If Only Yall Could See My Twitter Bookmarks....

With him, there’s no ‘no’. Only ‘yes, sir’.

❤︎ Synopsis. Obsession unfolds as a powerful figure locks his gaze on you, intent on bending your will and breaking your resistance. In his world, love is just a tool for control, and surrender is inevitable.

♡ Book. Forbidden Fruits: Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Itoshi Rin x Fem. Reader, Yandere! Itoshi Sae x Fem. Reader, Yandere! Michael Kaiser x Fem. Reader, Yandere! Isagi Yoichi x Fem. Reader

♡ Headcanons. A Slave to His Will - Part 1

♡ Word Count. 4,056

♡ TW. dom + top + older yandere, non con, possessiveness, psychological manipulation and conditioning, suggestive themes, fear play, emotional manipulation and abuse, hints at rough play and sex, psychological and emotional trauma, isolation, monitoring, lack of boundaries, non con kissing and touching, forced relationship, BDSM, manipulation of circumstances, threats, degradation, verbal abuse, mature language

♡ Note. Due to Tumblr policy, all characters are all of age.

♡ Itoshi Rin.

The air around you was frigid, oppressive, each breath you drew cutting sharp like shards of glass in your lungs. The room itself felt less like a space and more like a void—a place where shadows bled into each other and time slowed to a crawl. It wasn’t empty, though. It was filled with him. Rin Itoshi’s presence didn’t just occupy space; it consumed it, swallowing every ounce of air and light until all that remained was the unbearable gravity of his attention.

He stood across from you, his posture deceptively calm, but his eyes—those glinting, venomous teal—spoke volumes. They didn’t see you; they scorched you, flaying you open inch by inch, revealing every fear, every insecurity you thought you’d buried deep. He didn’t need words to tell you what you already knew. You were his focus now. And Rin’s focus was a weapon more devastating than any blade.

When he finally moved, it was with the deliberate, measured precision of a predator closing in on wounded prey. Each step seemed to reverberate through the space, the sound of his soles meeting the floor a dark metronome marking the seconds before you unraveled.

“You don’t understand yet, do you?” His voice slid through the room like oil, suffocating and smothering. It wasn’t booming; he didn’t need to be. Rin spoke with a low, simmering intensity that demanded silence, demanded submission.

He tilted his head slightly, his lips curling into a faint, humorless smirk as he studied you like one might study a puzzle missing its final piece. “Do you know what it’s like to burn so absolutely for something that it becomes the only damn thing that matters? To be willing to destroy yourself and everything else just to take it, to own it?”

The silence stretched as your breath caught, your lips parting, though no sound escaped. He didn’t need a response. He wasn’t asking for permission. His gaze dropped to your trembling hands, the faintest flicker of amusement crossing his face.

“You’re afraid,” he murmured, the statement dripping with satisfaction. “Good.”

Rin was suddenly in front of you, so close you could feel the heat radiating from his body, a stark contrast to the glacial tone of his voice. His fingers brushed against your jaw, soft at first, barely a whisper of contact. It wasn’t kindness, though—just a mockery of it. When his hand tightened, tilting your face upwards to meet his gaze, there was no softness left, only an unyielding grip that said everything he didn’t.

“You’ve already lost, you know.” His eyes bore into yours, and for a moment, you thought you saw something deeper—something feral, desperate, and wholly consuming. “From the moment I decided you were meant to be mine, it stopped being a choice. Not for you. Not for anyone.”

His free hand moved to your wrist, encircling it with ease. His strength wasn’t overbearing, not yet, but the implication of it was clear. He didn’t need to hurt you to make you understand just how powerless you were. That realization crept over you like ice, numbing and inescapable.

“You think this is about affection? About love?” His laugh was razor-sharp, cutting through the smothering tension like a blade. “You really are naive.”

He leaned closer, his breath warm against your temple, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver crawling down your spine. “This is about control. About devotion. I don’t care if you fight. I don’t care if you wail or beg. You’ll stay exactly where I want you until you understand what it means to belong to me.”

Rin’s hand slid down your arm, his fingers intertwining with yours for the briefest moment before pulling your hands together, binding them in his grip. There was no tenderness in the motion, only an inexorable assertion of dominance. He didn’t look at you like a person. He looked at you like an extension of his will, a piece of his identity he was determined to carve into shape with his bare hands.

“You’ll break,” he said simply, as if it were an inevitability. His tone was soft now, almost contemplative. “And when you do, I’ll revamp you into someone worthwhile of standing at my side.”

His lips hovered just above yours, tantalizingly close yet deliberately distant. He wasn’t giving you what you wanted—or what you feared. This wasn’t about the act itself. It was about the power in withholding it, in watching you crumble under the unbearable weight of his attention.

“Say my name,” he commanded, his voice as sharp and unyielding as tempered steel. “Say it like you acknowledge who you belong to alone.”

You hesitated, the words caught somewhere between your throat and the pounding of your heart. His grip tightened, just enough to remind you of how easily he could crush you. “Say it,” he growled, his patience fraying at the edges.

When you finally whispered his name, barely audible, a flicker of triumph danced in his eyes. His smirk widened, splitting his face into something cruel, something monstrous.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his tone laced with mockery and satisfaction. “Now, let’s see how far you’re willing to fall for me.”

And as he pulled you closer, as his touch turned rougher, hungrier, you realized too late that Rin Itoshi wasn’t a man. He was a storm, a force of nature that would consume everything in his path. And you? You weren’t just caught in its wake. You were the eye of it, the singular focus of his ruinous obsession.

────────────

♡ Itoshi Sae.

He watches you like a predator studying its prey, his teal eyes narrowing with the precision of a sniper’s scope. In the dim light of his apartment, the air is heavy with unspoken tension. His presence feels suffocating—an invisible hand curling around your throat. Itoshi Sae’s gaze is unwavering, dissecting every twitch of your fingers, every shallow breath, every faltering word that escapes your lips. He doesn’t speak right away. Silence is his first weapon, sharp and calculating, cutting into your composure like a scalpel. When he finally does speak, his voice is soft, measured, but each word lands with the weight of a falling guillotine.

“You don’t even realize how pathetic you look right now, do you?” he mutters, his tone devoid of empathy, yet laced with a hidden clinical curiosity. He steps closer, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the hollow quiet. “It’s fascinating, really. How easily someone can be stripped of their pride.”

You flinch as his hand reaches out, but there’s nowhere to run. His fingers trace the line of your jaw, their touch featherlight, but you can feel the intent behind them—cold, assessing, as though he’s handling a fragile object he intends to shatter. His lips curve into the faintest semblance of a smile, but it’s a lifeless thing, a grim mockery of warmth.

“Do you even understand what you’ve done to deserve this?” he asks, tilting his head. The question hangs in the air, rhetorical and cruel. He doesn’t wait for an answer. Sae doesn’t need your words; he thrives on your silence, on the way your trembling body speaks volumes.

His hand slides lower, over the curve of your shoulder, down your arm, his touch methodical, almost mechanical. Each movement is deliberate, precise, as though he’s memorizing the map of your body. When his grip tightens, fingers digging into your skin, it’s not enough to bruise—not yet—but the promise of pain lingers in the air like static before a storm.

“Weak,” he speaks, almost to himself, his voice barely above a whisper. “I thought you’d be different. But in the end, you’re just like the rest of them. Fragile. Pathetic.”

He takes a step back, his hand falling away, but the reprieve is an illusion. The distance between you is a leash, not freedom. His eyes remain locked on you, dissecting every reaction, every flinch, every unsteady breath. Sae’s control is absolute; even in his silence, he commands the room, bending reality to his will.

“Look at me,” he commands, his tone low and cutting. When you hesitate, his lips curl into a sneer. “Did I stutter?”

Your eyes meet his, and the intensity of his gaze feels like a physical blow. There’s no mercy there, no compassion—only an abyss of calculated cruelty. He steps forward again, closing the distance, until you’re forced to tilt your head back to maintain eye contact. His hand rises, fingers curling around your throat, not tight enough to choke, but firm enough to remind you of the power he holds.

“Struggling would be pointless,” he says, his breath warm against your ear. “But go ahead. Try. Amuse me.”

Your body reacts before your mind can catch up, your hands pushing against his chest in a futile attempt to create space. His grip tightens in response, the pressure against your windpipe making it harder to breathe. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t waver. Instead, he watches with a detached curiosity, as though observing a lab experiment.

“Pathetic,” he repeats, his voice dripping with disdain. “Is this really the best you can do?”

When he finally releases you, you collapse against the wall, gasping for air. He doesn’t give you time to recover. His hand tangles in your hair, pulling your head back until you’re forced to look at him again. The smirk on his lips is faint, almost imperceptible, but the malice behind it is undeniable.

“You should thank me,” he says, his tone deceptively calm. “I’m teaching you your place.”

The words cut deeper than any physical wound, and he knows it. Sae’s cruelty isn’t born of chaos; it’s calculated, surgical. He doesn’t just break you; he dissects you, piece by piece, stripping away your defenses until there’s nothing left but raw, trembling vulnerability.

And then, when you think he’s finished, he rebuilds you—but not as you were. No, Sae shapes you into something else entirely, something that fits his vision. His obsession isn’t love; it’s a dark, twisted form of control, a need to possess and dominate every aspect of your being.

“You’ll learn to obey,” he says one night, his voice a venomous whisper in the dark. “Or I’ll make sure you never forget the consequences of disobedience.”

The words linger in your mind, a constant reminder of the cage he’s built around you. Even in his absence, you feel his presence—an invisible hand guiding your every move, a shadow that looms over every thought. Sae’s control is absolute, his dominance inescapable. And in the rare moments when his mask slips, revealing the depths of his obsession, the darkness in his eyes is enough to make your blood run cold.

“You’re mine,” he says one night, his voice trembling with an emotion that’s almost human. But the glint in his eyes is anything but tender. “Even if I have to break you to keep you.”

His kisses are bruising, his touch possessive to the point of pain. He marks you, both physically and emotionally, until there’s no part of you left untouched by his influence. And yet, despite the horror, there’s a part of you that can’t escape him. Because Sae doesn’t just break you; he makes you believe that you were never whole to begin with.

And in his mind, that makes you his—irrevocably, undeniably, his.

────────────

♡ Michael Kaiser.

Michael Kaiser is not a man who plays by halves. Perfection, domination, and the art of dismantling his rivals—these are the tenets of his life, the doctrines by which he reigns supreme both on and off the field. Control is his lifeblood, his religion, and for as long as he can remember, the world has bent to his will, obedient to the designs of its self-crowned emperor.

Until you.

You, with your fragile defiance and trembling courage, have carved a fissure in his perfect, unyielding universe. He hates you for it, as much as he is enthralled by you. You are an anomaly he cannot ignore—a splinter lodged deep beneath his skin, festering, driving him mad.

And tonight, as the air grows heavy with the weight of unspoken words and dangerous promises, he watches you like a predator. His gaze lingers on the way you shrink back, cornered yet refusing to crumple entirely. It is infuriating. It is intoxicating.

“Do you even realize,” he begins, his voice a low snarl that echoes through the dimly lit room, “what you’ve done to me?” He steps forward, his movements slow and deliberate, a calculated menace radiating from every fiber of his being. The light catches on his tattoos, twisting chains and roses that writhe across his skin like living things. “You’ve turned my life into chaos. My life. Do you know how unacceptable that is?”

You say nothing, your lips pressed tightly together, though your trembling form betrays you. It fuels him, this tiny rebellion. He could crush it—crush you—with ease, but where would be the satisfaction in that? No, he wants to see you fight. He wants to see you lose.

“Answer me,” he commands, his tone icy now, each word a blade slicing through the silence.

When you finally stammer a response, it’s barely above a whisper. “I didn’t—”

“Didn’t what?” he interrupts, his laughter sharp and humorless. He takes another step closer, and the distance between you vanishes like smoke. “Didn’t mean to? Didn’t notice? Or didn’t care?” His hand shoots out, gripping your chin with a force that leaves no room for resistance. “Because I can assure you, liebe, I’ve noticed. I’ve noticed every single time you’ve made me feel—” He cuts himself off, his jaw clenching as if the very idea repulses him.

There is something feral in his eyes now, a hunger that makes your breath catch. His thumb traces the line of your jaw, the touch almost gentle, but the tension in his grip is unmistakable. He leans in, so close that his breath warms your cheek. “Do you want to know what it’s like?” he murmurs, his voice a venomous whisper. “To have everything under your control, everything perfect, only for someone like you to come along and ruin it?”

You try to look away, but his grip tightens, forcing your gaze back to his. “No,” he says, his voice a low growl, “you don’t get to look away. You don’t get to pretend this isn’t your fault.”

His other hand moves to your throat, fingers splayed against the delicate curve of your neck. He feels the erratic rhythm of your pulse beneath his touch and smiles—a cold, cruel thing that bares his teeth like a wolf. “Ah, there it is,” he breathes, his thumb pressing just enough to make your head tilt back. “Fear. It suits you.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before his lips brush against your ear, his voice dropping even lower. “You make me weak,” he hisses, the words filled with venom. “Do you understand how disgusting that is? How infuriating it is to crave something as broken and defiant as you?”

The mask of control he wears so effortlessly slips, just for a moment, revealing the raw, seething obsession beneath. “But don’t worry,” he continues, his tone softening in a way that only makes it more terrifying. “I’ll fix that. I’ll fix you.”

Before you can process his words, he moves. His hands slide down your arms, his grip firm and unyielding as he pulls you closer. His lips find your skin, leaving a trail of bruising kisses and sharp bites. Each mark is deliberate, a claim etched into your flesh. He revels in your protests, in the way you try—and fail—to push him away. “Keep fighting,” he murmurs against your collarbone, his breath hot and ragged. “It only makes it more satisfying when you finally give in.”

Your struggles only seem to amuse him, his laughter rumbling low in his chest. “Do you know what I’ll do to them?” he asks suddenly, his voice taking on a darker edge. “All those fools who think they can touch you, who think they can have you? I’ll destroy them. I’ll make them regret ever looking at what’s mine.”

The possessiveness in his tone is suffocating, the weight of it pressing down on you like a physical force. He steps back, just enough to look you in the eyes, his expression a twisted mix of adoration and hatred. “You’ll see,” he promises, his voice soft but deadly. “I’ll show you what happens to anyone who thinks they can take you from me.”

And then he’s on you again, his touch alternating between cruel and tender, his words a dizzying mixture of threats and endearments. He breaks you down piece by piece, his dominance suffocating, overwhelming, until you are left with nothing but the reality of his obsession.

When he finally pulls away, his hands still lingering on your skin, he smiles. It is not a kind smile. It is the smile of a man who has won. “There,” he says, his tone almost gentle. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

But you know, deep down, that this is only the beginning. For Michael Kaiser, love is not a gentle thing. It is a war, a game of control where surrender is the only acceptable outcome. And you are his trophy, his prize, his victim.

You may have defied him once, but in the end, there is no escaping him.

────────────

♡ Isagi Yoichi.

The room was steeped in silence, heavy and oppressive, broken only by the faint, rhythmic ticking of a clock buried somewhere in the shadows. It was the kind of silence that amplified everything else—the quickened hitch of your breath, the faint rustle of fabric as you tried to edge back, and the subtle scrape of his shoes against the wooden floor as he closed the distance. Isagi Yoichi was nothing like the boy you thought you knew, the one with the eager, boyish grin and the kind of enthusiasm that made people underestimate him. That version of him had been shed, discarded like dead skin. What stood before you now was something raw and unrelenting, a creature shaped by obsession and honed by the cold, unyielding weight of his own ambition.

His presence was suffocating, a wall of quiet menace that pressed down on you, leaving no room for escape. He tilted his head slightly, watching you as one might a trapped animal, his sharp blue eyes reflecting a glint of something darker, something that thrived on your fear. There was no anger in his gaze—no fiery outburst, no theatrics. It was colder than that, infinitely more chilling. Isagi didn’t need to raise his voice; the intensity of his silence spoke volumes.

“You don’t get it yet, do you?” His voice was low, almost gentle, and that softness made it infinitely more terrifying. Each word felt deliberate, precise, like the ticking of the clock—unavoidable, inescapable. He stepped closer, his shadow swallowing you whole. “You think you have a choice here? That there’s some world where you can walk away from me? What are you? A damn idiot?”

Your back hit the wall, the cold surface biting through your clothes, and you realized you’d run out of space. His body was too close now, towering over you, his scent invading every breath you took. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it was overwhelming, a mix of sweat and something sharper, metallic, like adrenaline distilled into a tangible form. His hand reached out, skimming along the edge of your arm with a touch that wasn’t quite gentle. It wasn’t cruel, either—it was assessing, clinical, as though he were studying the tension in your muscles, savoring the way your body betrayed you.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured, the corner of his mouth curling upward into a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. It wasn’t the kind of smile that reassured—it was cruel, mocking, the kind of expression that turned the air around him icy. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “What is it? Fear? Shame? Or are you just starting to realize what this means for you?”

You swallowed hard, but your throat felt dry, constricted, as though even that small act of defiance might provoke him further. His fingers moved upward, brushing against your jaw, and your body froze under his touch. It wasn’t a question of whether you could fight back; it was the knowledge that resistance would only make things worse.

“You think I don’t see it?” he asked, his tone sharper now, though his voice never rose above that measured, calculated calm. “The way you look at people. The way you laugh, like it’s nothing, like I’m not standing right here, watching you give them parts of yourself that don’t belong to them. That don’t belong to you.”

His grip tightened, his fingers curling under your chin to force your gaze upward. Those blue eyes—sharp, unyielding, like frozen shards of glass—bored into yours, peeling away every layer of defense you might have built. “Look at me,” he demanded, though the command was almost a whisper. “I said, look at me.”

You obeyed, if only because there was no other option. The intensity of his stare was suffocating, like standing on the edge of a cliff with the ground crumbling beneath your feet.

“Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this?” he asked, and there was something unnervingly reverent in his tone now, as though you were the culmination of some grand, twisted dream he’d nurtured in secret. “Do you have any idea what it feels like to need something so badly it fucking hurts?”

His hand moved again, this time skimming down your side, his touch possessive, leaving behind an invisible trail that burned like a brand. When he kissed you, it wasn’t a kiss—it was a claim, raw and feral, a battle for dominance you’d already lost. His lips were demanding, his teeth grazing your lower lip hard enough to draw blood, though you couldn’t tell if it was intentional or simply a byproduct of his hunger. When you tried to push him away, your palms pressing weakly against his chest, he caught your wrists with ease, pinning them against the wall above your head.

“Don’t,” he warned, his voice dropping to a growl, the sound rumbling through his chest like the distant echo of a storm. “Don’t fucking fight me.”

His weight pressed against you, his body a cage as much as his words were. His breath was hot against your neck, his teeth dragging along your skin in a way that made your heart lurch violently in your chest. He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze again, his expression dark and unreadable.

“You think this is love?” he asked, his voice dripping with something bitter, almost mocking. “Love is weak. Love makes people hesitate. And I don’t hesitate. Not when it comes to you.”

He tilted his head slightly, as though considering his next move, his eyes never leaving yours. “No, this isn’t love,” he said finally, his tone softening, though it only made the words more chilling. “This is something better. Something stronger.”

When he moved again, it was with deliberate purpose, his hands rough and unapologetic as they claimed every inch of you. His touch left no room for doubt, no space for protest. He wasn’t gentle—not because he couldn’t be, but because he didn’t see the need. You weren’t something to be coddled, not in his eyes. You were his, and he was going to make sure you understood that in every way possible.

“You’ll thank me for this one day,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “Maybe not now, maybe not tomorrow. But eventually, you’ll see. You’ll see that you were always mine.”

When he pulled back, his grip still firm on your chin, he studied you like an artist admiring their masterpiece. His thumb brushed against your lip, smearing the faint trace of blood he’d left behind, and his smirk returned, darker and more dangerous than before.

“You’re perfect,” he said, almost to himself. “And I don’t lose perfect things.”

Then, leaning in so close that his lips barely ghosted against yours, he whispered his final, bone-chilling promise: “And I don’t fucking share.”

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of Forbidden Fruits: Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. Thank you.

General TAG LIST: @uniquecutie-puffs , @ikevampharem , @tnsophiaonly , @mokingbrd78k , @cooldeermagazine , @mimitk , @xileonaaaa , @acacia-koi , @purple-obsidian , @waterfal-ling

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ For Reader-Inserts. I only write Male Yandere x Female (Fem.) Reader (heterosexual couple). No LGBTQ+:

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Book 2. Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires.

♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World.

♡ Book 4 [you are here]. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

♡ Book 5. Ink & Insight (I&I): From Dead Dove to Daydreams.

♡ Library MASTERPOST 1. The Librarian’s Ledger: A Map to The Library of Forbidden Texts.

♡ Notice #1. Not all stories are included in the masterpost due to Tumblr’s link limitations. However, most long-form stories can be found here. If you're searching for a specific yandere or theme, this guide will help you navigate The Library of Forbidden Texts. Proceed with caution

♡ Book 6. The Red Ledger (TRL): Stained in Lust, Written in Blood.

♡ Notice #2. This masterlist is strictly for non-con smut and serves as an exercise in refining erotic horror writing. Comments that reduce my work to mere sexual gratification, thirst, or casual simping will not be tolerated. If your response is primarily thirst-driven, keep it to yourself—repeated violations may result in blocking. Read the RULES before engaging. The tag list is reserved for followers I trust to respect my boundaries; being included is a privilege, not a right. You may request to be added, but I will decide based on trust and adherence to my guidelines. I also reserve the right to remove anyone at any time if their engagement becomes inappropriate.

Lol looved the loki one!!

Ror characters I think would be great at ✨giving✨

Buddha

Hands down. With his love for food, ya know he would definitely wanna taste you all the time for like an hour at least and make you cum multiple times and then clean up the mess himself *wink wink* and the fun doesn’t stop there, you two always have sex right afterwards because your orgasms always turn on Buddha so much, and he knows he’s good, he would constantly tease you about how much you like him going down on you, even in public

Buddha: *takes a sip of tea but it’s still too hot to drink* “Ah crap! I burned my tongue!”

(Y/n) “Are you alright, honey?”

Buddha: “are you worried for me or are ya worried I won’t be able to lick ya all up tonight~”

Hercules

I can’t even! Hercules is such a people pleaser, he definitely makes it his mission to make sure his lover is 100% satisfied, especially to relax you after a stressful day. Although, I feel like he’d be slow to hints, so sometimes you just gotta straight up ask him to go down on you but he’ll be on his knees in an instant right after because he could never say no to the love of his life and he honestly loves it because he loves to hear your moans and feel your shaky thighs around his face gets him so hard all the time, it’s takes you a little longer to reach your orgasm because Hercules will take his time with you like kissing your inner things and fingering you slowly, so normally you finish once but it’s a big one that has your entire body drained afterwards. you don’t have to have sex afterwards, if you want to of course Hercules will gladly oblige but if you’re tired after your climax, Hercules will gladly cuddle you until you fall asleep in his strong arms or he’ll draw you a soothing bath with your favorite candles and chocolates and rub your neck and shoulders in a well needed massage. The entire time your receiving Hercules will be giving you praises and telling you how much he looks you the entire time because he knows that’s what you like.

(Y/n): *finishes*

Hercules: “mm that’s my girl, I love you so much. Can I draw you a nice bath…or does my empress want me to please her again~”

Apollo

The man’s obviously a lady killer so his tongue and other things are golden. But it’s extremely rare that he’ll go down on you because Apollo wants the spotlight on him but when he does he’ll have you finished in minutes and you’ll always beg for more and he’ll deny you your plea saying “a true performer does not cave to the plea for an encore, you should have made the feeling last longer, dove.”

But he’ll always be ready to fill you with something else right after

Loki

I’m not the biggest fan of Loki but we’ve all seen his crazy long tongue so he def would hit some deep spots of yours just right and have you finishing in minutes. But he wouldn’t do it for a long time in your relationship because he was too uptight, thinking it was weird at first until you finally convinced him to try. He was instantly addicted but he would never tell you and he would wait until you beg him to go down on you again before he made the first move. And he would totally do it in public places so most times you wouldn’t have sex afterwards, and he would constantly whine that his jaw hurts hours later.

(Y/n) “Loki! This is the common area, someone could walk in!”

Loki: “then you better hurry up and cum, my pet~”

Hours later at dinner

“Ugh! I can’t eat another bite, my jaw hurts so so much and it’s all (y/n)’s fault! I guess I have to starve.”

You, beet red in embarrassment while Thor uncomfortably tries not to throw up his dinner and Odin glares at Loki as his crows caw in shock

Shiva

The man has three wives so we know he has learned a thing or two to keep everyone satisfied. I feel like he would rock your world with an orgasm that would last for days and that’s a good thing because you have to share him with his other wives so yes he’s skillful but very rarely has you all to himself. And shiva is giving greedy vibes in bed so he has to be satisfied first if you want him to treat you well. And shiva is a very laid back person so it lasts a long time and definitely leads into sex with him and maybe the other wives. Shivas more into naughty words than loving words during the act so he’d constantly tell you things like,

Shiva: “look at you… so dirty, like the slut you are, I’m only using my mouth and your putty in my hands, such a bad girl you are.”

Brunhilde

Last but not least. We all know our girl is a total freak in bed so she would run laps around these boys when giving oral for sure. But we all know brunhilde has a dark side so she’ll definitely be going down on her partner but pull away before they finish and demand they earn the right to orgasm. Hilde could finish you in seconds but chooses to have you wiggling for as long as she pleases. And she also has no problem using her skills to win an argument.

“Be a good girl/boy and have this place spotless when I get back or you’ll be empty and alone tonight.”

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✅️My campaign is vetted by el-shab-hussein& Nabulsi's, my number verified on the list is ( #355)✅️ 👇

https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/u/0/d/1yYkNp5U3ANwILl2MknJi9G7ArY4uVTEEQ1CVfzR8Ioo/htmlview

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slim pickins

they were never yours - so what if you find someone who could be?

pairings: toxic!Satosugu x roommate!reader, rebound!Sukuna x f!reader

content: MDNI, angst and smut, roommate AU, heavy yearning and pining, satosugu are dicks not gonna lie, reader isn't taking it though, extremely messy relationship dynamics, emotional hurt, reader standing up for herself, semi-public car sex, protected piv sex, oral (m! + f! receiving), threesome, consensual recording/sending, multiple positions and povs

a/n: this was very much inspired by beat your heart to death by the immensely incredibly talented @specialgradefckr !! divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more !! also I'm blaming how much Sabrina Carpenter I've been listening to on @tsukuhoe bc her short n' sweet smau stays living in my head rent-free lol

good graces

bed chem

busy woman

teeny tiny sneak peak ahead, pls comment to be added to tags <3 first part will be up tomorrow (this was originally supposed to be a oneshot but it ended up way too long for that so I decided to split it up)

You'd seen the ending from the beginning.

They might've sucked you in, but you never fought back. Just stood still and let the quicksand take you until you landed here, sharing the middle bedroom in what some (yourself, included) would consider an unconventional living arrangement. Unstable would probably work too.

You were fucking Satoru, who was probably fucking Suguru, who was also fucking you.

If you didn't move out soon, the single thread holding the tightrope you were barely balancing on was going to snap, and you didn't think any of you would be able to pick up the pieces of whatever was left - as roommates, friends, lovers, or just strangers.

It'd been over from the first day you moved in. Really, the moment you'd met.

Satoru had been all smiles, so eager it was almost ridiculous how funny and charming you found him, his hand sliding over yours and squeezing like he'd known you forever instead of five minutes. He tutored you in your second to last year of college, forged a flirty friendship of sorts, waiting until you were clearly choking on your huge crush on him to introduce you to Suguru. You'd never been able to tell if he was his friend or boyfriend, but it didn't really matter, did it? Because even now, after the past four years, all the time you'd spent trying to carve yourself a place in their lives and living with them, it never made a difference.

There was them, and then there was you.

Their shared laughter and secret smiles, the tender touches and the way their eyes landed on each other from across the room - the subtle looks they exchanged like they were the only people who actually understood each other, you'd have to be stupid to miss any of it. Which, you guessed they thought you were considering the fact they both always waited until the other one was busy or had plans to bend you over the counter or pull your panties off on top of the washing machine and fuck you like you were the roommate they wanted.

"Suguru's gonna be home soon," You tried to warn him, but everything came out muffled, breathless, your face pressed against the soft mattress in Satoru's room, his hips smacking loudly against your ass. He hadn't even waited for you to finish brushing your teeth this morning to burst into the bathroom to whisk you away, throwing you on his bed and splaying you out like he'd been waiting all week for this.

And yeah, you did feel stupid for the faint flicker of hope that maybe he wanted this half as much as you did.

Interrogation Ghost x konig x male reader (Slight NSFW) Your name is Zhenya <3

Zhenya sat in the dimly lit room, the single overhead bulb casting harsh shadows on his face. His wrists were bound to the metal chair, the cold steel biting into his skin. He had been captured under suspicion of treason and collaboration with enemy forces, charges that could lead to a fate worse than death.

The door creaked open, and Zhenya's eyes flicked up to see two imposing figures step inside. Ghost, his skull mask gleaming menacingly, and König, a giant of a man whose presence alone was enough to instill fear.

Ghost approached first, his demeanor icy and unyielding. "Zhenya, you've got a lot of explaining to do," he said, his voice a low growl. "Caught red-handed with intel that could sink our entire operation."

Zhenya's heart pounded in his chest, but he forced himself to remain calm. "I don't know what you're talking about," he replied, his voice steady.

Ghost's eyes narrowed, and he slammed his fist onto the table, causing it to rattle. "Don't play games with us," he snapped. "We've got evidence, and you're going to tell us who you're working for."

Before Zhenya could respond, König stepped forward. His height and build made him tower over Zhenya, and his cold blue eyes were void of any warmth. "You think this is a joke?" he said, his voice deep and resonant. "You think you can just lie to us and walk away?"

König's hand shot out, gripping Zhenya's jaw with bruising force. "You'll speak, one way or another," he hissed, his breath hot against Zhenya's face.

Zhenya's resolve wavered under König's intense gaze. He could feel the fear creeping in, but he knew he had to stay strong. "I'm not a traitor," he insisted, his voice trembling slightly. "You've got the wrong guy."

Ghost moved behind Zhenya, his gloved hands sliding over his shoulders. "Is that so?" he murmured, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Then maybe you need a little persuasion."

Without warning, Ghost's hands tightened, his grip turning painful. König's fingers dug into Zhenya's jaw, forcing his head back. The cold and ruthless nature of their interrogation left no room for mercy.

König's lips twisted into a cruel smile. "We're going to enjoy breaking you," he said, his voice a chilling promise.

Zhenya's heart raced as he realized the depths of their intentions. They were determined to extract the truth, no matter the cost. And in that dimly lit room, surrounded by shadows and fear, he knew he was at the mercy of Ghost and König's unrelenting cruelty.

Currently having a argument with a swifite about Michael Jackson (they are saying that he is below Taylor) 💀 then after is aid ppl still listen to him like legendary late hip-hop artist like tupac and xxx then had the audacity to say no one listen to xxx 😭 finna pop off.

KINKTOBER 6: SOMNOPHILIA

tw: pervert boyfriend, oral fem!receiving, dubcon, somnophilia.

an: you're all getting kinktober in november too, enjoy !

you're so pretty when you don't speak. you're so sweet when you can't move. when you can't push him away, fight back, be a brat. it feels like heaven to him, having you passed out on the bed. your chest slowly moving up and down as you dream of only God knows what.

maybe you're dreaming of food, cherries and apples - no, maybe you're dreaming of dancing, or reading? no... he doubts that too. ah. your lips part, thighs pressing together.

you must be dreaming of him.

your lover, your sweetheart.

your pervert of a significant other who is slowly pulling your panties down your legs, he parted them a few seconds before. your covered pussy was so cute, however it would look much cuter with his cum dripping out of it. just the thought got him hard.

he flung your panties to the side and rubbed his bulge. he just wants to taste you a little. you hardly ever let him eat you out when you're awake so he just has to do it while you're asleep.

he is hypnotised by your sex.. starring at it until whoops.... is he drooling ?

he licks his lips and settles inbetween your legs. your still fast asleep. he uses his fingers and parts your lips, you're a bit wet. he can make you wetter. he sticks his tongue out and swirls it around your clit. you twitch. your body knows what's happening even if you're knocked out.

he grins, that was not enough to wake you so he continues. he moves closer to you, licking, sucking, fucking your cunt with his tongue. his large hands gripping your thighs, forcing them open as he does what he wanted to do for quite some time.

you taste so good. why didn't you let him do this sooner ? were you embarrassed? you shouldn't be. he adored your body, and he especially adored your pretty cunt.

he moaned as he kissed your pussy, fuck it, he was so overcome with how wonderful it felt, he could no longer hold himself back. making out with your sex as if it were your actual mouth. who knew he could be this addicted ?

he rutted his hips against the bed, aching for some sort of relief from the tension. just eating you out was enough to make him cum his pants. so pathetic really.

"baby?" your voice was laced with confusion and fear.

he widen his eyes and froze. fuck, you weren't supposed to wake up.

boyfriend: alfons (ikevil), reo, otoya (bllk), kuroo (hq), liam (moriarty the patriot), hermes (ror), mahito, choso (jjk), hisoka (hxh)

when reading smut and y/n says “daddy”

Angeljo