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specialgradefckr · 10 months ago

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Heatwave: Day 6

tw: explicit content. 9k+ words. Satoru/Reader. female!omega!reader, alpha!gojo. mutual pining, light angst, YEARNING, so much yearning, PIV, heat/rut sex, minor breeding kink, choking, reader and gojo are switches, gojo is kind of a masochist. intense bickering. you and gojo are both pathetically whipped and in love, and i do mean pathetic

Prompt: Mating cycles are as violent as they are horny, intent to kill is high.

It took some convincing to get you a position as a teacher at Tokyo Jujutsu High School – plenty of traditional fools in charge who thought omegas were better as childbearers than sorcerers.

But you got there. After ten years teaching in public schools, teaching at Tokyo Jujutsu High was what you'd always wanted: small classes with dedicated students who you could form real bonds with.

As a sorcerer, you had the potential to become a special grade – but your true passion was teaching, and it was a far better use of your talents to help the newest sorcerers improve.

Other teachers weren’t quite as gifted in the art of passing on knowledge. Like the special grade sorcerer no one ever shut up about, Satoru Gojo.

He was seven years younger than you – practically a student himself. But somehow, here he was, a teacher alongside you. Nepotism, maybe, combined with how obviously alpha he was – freakishly tall, well-built, and unnervingly confident, used to getting his way.

You’re not certain of his credentials as a teacher. If he has any at all.

If you were forced to guess, you’d assume Gojo had at least a PhD in pissing you the fuck off.

“Awh, c’mon now,” He’d snickered at your implication. “Like it’s hard?”

You could kill him. Actually, cross that out – you will kill him, just as soon as you’re finished riding his stupid big, fat knot to absolute oblivion.

Alphas, for all their pride, are even dumber and hornier than omegas in heat once their rut kicks into high gear and they lock their knot into someone.

You’ll choke him out then, you plan – if that doesn’t just make him roll all six eyes in exaggerated pleasure.

Gojo’s just that kind of complete and utter brat. Even if he is an alpha.

Constantly stalking you from behind, ready to throw his arms around your shoulders in some lazy half-embrace. Lording his stupid height over you, his seemingly endless youthful energy.

“Hey~” He’d drawl, leaning into you, knowing exactly how much the action exposed his scent, “How’s it going with the students? Teach ‘em any new tricks?”

You weren’t some early-twenties dewy-eyed omega; his scent didn’t have any more effect on you than a nice cologne would have. “Yes, I think today went well. They’re bright kids, I’m proud of them.”

“Oho! We should celebrate your success!” Not pleased with your response, he’d squeezed your shoulders close, enough that you couldn’t walk away. ��Drinks on me! Let’s head out~”

“Hitting on older women?” You’d returned, shrugging him off so you could walk away, “What, have you successfully repulsed every potential mate of your own age group? Quite a feat, even for you, Gojo.”

“Awh, don’t be like that. I’m just trying to show my support! I know ladies your age tend to get a lot of flak these days, especially from the higher-ups…”

It had been a pretty low blow from him, considering how much he disliked the higher-ups and tradition as a whole. Looking back, that was probably him getting desperate for some kind of reaction.

Like a fool, you’d given it to him.

Spinning, whipping around to tuck your finger beneath his chin, just tickling at his neck, inches from his scent glands.

“Ladies my age don’t go for boys like you, Satoru-kun,” you purr, snatching his chin and pulling his pretty face closer to yours, “And I’ll have you know, I have no interest one-night stands.”

He grins that awful, gorgeous grin with those pretty sparkling eyes. “Now when did I say I wanted anything like that? You’ve got a dirty mind there. I just wanted to get drinks.”

“When did I say you did?” You hold his gaze like you would the leash of a particularly disobedient dog. “I was just letting you know. But since you just want to get some celebratory drinks, I’ll ask Shoko and Nanami to come along.”

Heh. Transparent disappointment flashes across his face, like he’s bitten into a lemon, but he’s quick to brighten up.

“My mistake, I got a little too excited~” He follows alongside you with his stupidly long stride, hands in his pockets, “I was just soooo~ happy to hear you don’t do one-night stands. I’d get super jealous!”

This he says, right after taunting you for suggesting he wanted one? What a little shit.

“Do you also recall the part where I said I wasn’t interested in little boys?” You mutter, texting Shoko and Nanami about the meetup.

You can still feel his presence behind you. Pheromones drifting through your awareness. Gojo’s got such a weird scent for an alpha. Artificial and sour and sweet. Blue raspberry. Electric, just a whiff of it tingles. You lick your lips.

“Yeah, I heard you. Good to know my darling kohai Nanami is safe from your clutches~” He sings.

Fucking insufferable.

The thing about alphas was that they got aggressive when their ruts came around.

From experience you’d known his limitless could be turned on and off at will, and he could allow his scent to drift through it.

Not only was Gojo nearing his rut, he wanted you to know that he was nearing his rut. The air is oozing with his stinging, cloying scent that makes your mouth water. You have to swallow your spit a few times.

So when Gojo insisted that you spar with him, you just knew it was going to fucking suck.

He was going to use it to force unnecessary contact, shove his scent in your face, taunt and tease you while he physically prevented you from leaving.

Then, the million dollar question. Why the fuck did you ever agree to it?

Deep down, you tell yourself it’s to shut his stupid ass up. Because it’ll make for good practice, and that’s not even a lie. Or even just because he’s got a pretty face, and you want eye candy.

You tell yourself it has nothing to do with the heat you know you’re just on the verge of.

Nothing to do with the rut that has him smelling absolutely delectable.

The adrenaline that bursts through your veins as he races towards you is purely from the thrill of combat.

The exhilaration of watching his strike swing through empty air, the slight shock on his face; that’s because you’re proud of your skills.

You’re not panting, teeth bared in an awful grin, arms tightening back to grab him and hold him down, make him yours yours all yours – this is a combat stance.

Not that you wanted to fight him that badly in the first place. Feel his strikes against yours, touch that infinity for yourself. See what he’s offering, that he likes to throw it in your face so much.

It’s not any of that, and you whip out a denial for each thought as it rises like you dodge Gojo’s strikes with increasing desperation. Fast. Fast, so fast, like a blink. Here one moment, there the next.

Focus. On him. White hair, black tracksuit, that little flash of blue you’d see anywhere. You pin your senses on him, on the scent that dances in the air, tempting you. Put every fiber of your being into matching his strikes, which come faster, and faster, until eventually even you can’t dodge them.

White hair. Blue eyes. Pink lips. Pretty, pale face. Pressure down against you, breath, scent, hot in your face. Focus, focus.

Anything to take your attention from the way your thighs want to clench together when he pins you down, nose brushing against yours.

Close enough no infinity could stop you if you wanted to lean forward into the neck showing under his collar and bi-

“You goin’ easy on me?” He practically purrs in your ear. Infuriating.

So you let yourself purr back. Take in his pheromones for just a second, lean into it, relaxing underneath him as you let off an answering scent, laced with the arousal you’re already feeling. Tongue darting between your lips for a moment as you let your eyes linger on his pretty mouth, pretty face.

Gojo’s eyes dilate as your lashes flutter, tilting your lips to –

SLAM

“No,” You sing to his crumpled form, hunched over from the blow to his middle, “I think you’re easy, Gojo. Come back when you’re not a horny little beast about to rut.”

A breathy chuckle comes from him as he situates himself to sit back on his heels, catching his breath.

Unnerving. Everything about this bastard is unnerving. The way he looks up at you, face flushed, grinning with delight – you know for a fact your strike hit hard enough to bruise. Maybe he could heal it, but he was still winded from the impact. It had to hurt, still.

Instead, those too-blue eyes seem to glow at you.

“Easy, huh?” He says, and you pretend he said it to himself. “Actually, I’m pretty hard.”

(You try very hard to pretend you didn’t hear that. To pretend you couldn’t smell it the moment you struck him.)

He licks his lips, taking in a deep breath, like he caught the scent of something he can’t let escape him. Eyes staring after you.

You walk away, before he can catch on to how slick you’ve become, just with this little interaction. What are you, a teenager? Maybe you’re close to your heat, but not that close.

Gojo lets you walk.

You think he knows.

(He definitely knows.)

He loves to taunt you. Alphas love posturing, looking for fights, as soon as their ruts come around. But an omega nearing their heat would snap at anything that so much as breathed wrong. Ready to see everything as a threat, demanding and critical even of those closest to them.

Both secondary genders had… attitude problems during their mating cycles that led to them lashing out. But due to stereotypes, alphas were seen as being dominant and argumentative, whereas omegas were seen as…

“Awh, needy, are we? Must be your heat coming up, huh?”

“Still hitting on older women? Your rut must really have you acting like an animal. Why don’t you do us all a favor and find someone to fuck it out with?” God, just talking about it is fucking annoying.

“Not very mature of you to say, ma’am!” The look you gave him must have spoken volumes, because he immediately responded, “It’s okay, I know how it is. You don’t have to be so shy about admitting it! What omega wouldn’t want a strong, handsome alpha like me to take care of them~?”

“Kill yourself.”

Satoru Gojo had pried words from your mouth you would otherwise be horrified by. And that wasn’t even the worst of it.

The worst of it was he would try to pamper you, just like he claimed you must have needed.

And the worst of that part was that it fucking worked.

He knew all your favorite drinks, snacks, meals. Had things delivered to your desk when even his own moronic self could understand you did not want to see him – always with traces of his scent lingering on the gift.

Papers to grade? Coffee from your favorite café, just the way you liked it.

Indoor from a long training session? Something iced and fruity to sip on.

Back from a stressful mission? A dessert so delectable you double-check to see if Gojo hadn’t already taken a bite out of it himself.

“A little pick me up after all your hard work~ The students always talk about how much they love you. Trying to steal my thunder, huh? Good job, sensei!”

The words are irrationally pleasing to read. And he smells good, it always smells too fucking good, refreshing at the first hint and then invigorating the next. Sweet and sour, just like the bastard himself.

There’s little bits. A ribbon, a traditional little lunch wrapped in a handkerchief, one time he even just shamelessly sets his coat down next to a drink with another note.

“By the way, my favorite jacket got stained while getting you this. Since it’s your fault, you can dry clean it for me, right? Make sure to give it back, I’d miss it so much!”

Awful. Awful terrible man. Giving you every excuse in the book to hoard his scent and pretend you hadn’t. You could be throwing these away, for all he knows. Out of pure spite.

(He knows. He must know that you can’t throw them away, your instincts scream at you, your heat aches and burns. Each little article you get to squirrel away allows you another night of easier rest. He knows it. You know he does.)

It’s infuriating. It’s absolutely fucking infuriating because you know Gojo doesn’t mean it like that. He’s just using this to get to you. Doesn’t want anything more than to fuck the closest and most convenient hole because his rut is coming up. He isn’t pursuing a relationship with you, this isn’t courting, just teasing.

It’d amuse him, too, after. To tease you about it, probably try some weird shit in the classrooms or on missions – he’s got that air about him. Slutty. Down for anything.

It’s infuriating and it’s fucking hot. And devastating, because you meant it when you said you don’t really do one-night stands.

He’s just so unreasonably pretty that you’d thought about it when you met him. The attraction is there, on both ends, but the more you’ve gotten to know him the more certain you are that it’s a bad idea.

Gojo’s a menace already, and as fun as it was to taunt him, having sex with him would just give him more ammunition. He made everything weird.

All the teasing, the uncomfortable chemistry, the not-courting shit, and you’re in heat. Sure, you’d had casual sex before, but during your heat? Fuck that shit.

Because unfortunately, Gojo is right. You get needy.

Not because you’re an omega. It’s because you’re you.

When you spend your heat with a partner it’s like you can’t stop everything from spilling out.

The desire to know and be known in your entirety. To feel and touch and cherish every inch laid bare, to gift yourself like a sacrament to someone who you know will worship you –

See? Unbearably romantic. And you love it, you eat that shit up. It’s deep in you, a wanting you don’t even wish to deny.

The thought of waking up to an empty bed during your heat drove you mad with loathing and heartbreak. Seeing the person you’d allowed to have you in your heat touching someone else? You’d be out for blood.

Alphas get territorial. If an alpha sees someone with their partner, they’re liable to rip the interloper to shreds.

Omegas get possessive. An omega wouldn’t care about someone coveting what's theirs, but they’ll rip that partner to shreds if they suspect they have eyes for another.

It’s funny, how all that nurturing and devotion can turn so easily into equal parts cruelty and violence. To love deeply is to hate deeply, and adoration is so intrinsic to your being that you can’t help but fall hard whenever desire takes you.

You’re a needy little monster, craving love, gentleness, affection. You wouldn’t survive whatever he did after, you might not even survive baring yourself to him, letting the extent of your desire be known.

Gojo would rip your poor, tender, beating heart from your chest. Chew it up and spit it out like trash.

And he’s so, so pretty, and he smells so good, and you love the excitement of your back and forth – you adore him, this Satoru Gojo. You want him so bad you can taste it. But Gojo doesn’t feel it like you do, like a need deep in his bones that aches all the way to his dreams.

You’re seven years his senior, have no exceptional qualities, and he’s got all the options in the world. Gojo’s still so young. There’s no reason for him to want to be tied to you. If he fantasizes at all, it’s about fucking you, knotting you, not of your teeth on his neck or his own on yours.

And you shouldn’t even entertain the idea of him fantasizing about you. You shouldn’t entertain any of these thoughts, because for all the violence your love can inflict on him, Gojo is the one who would emerge unscathed. You’d be left in tatters, and he wouldn’t even have the decency not to step all over them.

You can’t sleep with him. You’ll die, you’ll surely die, it’ll absolutely feel like you’re dying to see that pretty face smile sarcastically, or sneer and turn away. You’ll awaken without his warmth beside you and it’ll feel like your heart is missing from your chest and you’ll have to be reminded of that every time you see him because you work with that fucking nuisance. At your job.

You can’t do it. You can’t. Off limits, no way.

But you’re (regrettably, unfortunately, miserably) needy when you’re in heat. And Gojo is a horny little beast in his rut.

And he knows, he knows he fucking knows. He’s there whenever you turn a corner, walk up to a vending machine, sit down to grade papers. He’s got that awful million watt smile that lights up his entire stupid pretty face when he flirts with you, trades barbs back and forth.

He’s touchy, too touchy, gets too close. Asks to spar with you again and again until you say yes. Leaves you more treats, more drinks, more little gifts the whole while.

Your hands get dry because your heat wakes you up in the middle of the night, you have to touch yourself constantly. Gojo brings you lotion that smells like raspberries (like him).

You’re not entirely sure he hasn’t fucked around and filled the bottle with lotion that’s also laced with his cum. You use it anyways. His reaction makes it obvious that he can tell you have, and he’s pleased by it.

You hate him. You hate him, and you want him. You want him so fucking bad.

You can’t do this. You can’t do it.

Gojo looks at you like he wants to eat you. Like he’s tracking every little twitch, every movement, like a predator and his prey. Like he’s waiting for you to bolt off so he can give chase.

You can’t do this.

You’re not fucking prey. You’ll bite him back, doesn’t this stupid man know?

And he spars with you again and you’re left breathless from dodging him –

(you refuse to be touched by someone who is himself untouchable)

And he smells so so so good up close when he finally tackles you, seizes you, locks your arms up from behind you –

(you love to be held, you dream of being held, in the depths of your heat it’s not being filled that comforts you it’s the thought of pressure like a vice grasping you so close, unwilling to let go)

And his face is so devastatingly beautiful up close, those terrible, magnificent eyes like a sea of stars, staring at you like he’s enraptured –

(god, he’s so pretty, just looking at him has a little dose of glee shooting through you)

And his lips taste as good as he smells –

(sweet and sour, can it really be that bad if the sting is all washed away with the tingle of sugary, electric tang on your tongue)

And he holds you so so tight so close so warm –

(you’re pulsing, aching, throbbing, and you’re so fucking tired of your own fingers and he’s grinding against you so good)

And then you’re in your room, at your door, inches away from your nest with all the shameful little bits and pieces of his scent you’ve stolen away.

(you can’t do this. this man will kill you. he will be the death of you.)

Teeth on your collarbone, huge hands clawing at your shirt, pulling it up. You look down at him, meet his fevered eyes and lust-filled gaze.

His breaths ghost over the skin he’s left wet with kisses and nips. Hungry, so hungry for you. So pretty. You grasp his pretty face with both hands and pull him up into a kiss that’s more teeth than lips.

(You’ll go out fighting.)

When his tongue darts into your mouth you nearly moan at the taste of him. Gojo groans, and he does it openly, hands wide over your ass and clenching at it. You close your teeth against his tongue, not hard, not biting. Just to feel it. Measuring the give.

Gojo nicks himself on your teeth to pull away, a sparkle in his eyes.

“Knew you wanted me.” He pants, licking over your lips, “Wanted this. Could smell you.” Lick, lick. “Taste you.”

Fuck. His eyes are wild and eager and you can smell his arousal already dripping free from him. Slotting one of your legs between his lets you press up and confirm his hardness. He moans at it, purposefully loud.

Massive. He’s massive, hard, and aching for you, so much he nearly howls at the pressure. Clawing your clothes off of you. You’re no better, yanking off his jacket, tugging his shirt up – and he lets you – tossing them into your bed.

“Look at you,” Kiss, kiss, he steals the words between presses of his mouth on your skin, like he has to breathe you and not the air, “Look at that sweet little nest. Helped you with it, didn’t I? Aren’t I just the greatest alpha?”

It’s hard, so fucking hard, to ignore how delight laces through your chest at his words. This nest, this place where you’ve languished for too long already in your heat, now an alpha (your alpha) is here and happy to fill it up (fill you up), curl up in it with you.

“You’re talking too much,” is all you dare to let yourself voice.

You seize his pants and underwear by the waistband, dragging them down his hips. Gojo stumbles, undignified, towards you, but even then, he’s tall enough to press you to fall back into the strategic mess of blankets, pillows, and your hoarded pieces of his offerings.

He’s still grinning as he pins you down. Arms on either side of you. Tall, so tall, so much larger than you. Larger than life. Your beautiful, ferocious alpha, all hard and excited just for you.

“Too bad. I love talking.” Gojo’s eyes stay trained on yours as he mouths over a breast, sucking as much of it as he can into his mouth.

“No, really? Would never have guessed.” the grumble escapes you, and he giggles.

He watches you still, tense, and try not to lean into the sensation as he plays at your nipple with his tongue, teeth. Pulls away with a pop.

You hear him kicking off what remains of his clothes, but you can’t bring yourself to look down.

“I can smell your slick from here,” A hand tracing up the inside of your thigh, “Mouthwatering.”

So wet you can almost feel yourself gushing. His hands are inches away from it. Heavy, warm form bearing down on you as he moves to suck at your other breast. Teasing fingers where your leg joins to your body.

“Is that all your mouth’s good for?”

His laughter had been far too mocking to be endearing, just like his grip on your hips had been just a bit tighter than pleasant, his grin wide enough to be smug instead of sweet.

Wretched and traitorous, your heart lurches at his beautiful face, anyways.

“If you wanted me to show you,” Those blue, blue eyes never leave yours as he trails his face down your body, “You could’ve just asked, babe.”

Your hand finds its way into his hair, which is naturally as soft and pleasant to the touch as you’d dreamed it was. You clench tightly and he rumbles in approval.

“Like it rough, do you, omega?” His breathes, right over your drooling cunt. “Me, too.”

“You’d be so fucking hot,” You pant, “If you kept your damn mouth closed.”

When he laughs again, it feels a little better, but he’s always got to dig in. Pressing kisses to your clit that leave you fighting the urge to kick your legs.

“I’m always hot, baby,” God, it feels so sinful, so good, to have his exhalation ghosting over your slickness, “You’re just all antsy ‘cause of your heat. Let me make you cum, calm you down.”

This has the opposite effect of calming you down and he knew it would. Probably expected you to wrap your legs around his waist while he buried his face in your cunt, digging your heels hard into his sides, like spurs.

“Would be the first useful thing your mouth has done all year.” Gojo snickers against you and it’s annoying how good it feels.

And then he closes his lips around your clit, tongue tracing swiftly all over it, and you couldn’t stop squirming if you tried. Can’t stop the noises that come out of your mouth, spilling out, overflowing, like how the slick just pours from your clenching hole.

He fingers into you, two at once, and it’s embarrassing how little you feel it at all. Two, in and out, then a third, stretching inside you. Spreading them apart inside you. Making these awful wet noises – it doesn’t help that Gojo likes to smack his lips while he eats.

“Tasty. So wet. Did you stretch yourself for me?” He asks between laps at your clit, pressing himself closer to you while you whimper and teeter on the edge, “Got some knot toys to prep?”

“Fuck – Gojo!” Even when you’re trying to snap at him, he makes it fucking impossible, suckling at your clit before you can get the words out.

You cum with a light, airy cry. Short, shallow gasps as your other hand darts down to grasp his shoulder. Clinging.

“I will, I will,” Gojo takes a deep breath, over the wetness of you, making you shiver.

Eyes like blue flame look up at you. Sinful tongue hanging out of his mouth like a dog. Licking sticky lips. “Must’ve been hard, all that time you spent waiting. Don’t you worry, I’ve got a nice big knot ready just for you.”

And god, it’s fucking terrible, how you have to suppress a shiver of delight at his words, as he crawls up your body to be eye-level with you. His cock rubs along your sex, wetting itself so easily it should be embarrassing.

It is big. It’s so big and the knot swelling at the base of it is even better, thick and pulsing and throbbing.

Your stupid horny omega brain wails at the prospect of finally, finally being filled up by something hot and pulsing and living. Strong enough to hold you down and breed you. He’d give you the prettiest kids.

Oh god, oh fuck. Omega brain is seizing the steering wheel right now and you’re fucking terrified of where it’ll take you. You have no idea what you’re going to do when he knots you.

And he WILL fucking knot you if you have to mount and ride him yourself.

He’s grinning. Your instinct screams at you to bite. “I could smell it on you just now, you know. You want me to knot you soooo bad.”

You return his smile with bared teeth, “You want to knot me so bad, Gojo.” You’re still oversensitive when you grind your cunt against him but it’s worth it to see his stupid jaw drop open, “It makes you look fucking stupid.”

Pretty, pretty. He’s so pretty you could cry, and his cock is twitching against you, wet and burning and ready.

“Shut up,” Gojo breathes, close enough for you to smell his tingling scent on his breath, “And take it.”

A snarl builds in your throat, climbs on your lips – only to be knocked away thoroughly by the feeling of his fat head nudging, hot and swollen at your entrance. You’re so slick it feels almost gummy against you.

He drives himself in and you bite back a scream. Instead you let your hands claw down his back, and when they’re far enough down you just reach up to his shoulders again and dig your nails in harder.

The scrape at your fingertips, the way the smooth flesh of his back yields to yours – rough and savage enough to leave his eyes wide and gleaming.

His cock driving into you is like velvet, warm and wet and welcoming, filling an ache that makes you want to cry out.

There’s a stretch, because he’s big, of course he’s fucking huge but it’s the delicious type of stretch, a tight pinch that makes you shudder and clench and pull a moan or two out of him in return.

“See?” He nips at the underside of your jaw. Close, too close, inches away from your scenting glands, licking like he wants a taste, “Just needed some cock to calm you down. Poor – poor little omega, your heat must have been really bad, huh?”

You want to kill him. You want him to fill you up up UP more and more of his cock drives into you, it’s like it’s fucking endless, his knot urges forward at your entrance and the stretch –

“This – hhgh – coming from the beast in rut,” You snarl through strangled moans, “Who’s been throwing himself at me like an animal?”

Your hand in his hair trails down, over the back of his neck, and his whole body jerks at the touch. You’re no better, straining beneath him, talking out loud so you don’t lose your mind as his knot slides home.

“Did you think of me while you fucked your hand, Gojo?” Dangerous territory. Dangerous thoughts. “Did you think about what I’d do to you? About me putting you on your ass while sparring because my scent turned you into a slut?”

He groans, long and laborious. You feel his knot lock in, his head thrown back (neck bared, pretty, pale, so empty and open) as he whines out his release.

It spurts inside you, hot and swelling and heady enough to bring you to a second release as his pelvis grinds against your clit.

“So what if I did?” There’s a challenge in his eyes, bright and sky blue and heart-rendingly beautiful in his blissed out state.

Something churns in your chest, something feral and wanting and you should know better but you can’t stop it now –

“Always think of me,” the demand leaves your lips before you can think of it, “You’ll always think of me when you touch yourself now, Gojo, you won’t be able to cum without it.” Before you know it, you’re purring, both from the afterglow and the words you’ve spoken with such misplaced confidence.

He thrusts lightly into you, a short useless movement which just makes you both more aware of his fat, swollen knot as it pumps his cum into you. Gojo purrs back at you, a warm rumble you can feel all throughout his form pressed against yours. His face against your chest, rubbing it – scenting you.

Your arms curl around him. Hold him close. “Never think of anyone else. Only me.”

The only response is louder purring. It’s painfully pleasant, comfortable, with the length of him pressed against you, his knot buried inside of you.

His eyes are half-lidded, dragging his parted lips over your skin. It’s too lazy and slow to be called a kiss, but the intimacy of It burns a trail across your skin. He licks at your neck in broad strokes and you mindlessly loll your head to the side, baring it for him.

Both of you content in the silence, sated by your climaxes. The first of many. A lull where you lie locked together so perfectly, enjoying the sinful trickles of his cum filling you up while his knot slowly deflates.

Naturally, Gojo can only let a good thing last so long.

“Never think of anyone else, huh?” His voice is unbearably smug, and smooth, and all things lovely. “Possessive and needy. What were you going to do if I hadn’t pounced on you?”

It takes you a moment to respond, disgruntled, “Next time you made an ass of yourself while sparring I would’ve just bitten you.”

A laugh; breathless and light. “I thought you didn’t like younger men?”

“A knot is a knot.” You clench around him a bit, just to drive your point home. It makes him spurt a little more into you, scalding hot. He hisses, face flushing.

He’s pretty like this. Then again, he’s always pretty.

“Yeah?” He leans in with glittering eyes, already recovered. “Bet you like my knot best. Bet you won’t want any other after this.”

You already don’t. You love the feel of him inside you, how he fits like a glove, how his knot fills you to bursting. It’s still inside you and you already want to feel it again. You already want him to be yours. All yours, only yours and yours forever.

But this is your asshole coworker who bickers with you, not your fucking boyfriend.

“I want another alpharight now,” You roll your eyes, like saying it would make it real, “A quieter one.”

“Heh.” His smile is as loud as his eyes. “No, you don’t. You wouldn’t let me so much as lick you if you weren’t already thirsting your brains out for me.”

God, are you that transparent? Or can he see through lies with the six eyes, too?

You push yourself upwards – not easy because Gojo’s laid his uselessly long torso against your chest – and the knot’s still mostly lodged in you but there’s enough give for you to push him back until you’re sitting on his lap.

Gojo is leaned against you, resting his body weight against you as he purrs like a careless, cuddly cat.

He doesn’t even flinch when you cup his face between your hands. Lazy, relaxed, content inside you.

“You have a lot of cheek for a brat who got hard after I knocked the wind out of him.” You tilt your head to the side. “Or maybe that’s what you’re hoping for on round two?”

And oh god. This guy can’t be for real. His knot has barely gone down enough to pull out and you feel him twitch inside you, hardening again. You pull him out with a twist of your hips and he actually whines.

He licks his lips. “What do you think?”

His cock flops against you again, hard, ready to go. You let out an incredulous laugh. “I called you a horny beast, I didn’t think you were actually some kind of – breeding whore.”

“Mmmh,” Large hands dart to hold your ass, pulling you closer, “Maybe I am. You’ll let me fuck you, though, so I must be doing something right.”

As dirty talk goes, you could do way better. But it looks like Gojo is just that easy – his scent deepens with excitement, electric on your tongue.

Mouthwatering. Stinging. It reaches deeper into you than you’d like, pulls out an answering tug of longing that spills over your lips before you can stop it.

Hands on his shoulders, over those pretty collarbones, shoving him back. It’s so easy; he falls back for you without resistance. Staring up at you through lowered lashes like an actual seductress.

Satoru Gojo is heartrendingly beautiful, above you or beneath you. It drives you mad.

“Tell me,” You want you want you want, “Tell me how badly you want to fuck me.” Tell me you want me. Tell me you love me. Tell me you’re mine and you’ll never be anyone else’s.

“You said it yourself,” Gojo breathes, “I’m a whore, yeah? A beast in rut, throwing myself at you.”

“Why me?” Tell me I’m the only one who could ever satisfy you. He might be a dumb horny whore of an alpha, but your omega brain is equally delirious for feeding into this delusion. Tell me you want me. Tell me you love me.

His smile is lazy, eyes glimmering, and you get a terrible intuition that he knows exactly what you’re asking, exactly what you want. And he’s not going to give it to you.

“Knew you could keep up.” He answers with a distinct ring of mockery. Fucking brat.

Wrong answer. Wrong. Answer.

Your hands jump to his throat. Squeezing instinctively. Like you can rip the words out of him, the voice that lights every fiber of your being on fire, in all the worst ways. And his neck feels so perfect under your hands. Like it was always meant to be there.

"Wanna bite?" He mouths, somehow smirking at you before his mouth drops into an "O" – you’re grinding against him, hard and careless of his overstimulation.

Those pretty blue irises shrink and dilate wide, shimmering with tears. His face is so pale, lashes such a pretty white that the red on his cheeks stands out all the more painfully. A moan of pleasure ripples under your fingertips, squandered in your grasp.

God, he really is a whore, isn’t he? So eager in front of you, dick out, lashes fluttering, throwing himself at you. Teasing you with his scent, his little gifts. Letting you see him like this. How could he let you see him like this, if he didn’t want to be yours?

Would he be so pathetic and needy for anyone? It sends rage through you, white-hot and yearning. All you can see is him, him, Gojo in all his debauched glory beneath you.

Ruin him. Ruin him for anyone else. Yours, yours, all yours. So much that he can never think of anyone else, like you can only think of him.

You squeeze harder, like you can pull his treacherous, perfect voice out if you can just press hard enough into his singing pulse. Close, close, so fucking close, the pull inside you draws you over his cock, up and down, rubbing against your throbbing clit.

His cock twitches in time with it as you grind away. Blood rushing in your ears, pounding. You’re close. He’s close. He’s going to cum. He’s going to cum outside of you.

Just as Gojo’s eyes squeeze shut, his cock jumping against you – you pull your cunt off, leaving no more stimulation. You don’t release your hold on his throat, hips guided purely by instinct, slotting him against your entrance.

“Don’t you dare,” You hiss, feeling his pulse flutter, “You don’t cum unless you’re inside me. Never.”

Eyes shooting wide to look up at you. His lips part, desperate, passionate, heavy with words that he doesn’t have the air for.

You don’t want to hear it. He’s said enough.

You ride him like you hate him - to be fair, you kind of do.

Slamming down on his dick, just short of his knot. Hunched over him so you can still choke him while you fuck him, see his stupid face contort in shock and bliss as his cock is suddenly enveloped.

His sweet-sour scent practically stings your tongue, heavy with arousal, with lust, with want –

He fills you up so fucking good, he’s infuriating, he’s huge, he’s perfect and why isn’t he yours? Everything inside you screams and all you know is the stretch in your core, the burning need.

So close so close you're almost THERE –

Panting, gasping, you bear yourself down on his knot with a wail, squeezing his neck like a stress toy. It makes him pulse and throb inside you.

Fuck fuck FUCK -

The STRETCH, it fucking burns, Gojo is writhing underneath you. It's like he's bigger than he was last time.

His hands aren’t at his throat but on your hips, pulling you impossibly closer, adding to all the weight that pulls you against him. Tight, hot, so, so fucking big.

“My knot,” You pant, half-feral with desire, “This is my fucking knot, Gojo, my dick, you don't put this in anyone else, do you hear me, ALPHA?"

There’s a rumble in his neck where he might be trying to answer you, but you ignore it in favor of bearing down on him. It's like all your breath leaves you in one big gasp, a whine escaping you as you finally pop the knot in.

You squeeze yourself, impossible, tight, feeling your whole cunt scream with the effort, the delicious stretch of a muscle pushed to its limit. You have him, you have him, you have him in you, all yours. Your core finally surges towards release at the feeling of being filled.

And then you look down at what you’ve captured, your alpha, teary-eyed, red-faced, eyes glazed over in bliss as his lips part to take a breath he can’t manage.

Cock burning inside you, hips bucking up, hands clutching you like a lifeline. Hands so uselessly large that his thumb can reach to roll over your clit.

All at once, you let go. Climax overwhelming you both, his first gasping breath painted with the sudden release.

You want to see his face while you do it, collapsing forward as your breath is stolen from you in waves of white-hot pleasure. Gojo lets out a high pitched noise that he probably shouldn’t be capable of, choking, crying.

“F-fuck,” He half-chokes, half-sobs, racing to clutch you to his chest.

You’ve never seen him so uncomposed, so helpless, your name on his lips, the six eyes blown wide and unseeing. Heat floods your insides as he releases, knot swelling impossibly larger. A squeak escapes you, and you press the side of your face into his toned chest as he holds you close.

You’re smaller than him – most people would be. It’s funny, feeling smaller in his arms. All the fight and fervor trickles away, slowly, like it’s making room for his cum.

Something terribly dark and feral inside you wants to rut against him and make him whimper more, now that he could hear it, but you don’t have the strength.

“Surprised you didn’t bite me,” He muses while he traces mindless patterns over your bare back.

“For what conceivable reason would I have bitten you during that?” His chest is warm, so warm. You’re not paying much attention to what you’re saying, just lazily snapping back at him for stating the obvious. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I literally choked you.”

“Hell yeah you did.” He rubs his cheek against your hair. “It was super hot. Do it again.”

Idiot. You try to ignore the hunger his words ignite inside you, the stupid glee you get from the thought that he likes it just as much as you do. “What, do you want me to bite you?”

“As hot as it would have been to see you take what you want,” God, his grin is just so annoying, and it makes your heart skip a beat, to see that fire in his eyes, “You’d probably feel all bad about it later or some crap. Like you trapped me or something. Which would be super hot, by the way. You have my permission to trap me at any time, especially if I’m sticking my dick in you.”

“Well, now I don’t want you at all,” You lie, blatantly, like a liar.

Satoru snickers, which really isn’t good for your heart. “What, because I’m such a kinky whore, you think I’ve been all used up already? Should I give myself some bruises and hickey sometime to really sell the fantasy?”

That gets an eye roll. “I didn’t degrade you enough while we were fucking, is that it? Had to pick up some slack yourself?”

“Heheh. You sure liked calling me a whore and a slut.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you, “What can I say, I’m just that good a lay. Always give the lady what she wants.”

“Sure.” And yet you still don’t have what you want from him.

“You’re the only person I’ve fucked like this, you know.” He says, more softly than he should.

It’s just so unfair. How he makes your heart stumble. How his little admission sends a trill of hope through you.

“Fucked how? During your rut?” He didn’t seem like the type to grin and bear the suffering.

“You know,” He shuffles again, “Like this. For fun.”

“What, I’m the only person you’ve let call you a whore? Choke you? Be more specific, Gojo,” The name tastes bitter in your mouth, “All the other times you just had to lie back and think of England?”

“Well, you’re the first person who’s fucked me that also called me Gojo, for one.”

He really has to ruin everything. “Just shut up. Nothing you say makes me feel better.”

Arms wrap tighter around your waist. “I mean it, though. I was looking forward to this. I never look forward to it. Letting down my technique, fucking some omega until I knotted them.”

You want to bite him, take a chunk out. Pull his hair and rip some of it out of his stupid empty skull. “Gojo –”

“No, listen.” And that’s a tone you haven’t heard before – low, commanding, an alpha’s demand. He hadn’t spoken to you like that once.

“I used to hate it, dread it. The long wait for my knot to go down before I could finally just leave and put everything back up again. Being stuck with some stranger in such an intimate position, feeling them touch me, it was the worst. The absolute fucking worst.”

He nuzzles his head into your neck, like he’s basking in your scent. “This, though? This is the best. I want to do this for every rut, forever.”

Another skipped beat, and that’s it. Your foolish, graceless heart can only drag you through so much humiliation and pining before you rip it out and stomp on it yourself.

“So what?” You lower your voice in return, hard and cutting, “Who says I want to spend all your ruts with you, Gojo?”

“Thought you didn’t do one-night stands.” He smirks at you. You want to punch him.

“What did you think this was?” Did he think you were pining for a relationship while he was just fucking it out? Sure, you were pathetic enough to want it, but you weren’t pathetic enough to expect it. Not on your fucking life.

But then.

There’s the answer, the “A public service for needy omegas~” or some other witty retort. You can already hear his voice ringing in your ears, playful and taunting.

But the sound doesn’t come. Nothing comes at all. Complete silence.

Gojo’s lean, muscled form has stiffened, now rigid against you where it had been relaxed. You can feel his hesitance rippling through the air. His scent is more sour than sweet. Spoiled.

“I thought… you wanted me.” You’ve never heard him sound so uncertain, so afraid. You’ve never heard Gojo sound afraid, period. “I was courting you, and you accepted my gifts, so I – ”

“When were you courting me?” You snap, even though you make the connection instantly. He had given you gifts. He’d spend time with you, given you something with his scent. Paid attention to your needs.

“This whole time?” He sounds like he’s starting to panic, now, “What did you think was happening? We’ve been flirting literally since the day I met you! I might not be the most traditional guy, but I got the important parts down!”

It doesn’t sound real, for Gojo to be freaking out like this. He turns you around so you can see his blue eyes, wide and wild with frustration, “Why did you think I gave you things with my scent and spent every spare hour in close quarters with you?”

“Because they were always accompanied with snarky remarks? Because you taunt me at every opportunity?” You say it straight to his face. “We literally insult each other every time we meet.”

“You like it, you tease me back!” He grouses, “You’re super into that, you fucked me anyways!”

“Yeah. I thought that was all you wanted.” You swallow. “You’re supposed to ask someone to court them, Gojo.”

“Of course you wanted me to court you. You seduced me when I pinned you down and then knocked me on my ass!”

You’re upset with him and all, but he’s just got this infuriating ability to make you laugh no matter what. “Most people would take that as a no.”

He’s smiling back. Beaming. His scent is clean, like just hearing you laugh made it all better, “But your answer isn’t a no. You li~ke~ me.”

“Not so much right now.” You look away. “So, what? I’m just a fool for not knowing what you wanted, when you never even told me?”

“I thought it was obvious.” You can hear the frown in his voice. “You’re a pretty proud person. What did you think I was doing when I gave you all those gifts?”

“You literally told me I was being needy. I figured you were mocking me.”

“But then why did you accept them?” His tone, laced with something awful in his scent, brings your gaze back to his face.

He looks kind of… heartbroken.

You can’t look at him long. “Because… I am needy.”

His arms reach up from your waist, cradling your back, pulling you against him. Chin tucked where your shoulder meets your neck. Face buried in your scent glands, just where he’d put a bite. If he – if he wanted you.

“When you finally admitted it, I thought I’d feel glad.” He sounds like he’s complaining, but your neck is wet. “You just have to steal away all my victories, huh? Can’t even let me win this one.”

Why is he acting so pathetic, like a wounded puppy, when you’re the one who admitted to being down so bad you’d accept even mockery from the person you wanted to get with?

And then he sniffles, like some teenage girl who just got dumped. “I thought you knew I liked you. I thought we were having fun. Teasing each other.”

“It was fun, that’s why I did it. I just…” You swallow. “I didn’t think it would mean anything more for you. You know by now that I – I like you a lot. Way more than normal. There is nothing normal about how much I want you. I didn’t think you wanted me the same way.”

“That’s literally the worst thing I’ve ever heard. You didn’t know I wanted you back?” There’s more wetness on your neck, but this is warm. The familiar touch of his tongue dragging over your scent glands.

Gojo takes a shuddering breath, and it occurs to you that he must be taking in your scent. “How could you even think that?”

“Why are you so upset?” His whining brings you back to life, just a little. Enough to be angry. “For – for fuck’s sake already, Gojo. Say it in as many words. I told you, the whole reason I thought so was because you never told me what you meant outright.”

Another sniffle. “You’re so mean. You know what courting is. You just like bullying me.”

His sniveling revitalizes you further. It’s easier, knowing he can be pitiful for you, too. “Say it, Gojo, or you’ll be just another notch in my belt.”

“And call me Satoru! How are we supposed to date if you don’t even call me by name?!”

“We’re not dating. Say it, say it right now,” You’re getting sick of his crap, “Or I will rip your dick off.”

You can hear it, again. Is that a promise? Just wait until I’m hard to do it.

And you can see it, actually, how it physically pains him not to say it.

Gojo says your full name, out loud, and you’re helpless at the sound. “I have romantic feelings for you. I would like to court you with the intention of marriage. Mating. Whatever.”

He just can’t let you win one, can he? And yet, you’ve never heard a better sound. It feels like a massive burden has been lifted from your shoulders. Your chest.

“Two full sentences of formality,” You muse, “Impressive.”

“Right?” He preens, “Lots of things about me are impressive. You’ll see while we’re courting.”

“You never fail to impress me with how much of a dumbass you can be, Gojo.”

“Satoru. And that’s not a yes. Hurry up and say yes! I know you wanted to bite me back there, you’re totally crappy at hiding it.”

You sigh. “I did. But you didn’t want to bite me, did you?”

A pause. You’re suddenly uncomfortably aware of how close his face is to your neck.

“I always want to bite you. Ever since I met you. Smelled you.” His tongue runs along your throat, so hot it almost feels like it burns. “You can’t tell because you’ve never seen a version of me that doesn’t want to sink my teeth into your neck.”

You swallow, and he purrs, kissing over your pulse.

“It’s okay, though. I can be generous.” And his voice is back to being annoying again. “Even when you’re so demanding. I can only jerk off to you, I can only stick my dick in you – gosh, you said not to cum unless I was inside you, right? You really signed yourself up for – ”

“Oh, fuck off, Gojo – ” You interrupt yourself, “ – Satoru. Are you sure you want to… I mean. I’m older than you, you know? By a lot. I don’t have some kind of pedigree, and – well, I mean. You know.”

You flush despite yourself, “I’m… demanding, I guess. I like to bully you, if you want put it that way.” He laughs. “I’m sure you have better prospects.”

“Yeah,” A hand reaches up to stroke your hair. He pulls you so your face is pressed into his chest, so you can hear him purr for you. Loudly, now. “That’s why I’m courting you, first. Until you’re sure you’re my best prospect. Then I’ll mark you. Then you can mark me, and not even feel a little bit bad about it, after.”

It’s scary, you think, as the darkness creeps into your vision – just how accurate his prediction of you was. “You don’t think I’m… too needy?”

“I love that you’re too needy.” A kiss to the top of your head, “You look at me like I’m the thing you want the most you want in the whole world. Makes me crazy, how much you want me. I want you to bite me. Eat me whole. I want to open up my chest and shove you inside.”

A breath leaves you, mostly because he’s holding you too tightly. Just tight enough. “So you like that I’m obsessed with you. But do you like me?”

“Yeah,” He sighs, rubbing his cheek into your hair affectionately, “So much it’s kind of scary. You’re all I can think about most of the time. I would look forward to slipping you a little present all day. Then I’d get hard after watching you open it, and I’d have to rub one out. You have no idea how happy it makes me, just being near you.”

You’re quiet for a bit. All you can hear is his gentle purring, rumbling through his body and yours.

One of your hands finds one of his. “…you’ll be mine? My one and only? You won’t ever want anyone else?”

He squeezes. “Just you. You should be more worried about becoming my one and only. If I can’t jerk off or fuck anyone else, that’s all gonna be on you, baby.”

“I’m not particularly worried,” You yawn, “If you get to be too much, I’ll just choke you out again or something.”

You feel him start to twitch inside you, knot still stuck in your entrance – no way. He can’t be hard this soon, not when he hasn’t even finished –

“Hehe. Shouldn’t have said that unless you wanted to go again~!”

“Satoru!!”

#jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satoru smut #gojo smut #omegaverse #omega!reader #alpha!satoru #lemon

897 notes · View notes

asterafroditis · 3 months ago

Note

Hey there !

Hope you have a great day/afternoon/night.

I was wondering if you could write how floyd, rook and jamil would react to a reader that is caring and playful but can be stubborn and impulsive when frustrated or angry, acting on her strong will without always thinking ahead.

You can add things if you feel like it too.

Thanks ❤️

𐔌 . ⋮ reckless resolve .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☓┆Floyd, Rook, & Jamil x gn! reader (separate)

𓏵 823 words

ᝰ.ᐟ headcanons, no pronouns used, fluff

hope this exactly caters to your request! feel free to like, reblog, or comment!

ᝰ.ᐟ masterlist

Floyd would find your stubbornness hilarious—at least, at first. He’s the type to get a kick out of watching you dig your heels in, especially when you’re arguing with someone. If it’s a harmless situation, he’ll egg you on, adding fuel to the fire just to see how far you’ll go. He might even purposefully annoy you, pushing your buttons until you snap just because he enjoys seeing that spark of determination in your eyes.

But the second your impulsiveness leads to actual trouble? That’s when his amusement shifts to irritation. If you try to pick a fight, rush headfirst into danger, or ignore warnings, Floyd won’t hesitate to physically stop you. He’s freakishly strong, so all it takes is one arm slung around your shoulders—or throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes��to completely ruin whatever reckless plan you had.

Still, Floyd isn’t the type to sit you down for a serious talk. If you’re getting too worked up, he’s more likely to distract you than lecture you, using teasing, nicknames, or even just dragging you away for a "fun detour." But if things get really bad? If you actually get hurt because you weren’t thinking ahead? His usual playful demeanor disappears, replaced by something more dangerous—something angry.

“Ehehe, Shrimpy, you’re real funny when you get all mad like that~ But if you go bitin’ off more than you can chew, I will have to step in, ‘kay?”

"Hah? You’re not listenin’ to me? Fine then~ But don’t start cryin’ when I gotta carry ya outta trouble."

─────────────────────────

Rook adores your fiery spirit. He finds beauty in the way you stand your ground, in the passion that fuels your playful and caring nature. Even when your stubbornness makes you act without thinking, he doesn’t get frustrated—rather, he sees it as another fascinating layer of your character. You remind him of a wild creature, untamed and free, and he takes great delight in observing how you handle challenges.

That being said, Rook is not blind to the dangers of impulsiveness. He knows there are times when acting on raw emotion can backfire, and when that happens, he’s always nearby—watching, waiting. He doesn’t interfere immediately. Instead, he lets you handle things on your own, stepping in only at the last possible moment to prevent catastrophe. And when he does step in, it’s always with an air of effortless grace, as if he had predicted the outcome all along.

Rather than scolding you, Rook prefers to guide you with poetic wisdom and strategic redirection. He won’t tell you outright to stop being reckless, but he will make you think about your choices, presenting them in a way that turns your own stubbornness into a strength rather than a flaw. He enjoys challenging you, pushing you to grow—not by force, but by intrigue.

“Ah, ma chérie/mon chéri, such fire! Such spirit! But do not let your passion burn so brightly that it blinds you to the dangers ahead, non?”

"Do you know what makes a true hunter? Not just passion, but patience. Strategy. Foresight. And you, my dear, have all the makings of a formidable one—if only you learn when to pause and take aim."

─────────────────────────

Jamil finds your impulsiveness exhausting. He’s spent his entire life carefully planning, always thinking two steps ahead, ensuring everything runs smoothly without drawing too much attention. So when he sees you completely disregarding consequences and diving headfirst into trouble? It stresses him out.

At first, he tries to handle it logically. He warns you, explains the risks, tries to reason with you. But the more you brush off his concerns, the more irritated he becomes. Jamil doesn’t like dealing with unnecessary problems, and your recklessness is a perfect recipe for disaster. If you insist on charging forward without thinking, he’ll force you to stop—either by physically restraining you or by outsmarting you so that you have no choice but to listen.

However, deep down, Jamil understands you more than he lets on. There’s a part of him that respects your determination, your strong will—after all, he knows what it’s like to want to break free, to refuse to be controlled. He just wishes you’d be more careful about it. He hates seeing you get hurt, even if he’d never admit how much it bothers him.

"Honestly, do you ever stop to think before jumping into things? …Tch. Fine. If you’re going to be reckless, at least let me make sure you don’t get yourself killed."

“You’re stubborn. I get that. But if you must act on impulse, at least have the sense to cover your own weaknesses. No one’s going to save you if you don’t think ahead.”

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elleandstufff · 3 months ago

Text

Do I Like Her? ๋࣭ ⭑

Thanos can’t admit his feelings for you until it’s too late. Or is it…? Thanos/Choi Su-bong x fem!reader

Inspired by the song Stephanie by Nafeesisboujee! Requested by Anon!

Warnings: Dual POV, angst, talking stage, indecisiveness, hiding true feelings, implied smut but nothing described, you both get with other people to try and get over the other, drinking, drug use, jealous!Thanos, ambiguous but hopeful ending, 3.3k words

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧

The hum of the shitty light above you is enough to make you regret all of your decisions tonight. Your coworker had begged you to come out tonight to some club. That part actually wasn’t so bad. But just before last call, your coworker met some sleazy guy who begged the two of you to come to the twenty-four-hour diner down the street.

Now, your coworker sits in the corner booth with said guy, and the two of them are eating each other’s faces off. You sit at the dingy counter nursing a cup of coffee. You’re already up freakishly early, so you might as well stay up.

“Hey, Señorita.”

A man’s voice infiltrates your ears, but you don’t realize he’s talking to you until you look up from your coffee and see him standing right next to you. He’s tall and lean with purple hair and clothes that make you think he just came from the club like most of the diner’s crowd right now.

“Do you have a name?”

You’re not sure why you tell him, but you do. It’s not often that you entertain these sorts of things, but there’s something special about this purple-haired guy.

“I’m Thanos.” He extends a hand toward you, but instead of shaking it he just cradles your hand in his.

“What’s your real name?”

He pulls a face. “Sorry, babe. I don’t go around giving that out to just anybody.”

You smirk, ready to play along. “Well, I need to know. I’m definitely not going to be moaning Thanos all night.”

His eyes widen. He wasn’t expecting you to be so forward.

“What?” You feign innocence. “That’s why you came up to me, right? Why don’t we just skip all the talk and get the hell out of this dump?”

He smiles and threads your fingers together. “I saw you at Club Pentagon but didn’t get a chance to talk to you. Then I found you again here. That’s got to be fate, huh?”

You let your coworker know that you’re heading out, and she wishes you farewell even though she’s a little preoccupied. You walk outside hand-in-hand with the man you literally just met. His apartment isn’t a far walk, so the two of you set off on foot. The walk will give the two of you a chance to get to know each other a little bit before you end up tangled together in his bed sheets.

“It’s Su-bong,” he says, then repeats himself once you look up at him confused. “My name is Su-bong.”

“So, Su-bong, you do this often?”

“What? Bring girls home?”

You laugh. Based on his demeanor, you’re fairly certain this isn’t his first time doing this. You lift your entwined hands. “No, I meant this.”

He stalls for a minute, like your probing has him questioning everything. Why was he doing this? “No, actually. Just for you, Señorita. What about you? You do this often?”

You can’t help but smile at this man you hardly know a thing about. “Well then I’m honored. And no, this isn’t how my typical Friday nights look.”

You talk more as the two of you walk. You find out that he’s a rapper, which makes sense. He’s a bit twitchy, too. You’ve seen enough drug use in your life to know that he was on something tonight that’s starting to wear off.

You don’t waste any time when you get back to his apartment. He’s rough of course, but there’s a certain tenderness to him that sets your brain on fire. Something tells you that it’s new for him too.

You offer to leave after–even though you don’t want to–but he asks you to stay and get some rest. You had planned to just stay up and get some much needed errands done, but how could you say no? You were already feeling something toward him, which is the exact reason why you didn’t do stuff like this often. You catch feelings way too fast, and apparently even faster when the feelings are for a purple-haired rapper.

He opens up the drawer beside his bed and pulls out a pill bottle that you know is not prescription. He downs a couple and rolls over to face you. “You’ll still be here when I wake up, yeah?” He says it matter-of-factly, but there’s something to his tone that makes it sound almost like he’s pleading.

“‘Course,” you whisper, but whatever pills he took have already taken effect and he’s softly breathing beside you.

It takes you a while to drift off, and you wake before him a few hours later, but you honor the promise you made. He stirs awake not long after, and he seems surprised to still see you in his bed. Something flashes in his eyes–adoration, maybe–but he’s quick to get up. He seems different now, more walled off.

As he moves around his kitchen preparing himself a junk food filled breakfast as if you’re not even there, you try to say your goodbyes. He looks at you with his mouth full. “Oh, let me get your number.”

“So you can ghost me for three weeks and then randomly text me at two in the morning one day because you’re horny? No thanks.”

He stops you before you can get out the door with a sigh, like he can’t believe he’s doing this… “How about I give you my number then? That way you can decide if you want to ghost me or not.”

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧

You end up not ghosting him, and Su-bong struggles with how he feels about it. Usually after he hooks up with a girl, he might talk to her for a couple weeks, but it never lasts. Things either fizzle out or he just doesn’t care enough to put the effort in. But with you… there’s something different. Something special. It terrifies him.

You text him. A lot. He’s not good at responding to anyone, so he has to constantly remind himself to text you back. He doesn’t always respond, and oftentimes it’s hours after you sent the initial text, but it’s more of an effort than he’s put into anyone else.

You come over a couple times a week, too. Mostly to hook up, but the visits start getting longer with shared joints and movie nights. He likes the way your bodies fit together. He likes waking up to someone in his bed, and he likes that person being you. But he can’t admit any of this to his friends, himself, and especially you. He knows you like him, he knows you would be so good for him, but he can’t seem to let himself go past good morning texts and tender forehead kisses when he thinks you’re asleep.

One night, he asks you to come to the club with him. Not meet him there, come with him. It’s a big step for him, and he tries not to think too much about it. He pops a pill from his cross necklace just to calm his nerves.

The two of you sit in a booth at Club Pentagon with his friends. Su-bong keeps an arm tightly wrapped around you, like he doesn’t want to lose you. He’s seen the way some of his friends look at you.

“I’m gonna go get another drink,” you shout over the bass-boosted club music.

“I can do it,” he offers.

“No, it’s okay.” You smile sweetly. “I need to stretch my legs anyway.”

He doesn’t realize that he’s staring at your figure the entire time you’re at the bar until he feels his shoulder being nudged. Distractedly, he turns to see Nam-gyu.

“Do you like her?”

“Nah,” Su-bong answers, before he can even think about it. “Just a fling.”

“You sure? Because-”

“Yep, I’m sure,” he answers curtly.

He doesn’t like you that much, right? So why does he feel like shit right now?

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧

You’d been talking to Su-bong for a couple of months now. You never put a label on it, but it keeps your life interesting. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t wish you two could take the next step into a real relationship. Su-bong is not a super affectionate person, so you’ll have to take him in whatever form you can get.

You text him probably more than you should. He hardly ever texts you first, but he keeps responding to you–even if it’s hours later–so you keep texting him. You frequent his apartment more and more often, and he even starts coming by yours. His touches get more tender, his words more soft, and you begin to think maybe you’re getting somewhere with him. You know he probably won’t be the one to make the next step, so you decide to.

One morning you bring it up as you lie with your head on his chest and your legs tangled with his. He’s staring at the ceiling thinking about whatever it is that he thinks about, smoke blowing out from between his lips.

“So, I have this weird work party thing tonight.”

He takes another hit from his vape.

“And like everybody at my work is married and bringing a plus one…”

Another hit.

“So… I was thinking maybe you could come with me?”

He immediately tenses beneath you. It’s quick and he adjusts himself, but you definitely felt it. You quickly sit up feeling like a complete idiot.

He rolls on his side to look at you. You prepare yourself for what’s about to come.

“It’s just… I thought this was more of a casual thing, you know?”

You clear your throat. “Yeah, of course. Sorry, that was stupid. I wasn’t thinking.”

“I mean, I could still come I guess.”

“No, no, really it’s fine.” You get up and start throwing your clothes on as fast as you can without making it so obvious that you’re upset.

He catches your wrist. “You don’t have to leave.”

“I just remembered that I’m supposed to bring a dessert and I don’t have any of the stuff, so I should probably get started on that.”

You scramble out of his apartment before he can say much more. You don’t really have to bring a dessert, but you go to the store in a stupor anyway to try and distract yourself. You spend way too much time baking a stupid cake that tastes only half-good. You go to your work party and get introduced to a wave of husbands, wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, and significant others.

You thought you could do this casual thing, but turns out you’re not very good at it.

Texts to Su-bong get way less frequent, while texts from Su-bong are at an all time high. With the roles reversed all of a sudden, you can hardly form responses to his mirage of texts. What is even the point in texting anymore? You’ll never be anything more, so responding just makes you feel stupid.

You meet up for a couple more late-night rendezvous, but one night you decide you can’t take it anymore. You lie awake for hours deciding what you’re going to say when he wakes up. When he finally does, you squeeze your hands into fists to keep yourself from crying.

He’s groggy and barely awake, but he goes for his vape on the nightstand anyway. It’s like he knows this is coming.

“I don’t think we should do this anymore. I can’t do this anymore.”

“C’mon-”

“No, Su-bong,” you stand firm. “I can’t do it. I thought I could, but I can’t. I’m sorry I’m not like you.”

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧

Su-bong chews up his third or fourth pill of the day. He had taken more than he had wanted, but did he ever get what he wanted? No. Did he deserve what he wanted? Also no. He wanted you–he needed you–but he fucked that up. So now he didn’t deserve you and he didn’t have you. What a killer combo.

When you had asked him to come to your work party, he nearly panicked. He wasn’t the type of guy you take to office work parties. You knew that so why did you even ask? Fuck, this wasn’t your fault. It was his.

He should’ve just said yes. Should’ve just sucked down his fear and put on a nice outfit and a fake smile and shaken hands with all the people from your work that you can’t stand. Instead, he made you do that all by yourself. Who knows, maybe Ji-woon from your job turned out to not be so bad. Maybe you and Ji-woon are sucking face right now in the office break room. Ji-woon doesn’t have to do much to be less of an asshole than him!

And when you’d broken things off, you’d said that you weren’t like him. You couldn’t have been more wrong. He thought he wasn’t like you at first, too. He didn’t think he was the type of person to catch feelings after one night and blow up someone’s phone, but turns out he is that type of person. Just like you. He thought he made it obvious, when he started texting you constantly after declining your work party invitation. It still wasn’t your fault that you didn’t realize. He should’ve spelled it out for you. He wishes he still had the chance. But even if you were right in front of him, he would still struggle to find the words to tell you how he felt. Fuck, why did he have to be like this? It doesn’t really matter. He’s probably never going to see you again.

The girl in the seat beside him stirs. He had completely forgotten about her. If he squints, she almost looks like you. Actually, no she doesn’t. No one does.

“Thanos,” she purrs in his ear. “Let’s go dance!”

Thanos. You never called him Thanos, not even around his friends. He liked it better that way.

She starts kissing his jawline, and he turns so his mouth meets hers. He entertains it for a minute, but then he pulls away. She’s not you.

“Sorry, this won’t work. You should go.”

The girl looks at him bewildered, before calling him an asshole and storming away. Nam-gyu slides into the seat where the girl once was.

“Dude, what’s going on? That’s the third girl this week you’ve fumbled.”

Su-bong wouldn’t call it fumbling. He tried to make it work, tried to forget about you, but he couldn’t. So he pushed the girls away.

“C’mon, dude. Are you really caught up over that girl? I thought you said you didn’t really like her?”

“I do,” he says, jaw tense. “I do like her. So fucking much.”

“Well, then you better tell her before it’s too late…” Nam-gyu gestures toward the bar where a familiar face is sitting.

Su-bong nearly falls out of his seat. You’re here and he has another chance. He’s on his feet and halfway to you when he sees him. Some loser has his arm wrapped around your waist. It’s not Ji-woon, but it might as well be. You know what? Su-bong doesn’t care, he’s going to talk to you anyway.

“Hey, Señorita,” he says, sliding into the spot beside you.

He swears he sees your eyes light up for a minute, until the leech at your side speaks up. “Hey, buddy, she’s spoken for-”

“It’s okay,” you say. “I know him.”

Su-bong pulls you into a tight hug that forces the dude to drop his arm to his side. He wraps his arms around your waist so tightly, and he could just melt when he feels you wrap your arms around his neck. This probably looks really weird to the guy. Good.

You pull away from the hug, so he reluctantly does as well. Then, he starts to lean in to kiss you, and this time you stop him. “You should drink some water, go home, get some sleep.”

Shit. He didn’t realize he looks high out of his mind. At least you’re sweet about it. At least you still care.

“Uh, we gotta go,” the loser at your side says, pulling you away.

He didn’t get to tell you how he felt. Maybe it was too late for the two of you. It was definitely too late. But he still wanted to tell you how he felt. You deserved that much. Now he just needs to find a way to tell you.

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧

The guy your coworker set you up with drags you outside. “That was weird. Who was that guy?”

“My ex?” you say, but it comes out as more of a question. Was that what Su-bong was?

The guy looks at you weird, but then he’s leaning in and so are you. You let the kiss happen. He’s not as good a kisser as Su-bong, but it distracts you at the very least.

“How about we go back to my place?” he says, pulling away.

You pause. You could go back to his place–a guy who actually likes you–or you could go inside to the guy who doesn’t like you back. Instead, you do neither. You let the guy down easy and go home to your empty bed. Maybe one day you’ll be able to move on from Su-bong.

A week or so later at work, your coworker pulls you aside at lunch. “You know that rapper guy you were hooking up with for a while?”

Your heart drops. “Yes, why? Is he okay?”

“Sounds like somebody is down bad.” She laughs. “Looks like he wrote a song about you.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “There’s no way it’s actually about me.”

Your friend hands you her phone that has his Thanos instagram page open. There’s a picture of his new single. The title of the song is your name and the artwork is a blurry picture of the two of you. Your hand flies to your mouth. This is the guy that wanted to keep things casual?

“Says he’s performing it tonight for the first time at Club Pentagon. You going?”

That night you show up to Club Pentagon early, determined to talk to Su-bong about what the fuck is going on. You can’t find him until you spot him right before he’s about to go on. You storm up to him.

“Su-bong, what the fuck!? You tell me we need to keep things casual and then you write a song that’s very obviously about me?”

He turns to you, his microphone in one hand and his other hand fiddling with his ear piece. He looks incredibly nervous, but you can tell that he’s fully sober. “You came.”

You fold your arms stubbornly across your chest. “Uh, yeah, I came. Kinda need to figure out what the hell is going on.”

“We can talk after. I promise,” he says with a shaky breath. “Just listen to the performance, please. And don’t leave without talking to me.”

You nod your head yes and find a spot to listen to his performance. As he performs, you really listen to the lyrics. Not only were they irrefutably about you, they were irrefutably a confession about his true feelings for you. Your heart leaps into your throat. He likes you.

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧

When Su-bong finishes his performance, his eyes lock onto you and only you. You’re silently crying, tear streaks adorning your pretty face. He waits expectantly, trying to read your emotions. You don’t react at first, your eyes remaining locked onto his. But then… You smile like you’ve just seen the sun for the first time.

⛧°。Masterlist °⛧

Here it is, Anon! Sorry it took so long, but I hope you enjoyed it!

Also, I have another Thanos x reader story I’m working on that’s inspired by a song. I’m thinking about maybe making a mini-series of (unrelated) fics based off of songs. So if that’s something you want to see, comment or send me songs that remind you of Thanos (or other Squid Game characters)!

#thanos #thanos x reader #thanos squid game #choi su bong x reader #choi su bong #squid game #squid game season 2 #squid game x reader #player 230 #player 230 x reader #squid game angst

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thewulf · 1 year ago

Text

The Price of Protection || Captain John Price

Summary: Request -Recently I was SA. Now I wasn't R@ped. But I was peer pressured/manipulated and intoxicated to verbally consenting to things I didn't want to do. I'm not asking for it to be relived but rather comfort. Everyone always talks about feeling disgusted but I want comfort for the guilt and second thoughts... Read Rest Here

A/N: THIS ONE IS HEAVY. Please read the trigger warnings below. Thank you anon for trusting me with this. I hope you like it.

Pairing: Captain John Price x Female Reader, TF 141 x Platonic Female Reader

Word Count: 4.8k +

TW: MENTIONS OF SA (Not outright but hints), Heavy Angst, general COD warnings.

You had always admired your Captain for as long as you’ve known him. It wasn’t but almost three years ago now that you were assigned to Task Force 141. They were skeptical at first, as you would be too. Who was this little American girl infiltrating their ranks? This was a Task Force with the most brilliant minds and somehow you were there. Yet, you had proven yourself one of the most valuable assets to the team time and time again. You were good, great even, at your job. You could hack into anything, take over any camera you wanted, reroute rockets if you had the time allotted. You were the genius behind some of the missions that could’ve gone south fast. You were Captain Price’s secret weapon that he kept well hidden.

It took you a while to open up to the guys. But leave it to Soap to get you talking. After a year of trying your best to maintain the Ghost persona, Soap had successfully broken you down. They learned of your past, how you came to be so freakishly good with computers and hacking, where you went to school and where you grew up. You were an enigma to the team. And they grew to love you. It was slow until it wasn’t. You were an outcast until you weren’t. You found yourself laughing and bantering with John, Soap, Gaz, and Ghost time and time again. Suddenly, you were a part of the team, a true member of TF141.

Most times you would head out with the team to help them out. But sometimes you could do the job right from your home base. And this mission turned out to be one of those times. You didn’t hate that you didn’t get to go; you just felt a little left out when you stayed back. But Price always assured you it was for your safety above all else. Sometimes these missions were a little too dangerous for even you. Which of course led you to be more nervous than ever. If it was too dangerous for you, then what was it for them? Surely no walk in the park.

You walked with Price out to the chopper trying one last time. “Captain, are you sure? I can help with logistics once you get there.”

He gave you that signature soft Price smile before shaking his head softly. “I’m sure. It’s a quick in and out. No need to put you in the line of fire for it.”

“But…”

He cut you off. “I know you want to go. I really do. But it’s not worth the risk. You’re too valuable to this team.”

You let out a sigh before nodding. “I understand. Please be safe. Make sure everybody comes back in one piece.”

He gave your shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Like we always do. We land at 0800 local time. Soap will be giving you a call then. We’ll see you soon.”

Pressing your lips together you forced a smile to him. “You better.” With a quick nod, you watched as he hopped in the chopper with the rest of the team. Soap flipped you off before the pilot ascended, leaving you in a fit of laughter, always the shit he was.

You had forgotten how much you disliked being away from the team. You felt so far, so disengaged. Even with MacTavish swearing like a sailor in your ear. You felt totally helpless but tried your best to do whatever you could for the team. The mission was successful but not without hiccup. Gaz had been shot, fortunately, it was just a small graze to the shoulder but nevertheless it reminded you of how fragile their lives were. How one misstep could take a best friend away from you. How crucial you really were to their livelihood.

The stress was getting to you tonight though. The thought of mortality was becoming too much. So, you found yourself at the bar just outside of base. What better way to bury your stresses away than to drink your worries away right with it? You weren’t usually so careless. But the worry and the helplessness got the better of you. One beer turned to two. Turned to a few shots bought by a man across the bar who was giving you the eyes. You’d seen him around base. Maybe even chatted for a brief time. But you chose to never give these men the time of day, until tonight. You knew the type and usually stayed far away. But it was a moment of weakness that got to you.

As the night wore on and the drinks kept coming, the edges of your worries dulled. For a fleeting moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift from your shoulders. It was a temporary reprieve, a fleeting sense of freedom from the constant pressure of your responsibilities. In the chatter and clinking of glasses you felt an unwanted hand on your shoulder, and you turned to see the man who had been buying you drinks. His smile was charming, but there was a hint of something predatory in his gaze. Instinctively you tensed as your senses were on high alert in your inebriated state.

You forced a polite smile, but you felt uneasy. The alcohol had clouded your judgment, leaving you vulnerable and exposed. You knew you should’ve left right then and there. Find your way back to the safety of base, but a part of you hesitated. Maybe it was the loneliness or the desire to forget, but you entertained the idea of staying just a little longer.

As the minutes ticked on, you found yourself ensnared in a web of conversation with the soldier. His words were like honeyed poison, dripping with false charm and manipulation. He seemed to know just what to say. But beneath the surface there was a darkness lurking. A predatory intent masked by the guise of friendly banter. The alcohol eventually dulled your senses, clouding your judgment as you struggled to keep up with the rapid pace of the conversation. His words became a blur as each syllable merged into the next until they lost all meaning. But still you listened captivated by the illusion of connection he wove around you.

His touch was insistent. His hands lingering where they shouldn't have been sending shivers of discomfort down your spine. You tried to pull away, to put some distance between you and this stranger who seemed to know too much about you. But he only tightened his grip, his fingers leaving marks in their wake.

As the night wore on, the line between consent and coercion blurred. Your protests drowned out by the relentless onslaught of alcohol and manipulation. You knew deep down that you didn't want this, that every fiber of your being screamed for you to escape. But you felt trapped, suffocated by the weight of his expectations. And so, with a soul weighed down by guilt and shame, you surrendered to his advances. Your body moving on autopilot as you sought refuge in the temporary oblivion of physical pleasure. But even as you gave in a part of you screamed in silent agony you mourned the loss of you usual control.

In the aftermath as the harsh light of reality pierced through the haze of alcohol and regret, you were left grappling with the devastating truth of what had transpired. You had been used, manipulated, reduced to nothing more than a pawn in someone else's twisted game. The guilt threatened to consume you, gnawing at your insides as you struggled to come to terms with what had happened. You blamed yourself, berating your own weakness and naivety. Wishing you had been stronger, smarter, better able to protect yourself. But deep down you knew the truth. You were not to blame. You were a victim of his manipulation, preyed upon by someone who saw you as nothing more than a means to an end.

The next day dawned with a heavy burden that seemed to press down upon your shoulders, weighing you down with the crushing weight of guilt and shame. As the TF141 team returned from their mission, the atmosphere in the base shifted. You left the air thick with an unspoken tension that hung over the corridors.

Alone in your room, you felt as though you were drowning in a sea of despair, the walls closing in around you with every passing moment. Tears streamed down your cheeks unchecked, leaving salty trails in their wake as you grappled with the overwhelming flood of emotions. Each sob that wracked your body felt like a physical manifestation of the agony that churned within you. A relentless reminder of the betrayal of your own body and the violation of your trust. Every breath was a struggle, a battle against the suffocating weight of shame that threatened to crush you beneath its relentless onslaught.

Outside your door, the sounds of laughter from Soap and Gaz only served to deepen your anguish. You could hear Price and the others talking, their footsteps echoing through the corridors as they made their way back to their quarters. But despite the familiarity of their presence, you couldn't bring yourself to face them. You couldn't bear the thought of meeting their eyes and seeing the disappointment and judgment reflected back at you. Instead, you remained sequestered in your room. You isolated yourself from the world outside as you struggled to come to terms with what had actually happened.

As the hours passed and the weight of your guilt continued to bear down on you, your phone buzzed incessantly with messages from Soap, Gaz and even Ghost. Each notification felt like a sharp jab to your already fragile psyche, a painful reminder of the concern and judgment you knew awaited you on the other end of the line. Soap's messages were filled with words of worry and encouragement, his concern evident in the way he repeatedly asked if you were okay. Gaz's messages were more subdued, but no less concerned, his terse inquiries betraying the depth of his worry for your well-being.

You ignored their messages, unable to fake it to them. Instead, you buried yourself deeper in the cocoon of your own despair, the silence of your room offering little solace in the midst of your turmoil. But as the day wore on and hunger gnawed at your stomach, you reluctantly dragged yourself out of bed and made your way to the cafeteria. It was late, far later than anyone else would-be getting dinner, or so you thought.

As you entered the desolate cafeteria, your heart sank at the sight of Ghost sitting alone at a table in the corner. Despite the emptiness of the room his presence felt suffocating, casting a harsh spotlight on the turmoil brewing within you. With a sigh you ignored him and walked up to serve yourself the usual dull military food. You felt Ghost's gaze boring into you. His eyes a mixture of concern and confusion as they lingered on your tear-stained face.

You filled your plate with food, your hands shaking as you struggled to maintain your composure. The weight of Ghost's scrutiny felt like a physical burden. But as you made your way past Ghost's table, you couldn't bring yourself to meet his eyes. Instead, you kept your gaze fixed on the floor. Your cheeks burned with shame as you tried to hide the evidence of your recent breakdown.

With a quick nod of acknowledgment, you hurried away from Ghost's table. Your steps quickening as you sought refuge in the farthest corner of the room. You found an empty table and sat down keeping your head bowed as you focused on your food, desperate to avoid any further scrutiny. But despite your best efforts, you could still feel Ghost's gaze burning into you. His concern was a palpable presence in the empty room. You felt exposed, vulnerable, as if every inch of your skin was laid bare for him to see. And as you picked at your food, your appetite all but forgotten in the wake of your turbulent emotions. You couldn't help but wonder how long you could keep up the charade. How long before the facade you had constructed came crashing down around you?

As Ghost approached your table, his presence a calming anchor in the midst of your turbulent emotions, he gave a curt nod of acknowledgment. "Hey, kid," he greeted you in his trademark gruff tone, his voice carrying a note of concern beneath its rough exterior. "You alright?"

You tried to mask the evidence of your tears with a feeble attempt at a smile, but Ghost saw right through that. His keen eyes bore into yours, his gaze unwavering as he waited for your response.

"Yeah, just allergies acting up," you replied, your voice betraying the strain of your attempts to deflect his concern.

But Ghost wasn't fooled. He knew you better than that, could see the pain etched into every line of your face. With a grunt of acknowledgment, he accepted your explanation, though you could tell he wasn't entirely convinced.

"I won't push ya," he said with his gravelly voice, his tone softened by a rare display of empathy. "But if you ever wanna talk about it, I'm here." With a grateful nod, you thanked him and watched as he walked out of the room leaving you to your thoughts.

As the morning sun filtered through the curtains you found yourself ensnared in a labyrinth of restless thoughts. Each beam of sunlight seemed to illuminate the tangled mess of emotions that swirled within you, highlighting the heavy shroud of guilt that enveloped your very being. You had spent the night tossing and turning, your pillow dampened by tears that ebbed and flowed.

Just as you had managed to drift into a fitful slumber the persistent knocking at your door shattered the fragile semblance of peace you had managed to find. Each rap on the door felt like a blow to your already fragile composure jolting you awake from the fleeting respite of sleep. Groggy and disoriented you stumbled across the room, every step a struggle against the weight of exhaustion that hung heavy upon your shoulders.

With a heavy heart Captain John Price stood on the other side of the door, his hand hovering tentatively over the handle as he took in the sight before him. His breath caught in his throat, a pang of concern twisting in his chest at the sight of you. The vibrant energy that usually radiated from you had been replaced by a sadness he rarely saw from you. A shadow of your former self. His heart clenched with a mixture of empathy and apprehension as he took in your fragile state. Every instinct urged him to gather you into his arms, to shield you from the pain that etched lines of sorrow upon your face. But he held back, knowing that you needed space to unravel the tangled threads of your emotions in your own time. With a silent prayer on his lips, Price waited for you to acknowledge him.

"Captain, what are you doing here?" you greeted him with a ghost of a smile, though it failed to reach your eyes, which still held traces of the turbulent night you had endured.

Price's gaze softened at the sight of you, his concern etched into every line of his expression. "Hey love," he greeted softly, his voice carrying a gentle warmth that offered solace in the midst of your turmoil. "Missed you this morning at PT. Everything alright?"

You forced a tight-lipped smile, the effort of masking your inner turmoil nearly unbearable. Every word you spoke felt like a weight upon your chest, each syllable a struggle against the overwhelming tide of emotions threatening to engulf you. "Yeah, just feeling a bit under the weather," you replied, your voice strained with the weight of the unspoken troubles that gnawed at your conscience. Price's brow furrowed deeper in concern as he studied your haggard appearance. His gaze lingered on you, searching for answers in the depths of your tired eyes, his intuition telling him that there was more to your distress than a simple case of illness.

"You sure that's all it is?" he pressed gently, his voice laced with a mixture of concern and skepticism. He had known you long enough to recognize when something weighed heavily on your mind, and the mask you wore now couldn't conceal the truth from him.

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to respond. The weight of your secrets threatened to suffocate you, but you clung to the fragile facade you had constructed, unwilling to burden him with the weight of your troubles. "Yeah, just... a rough night," you murmured, the words tasting bitter on your tongue as you forced them past the lump that lodged there.

Price had always treated you differently, with a softness he never seemed to reserve for the others. From the moment you joined Task Force 141, he recognized the weight of the horrors that came with the job. He made it his mission to be there for you in a way that went beyond mere professional obligation. He became your confidant, your sounding board, the one person you could turn to when the darkness threatened to overwhelm you. His gentle demeanor and unwavering kindness provided a safe haven in the chaos of missions and the toll they took on your spirit.

Price's gaze softened with understanding as he reached out to gently squeeze your arm. His touch was a far cry from the man a few nights ago. He was that comforting anchor in the storm of your emotions.

"You don't have to face it alone, you know," he whispered, his voice a soothing balm to your weary soul. "Whatever it is, you can talk to me. You can always talk to me, love."

Indeed, Price's tenderness towards you was unmistakable. While you were every bit a soldier like the rest, he recognized that you were different. The things you witnessed and the actions you took on these missions slowly started eating away at you long ago. But Price was there offering solace and understanding. His affection for you growing deeper with each shared moment of vulnerability.

Over the three years of working together Price found himself drawn to more than just your skills and abilities. It was your spirit, your unwavering determination, and your unique personality that captivated him. At first it was subtle, just a flicker of admiration for the way you handled yourself under pressure, the way you never backed down from a challenge. But as time went on and he got to know you better, that admiration blossomed into something deeper. He found himself enchanted by the fire in your eyes when you spoke passionately about something you believed in. He admired the way you never lost your humanity, even in the midst of the darkest missions. Your compassion and empathy for others in the face of danger touched something within him that he hadn't realized was missing.

Price began to notice the small things about you, the adorable quirks that made you uniquely yourself. He found himself smiling at your jokes, laughing at your antics, and feeling a sense of peace whenever you were around. He cherished the moments when you let your guard down and allowed him to see the vulnerable side of you. He felt honored that you trusted him with your fears and insecurities.

As the years went by, Price realized that his feelings for you had evolved beyond mere admiration. He was in love with you. He loved the way you made him feel alive, the way you challenged him to be a better man, and the way you brought light into his dark world. But even as his feelings grew, Price knew that he could never act on them. Not while he was your Captain and the stakes of their missions remained so high. So, he buried his feelings deep inside. He was content to love you from afar and grateful for the opportunity to know you. Even if it meant keeping his emotions hidden.

Soap, Ghost, and Gaz were like a finely tuned unit, attuned not only to the dynamics of the battlefield but also to the subtleties of their comrades' interactions. They noticed the way Price's demeanor would shift whenever you entered the room. The slight softening of his usually stern expression, the warmth that crept into his eyes as they lingered on you, and the way his voice would adopt a gentler tone when he spoke to you. It was unmistakable to them though they never openly acknowledged it.

In their downtime when the mission chatter had quieted, and they found themselves lounging around the base, the guys would exchange knowing glances whenever Price's attention seemed to linger on you a little longer than necessary. Soap might chuckle and nudge Ghost, raising an eyebrow in silent communication that spoke volumes about Price's apparent fondness for you. Ghost, ever the silent observer, would offer a small smirk in return, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he watched Price navigate the delicate balance between professionalism and the undeniable affection he held for you.

Gaz, always one for a bit of banter, wouldn't hesitate to make playful remarks whenever the opportunity presented itself. He'd tease Price about being extra protective of you during missions, jokingly suggesting that Price had a soft spot for you that he couldn't quite hide. Price would roll his eyes in response, brushing off Gaz's comments with a gruff retort. But the slight flush that colored his cheeks betrayed the truth behind Gaz's jests.

Despite their teasing, Soap, Ghost, and Gaz respected the unspoken boundaries that surrounded Price's feelings for you. They knew that his affection for you was genuine and deep-rooted, and they never pushed him to confront it unless he was ready. As for you, you might have been the only one oblivious to the undercurrent of emotions swirling around Price. To you he remained the steadfast leader, unwavering in his commitment to the mission and the safety of his team. His true feelings were well hidden behind a mask of professionalism and duty.

Tears welled in your eyes as you struggled to find the courage to vocalize the turmoil that had been devouring you from within. The weight of your confession hung heavy upon your shoulders. Each word feeling like a jagged stone forced from your chest. "I... I had a little too much to drink while everyone was gone," you confessed, your voice barely rising above a whisper, as if you were afraid the words themselves would shatter the fragile sanctuary you had built around yourself. "And... I did things... things I didn't want to do."

As you spoke, the air in the room seemed to thicken with a suffocating sense of shame. You couldn't bring yourself to meet Price's gaze. You feared the judgment you were sure would reflect in his eyes. But when you finally summoned the courage to glance up, the expression etched on Price's face was not one of condemnation but of utmost concern. His features tightened with an intensity that mirrored the turmoil raging within him. His heart twisted with a potent blend of anger and sorrow at the thought of someone exploiting your vulnerability in such a despicable manner. But despite the roiling emotions churning beneath the surface, he remained stoically composed. He understood that now was not the time for upsetting you even further.

"Coerced..." you added, your voice trembling with shame as you unveiled the truth that had festered within you like a poison, eating away at your sense of self-worth with every passing moment. "I tried to resist, but... he wouldn't listen. He wouldn’t take no for an answer."

As the weight of your confession hung heavy in the air between you, you couldn't help but feel a surge of relief wash over you. As if the simple act of vocalizing your pain had lifted a burden that had threatened to crush you. Despite the shame that threatened to consume you there was a profound sense of solace in knowing that you were no longer bearing this burden alone. That you had finally allowed yourself to be vulnerable in front of the one person you trusted implicitly.

In that moment of raw honesty, you couldn't help but wonder if Price understood the depth of your feelings for him. If he could see beyond the facade you presented to the world and glimpse the tangled mess of emotions that lay hidden beneath the surface. As you spoke you couldn't deny the palpable sense of comfort that enveloped you. It was as if in allowing yourself to be vulnerable with Price you had discovered a sanctuary where judgment held no power, where acceptance reigned supreme. Captain John Price was the best of men.

And as Price listened his gaze never wavering from yours, you couldn't shake the feeling that he knew on some level the depth of your affection for him. Perhaps it was the gentleness in his touch, the understanding in his eyes, or the unwavering support he offered without hesitation. Whatever the reason, you found yourself daring to hope that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way. As the weight of your confession hung heavy in the air between you, you realized with startling clarity that Price was more than just a trusted confidant. He was your rock, your pillar of strength in a world filled with uncertainty and doubt. And as the realization settled deep within your heart, you couldn't help but acknowledge the truth that had been staring you in the face all along: you loved him, in a way that transcended mere friendship.

With each passing moment, the bond between you and Price grew stronger, forged in the chaos of shared experiences and unwavering support. And as you looked into his eyes seeing the reflection of your own emotions mirrored back at you, you knew without a doubt that you could tell him anything, and he would be right there for you, no matter what.

Price's grip on your arm tightened ever so slightly as you made your confession. His touch both grounding and reassuring in its strength. His resolve hardened as he fought back the surge of protectiveness that threatened to consume him. "I'm here for you," he reassured you, his voice unwavering in its conviction. "Whatever you need, I'll do everything in my power to help you through this."

As Price listened to your trembling words a whirlwind of emotions roiled within him. Anger burned hot in his chest at the thought of someone taking advantage of you. His fists clenched with the urge to seek retribution. But beneath the rage a deeper sense of sorrow welled up aching with empathy for the pain you had endured alone. "I will always be here for you," he murmured again. As the weight of your confession settled upon you both Price felt a swell of tenderness wash over him, mingling with the fierce determination that burned within him. He wanted nothing more than to wrap you in his arms, to shield you from the pain that gnawed at your soul.

With a gentle hand he lifted your chin, meeting your tear-filled gaze with unwavering reassurance. His heart clenched at the sight of your vulnerability, and he couldn't help but brush away the tears that traced delicate paths down your cheeks. "You're not alone. I promise you that," he whispered, his voice infused with a quiet strength that resonated deep within you. "I'll be right here, every step of the way." And as he spoke those words you felt a sense of solace wash over you. You knew that you could lean on him, trust in him.

Against his better judgment, Price drew you into his embrace. His arms encircling you with a tenderness that concealed the strength of his resolve. He held you close as you surrendered to the flood of tears that just kept coming. "It's okay," he murmured softly, his voice a gentle reassurance in the midst of your turmoil. "I've got you. You're safe now."

His heart clenched at the sight of your vulnerability. He couldn't help but brush his hand through your hair. His touch a comforting caress that made you shiver. With each stroke he hoped to ease the burden that weighed so heavily upon your shoulders.

"You're not alone love," he whispered in reassurance. His voice a quiet promise against the chaos of your emotions. "I'm here for you, always." He said once more letting you know that he wasn’t going anywhere. He continued to hold you as the tears slowly subsided. His silent grasp on you a vow to stand by your side through every trial and tribulation that may lay ahead.

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orcelito · 2 years ago

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ok, i cant resist the urge to make a post about it after all, especially since it's related to a post i made prior

one of my favorite moments in trimax is By Far this part in chapter 35

[ID: Two pages from Trigun. The first starts with Wolfwood thinking, "Now that I think 'bout it, it may be one of the major differences between our species." That deep rooted dear I felt on the ship…" He thinks of Vash crying blood and, swearing, wonders, "Is he the one who can save humankind? That monster?" Wolfwood is briefly shown in resolution before someone calls, "Hey, Wolfwood!" and he looks up with surprise.

Vash sits with a smile at the edge of a rooftop, backed by the Fifth Moon and its prominent crater. Vash asks with a smile, "Just coming back now? You're a bit of a night owl, huh?" Wolfwood looks taken aback and wary. End ID]

Right Here. Vash is just sitting there, smiling like normal, but he's got the backdrop of the damage he caused on the moon set Perfectly behind him. it's a glaring reminder to Wolfwood of who exactly he's dealing with here, and that TERRIFIES him.

& the fact that Wolfwood still remembers that moment of crying blood as a moment of true fear. because for all the cheer Vash shows in the average moment, Wolfwood just recently saw him nearly lose control Again (at the Dragon's Nest). the second time he witnessed it, & the third time he would know about.

Vash is a walking atomic bomb with multiple charges. even with how cheerful & kind he is, he's shown Multiple Times that he does not have full control. he is decidedly something different, something Hazardous to humans, and Wolfwood knows this very very painfully.

for all that Wolfwood loves Vash, he is also terrified of him. and at this point in the story, that terror is potent enough to nearly eclipse his affection for Vash.

leading to some of the next most iconic pages:

[ID: The next page starts with Wolfwood standing behind the sitting Vash, his expression hard and the moon bright behind him. Vash seems sad and has one eye open. A close-up focuses on Wolfwood looking down.

Wolfwood thinks, "So easy to pull the trigger. So easy to remove half the problem." Another close-up with bright lighting obscures his face but for one eye. Then Vash turns around curiously and asks, "What's up?" Wolfwood sits behind him and says "Nothin'. Come on. Let's go." Vash seems surprised as Wolfwood scolds, "Don't get yerself tangled up in every little skirmish ya see. It'll be pointless if ya get yerself killed before ya meet him." End ID]

the manga frames it like Vash doesn't know Wolfwood was pointing the gun at him, but I think he did know. he's freakishly perceptive over and over again throughout the story. he HAS to be in order to survive like he has. he'd hear the movement of the gun & sense Wolfwood behind him...

he'd know. i really think he knew.

but he doesn't do anything about it. there is zero fear in his face. he turns to look at Wolfwood curiously, a bit confused, but not afraid. he never once thought that Wolfwood would shoot him. there's full faith and trust there in that moment.

Wolfwood pretends that nothing happened, & Vash lets him. they both move on, not talking about it, because they never talk about Anything of substance like this (not until much, Much later).

overall, it's just such a great example of their relationship's development. Wolfwood's fear & Vash's trust that he won't act on it... it's just. Man.

(EDIT: people have made some good points about how Vash's expression when Wolfwood points the gun at him shows that he probably did know and YEAH that's a good point! & probably why I was so certain he knew lol, I just hadn't realized it myself)

#speculation nation #fanny reads trigun #fanny's trigun analysis #trigun #vashwood #trigun spoilers/#granted a lot of this is personal interpretation. some ppl might assume vash had no clue & like. that'd be a fair assumption #i just think Vash is very very perceptive. and i like to think he knew & just didnt do anything about it #because he never once thought that Wolfwood would actually shoot him #sometimes a friendship can be two buds who sometimes point guns at one another #(read: wolfwood points a gun at vash and Makes vash point a gun at him)#& then they never talk about this Ever <3 very healthy communication between these two for sure #anywyas im still making my way thru the original manga rn in my reread. but here have this moment bc im obsessed with it #might have smth else to talk about too. the geo-plants thing is intriguing me. but i'll make that post later.#EDIT: image descriptions written by princess-of-purple-prose

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lifesteal-headcanons · 5 months ago

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ok so like i LOVE human clownpierce because he tends to say “im only human” a lot and its so funny to imagine that thr strongest guy out there is just. Some Human. and everybody theorizes on what species he is because SURELY, SURELY, no human could be that powerful, and why else would he hide his whole body with that ridiculous costume if not to disguise his true species? even though he is really just a human and he tells them that when they all ask. nobody believes him. so far peoples theories on what he is have beeeeen,

netherborn (hes always spending time in the nether, and his color scheme is super nether-themed? makes perfect sense!)

enderian (it’d make sense on why he wears a mask since they dont like eye contact, and why hes so freakishly tall and gangly.)

bunny hybrid(he frequently refers to kaboodle as his sister(KILLERBUNNIES ISNT DEAD SHHH), so it would make sense hes a bunny hybrid as well, right?)

owl hybrid(his mask IS suspiciously owl-shaped, and it could explain how he manages to stay up so damn late. like seriously that guy needs to sleep)

cat hybrid(someone once heard clown referred to as a “little meow meow” and that is mostly where this theory came from. other than that theres no great evidence)

but really, hes just a human. a tall, creepy human, but a human nonetheless. clown thinks its silly, hes told everyone that hes human, why wont they just believe him? branzy thinks its hilarious, especially because people try to interrogate him on what clown is. like HE would know(he does know)

#ask #headcanon #lifesteal smp #clownpierce #nix’s faves

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kuronekobaji · 3 months ago

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i request your take on bully!baji thank u <3

MINORS DNI !!!

!! ~ warnings: NSFW , filthy shit, baji’s real mean in this (but i swear he likes us) , degradation, primal pray if you squint, lowkey dubcon (??) bits of voyeurism maybeee (he shows u off in the rudest way), you’re just a ray of sunshine and he wants to snap you in half. something something cuteness aggression but taken to a slightly different level

ᡣ𐭩 ~ synopsis : you attend the same school/college as a well-known delinquent, the notorious captain of toman’s first division. you’re not someone who’s too uptight or snooty, but you steer away from violence and things of the like. to everyone, you’re an angel and a dream come true. to keisuke baji… well — he’s having trouble accepting the existence of someone so perfect. so of course, he needs to break you.

ᡣ𐭩 ~ genre : smut, kind of angst ??

note : this isn’t reaaalllyyy a well-put fic, it’s just uh. a drabble of my thoughts on bully!baji .. giggling …. not proof-read sawry :(( testing some new dividers n stuff with this … i hope it’s okay!

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋࣭ ⭑꒷꒦

keisuke baji — a regular student at your building, in the same class as you. he’s not too popular, usually keeping to himself unless a student requests his help or something of the like. he wasn’t some no-life tormentor, per se, but… that changed a little when you strolled into his life, with those cute shoes of yours and the cheerful swagger you always sported.

he’s been raised to be a gentleman. someone respectful, especially toward women. he never had urges to torture or toy with another person, so he’d never even leaned into that kind of thing. he never saw the point in it.

all of the lessons beaten into him seemed to fade into nothing the instant his intense bronze eyes laid upon you.

keisuke is used to good people and bad, annoying ones and less annoying ones, people who push his buttons and people who provide him calm. hell, his closest friend group can explain the people he’s dealt with in his lifetime. there’s not much that can faze him. not a mentally ill teen who knows how to peel off people’s fingernails, not a gentle caregiver whose goal is to become a designer, not a freakishly strong blond gremlin who has far too much of a sweet tooth — not a broken arm, not a goddamn stab wound.

so how come you of all people, have caught his attention?

was it the way you carry yourself? confident, but not arrogant? that friendly smile you give to just anyone whose way you look? the gorgeous clothes you always seemed to sport, or the fact you’d still be beautiful wearing a trash-bag? how people seem to light up at the very sight of you? no, no. it couldn’t be that. keisuke’s never been one to care for people’s opinions. rumours were nothing short of bullshit to him, and the same went for how his schoolmates would describe each other. he’d always have to see for himself.

and when he did, oh, god help him — he was pissed.

he couldn’t stand it. couldn’t stand you. just that adorable laugh of yours sent his blood boiling, and stars, how you looked up at him with those pretty eyes? how your voice sounded, speaking to him in that gratingly cheery tone? he wanted to wipe that innocent look off your pretty face and show you just who the fuck you were talking to. he’d never felt this much conflict in his life.

your mouth hadn’t shut up once during his time around you, and it made him want nothing more than to force his length down your throat until you couldn’t speak. you were like a goddamn mosquito to him, except you had a sweet personality and devastating hips. that stupidly gleeful voice of yours… he’d sometimes stay awake wondering what your moans would sound like. or how you’d sound begging him not to fuck you in the middle of a lecture.

the first time you spoke to him, the conversation was short. curt, strained. he’d walked off almost as soon as he approached you, practically fuming at that. it left you confused, but you’d just assumed he was having a bad day. he seemed rather unapproachable, but that didn’t stop you. it never did. after all, how could one make friends if they’re so quick to judge? so, to be his friend, you attempted to casually approach him, help him out in class or offer him your lunch. who knows, he could’ve been a softie underneath all that tough exterior!

poor, poor, naïve you.

that was your personal gateway to hell.

now you were desperately trying to avoid him. from seeking him out nearly every chance you get, to running away the instant you hear he’s within your vicinity. for some unholy reason, you never succeeded. you’d think he was hunting you down with how conveniently he always seemed to be around the corner.

loser, slut, whore, idiot, stupid girl, dumb bitch. those were his favourite nicknames for you. especially when he’d give you twisted praise for obeying his fucked up demands. laughing at how your shirt would drench when he pours water on it, pretty pink bra peeking through the transparent fabric. you’d throb at the animalistic sneer he’d bare when you’re in misery caused by him.

randomly flipping up your skirt, slamming you against the lockers. there were times even his friends — more like minions — would assist him. he’d even go so far as to snatch you away from your own friends to pull you into the janitor’s closet or the bathroom. bending you over the bathroom counter and spreading you apart, recording the entire thing. he’s never been so immature with anyone before. not enough to take their lunch or even give them shit about the food they brought, but he was hellbent on harassing you.

you’d try complaining to the teachers, to the principal, but none of them would believe you. even if they did, they were terrified of actually dealing with keisuke. every time you were in the principal’s office with him, he’d just smirk and keep silent. not even make an attempt to deny your claims or shut you down, because he knew all of it was true — and he knew that the principal wouldn’t do shit. he didn’t have a black belt in multiple forms of martial arts just for show, after all. sometimes you’d beg your fellow students to back you up, or to atleast help you, but they’d just shuffle their feet and pray the raven-haired man wasn’t around.

“sorry, [name].”

“i… i can’t right now. i’ve got, um, homework to do.”

“can’t you just tell the teachers about this?”

“baji? you want me to save you from baji?”

“[name], i— oh, fuck! i-i have to go, sorry!”

all a bunch of pathetic excuses. he might as well have been a tyrant, and you the unfortunate object of his ‘favour’.

there were times he’d just throw all of your things onto the ground and watch you helplessly pick them up. drop his own pencil and flatly say to you, “whoops. better pick that up for me, loser.”

loser. you couldn’t believe he had the audacity to call you such a name. he was the one obsessed with you, not the other way round!

but the way your underwear would soak at just the sound of his deep voice and how your thighs would tense when his muscular forearms or those stupidly obnoxious metal rings of his come into sight say otherwise. how you’d wear shorter skirts and cuter panties around him, even if by just an inch. he’d notice. he notices everything, that stupidly perceptive bastard.

for the first time, he was totally gratified that his grades weren’t the best. he’d always had trouble in school, but over time, he got better. still… they weren’t 80’s and over, or a’s. so that gave him the perfect opportunity to choose you to become his tutor.

it was the most torturous time of the school week for you.

bent over his desk, cock stuffed in your cunt, he’d order you to recite every line of the page in your textbook. and when you’d stutter, you’d earn a harsh smack to your ass.

and in the library? he obviously didn’t care about privacy when it came to you. he’d only get pissed if others were ogling you, but the fact that it would always be his dick inside you and never theirs calmed him down a little. even if they’d try… he’d break their bones. laugh at how they could never — no one ever — be able to fuck you the way he could.

you couldn’t even call them tutoring sessions. he’d act difficult on purpose and lie with that poker face of his, tell you that he doesn’t quite get the material and if you let him eat you out he might understand. the only things he’d learn during your own classes for him are your sweet spots. areas he could abuse over and over until you’re just a crying mess with his cum in between and on your soft thighs.

he was utterly obscene and obsessed with you. as much as he’d hate to admit it, deny that what he feels for you is real. how your beautiful eyes would fill with tears, stirring a sadistic side of him that he never even thought he’d comprehend. how tightly your weeping pussy would clamp on his girth, how your pretty little hands would grab onto his broad shoulders or his sift through and tug at his silky jet-black hair. it sent him reeling.

“well? get to it, slut,” he’d snarl, yanking your head toward his cock you’d often have difficulty taking. one hand fisted in your locks, the other recording this absolutely vile scene. your glossy lips would quiver, and he wouldn’t even bother hiding a cruel scoff at the sight. you were so adorable. the perfect girl. “maybe i should send this to all those boyfriends of yours.”

“no, baji, pl—!”

“aht! what the fuck did i say?”

“keisuke, please, please don’t send them—“

“tch... jus’ shut up and put your mouth to use already. tired of your yapping— aaah, fuck. that’s it. attagirl.”

by the end of every interaction with him — every single one — your heart would be broken. cheeks stained with tears, shame settling in your gut. even more shame due to the fact you know he thinks you’re even more stunning when you cry. the worst, soul-eating kind of shame when you realise your cunt is aching and you want him all over again.

oh, keisuke baji — what a cruel, cruel man, only relentless and resentful towards you. relentlessly and resentfully in love with you.

#⊹ ࣪ ˖ fics! [nsfw]#baji keisuke #baji #baji keisuke smut #baji smut #baji x reader #tokrev baji #tokyo revengers baji #eeeeeeee i hope this was ok #i’m terrified tbh #LORD SAVE ME

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bteezxyewriter12 · 10 months ago

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Milk/ 1

Pairing- San x Named Reader

Word count- 2.6k

Includes- Sex from behind, dirty talk, squirting, multiple orgasms

Tag List- @mingtina @jaxminnie @yeosayang @delightfulmoonbanana @tannie13 @y00nzin0 @marsstarxhwa

@yeosxxx @seokwoosmole @jjongsbebe @wisejudgedragonhairdo @meowmeowminnie @woo-stars @borntowalkaway @usagionthered @san-realblkwife @seonghwasstar @jejeyeppeo @soulseobi05 @kpop-bambi @prayerofthehaim @realisticnotes @pinkies-things @insomniacatiny @stephy-nicole13 @mknae-jongho @bykeynote @amyz78 @blueie-things

Masterlists- check out for more fics

📝Masterlists 📝ATEEZ Masterlist 📝San Masterlist

This is the San 3-4 part fic that won the poll

San POV

"Would you stop squirming?", my best friend snaps, glaring over at me from her side of the bed

"I can't help it", I answer, trying to hide my hard on, "I'm trying to get comfortable"

It's hard while watching this sex scene

I had no idea what I was in for when she wanted to watch True Blood

She said it was about vampires

Not my thing, but she's my best friend since infanthood so I caved

She's watched things I wanted that she had no interest in either so I figured I can do this for her

So far it was interesting but I had no idea about the graphic sex scenes in it

Like Game of thrones

And I haven't fucked anyone in awhile so excuse me if I get horny and hard during what is basically a soft core porn scene

I don't want her to know I'm hard or she'll never let me live it down

It also doesn't help that she paused the show midway through one of the vampires thrusting into the girl

"Why aren't you comfortable? You've been laying in the same position for awhile and now all of a sudden you need to move?", she rolls her eyes, "What, are you hard or something?"

How the fuck does she know?

"No", I scowl at her, turning my body away from her

She stares at me for a second then a huge grin breaks on her face, "Oh my god you are!"

"No!", I say defensively

"Let me see!"

"What? No!", I yell as she tugs on my arm to try to roll me to my back, "Stop Jo!"

She's freakishly strong and she manages to pull me hard enough to get me on my back, her hands pulling away the blanket before I even have a chance to keep it covering me

"Oh shit", she giggles, the big tent in my pants glaringly obvious

"Jo, the fuck?", I whine, trying to grab the blanket

"A sex scene in a show made you hard?", she laughs, "Seriously?"

"Hey!", I snap, "I haven't fucked anyone in awhile. I'm horny!"

"What about three weeks ago-"

"I was drunk and don't remember anything. You don't either"

Yeah we fucked.....

I think

But it doesn't count because we were both shit faced from a club, our friends dumped us at my apartment and apparently we had sex

I woke up naked with her next to me, naked too, the next morning

But I can't remember anything about it

She can't either

So we both assume we had sex but we're not really sure

And since I don't remember, then I don't count it and I maintain that I haven't had sex for awhile

"Yeah ok, I see your point", she agrees

"Good. Can we drop it now?"

"I don't think you can", she jokes, glancing at my dick

"Haha, you're so funny", I snap

I'm also annoyed that my dick isn't going down

Normally this would mortify me and make any hard on disappear in seconds

But it's her, we're open about stuff like this, we're talking about it and I guess that's why I'm still hard

It'll take awhile to go down but it will when I get distracted

"Put the show back on"

She shakes her head, standing up, "I know what you can do to take care of it"

Is she really going to leave me to jerk off in her bed?

Seriously?

I can go to the bathroom for that

Which I tell her

"No not that", she says and I'm at a loss for what she means

She walks over to her desk and to my utter shock she wiggles down her shorts and panties

Leaning over her desk, she looks over her shoulder at me, "Come fuck me"

My mouth drops open in complete surprise

Did she just say she wants me to go fuck her?

We don't do things like this

"What? You're horny. I'm horny, we can kill two birds with one stone"

That's what she's calling it?

That's why she wants to because it's convenient?

"I uh...I don't think-", I start but stop talking when she bends over more, her small fingers pulling her pussy lips apart, letting me see her small, wet hole

Oh my fucking god, her pussy is the prettiest I've ever seen

And so fucking wet

I feel my cock throb, wanting to be buried inside her

But I'm not sure about taking this step and I'm not keen on messing up our friendship

I love her, she's my rock and I need her

"Sannie", she whines cutely, "C'mon. I wanna feel you inside me"

"You do?", I ask flabbergasted

She nods, glancing over her shoulder again, "Ever since we woke up and didn't know if we had sex, I've wondered what it'd feel like to be with you. What it's feel like to have your dick buried in my pussy, fucking me, coming on you. And the more I think about it the more I want it"

I'm in total disbelief

I mean, yes, I've thought about being with her too but I never imagined she gave it a second thought

"Don't you want to?", she asks, sounding unsure now

"Yes", I answer immediately and internally smacking myself for sounding desperate, "I'm just....I'm worried this will change us"

She shakes her head, "Oh please Sannie, it's just sex. I'm not gonna fall in love with you or anything stupid like that. It's just fucking because we're both horny. That's all"

Ok, that's good

That was the only reason I was holding back

But now that it's cleared up, I'm good

Standing up, I drop my sweatpants and boxers, kicking them off, then moving right to her

"Wow San", she says, eyeing my cock

I smirk, "Like it?"

She nods, "So big. Gonna feel so good"

"Oh yeah?", I tease, pumping my cock a few times

"Yeah", she teases, "You may not know this about me but I like having big fat cocks up my cunt. And yours fits the bill"

Ok yeah I am shocked but I'm not gonna let that show

"Always knew you were a slut", I tell her, rubbing my head against her slit, feeling her juice soak my cock

"Mmm hmmm", she whimpers, "You're slut now"

God, that's such a turn on, "Yeah tonight you're my whore"

With that I shove my cock up her cunt, splitting her on my length so pleasurably, bottoming out in one stroke

"Yes, fuck San", she cries, her pussy clamping down around my cock, throbbing so fucking nicely, her pussy lips wrapped tightly around me

"God, you're so tight", I pant, "When was the last time you were fucked?"

"You", she moans softly

Me?

Guess she's counting that night then

"You don't even know if I really fucked you", I tell her, pushing her down on the desk then pulling out, feeling her cunt suck on me, trying to hold me inside her

Fuck that feels so good

Slamming back in, her hole takes me in, clenching as soon as I'm back, sending pleasure up my spine

"You did", she murmurs as I hold her down, fucking into her over and over

Her pussy locks on my cock every time I thrust into her, like she wants to keep me in, showering my dick and lap with her creamy juice

"How do you know?", I moan, pulling her legs apart more, jackhammering my cock into her waiting cunt

She takes me absolutely perfectly even though we're a tight snug fit with no room to spare

She has got to be one of the best pussy's I've ever fucked

"Because I re... remember...bits....and pieces", she moans

I remember her telling me that but I'm not sure if she's mixing me up with someone else

Slamming into her, she cries out loudly, clenching down on my cock particularly hard

"There Sannie", she whines, "Please, fuck me there"

"You're spot?", I ask smugly

"Yes"

"Ok baby. I'll fuck you there"

Pounding into her, I make sure I hit that spot over and over, her pussy watering like a waterfall

I look down, moaning as I watch her cream my cock up good, the squelching sound of my cock in her cunt so loud

"Hear how loud you're cunt is for me?", I ask her

"Yes", she moans, pussy pulsing sweetly around my shaft

"Think I'm fucking you better this time around?"

"Yes", she cries

I'm so fucking hot, sweat making my shirt cling to me

Not missing a thrust, I pull my shirt off, tossing it on the ground, the cool air hitting my body feeling good

She's sweating too, her shirt wet with it, so I shove her shirt up, telling her to get up

She moves up, her hands holding her up on the desk as I get her shirt off her, then undo her bra, tossing both on the floor with my shirt

Moving closer to her, I press my body against her, the soft, smooth skin of her back right against my chest, making me actually shiver

My hands reach around her, groping and squeezing her squishy boobs, my head right next to hers, leaning on hers

"You feel so good", I moan in her ear, letting the pleasure hit me everywhere, her pussy fluttering so fucking hard around me as I push through her tightness over and over again

"You....feel good....too", she hiccups

I hear crumpling sounds and when I look down at the desk, her hands are squeezing the life from the papers on the desk

I smirk, knowing I'm giving it to her good

"You've been craving for my cock in your pussy for awhile haven't you?", I murmur in her ear, her head leaning back on my shoulder

"Yes San", she moans, my fingers now pinching her hard nipples

"Mmm I'm glad. Glad you convinced me to fuck your tight wet pussy that feels so fucking good", I moan, glancing at her

She whimpers, pleasure on her face so pretty

I'm not dumb, I know my best friend is pretty

I just never thought about her this way

Until now

"May have to keep fucking you"

She nods, groaning, "Yes. Fuck. You can fuck my pussy anytime you want"

"Oh yeah?", I tease, "Want your best friend's cock up your cunt all the time?"

"Yes", she cries, pussy spasming uncontrollably, "Wanna be your cock sleeve Sannie"

My mind explodes at her words, getting hornier and fucking into her harder

"You can, fuck. Gonna wear your pussy all the time now", I tell her, "Fuck, want you to cum for me"

Once my words are said, she moans, her body shaking against me, her pussy clenching my cock in a vice grip as she cums

Incredible pleasure slams into me from her orgasm, taking my breath away

Holy fucking shit, it's fucking amazing

"San", she moans softly, my head snapping to look at her immediately, it taking me a second to process that she's saying my name while she climaxes

Holy shit

"Sannie, fuck. San"

While I'm shocked hearing my name, I continue to fuck her through her orgasm until she finishes

Then I shove her back down on the desk, speeding up my thrusts as I plow into her cunt, watching her tiny hole split open for me, her swollen pussy lips so pretty around my cock

"Cum again", I demand, pounding her into the desk, "I need it"

It's too fucking good

Her orgasm is like a rush of ecstasy and I need to feel it again

"Fuck", she moans, her head laying on the desk, her eyes squeezes shut as her cunt swallows my cock over and over

She's making such a big fucking mess on my cock that I love seeing

Moving my arm around her, I press my fingers into her clit, rubbing it in circles harshly

"Fuck!", she shouts, her cunt squeezing my cock hard

"Yes baby", I urge her, fucking her spot and playing with her clit, "Cum for my cock. Wanna feel it again. Feels so good"

I feel like a junkie, the only thing on my mind is getting her cunt to cum so I can get a hit of that pleasure

"Sannie", she cries, getting impossibly tight around my cock

Her orgasm is gonna make me cum

I know it

I pant as I thrust into her, her scream of my name signalling her orgasm

Clear liquid pours from her cunt as she squirts around my cock, soaking me and the floor, her cunt keeping my cock in a death grip as she pulses wonderfully

The pleasure I was craving washes over me and I revel in it

"Cum San!", she cries, "Cum in my pussy! Wanna milk your cock"

Shock at her words enters through the pleasure, exciting me more

"Please baby. Wanna milk your cock so bad"

"Fuck Jo! Fuck", I yell, shoving my cock deep inside her, my cock throbbing as I cum, pure ecstasy blinding me

My entire body shakes as I empty into her, intense pleasure I've never felt before tidal waving over me

Her cunt squeezes my length again and again, milking my cock so fucking well

"Yes Sannie", she moans, "Gimme your cum baby. Fuck want all of it. Every last drop"

Her milking pussy keeps me in pleasure longer, sucking everything from my cock

"Yes fuck", she whimpers, "Love milking fat cocks like yours Sannie"

She is completely shocking me today

I found out a few things about her I've never knew

And each one is such a turn on

The pleasure leaves as I'm sucked dry, only then does her pussy loosen around me and I fall out

I lean against the desk so I don't faceplant on the floor, both of us breathing hard

That has to be one of the best sex sessions I've ever had

Hands down

She stands up, her gaze landing on mine, her cheeks pink

"Don't be shy on me now", I laugh, caressing her face softly

"I'm not", she answers, "We uh...should get cleaned up though"

I nod, "Ok"

She gathers her clothes then heads for the door, "I'll be back"

"Hold on", I call

She looks back at me, "Do you really like milking cock?"

She rolls her eyes, her sass back, "Yeah. I like clenching on dick, I like feeling cum in my pussy. And it's easier to milk fat cocks than skinny ones"

Wow, ok

I didn't think she'd really answer that but ok

"We good?", she asks

I nod wordlessly

She nods, then disappears

I assume to the bathroom

I take a second for the reality of what just happened to hit me

I fucked my best friend

And it was amazing

That is a shock within itself

And the things she said, letting me fuck her anytime...I wonder if it was true or just something said in the moment

I know I said I'd fuck her all the time and honestly I'm not sure if I meant it or not