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notthatnormalblog · 14 hours ago

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Yandere! House Monster x Reader (II)

It’s officially a smutty sitcom: you, the oblivious gamer boyfriend, and the tentacle monster lurking in dark corners.

[First part]

Content: gender neutral reader, monster smut

Do monsters have a sense of humor? This creature seems to be greatly amused by the little "game" you've devised behind your boyfriend's back. Although you don't have much input in the affair, and most of the time you're merely a witness to the events unfolding before you (or in you).

First, there's the mild, inoffensive annoyances. "Babe, did you see my controller? I swear I left it on the couch". Some pranks are harder to swallow than others, such as the occasional lack of Internet. You know exactly when it happens, because you can hear your boyfriend's enraged shouts and rattles. It's always during important matches. No one knows why it happens. The repairmen who cross your threshold can only scratch their heads in confusion, confessing that nothing is out of the ordinary.

Then, the unfortunate coincidences. "How about we have some fun after my game?", the boyfriend will suggest with an anticipative grin. Alas, moments after he stands up, he is overwhelmed by a nauseous feeling. His stomach twirls and throbs, and he curses under his breath. "Some other time, perhaps", he concludes begrudgingly. You see, the creature is very possessive. The only thing that has saved your beloved partner from being torn to shreds already is his crassly comical obliviousness.

The mischief aimed towards the boyfriend is, however, a secondary source of entertainment. Nothing could ever come close to spending time with you. Yet another irony to this ridiculous situation: you haven't been caught yet, despite the rabid clinginess of the tentacled monster.

It just loves surprising you. For example, when you exhale dramatically at the end of the day, relaxing in the bathtub and enjoying your peace. Just as you hear an impatient knock on the door, you notice a familiar dark tendril slithering its way out of the water. You won't be leaving the bathroom anytime soon. "Did you steam yourself over there? You look like a lobster", the boyfriend will remark with a raised eyebrow upon seeing your panting, feverish face. "Y-yeah, I guess so." You limp outside, struggling to hold the towel around your body. Or more specifically, around the many marks left on your skin by hundreds of suckers.

In fact, its shamelessness reminds you of a poorly written erotic scenario, the likes you'd see on some adult website with a clickbait title. How would you name this current setup? You grip the edge of the table, pursing your lips to prevent any moans escaping your mouth. Your boyfriend is, once again, scrolling on his phone, indifferent to your presence. The water boiling on the stove drowns the wet, slippery sounds of the appendages pumping in and out of you underneath the table. “You might want to give it a stir in a moment, or it’ll overflow”, the boyfriend remarks without lifting his gaze. You mumble in agreement, slapping a hand over your mouth. You’re at your limit.

One may be tempted to ask, is this entity bound to its house? You pondered the same question until your recent IKEA visit. You and your boyfriend had been looking for a new wardrobe. "What do you think of this one?", you asked, closing the door and turning around. Your eyes scanned the empty model-bedroom. The jackass had wandered ahead without you. You sighed and were about to go find him, when a cold grip suddenly tightened around your wrist. You winced and snapped your head back. Thick tendrils had made their way out of the closet, tugging you to join them inside. So it can follow you around, you thought, climbing into the cramped space. Between the silent whines and breathy begging, an idea emerges from your dazed mind. New hypothetical video title: mercilessly molested in the IKEA store by monster partner.

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notthatnormalblog · 14 hours ago

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Yandere! House Monster x Reader

Listen, I woke up in cold sweat at 4am with a vision: you and your stereotypically unavailable gamer boyfriend have moved into a new house. You find out very soon it's not as empty as you had assumed, but your worries fall on deaf ears. The tentacle monster lurking in dark corners just wants to make sure you're not lonely.

[Second Part]

Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance (mildly NSFW)

You didn't notice anything strange at first. Maybe it was considering its prey. You'd found a cheap, old house available for rent, and your boyfriend couldn't refuse the extra space for his mancave.

Oh, you poor thing. It watched your lonely evenings, your empty bed at night, your futile attempts to spend more time with your beloved partner. It had originally planned to devour your souls and await the next foolish mortals to enter its realm, but seeing your pitiful state prompted a change of heart. Metaphorical heart, of course.

It started gradually: testing the waters, or what you'd call a courting attempt. Doors opening by themselves, disembodied eyes lovingly gazing at you from the nearby walls. Dark tendrils making their way out of the shadows, just to announce its presence.

"I think this place might be cursed", you told your boyfriend one evening. "I've been stalked by amorphous silhouettes of blight and terror, and they whisper ancient blasphemies to me at night." He let out a worried shout and slapped the desk. "That's cool, babe. I'm kind of losing right now, though, so perhaps give me a minute?"

One night you were awakened from your slumber by a warm touch sliding across your body. You smiled into your pillow as the cheeky hands made their way down, fondling your curves and hungrily searching for your sensitive areas. You let out a soft moan, enjoying the moment, until you heard your boyfriend yell from the other room. Your eyes shot open.

The hands lewdly groping your privates were, in fact, tentacles. Your first reaction was to gasp, but you were quickly silenced by another slippery appendage pressing against your lips. Shh, shh. Allow the creature to do its thing, dear. Surely enough, within minutes you were a drooling mess, holding onto the sheets for dear life.

"You've been in a good mood lately", you boyfriend remarks, idly scrolling on his phone and crunching on his breakfast cereal. You ponder if you should tell him you've been fucked relentlessly by a monstrous creature inhabiting your new home. You glance at the counter and smirk, remembering how you just had to wipe your wet mess from it a few hours ago. "Keep it that way, hun, I could get used to not being pestered every hour", the man jokes with a laugh.

Does it count as cheating if your affair partner isn't really human? Although, you have to wonder if you're still dating to begin with. From the corner of your eye, you can discern faint movement above the young man, a shadow looming menacingly. The eldritch monster would not hesitate to tear your poor boyfriend apart if he tried to mess with its belonging.

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notthatnormalblog · 14 hours ago

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The most beautiful pearl

That was the day I met Dana, a maid with commoner blood.

It wasn’t common for maids from lowly backgrounds to work directly for me, but apparently she started working in the estate years ago and slowly rose up in the ranks thanks to her diligence and determined personality.

Dana was nice, she would always pay attention to my needs and work extra for my comfort. Personally delivering all my meals, helping me dress up and preparing my bath all by herself, staying by my side until I fall asleep…

“I really appreciate you Dana…” I say sleepily, my body engulfed in the soft blanket Dana prepared for me as she sits by my side.

“You do my lady?”, I nod.

“I don’t have many people I’m close with, but you’ve been so nice to me for the past 3 months…”

“I’m your handmaid, my lady. That much is to be expected.”

“But you’re so much more attentive than any of my other maids. It has barely been 3 months but I don’t know what I would do without you…”

“…I’m glad to hear that my lady.” She stops for a second as if to think. “Don’t worry I will always be by your side…” Dana answers me gently. My tired eyes fail to read her face in the dimly moonlit room, but I go to sleep with a smile on my face, imagining her doing the same.

I look down at her, watching her slowly breathe in and out with that foolishly innocent expression on her face. The suffocating uniform I had to wear to hide my adam’s apple and chest is unbuttoned to let me breathe. A sharp knife shines in my hand, reflecting the moonlight decorating her fancy room.

516 times. I’ve tried to kill this woman exactly 516 times. I raise my knife. “This time I will do it” I think to myself. You shift in your sleep, probably deep in your happy dreams. You don’t sense anything, unaware of the danger I hold.

“I will do it… I will…” I repeat in my head yet my hand won’t stop shaking.

“Damn it…”

“She has so many openings, does she have no survival instinct? It feels like she could die if she fell down tad too hard” I think to myself as I pick up her dinner. A small bottle of poison I’ve failed to use so far and my knife are tucked deep in my apron. There are a few servants around chatting but no one seems to suspect anything from the lady’s personal handmaid.

“Hey did you see what Lady y/n was wearing today? Haha is she trying to catch someone’s attention going out like that?”

“Right? If she bent down a bit we could even see her cleavage!”

Huh?

Those two… are they new recruits? I did hear that despicable man hired a new batch. What do they think they are doing spouting such nonsense?

“She already looks so naive, I bet she wouldn’t be able to do anything if I just cornered her right?”

…

“Dana, did you get some of the tomato sauce on your sleeve?” you ask innocently, happily enjoying your lavish dinner.

“It seems so my lady. I will clean it tonight don’t worry.” I quickly answer with my usual smile.

“Haha don’t tell me you wanted to try some! You could’ve just asked me, here.”

“I-I couldn’t possibly my lady-“

“My arm will get tired if you don’t take it~”

I sigh and lean down to eat the bite you so graciously offered, it doesn’t have poison anyway…

It truly is delicious, enough to drive a commoner to tears, but this quality is just the norm for you.

I once again stand above you. “This time… this time for sure…” repeats in my head as I raise my knife. This is the 520th attempt.

You sleep peacefully under me as I clench my teeth, my hand refusing to go down.

It’s always the same thing. I stay by your side until you fall asleep, I get up and raise my knife, I watch you sleep without a worry in the world and go back to my room after another failure.

I sigh and prepare to get up, I’ve despised you for longer than you know for making me feel this way.

“Dana…?”

“!?” You’re awake? Why are you awake!? You never wake up at this hour!

…What are you looking at?

My eyes follow your gaze and land on the knife I’m holding up.

“W-what are you doing Dana!? N-no someone help-!”

My free hand quickly covers your mouth as I whisper yell “Be quiet!”. You continue flailing your arms and legs, trying to push me off. Since my other hand is still up I can’t hold you down properly.

“Stop fighting me! You don’t have the right to-!”

You manage to push my hand off your mouth but your nails catch my open collar, accidentally ripping a button. For a second your eyes widen and before I can register what’s going on you grab my clothes.

“!!”

In a moment of panic I throw the knife and pull away to cover myself.

“D-Don’t look!”

If you do they’ll take you away from me.

“Y-you are a man?” You ask while sitting up, clearly on guard but you make no motion to run away. Maybe seeing my panicked state made you feel less scared.

I don’t answer and just stare at you. I wonder what my expression looks like? My panic and anger must reflect on my eyes as I cover my chest. My knife… is at the other side of the room, tsk.

“B-But why…? A-and that knife… were you trying to…? I… D-did I do something to offend you…?”

Your voice is shaking as you ask questions after questions, tears slowly spilling out. I’m sure you must feel so scared and betrayed. Good, that’s what I wanted.

Yes, what I wanted…

What I wanted?

Anger boils inside me. A part of me feels satisfied for making you experience such betrayal, but the other half feels anger. A privileged person like you who lives life without a single worry doesn’t deserve to cry like a victim.

“Stop crying!” I lunge forward to grab your neck and push you down. You look up to me, clearly scared but my hand doesn’t squeeze your neck.

“You don’t know anything!” I bite my lip, wanting to scream but also not. I hate this, once again my body refuses to listen to me.

“You don’t know anything about me! You don’t know what your family has done! You don’t know what you have done to me!!”

My hand presses down harder.

“I already had nothing but you ruined me beyond repair!” I try to keep my voice low to not alert the other servants yet I can’t prevent it from shaking as I let my anger out.

“You don’t know anything…”

“Dana”

A name unfit for a boy, and this disgustingly beautiful face that resembles hers were the only things that wench left behind with me.

I didn’t know anything about her. All I knew was that she treated me like the girl she always wanted to give birth to and that I must never leave the wooden box she called “home”.

She hated me, it was only obvious. Even when I was barely able to speak it wasn’t hard to understand she actually wished for a girl. Although, maybe thanks to this face of mine, she enjoyed putting me in dresses and forcing me into the life she dreamed of.

“Dana, mommy has to deal with some surprise visitors so stay in this closet and don’t make a noise just like how I taught you before alright?”

Those were the last words she uttered before kissing my forehead and closing the rusty closet doors. Then it was arguing, screams, red and silence.

The fact that she used to work in your estate because she was in debt to your father, that she ran away pregnant without actually paying it back and was being hunted down were things I only got to know later in life.

It seems they were unaware she was even pregnant and didn’t notice the child she so hurriedly tucked inside the old compact closet.

Such sad excuse of a life, at the end she wasn’t able to accomplish anything. All she had was a son who believed she hated him and thus hated her back. A son who didn’t even care about the effort she put into keeping him hidden and safe.

A son who returned to the estate she once escaped from.

It wasn’t too hard to get registered as a maid with such face and height. My plan originally was to slowly go up in ranks until I reached that filthy man and stab his chest the same way his henchmen stabbed that wench’s.

But then I met you.

The precious young lady of the estate, loved by all the workers and her parents. A lovely person who was sailing through life with no hardships, a being sure to be missed if lost.

I thought if I killed you the same way they killed that wench, that filthy man would experience so much pain he wouldn’t be able to forget about it for an entire lifetime.

So I started working to be your handmaid instead, and you quickly inflicted another type of anger into me.

I hated that you were oblivious to the pain others felt, I hated that all you knew was comfort and love, I hated that you never experienced what a broken heart felt like.

I hated how you smiled at me like you couldn’t do without me, I hated how your hair felt so soft in my hands as I brushed it, I hated how you happily ate the sweets I secretly took from the kitchen just so you could have some more, I hated how good you smelt right after I washed you, I hated how soft your skin felt against my fingertips as I helped you dress up-

“UGH!”

I gasp, sitting on the bathroom floor. Looking at the toilet seat filled with my insides and wiping my mouth with a shaky hand before flushing it down.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this…

You look up to me with shaky eyes, body barely moving.

“I-I’m sorry-“

“Don’t pity me! I’m not someone who needs your pity!”

You flinch as I raise my voice. I feel so disgusted, my voice shaking with anger.

“At least I still had control over myself when all I had was hate… At least I was somewhat “normal”…”

My eyes never leave yours, your gaze only making me feel more agitated.

“I wasn’t supposed to feel like this… why did you have to wake up now…”

A tear threatens to fall from my eye.

“If only you just continued sleeping… then I could’ve continued staying next to you… I could’ve continued being good for you…”

“Dana I’m sorry-“

“I said I don’t want to hear it!”

I lower my head, not wanting to see the face you’re making.

Then an idea comes to my mind.

“Are you really sorry? Do you want to make up for it?”

I grab your face before you can answer.

“!?”

I slowly pull away to speak, your taste lingering in my lips.

“Then don’t report what happened today and let me continue staying by your side.

I lean in closer and look into your eyes.

“The only way you can atone for your sins is by accepting this twisted love of mine”

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notthatnormalblog · 15 hours ago

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One of the lucky ones- Yandere Concubine x Fem reader

Contains- abuse, physical violence, obsessive and possessive behaviour,blood, disfigurement, power imbalance

“Hurry up, will you? Need I remind you how it looks if a member of my retinue falls behind everyone else?” He raises a manicured brow as he gestures for you to walk at his side.

“My apologies your imperial highness,” you scurry up next to your lord, carefully holding the parasol above him, it is heavy and your hands buckle slightly from carrying it above him the entire hour he's been outdoors wandering the imperial gardens. The most favoured and spoilt concubine to the emperor, he chose you, lifting you up from a nameless serving girl scrubbing floors in his pavilion, to his primary attendant and companion. The only servant privileged enough to stand beside him rather than behind him, you're lucky. You remind yourself of that as much as you can, you're lucky to have been only just sold to the palace as a servant instead of anywhere else they send plain faced village girls too. You're lucky that he spotted you and found your stammering provincial dialect entertaining, lucky that you get dressed in his offcuts and old fabrics, fobbing off his gifts from the emperor onto you to the point where minor servants speak to you with respect because everyone can see you hold the most treasured concubines ear. Even if you're too skittish to ever mumble in it.

“Leave that for one of the others to carry,” The parasol is immediately taken from you by one of the guards, with your arms suddenly free he wraps his arm around yours, resting it in the crook of your elbow. He is beautiful, unfairly so, and he guards it fiercely. You alone know of the countless tonics and potions he applies to himself, the time he spends every night focused on himself before the emperor arrives. He allows you to sit in with him as he conducts his rituals, smearing some mask over his face, noticing your stares he put some on your skin too. And you were too shy to even wonder if this was just him making fun of you. He lets you brush his hair, long and thick down to his thighs you spend extra time to care for it. Raking your hands through his locks as your mother once did for you. Your own hair is nothing special, stubborn to grow long when cut but he will let you keep the last dregs in the hair oil bottles for yourself. It's nice, these little tastes of luxury he shares without asking anything of you in return. His beauty is his currency and you've seen the bruises that can litter his body for night after the emperor has him, the slight limp as he walks. And you say nothing because you know what it's like to serve a master who's violence comes to him quickly. So you just help your lord into fresh clothes, rub balm into his marks. When he pulls you tight against his chest as though he would stop breathing if he let go of you, you just stay still and let it happen.

Some nights when he does not need to deal with the emperor's attention he will request that you sleep by his side. At first you prepared to sleep on the floor beside his bed until he rolled his eyes, flicked you on the forehead and simply pulled you beside him. But now it's become just another part of your routine, most of the night is spent helping him with his. You watch wide eyed as he uses ingredients that could cause years of your salary as though it is worthless. He dismisses everyone else until it's only you two in the warm lamplight and the sheer silk sleeping robes he's bestowed on you, with the excuse that as his personal attendant your presentation reflects him. You don't really know if that matters in private, when his head is resting on your lap and you scratch his scalp with a tenderness he's never been shown before.

The reverie is shattered with the entrance of the emperor. You have never seen your Lord's face move so quickly from panic to that stone mask of seduction he wears publicly. Nor had you ever been so close to the emperor before for him to even acknowledge your existence but it seems like tonight your luck must be about to run out. You scramble into a bow as the concubine lifts himself leisurely from the ground, heartbeat so loud you do not even realise you're being addressed until you're ordered to lift your head up. When you move too slow for his liking the emperor's hand reaches out and grabs you painfully by the chin to lift you. There are cracks in your lord's mask as he has no options but to watch, a flare in his nostrils, a set in his jaw. The emperor tilts your face any which way like buying a horse at a market as he makes comments about your appearance. Most of which you've heard before, plain faced and provincial, but he continues that you have that look of a fresh faced country innocence one that can so easily be shattered.

“Come, why would you bore yourself with her when I am the one you came for? Not my silly little maid.” the concubine practically throws himself at the emperor to distract his attentions from you. The moment you are released from his grip you scurry from the bedchambers, into the safety of the outside. There you wait until you can see the emperor leave, and you wait a bit longer just in case, before entering the chamber with warm damp cloths to silently clean his skin.

Afterwards your lord looks down on you, he is in a state of disarray, hair tousled, lips swollen, robe practically open. “I need to do something about you.” He mutters as though you aren't even in front of him. “I can't have that incident repeating, now that he has seen you, I don't have the luxury of waiting for him to forget you.” he sighs angrily, running a hand through his hair to get it out the way.

“My lord?” You ask softly trying to break him out from this state, but all it seems to do is remind him that you're here. He pounces on you like a tiger, pinning you underneath him. A hand fisting tight in your hair.

“I should ruin you,” he mutters darkly “it would be for your own good if I did so, to protect you from his advances you don't realise what he's about to do to you until his free hand is held aloft before you, a glint of silver in the low light in the room. He pulls your hair sharply when you begin to writhe and scream, the pain from your head being jerked about silences your sobs to whimpers as he leans over your ears. “I am doing what's best, don't you understand? I can handle his attentions,” he practically spits the word out as the dagger hovers precariously above you, “but you, you would collapse and crumble if he took you. This is the only way I can protect you, my sweet.” his eyes gone dark from mania as his hands shake “if I do this, not only will I mar your face but he will not know just how much love I have for you if I am willing to disfigure you. He will only think I'm jealous.”

“Please.” You whimper and tremble in his grip begging for mercy, but you don't realise that to him- this is a mercy. A shield from everyone who could think to harm you, he may not have the power yet to protect you but until then he will use what he has. You never realised that all the tenderness you offered to such a beautiful creature would make it turn its claws on you.

The pain is blinding for a moment as he drags the blade across your cheek. Holding your head tight and pinning you underneath his weight while you try to buck underneath him. It sears and burns brightly once the blade is removed and the dampness dripps across your face, staining the sheets and both yours and his robes. You try to open your mouth to scream or to howl but his mouth is on yours in a moment, to swallow up any sounds you make. Every slight moment only seems to open the wound more but he presses onto you as though he could devour you whole, pulling back with a flush on his bruised face and pure tenderness in his eyes he cups your bloody face, dabbing at your wound until the blood flow slows.“You're still so perfect,” he whispers softly “this was for the best please, you'll understand that in time.”

And perhaps he was right, in time you're left with an ugly scar torn across your left cheek, where you can't even smile without the skin puckering. With no one wanting to meet your face and the rumours spreading that he did this in jealousy that you could steal the emperor's affection from him. You're the only one who knows at night where he pours over secret plans to steal the throne out from underneath him, and he will kiss your puckered skin tenderly like you're the most perfect thing he's ever seen. Mumbling promises of how this was worth it now you're safe. You've long since stopped lying to yourself about how lucky you are to be here.

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notthatnormalblog · 15 hours ago

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ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴊᴏᴄᴋ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

It all started with a vending machine.

You weren’t expecting anything special that day. Just wanted a drink — that was all. But, naturally, the vending machine had other plans.

You pressed the button again. Nothing. Slammed it with your palm. Still nothing. Your expression remained blank as your drink taunted you from behind the glass, unmoving.

That’s when he showed up.

Matthew, the school’s golden boy jock. Towering, broad-shouldered, blonde hair tousled in a way that screamed accidental perfection.

He was just passing by with his duffel bag over one shoulder, phone in hand, barely sparing you a glance — until you smacked the machine again.

With a slight frown, he walked over and, without saying a word, shoved the entire vending machine with a grunt.

Your drink fell.

He grinned, wiped his hands like he’d just saved the world, and handed it to you. “Here you go.”

You blinked. “Thanks.”

He gave a nod and walked off again. Just like that. You figured he was just being helpful — a friendly face with no real intention. And for the most part, you were right.

But that changed.

A week later, Matthew got relocated in art class — punishment for being too loud, too distracting with his rowdy jock buddies at the back. The teacher pointed to the empty seat beside you, and he slumped down with a dramatic groan.

At first, he didn’t care. He didn’t even notice you. His attention was elsewhere — doodling stick figures, sighing loudly, tapping his pencil until the teacher yelled at him again.

But then… he started watching you.

Maybe it was the way you zoned into your work, eyes half-lidded with focus as you brushed over canvas, hands stained with charcoal and pigment.

Or maybe it was your laugh when you talked with your friends sitting on your other side — loud enough to hear, but never aimed at him. You didn’t even look at him most of the time. And that did something to him.

He tried small things first.

“You always draw with your wrist bent like that?”

You didn’t answer.

“Is that… a skull with flowers coming out of it? That’s kinda cool.”

You gave a small nod.

That should’ve been the end.

But Matthew wasn’t used to being ignored. He wasn’t used to not being wanted — everyone liked him. Teachers, students, girls, underclassmen, even the janitor smiled at him. But you? You didn’t flinch. Didn’t melt. Didn’t even seem interested.

And that’s when something snapped inside him.

yan jock whose obsession started gradually. Harmless, even.

He would bring snacks to class, placing one quietly on the edge of your desk without looking at you — even though he picked your favorite flavor every time.

He'd hover near your locker, pretending he just happened to be walking by... again. He lingered near your friend group between classes, hoping you'd acknowledge him.

You didn’t.

You were too focused on your friends, too caught up in your own world to even notice how often he watched you now.

His eyes followed you across the courtyard. His steps subconsciously matched yours in the hallways.

When you got sick for a day, he didn’t show up to practice, texting his coach he “ate bad chicken” — but he was outside your house instead, pacing, trying to build the courage to knock just to check on you.

Your indifference drove him insane.

He started turning down party invites. Stopped flirting with the pretty girls who batted their lashes and wore his jersey.

He didn’t care anymore. He only wanted you. No matter how many people wanted him — you were the one person who didn’t, and that made you the only one who mattered.

He’d find himself staring at your desk even when you weren’t in class, tracing the rings left by your water bottle, the little smudges of ink, wondering what your hands had been writing.

yan jock who even stopped hanging out with his friends.

At first, his friends didn’t believe it. “Matt, you’re seriously ditching us again?”

“Bro, it’s just one hangout. You always come to Tony’s on Thursdays.”

“There’s gonna be girls.”

Matthew barely blinked, pulling his hoodie over his head, already walking away. “Yeah, nah. I got stuff to do”

“Stuff” meant stalking you.

He didn’t care how confused or bitter his teammates got. The once-devoted quarterback who used to host parties and show off his roster of flings now disappeared like a ghost — his time swallowed entirely by you.

Every spare second was about you. Thinking about you. Looking for you. Being near you. The girls who used to sit on his lap or flirt after games barely got a glance anymore.

Some tried harder—shorter skirts, longer lashes, louder laughs—but he’d just brush past, muttering something like, “Not interested.”

Because they weren’t you.

They didn’t roll their eyes at him with that flat, unimpressed stare. They didn’t challenge him or push him away or leave him wondering what you were thinking every time you gave him a one-word answer.

They weren’t his favorite person in the entire damn world.

And somehow, soon enough, you started talking to him more. Not much at first. Just a few dry comments during art class.

A low “pass me that brush” or “your drawing sucks” without looking at him.

But Matthew took it personally — in the best way. You noticed him. He started using it as a chance to pull conversations out of you like loose threads.

“Sucks? Please, this is a masterpiece. That’s definitely a dog and not a horse.”

You snorted. “Looks like it got hit by a bus.”

He beamed, like he’d just won the lottery. You talked to him. You laughed. You didn’t shove him off your desk that day when he leaned closer.

Every scrap of attention from you made his whole week. Soon, he was completely attached. Emotionally dependent, even. A walking, talking golden retriever in human form who wagged his metaphorical tail every time you so much as glanced his way.

He became sensitive about everything involving you — if you ignored him too long, he’d go quiet and pouty. If he thought you were upset, he’d panic, buying you things until he saw a flicker of a smile.

yan jock who hated your friends. He wouldn’t say it directly, but he’d glance at them with narrowed eyes whenever they came around during class or lunch.

They were obstacles, stealing your attention. Cutting into his time. He’d scoot his chair a little closer, lean in more, start conversations just to make your friends roll their eyes and drift away.

And if you noticed and called him out? “What? I just wanna talk to you. You’re more fun anyway,” he’d shrug, feigning innocence — but deep down, he wanted you alone.

All the time. In his head, you didn’t need anyone else. You had him.

And when he started hanging out with you after school? That was heaven for him. It started with casual excuses.

“Hey, I can drive you home. I’m heading that way anyway.”

“I can carry your art project—looks heavy.”

“You hungry? I was thinking of grabbing food. Wanna come?”

You said yes once, maybe out of pity, or maybe because you were tired of his constant hovering. But the second you did, it became routine.

He waited for you after the final bell, standing by your locker like a lovesick puppy, always holding something — your drink, your favorite candy, that one sweater he noticed you kept looking at online but never bought.

yan jock who was rich, and he never hesitated to use it. Anything you vaguely wanted? He got it for you. That one book that was sold out? He paid triple online game console you offhandedly mentioned you never got around to buying?

It was wrapped and in your backpack the next day. And honestly… it started wearing you down.

You still found him clingy, kind of dumb, always in your space. But… he was helpful. And oddly sweet. And the way his whole face lit up when you said “thanks” made you feel guilty if you didn’t at least acknowledge him.

So you started talking to him more. Not just in class. But after school. Texts. Small conversations. He’d walk you to the bus stop, or drive you himself when it rained, even if it meant missing practice.

You’d sigh and let him trail after you like the lovesick puppy he was, head tilted with hopeful eyes, just waiting for you to speak.

Eventually, you admitted it to yourself. You didn’t mind having him around, maybe he could be a friend, he was your friend. (In your mind, at least.)

But to Matthew? You were everything. His sun, moon, and stars. His reason to wake up, to breathe, to exist.

The idea of anyone else getting close to you made his stomach twist. His possessiveness only grew stronger every time you laughed at his jokes or leaned on him during a late night drive or accepted one of his overpriced gifts.

And when you finally called him your friend?He smiled.

But in the deepest part of him, behind that golden grin, he whispered silently to himself:

“Not for long.”

Because friends? Friends could be replaced.

But soulmates?

You only get one.

And he was convinced he was your soulmate for eternity, in every life.

HOPE U ENJOYED!! :3

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notthatnormalblog · 15 hours ago

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notthatnormalblog · 15 hours ago

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actor! sukuna who doesn't know batshit about social media or how to use it, accidentally posting a picture of his feet onto his story on his instagram account that has more than 53 million followers.

his replies are flooded with

'in my mouth'

and 'sukuna in his feet pic selling era'

and 'is rent due?'

so his next story is just a picture of him posing with his middle finger up and a caption that says. 'suck my dick. that pic was an accident.'

and yet the replies are still something along the lines of:

'stop bullying the elderly'

'someone enroll him in a social media class'

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notthatnormalblog · 18 hours ago

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𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ casually thinking about...

stepbro!draco fucking you with your parents in the next room

NSFW content ahead, +18

the filthy sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the bathroom as draco pounds your tight little hole from behind, his tall frame pinning you against the sink while he watches you intently through the mirror, your pretty bambi eyes looking right back at him.

"shh, love," he coos, fingers gripping your hair tighter as he yanks your head back, lips pressing against your pulse point. "you gotta be quiet f'me, yeah?"

your parents are home at this moment, sitting in the living room within a few feet, so the chances of getting caught are high, and draco can't risk it. if his father finds him fucking you —his wife's innocent and polite daughter, he'll definitely kill him. that fact hasn't stopped either of you though, the thrill of getting caught just making the two of you hornier, his cock throbbing inside your warm cunt as you coat him in your arousal.

you can barely hold back your pretty moans as you feel the delicious drag of his fat cockhead across your inner walls, his dick hitting all the right spots inside you so easily.

"i— i can't..." you stutter between little whimpers, cheeks flushed while you arch your back, hips moving backwards to meet his thrusts.

a slow smirk spreads across draco's face at your response, fingers trailing from your hair down to your neck, roughly pressing his palm against the front of your throat as he slams forcefully against you.

"you can't, huh?" he'd taunt, his other hand gripping your hip to keep you still. "can't stay fucking quiet?"

a loud, strangled moan leaves your throat despite your efforts not to make a sound, your pussy tingling too nicely for you to be able to hold them back. you shake your head in response, lips parting as your gasp for air.

"feels too good," you whimper, eyes rolling back.

your noises would force him to reach out and cover your mouth, his palm muffling every pretty sound you make while he keeps thrusting in and out of your quivering cunt. you can feel yourself clenching tighter around him as you near the edge, the coil in your belly tightening.

"honey, is everything okay?" your mother's voice asks from the other side of the door suddenly, while she knocks softly. you both freeze for a second, but then draco starts pounding into you again. "you've been there for a while."

your brows knit together in a frown, pretty face scrunched in pleasure as you reach up to tug his hand away from your mouth, pulling it downwards to encourage him to rub your little clit. you have to be quick.

"yes, mum, i'll be right out," you answer, and your voice is clearly breathy and agitated.

you pray that your mother doesn't notice.

more.

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