"yeah, toru?" you cooed, sweet. sweeter than you had been to him all semester.
he wasn't sure why you were taking such a deep interest in him. maybe it was the way he filled you up. the way he fucked you. how desperate he sounded as he fucked his hips up into your hand in a lab where the professor could very well trot back into.
your wrist rotated. something sharp glinted in his peripheral. with his eyes fluttering and his breath heavy, he hadn't had the chance to catch sight of what was happening between his legs beforeâ
he smelt it.
cutting, metallic, oh so fucking sweet.
his stare shot open. wide. pupils and irises shrinking as his eyes snapped down to your hand.
you were bleeding.
worse, you were smiling.
before he could shove you off and scamper awayâ you squeezed around his tip. harsh. with your fucking.
bleeding hand.
"waitâ" he rasped.
your pace turned filthy. squeezing his cock and fucking him with your fist, using your blood as the lube.
your sweet, sinful, sanity-shattering blood.
the gums around his fangs swelled. his nostrils flared. eyes wide and flickering at the ceilingâ and yet all he could do was needily buck into your pumping hand and whine from the back of his throat.
your thumb shoved to his tip. smearing blood with cum as you rubbed at the slit of his cock. squeezed with your other hand at his throbbing balls until his eyes rolled up.
until his fangs were on full display and he almost.
almost.
lost himself and shoved you to the table. buried his fangs into whatever part of you he found first and drained you dry while your hand went limp around his dick.
"oh my god," he croaked, whispy bangs sticking to his forehead and glasses strewn over the bridge of his nose as pleasure and bloodlust crashed on him in a dizzying, devastating splurge of sin.
and you?
still so sweet. still so fucking insane.
jerking him off with your own blood. even as his hips bucked and he snatched you by the wrist. held you tight. as his cock tensed, and trembledâ and finally tipped over the edge.
thick, creamy ropes mixed with the smears of red. pouring down his dick and staining your hand that squeezed him still.
until all that came from his mouth was desperate little whimper.
till all he could think about wasâ
scarlet consumed blue. swallowing his irises into something carnal. violent.
his hand shot to your wrist. cramped it. with his sheer strength he shot to his feet and shoved you into the desk. dug his thumb into your wound and sneered above you as the scent of your blood finally pushed him over the edgeâ
satoru's not sure what made him snap out of it.
he was certain that he'd buried his face into whatever vein or artery he could and drank until you were nothing more but a memory on his tongue.
he didn't know when he pulled away.
when he scampered off.
all he knew was that his back was slamming into the locked door of his dark dorm once he was inside. that his pants were still unbuttoned and that he'd haphazardly shoved his cock back into them when he pried himself away from you.
his breathing heavy. ragged.
hand on his heart.
eyes fixed to the ceiling.
cock still stained in your sweet. . . sinful. blood.
a trembling hand raked down his face as he caught his breath.
did you see his eyes? see his fangs? did you understand that he was about to bring you to death rather than an orgasm?
his exhaustion and shock told him you didn't know. that you didn't know a damn thing. that you were just a crazy bitch who was into some freaky blood play.
and that he just overreacted.
yeah. overreacted. he needed a shower. needed to think of anything else but you.
you.
obsessed, crazy, fanatic little you.
still in that lab with his cum mixed with your blood in your hand.
staring at your palm as you breathed, heavy. heated. your free hand slipped under your skirt. between your thighs.
with your mind on him. him. that loser of a nerd. that demon of the night.
your dreadful, dangerous obsession.
Š đđđđđđđđđđđđđđđ. no plagiarism or ai training authorised. divider: @/cursed-carmine. art cred: @/yinartss
Domesticing a man is so easy. Especially if you chose one a little closer to retirement. Most men are stubborn to the idea of it, not wanting to stop the work that keeps them busy, keeps them social. Keeps them outside the house untethered from you. So, of course, you suggest a desk job first.
"You just work so so hard, baby. Every time you get sent away on a deployment, you come back with new gray hairs." You pouted as you rub a hand through John's chest hair.
"Thought you liked my gray hairs, love." John chuckles as he huffs another cloud of smoke into your face. You pout, scrunching your face at the smell you actually don't mind much.
"I do, and I want to see more of them. Just not because you're stressed on the battlefield, John." You plea as you pull him into a needy, desperate kiss. Swirling your tongue inside of his mouth as you rock your hips against his, it makes John grunts eagerly. You know you've won your argument when he rolls you onto your back, the cigar hissing as John stamps it out.
After that, it's all so much easier. Every time he complains, you remind him of all the luxuries at home. Rookies don't rub feet and massage backs after they mess up paperwork or piss you off. Superiors don't make breakfast, lunch, and dinner for him every day, and they certainly don't fuck him within an inch of his life.
"When are you gonna retire, John?" You pout furiously as you bounce furiously on his cock, fingers pinching and flicking at his nipples. You couldn't leave them alone once you realized how sensitive they were.
"Fuck, love, no. I can't -" John throws his head back against his pillows, grabbing your hips tight as he jerks his hips up into you. "Can't just leave." He groans, eyes snapping open when you stop riding him, clenching tight around his cock.
"Please, John? For me? I promise I'll keep you busy.." You whine, using the tone he loves as you slowly roll your hips again. "Just want my Daddy home with me. Is that too much to ask?"
"Fuck, love, no, it's not its not too much." John shudders as he cums inside you, gently squeezing the fat of your hips in his hands. "I'll talk - fuck - I'll talk to Shepherd." The smile creeping across your face makes his heart flutter, and his cock twitch inside you.
You just love domesticing a man. Even old dogs are good for new tricks.
Warnings. MDNI. NSFW đMature content, MATURE themes, kidnapping & stalking, baby trapping, non con, dub con, forced breeding, age gap - Gojo is in his 40s and reader is in her 20s
Crazy fucking reader who somehow manages to kidnap a forty year old man and chain him up in her little apartment. One guest lecture at your college, and you knew the untouchable Gojo Satoru had to be yours.
Mature Satoru actually feels sympathy for you, a sweet looking, young girl who has her whole life ahead of her, you have a little crush on someone and your first instinct isnât to timidly ask for their contact information, but instead to incarcerate them? He remembers how he was when he was your age, so he canât help but wish to guide you somehow. Itâs not like heâs afraid of you, youâre a small human compared to himâ though he duly notes that he clearly underestimated what a young girl could do before waking up with the clink of chains behind him.
But then, you awkwardly walk through the bedroom door one day wearing only the most basic of lingerie, like you had bought the first thing that would come to a naive mind when thinking of âsex,â and now heâs even more worried. He canât fuck a young, naive college girl. He canât take your virginity and live with himself knowing that he stole that from you.
But then, you sit on a 1/3rd of his dick rather abruptly and heâs cringing because it kind of hurts, which means it definitely hurts you too. Youâre not prepped enough, not nearly wet enough. Youâre so naive and itâs likely you have no friends, no proper integration into society and obviously no genuine knowledge on how sex should work. He feels so much sympathy as your breath shakes aggressively in obvious discomfort with a face akin to a deer in headlights that heâs calling you a soothing âhoneyâ while explaining that your vagina needs to lubricate and stretch before penetration, through foreplayâ because despite the chains around his wrists, he still feels wrong referring to young womanâs body parts as anything but the most scientific terms.
Poor Satoru who thinks that if he makes you, a virgin, orgasm hard enough with his tongue, youâll be too spent to attempt at intercourse again. He awkwardly stumbles and falls face first into your pussy a few times as he sucks and licks fervently, because he has to somehow give you the best head of his life with his hands tied behind his back while he balances on nothing but his knees.
Heâs successful that day, you can barely stand up for almost thirty minutes after he works his magical tongue on you. He coos sweet nothings into the side of your head with your slick still fresh on his tastebuds as you cuddle him in the afterglow, soothing you because part of his heart aches in guilt that he made you cum. Somehow, youâre the victim in Satoruâs eyes. A victim to what was likely a harsh childhood, to mean high school and college cliques, to boys your own age who treat women they donât find attractive like they donât have a right to exist, and to a lack of a companion you can rely on to never leave you.
Satoru canât hold back the strangled groans clawing their way out of his throat when you finally get used to foreplay for a few days and have extra energy to spare for true fucking. He found his brows pinched in concern and tried to comfort you when you panicked at the full feeling in your stomach after sliding the entirety of his well endowed cock into you. You almost took off his chains so he could rub your clit to make it go smoother for you when he genuinely offeredâ saying something about the most important thing being your comfort, no matter the circumstances.
But then, your elastic insides get used to the stretch faster than he expects and Satoru starts to feel like maybe heâs getting a little too old for this type of sex, because youâre akin to a little bunny the way you hump his lap. He just canât deny how pleasurable it is to be fucked and sucked in by your wet, little pussy. Itâs not like he can do anything about this happening, all he can do is attempt to helpfully talk you through this process and hopefully make this easier on you and your body in the long run, fighting to push comprehendible words of advice and genuine inquiries of how youâre feeling out of his lips through the blinding pleasure.
Satoru told you what to do when, and if, the situation ever comes up where he expresses to you that heâs going to ejaculate. 1. Take that deep breath he taught you to stay calm, 2. stop all stimulation, and 3. dismount his penis completelyâ also! at least wait until he or you has cleaned all traces of sperm from his penis if you wish to have more intercourse after.
But when Satoru shakily breathes out a clear enough warning of imminent orgasm, you do the exact opposite of his little field guide on how to responsibly have recreational sex. You grit your teeth and bounce harder as he frantically attempts at questioning what youâre doing and if you remember what he told you. And when he lets out a particularly loud and aggressive, âfuck!â followed by a deep, primal, involuntary thrust up into whatâs milking him, you instantly stop humping so he can properly inseminate you with your eyes absolutely rolling. You can feel the muscle contractions within his cock jerk and twitch inside your repeatedly vacuuming walls, and you canât feel the sperm, but you just know that his warm cum is filling your cervix.
To an extent, Satoru understood you just wanted to fuck around and have fun like any other young horny college student, I mean, fuck, he actually gave you permission to hump his dick for this exact reason; itâs is why the field guide was discussed, but this? This is real shit, real life, getting pregnant will change your entire life forever.
For the first time since heâs been taken by you, heâs looking at you like heâs horrified as his body breeds your fertile, welcoming cunt. A few whiny grunts slip out behind his unstable breath and his features twitch behind the shocked expression, showing the deep white hot pleasure pushing through. And then you kiss him. Connected at the top and the bottom of your bodies, kissing him with such a clear passion, yearning for love and care, that Satoru feels that sympathetic pang again, the need to nurture your lost soul.
And after you finally let him go, heâs already back in your apartment soon enough with takeout from that place with the mochi youâve been craving since your second trimester in one hand and flowers in the other. Because after all, he would never abandon the young woman with his child growing in her tummy, no matter how old heâll be as your child grows up. When you let him inside your apartment with a tear in your eye because your morning sickness has persisted and a timid reach for his embrace, Satoru is already dropping his stuff and picking you up to hold you deeply within his big, warm arms and whisper comforting coos into your hair for as long as he can until you feel better. Because Satoru has a responsibility to protect you and care for you and heâs fallen in love with doing just that.
you locked đđđđđđ away in your basement. bound by talismans and safe. safe. safe. from the world that dared to hurt him. from his friends that only used him. from anyone who wanted him other than you. you didn't care what you had to do to ensure his wellbeing. if he hated you for your love? then so be it. you'd still go down to him with a smile. tell him that they're looking for him. that some consider him dead. you'll stroke his cheek while you feed him handmade mochi. and watch as his eyes go glossy. as he stops fighting the restraints. as he leans into your palm. into your love. with heart eyes and dopey smiles. because you really are the only one who loves him, aren't you?
Š đđđđđđđđđđđđ. do not feed to ai or plagiarise. dividers by @/dividers-are-us
CW: Mildly dubious consent due to mutual pheromones, then enthusiastic consent, stalking, underwear/clothes sniffing, clothes theft, general yandere behavior, canine dick, knotting, pheromones, musk, biting, claiming bite, a/b/o, omegaverse, mpreg, breeding
Word Count: 2.7k
(Idk if the customer wants credit/to be tagged but I will edit the post later if they do.)
The day was hot. Sweltering. Your sensitive omega nose could smell the odor of everyone you passed. You scrunched up your face as you passed some dumb stereotypical alpha, flexing for your benefit as you ignored him.
You passed him and rolled your eyes. Gross.
There were some needy omegas so desperate for a knot that they would swoon and fall over themselves for almost any alpha. And likewise there were alphas that turned into drooling, horny idiots at the barest whiff of an omega. And that was almost understandable given how rare both alphas and omegas were. But you could never imagine behaving in such a way. There was more to a relationship than some nice musk and a fat knot tying the two people together.
You turned down the street and entered the gym on the corner.
This was where your alpha would be. Well, future alpha. He was yours already; he just didn't exactly know it yet.
His name was Marcus. He wasn't a grotesquely buff bodybuilder like some musclehead alphas. He was lean and perfect. His black hair accentuated his head nicely, his blue eyes holding the depth of the ocean. He wasn't some airheaded git or cocky privileged asshole. No, those eyes had clearly seen some troubles.
You sat on some gym equipment and made a show of leisurely using it while you waited for Marcus to come in. You knew exactly what he would do and where he would do it and the spot you were at would give you the perfect view of him.
And even with the smell of everyone else in the gym, you knew you'd get a perfect whiff of him while he worked out. And you were sure he'd catch yours as well.
Not that it seemed to help much, but still, you wanted it ingrained in his mind. Maybe it would slowly wear him down.
You had never asked him out; he seemed to be averse to people, rejecting everyone who had ever asked. While you liked that he didn't pay any attention to the advances of others. In fact, it was what had originally drawn you to him, thinking it was intriguing how an alpha ignored multiple omegas despite their rarity, but it was a double-edged sword.
You always made sure to get there before he did so that it never seemed like you were following him.
It wasn't long until he came in and started using the exact gear you knew he would. You had his schedule down to a science.
It wasn't creepy... you had to know all about your man, right? You were just being proactive. Taking the initiative. Learning about his interests and making sure you didn't have competition...
How could there be anything wrong with that? Especially with every omega, few though they were, that you saw throwing themselves at him. And many betas too.
Fucking sluts. Why did they think that they deserved him? They hadn't put in the effort! You had done all the hard work. If any of those randos had you, you would have noticed, given how much time you had dedicated to him.
Once you were sporting Marcus's bite on your neck and pheromones clinging to your skin, that would keep them away.
Marcus bent down, showing off his perfectly sculpted bubbly ass; you bit your lip while staring intently. Your daydreams were momentarily forgotten by the sight.
Ugh, you needed more of him.
At least you got a hit of his pheromones. When he hit the showers, his dirty clothes were unattended. You made off with his sweaty musk-drenched boxers and shirt.
This was the first time you had done this; it had been the only opportunity when no one else was around. Your heart pounded as you raided his gym bag before escaping quickly with your treasures.
Marcus wondered what had happened, never knowing you were huffing them in your car real quick before taking them home to more thoroughly enjoy your new trophies.
And you REALLY enjoyed them, either tugging at your dick vigorously or impaling yourself on your knotted dildo while inhaling the fresh scent, rubbing the pheromone-laden clothing all over your body so you could imagine yourself marked with his scent.
You panted and basked in the release after you came; you cleaned yourself off in the shower, but the act just left you needy and desperate for more. Scent from clothing alone would simply never be enough for you. You needed musk and knot and bites straight from the source. Only then would you be content.
Though the meditative qualities of a nice shower typically cleared your mind and allowed you to work through your problems, this time you weren't coming up with any particularly viable ideas.
Subtly becoming more than friends after establishing a friendship was out. Marcus didn't have friends. He pushed everyone away as far as you were aware. The sexy loner stayed away even from close family.
Just asking him out would be a flat no.
He didn't seem particularly vulnerable to your pheromones at the gym, so the mighty powers of simple seduction wouldn't likely cut it either.
The only possible hope you had was to force it with determination and perseverance!
Yes, you'd combine the direct approach with some subtle seduction in the form of scented gifts. And you wouldn't take no for an answer. You'd wear him down until he gave you at least one date. You were confident that's all you would need to earn his heart.
The next day you began setting your plan into motion.
"Hey, would you be interested in go-"
"Sorry, no thanks."
A flat rejection, but you'd not be discouraged! He probably thought you were just another slut throwing yourself at him, but you'd show him differently. Once he saw your dedication and loyalty, he'd know you didn't pursue just any alpha.
You made it a point to ask every day and stuff your smelly towel, shirt, or briefs into his gym bag. If he objected to those gifts, you didn't know, but he was still denying your requests for a date.
Marcus didn't know what your obsession with him was. Or what his attraction to you was. Ever since he first got wind of your scent and caught your attentive eyes focused on him, looking at him like he was the only thing that existed, you had lived rent free in his head.
He wanted to just please you under him as he stuffed you full of knot.
Ugh! But he couldn't! He had to restrain himself!
Marcus had a horrible secret. It was considered a myth that long ago there were werewolves and that they were the origin of alphas and omegas. But it was true. And a few very strong alphas could still transform.
And he was one such alpha. At each full moon he turned into a snarling, bloodthirsty beast. He couldn't have friends or family or lovers.
Even though he wanted to. Even though he couldn't help but huff the gifts you gave him while jerking himself off the very second he got home.
Marcus knew he shouldn't give in, not even that much, but it was impossible to resist. Doing so relieved the tension built up by having to smell your pheromones at the gym and by hearing your lovely voice when you so sweetly asked him out on dates.
But he wouldn't break. He couldn't.
He didn't know you all that well, but the thought of hurting you made his chest tight. And on the off chance that he didn't tear you to shreds, you'd certainly be repulsed by him once you learned of his shameful secret.
At a loss for what else you could do to make Marcus realize you were his, you decided to follow him more closely.
Through your extremely thorough "research," you managed to learn a few hobbies of his. Like how he had some exercise equipment at home despite going to the gym. To be fair, his house was a small, secluded thing without much space for all the gear he used. And he probably just liked leaving the house.
His job seemed to be online; he was on his computer with a headset a lot.
Online gaming also seemed to be something he enjoyed quite a bit. You knew he was a gamer from some of the shirts that he wore, but you didn't realize he actually had an online social life through it.
While it was great to get to know more about your boyfriend, none of the information really helped you all that much. You got into a few of the games he played and tried to strike up conversations about them when he wore the shirts, but he cut any conversations frustratingly short.
Marcus was more tempted than ever to get between your legs and make you have toe-curling orgasm after orgasm, right there in the showers, but he held off. You even liked the same cool games as he did. But he played with online friends because it was safe to do so. He couldn't risk bonding with you!
You were going nowhere fast, so you decided you'd need to watch him even later.
This was largely uneventful too, though you did get to see him jerk off a few times. Wait, was that your underwear? Maybe you were making more progress than you had thought?
Things continued as they were until one night, on a full moon, Marcus went out of sight. Down into the basement, where you had never seen him venture. About half an hour later you heard screaming and what sounded like the snapping of bones emanate from below his home.
Even though you were outside, the sounds were clear.
They were followed by growling, snarling, and howling. There must have been a beast that had somehow gotten into his home. You hoped you werenât too late!
You went back into the bushes where you had left a bat; you always took it with you late at night when conducting your advanced research. Marcus had a secluded place, and you were all alone in the dark, so it had seemed like a prudent precaution.
Then you wiggled in through his open window and charged downstairs. You opened the door and stared in terror at what you found.
Behind a set of bars was a bipedal beast with no signs of Marcus. A canine-like face, two sensitive fuzzy ears, sharp teeth, a long tongue from which drool dripped, a tail, and dark hair covering its entire body. It was a werewolf.
Looking into its eyes, you could tell that it was Marcus, having clearly trapped himself to avoid harming others.
You also noticed the massive cock starting to peer from the beastâs sheath above a giant set of balls.
Then you recalled the old stories and myths that alphas that had turned into werewolves could be soothed by their mate. Maybe this was your chance. It was so risky, and had you been thinking clearly, you probably would have left in fear, but your head was dizzy with the strongest musk that you had ever experienced emanating from Marcusâs crotch.
He must have felt the same because as he sniffed the air in your direction, his cock got harder and longer, and he started whining and growling and scratching at the cage, clearly needing a nice warm hole to slot his slimy canine cock into.
The cage was locked by a simple series of locks and latches that were easy enough to undo; the wolf just lacked the sense required to undo them. You could easily reach in and do so.
As you put your hand in the creature came up to you and licked you through the bars, your face, your neck, and your hands. He knew he needed to breed you; he was meant to, you were his mate. Something told him he had to make you feel good.
You unlocked the cage in a daze, hardly any conscious thought left to you.
You peeled away your clothes as the door creaked open, slick leaking down your leg. Marcus wasted no time in breeding you. Though he did so carefully, even in his current state he didn't want to hurt his much tinier mate.
It wasn't necessary; your body had prepped itself the moment his potent musk filled your nostrils.
Your hands gripped the cold iron bars you were pinned against.
Hot breath beat at your sensitive neck as he slipped himself into you. It filled you up better than any toy ever had or could hope to.
You sighed in pleasure, vaguely aware that this is what you had worked so hard for as Marcus thrust himself back and forth deep within you.
The werewolf licked and slobbered at your neck as you threw your ass back against him hard and fast, desperately needing a faster pace.
Seeing that you needed him to speed up, he happily obliged. Despite not being in control of himself in his current form, he was mindful of your pleasure and comfort more than his own.
He gripped your hips with his massive clawed hands and began pistoning into you hard and fast, each movement jolting your entire body rhythmically.
Moans, sighs, and pleasured unintelligible garbling poured from your mouth as your hole quivered around him.
One arm braced the bars with your head leaning into it while you wildly jerked your dick with your free hand. When you inevitably came, it was the most intense orgasm of your life; your cum rocketed through the bars of the cell, and slick gushed from you like a waterfall, and it was no less intense for your werewolf lover.
Marcus was in a fog, buried under mountains of near-feral werewolf instinct, powerful omega pheromones, and the sheer pleasure of sex.
He swelled with pride when you came, satisfied with having made his mate feel so good.
The alpha could feel you quiver and tighten around his cock, as if begging for his seed and trying to milk him. Your body got its wish.
He bit your neck, claiming you at long last, as he plunged in as deeply as he possibly could and filled you with a seemingly endless torrent of semen. If you had been in a state of mind to think properly, there would have been no doubt that you would definitely be pregnant.
Marcus pulled you down to the ground with him, having you sit on his lap, his cock still impaling you. He was ready to stop trying to get off so he didnât overstimulate his probably sore mate, but you were not content with just letting his knot rest inside of you. No, you bounced and squirmed as best one could when the knot the size of two fists was rearranging their insides and didnât stop until he had filled you a few more times and you passed out from exhaustion.
You were tied to the beast for the rest of the night, held protectively in his arms as the two of you slept, using him like a large furry bed.
In the morning both of you remembered everything that had happened but without the musk clouding your thoughts, and of course he was no longer a werewolf primarily driven by instinct.
When you had explained why you had been there in the first place, Marcus completely ignored or overlooked the fact that you had engaged in an âin-depth research campaignâ because he was elated that not only did you not care one bit that he was a savage werewolf, but also that you calmed the beast and prevented him from even trying to go on a rampage.
After all these years living in seclusion, he no longer had to be alone. And having a nice hole to finally be able to unload in was certainly a nice bonus.
Several months later, and it was obvious you were pregnant. The werewolf nuzzled your neck sweetly as he slipped into you, careful not to go too rough on the omega with a belly swollen full of his pups. He went in nice and slow, his arms wrapped around you and hands roaming over your round tummy. When he turned back into a human the next morning, he went right to kissing your belly and practically worshiping it before pulling you into his lap and massaging it while he made love to you.
Before he met you, he was resigned to be alone for the rest of his life, and now he couldnât imagine a second without you.
ive always been obsessed with the idea of stalker x stalker.. yandere reader x Yandere .... just hear me out-- just listen..
I've done something like this here!
Basically Clumsy!Yandere who tries his best to stalk you but is rather terrible at it, and a protective, Yandere!Reader who looks out for him and stalks him right back.
It would be extra funny if you literally helped him in his obsessive pursuit. Like, he's trying to install a tracking device under your car but unknowingly messes up. You've been observing him from a distance, and you can already picture his disappointed sigh when he discovers his mistake. So, once he's done, you sneak over and fix the issue yourself.
"It works," he declares with glee, spinning in his chair and hugging his (Y/N) pillow. At last, he can follow you around just by looking at a screen.
You gaze at his innocent smile; he's blissfully unaware of the cameras you hid in his room. Oh, he's so sweet when he tries to outsmart you.
Reciprocated. | Yandere! Loser x Yandere! Male Reader
! MDNI !
Request
Pairing : Yandere! Unpopular Admirer OC x Yandere! Popular Male Reader
Content Warning/s : general yandere behaviour, stealing of undergarments, jerking off in said stolen garment, stalking, unhealthy obsession
Author's Note : I'll make a part 2 for the smut chapter of this fic another time. enjoy reading !
request/asks
The natatorium was filled with loud, sweaty college students from different departments cheering for their respective representatives; not a place youâd find someone like Louis in. The bright lights made his head throb, and the constant forced contact with strangers made him want to scratch at his own skin.
But he endured all of that for now. For you.
It was always worth it if it meant being present in all of your competitions.
Still, it was never enough. He found himself craving more than having to watch you from the sidelines, tucked behind rows of bodies.
He needed to be closer.
That night, Louis sat at his desk and opened his student portal, the screen casting a pale light across his hands. His schedule was clean and practical, already arranged to his liking.
Louis stared at it until his eyes burned, unblinking.
Then, as if his hands suddenly moved on their own, he changed it. One elective class, shifted.
He woke up early the next day, arriving at the class you two now shared before anyone else.Â
It wasnât hard to tell where your seat was. It was practically collecting dust with how frequent its ownerâs absence was. Since you were one of your teamâs star players, you were almost always excused from your classes.
The chair beside it creaked softly under his weight. Now all he needed to do was wait.
Louis waited.
One day became two. Two days became weeks.
And still, the seat stayed empty.
âSwim star ditching class again for practice?â Heâd hear some of your classmates crack jokes about your absence.
âNothing new.â
It should have disappointed himâshould have frustrated him that the main reason for his transfer wasnât around. Instead, Louis felt relieved.
At least you werenât around to see him staring at the empty seat with hearts in his eyes. Knowing that it was something that somewhat belonged to you, he couldnât help but feel closer to you even with the lack of your actual presence.
It soothed him in a way.
When class was over and no one was around to bear witness, he would switch to your seat, running his fingers through the dusty surface. Leaving his mark.
The thought of you having sat in this same exact spot had him aching between his legs.
After making sure that the door was securely locked, heâd pull a piece of fabric out of his bag. It was one of your swim briefs that had recently gone missing. He went to hell and back obtaining it and now it was his most prized possession.
His fingers worked clumsily on his own waistband as he pulled them down enough to pool by his knees. His cock sprung free from the confines of his undergarments which was soon replaced with your own.
The hand holding the nylon fabric of your swim brief wraps around his shaft, rubbing his glistening tip to smear the fabric with his pre-cum. A strangled groan escaped him as he began to snap his hips forward, the friction of the fabric against the ridges of his cock making him croak out your name with need.
His hand trembled, thighs clenching, as he pumped and twisted the fabric down his shaft. âFuuuck..â He draws out with a shaky breath, eyes glossy with lust.Â
He could only imagine how good the real deal would be. Could imagine how tightly your hole would flutter and clench around his size.
Louis tightened his grip and bucked his hips at a quicker pace as his imagination ran wild, imagining you bent over this chair with his cock buried deep inside of you and his hands leaving bruises in the shape of his fingers on your waist.
He shuddered as he reached his climax, spurts of cum connecting the tip of his dick with the fabric in his hand. His chest rose and fell frantically as he panted heavily, cheeks flushed red and a look of pure bliss.
He brought the cum-stained swim brief against his nose, catching a whiff of the faint scent of chlorine that stuck to the cloth. A scent that smelled uniquely you.
A ghost of a smile haunted his lips as he felt a familiar throb in between his legs. He could get used to this.
But you were still a student which meant youâll still have to attend the class; to be in the same room as him.
Heads turned the moment you walked in the next day; hair damp, bag slung over one shoulder. There was a faint scent of chlorine trailing after you.
Louis felt his pulse quicken, fast and hard against his ribcage. He had to put in extra effort not to show his excitement at the sight of you greeting your classmates like you naturally belonged there. He forced his attention away from your form, but still couldnât help stealing glances in your direction.
After your small conversation, you finally drop onto your seat beside him, the empty chair finally filled after weeks of its ownerâs absence.
Louis had to swallow the stupid, reflexive relief that rose in his throat, making his Adam's apple subtly bob.
He didnât know what to do. Should he greet you? Would you find that weird?
Then you turned as he was in the middle of his panicked thoughts, looking directly at the new unfamiliar face.
âHey,â you whispered, voice light and friendly as you decide to do the first move of introducing yourself. âIâmââ
âI know,â he said rather quickly, unconsciously cutting you off which made him flinch slightly. He didnât mean to.
Shit. That was rude of him. Were you angry?
Instead you blinked then smiled which instantly filled him with relief.
âIâm not surprised,â you say, brimming with confidence but not in a way that came off narcissistic. It was still kind. Polite. âSo whatâs your name?â
âLouis,â he answered.
You asked if he was new. He nodded.
You joked about your seat collecting dust, and Louis silently watched your mouth move around the words, watched the way you smiled like humor was the easiest bridge you knew to building a connection.
He wanted to step onto that bridge. Yet he didnât. Couldnât.
Louis looked back down at his notebook before his eyes could betray him. He couldnât look at you, not after the shameless acts he committed in that very seat of yours.
You began talking to him anyway.
It wasnât strategic at first, just a natural instinct of yours to never shut up. You treated people like they were already your friends, like connection was something you tossed out with both hands and trusted the world to catch.
Louis hated it, yet also loved it.
You told him about your practices, your coachâs threats, the misery of being forced back into class. You complained about homework like it was personally offensive. You joked and smiled and leaned a little too close when you spoke.
Louis always responded briefly yet still polite.
He kept his words minimal, because if he gave you too much, he was afraid heâd get too comfortable and reveal the ugly truth of his obsession.
Louis had watched you compete more times than heâd watched his own reflection. He had learned your routines, your habits, the places youâd hang out in after practice, and the people you surrounded yourself with.
He had rooted for you in silence, never loud enough to be part of the crowd. He told himself that seeing and watching you from afar was enough.
Now you were right beside him, alive and breathing and real, and Louis had to sit very still each time so his body didnât do something humiliating in your presence.
You were surprisingly quick to notice his guardedness.
People were normally drawn to you. Louis refusing to lean in made you curious in a way that bordered on irritation.
Like a fish refusing to take bait, so you decided to try harder.
Louis watched you drift behind him, failing horribly to stay undetected with how your larger figure towered over most students. Not like a creep, more like.. a curious cat. At least thatâs what you told yourself.
You slid into the seat across from him at lunch, uninvited and smiling, like the spot had always been yours.
Louisâs eyes lifted. His expression didnât change, but something in his posture tightened. He watched you shine your smile at him like a weapon.
A very effective one it seems.
The timid male eventually (was forced to) accept your lingering presence, allowing you to talk about your day and ask about his. You could sense that he was still tense every time you were near, but you learned to dance around it.
Youâd been adored in loud, easy ways your whole life. Compared to the rest, Louisâs attention felt.. sharpened. Like it had edges that could cut through you easily.
It thrilled you in a way you couldnât name.
So you started showing up more.
Sitting with him. Walking with him. Asking questions just to watch him answer. Laughing even when he didnât laugh, because it made him look briefly confused, like he was trying to read through your intentions.
You followed him like a lost puppy. And the more Louis tried to keep his distance, the more your curiosity curled into something stickier.
If Louis could look at you and not reach, then youâd reach for him until he had no choice but to notice.
But the closer you got, the more anxious Louis became.
His thoughts spiralled.
Were you onto him? Were you getting close to him so you could beat him up later?
Things were going way too smoothly that he couldnât help but think you had your suspicions on him.
But no, it was just you genuinely wanting to befriend him. To get him to finally look at you without that wary look of his.
At first, you told yourself that you simply took interest in him because of his guarded nature. But over time, you werenât so sure anymore.
Your little collection started as a joke.
âYouâre so photogenic,â you teased, snapping a picture of him with your phone.
Louisâs hand rose instinctively, palm angled to block the camera, but you caught his eyes in the frame anyway, sharp and startled.
âDelete that,â he said.
âNo,â you grinned.Â
Then you dragged him into selfies, hooking an arm around his shoulder, ignoring the way his body went rigid in your arm, and snapped pictures with your grin and his restrained expression.
You printed them at home, gaslit yourself that you were simply keeping it as a memory of your newly acquired friend.
Then it escalated. Always subtle, never obvious.
You volunteered to throw away his trash like you were just being the typical helpful friend you were.
âHey,â youâd say, collecting Louisâs empty drink bottle, his used napkin. âI got it.â
Heâd blink, hesitant. âYou donât have toââ
âI want to,â youâd insist, flashing a smile that made him stop questioning you.
At home, you rinsed the bottle carefully, smoothed the napkin flat, and tucked them away to the safety of your room.
It stopped being a joke.
You gave the pieces of him a place in your room. It started as a small box, then a drawer, and currently a shelf.
You find yourself questioning your new formed habit as you stare at the makeshift altar in your room. It was ridiculous. But It was⌠yours.
You told yourself you were just trying to understand him and that this was one of the ways you could get closer to him.
But in reality, you wanted to own the mystery that was Louis.
And that certain mystery watched you with knowing eyes.
Louis knew he should have questioned your intentions, should have asked you to stop before he ended up giving in to all the attention you were giving him.
Instead, he kept silent. A part of him wanted to see how far youâd go. He basked in your attention.
Then he was asked to be your tutor. Louis said yes without hesitation while you looked less pleased, but agreed nonetheless, because you had a coach to appease and a spot in your university's swim team to maintain.
Louis arrived right on time after youâve both scheduled the session at your house. He placed his shoes neatly by the door and allowed himself to be led to your room where your desk was already set up with notebooks, highlighters, and a few snacks.
For a while, you two studied; actually studied. It was almost comically domestic to watch you two converse casually through the body mirror in your room.
You had placed a cloth over your altar of him, foolishly thinking that it would automatically make him back off. But then again, you were unaware of how Louisâs thoughts worked.
âIâll get us drinks,â you said, and left the room. The door clicked shut and silence settled, leaving him alone in your room.
Louisâs body moved before he could stop it. He was just looking around. It was normal to be curious in a new environment.
His gaze slid to your covered shelf. It had been bothering him ever since he entered your room. What was so important that you had to cover it up?
He wanted to know, to see if there was a piece of you worth hoarding on that shelf.
Louis stood, steps quiet as he walked through the room. He carefully slid the cloth aside.
And there it was.
Printed photos of him arranged like an exhibition in a museum, a rinsed bottle he recognized, a flattened napkin, and crumpled wrappers that were smoothed out.
An altar. Of him.
Louis stared down at it, and the world around him narrowed, heat flooding in his chest. Not out of embarrassment nor anger.
It was something darker and sweeter.
The sound of glass breaking pierced through the silence which made Louis suddenly turn to see you frozen by the doorway of your bedroom, pieces of glass and a spilled drink by your feet.
All the color on your face was nowhere to be seen, pale and panicked.
âI can explain,â you said rather quickly, clearly horrified at the maleâs discovery of your makeshift altar.
Louis quickly caught the tremble on your lower lip. You were embarrassed.. scared that heâd run away if you move even a single inch towards him.
âI..â You forced yourself to start, finally snapping out of your startled trance to crouch down and start picking up the broken pieces of glass by your feet. Anything to distract yourself from the maleâs sharp gaze. âI didnât mean to. It was supposed to be a joke.â
Your fingers picked at the glass, trembling, your eyes unfocused as you tried to chuckle, but it came out as a small whimper instead. Like a dog that had been kicked by its owner.
Louis watched your messy state, not used to seeing you so.. unravelled. You usually handled situations with ease using your charm; youâd grin, youâd laugh, anything to lighten the mood. But this was different, you were showing another side of vulnerability that youâd never shown before.
It was.. exhilarating.
The silence was thick.
Louis softly brushed the cloth back to its proper place, careful, respectful, like he was handling something sacred. He stepped in front of your crouched form and kneeled to your level, a hand darting out to stop you from picking up another piece of glass.
Every restraint he had forced upon himself snapped like a rope on its final straw.
Louis pulled your wrist with a strength you didnât expect to come from someone like him. With feverish hunger, he crashed his lips against yours and wasted no time shoving himself past your lips.Â
You didnât pull away, instead you quickly dropped the pieces of broken glass in your hand onto the space beside you and wrapped your arms around his waist, tilting your head slightly to the side to further deepen the kiss you two shared.
And for the first time, the feeling of being close to you wasnât something he had to carefully plan or feel through material objects you owned.
