should've known better than to give another (2D) man sweets in front of your bf!
pairing: clingy bf!Gojo x gamer gf!Reader
content: MDNI, established relationship, gojo gets jealous over a romancable character in your game (not specified but think like stardew valley or fields of mistria), unprotected piv sex (he pulls out though), doggy style, possessive gojo, teasing
art by @aransmind + divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more !!
"What do you mean you're gonna marry him?"
"Toru," You scolded, not looking up while you flipped through your inventory. "It's just a game. He's literally pixels."
Of course, out of all your ramblings explaining the game's mechanics and story and controls, he'd stopped listening the second he heard there were marriage candidates to choose from.
The massive man currently pressing his entire weight on your back huffed, his teeth nipping at your ear in disapproval.
"What does he have that I don't? Hey, wait-" Your boyfriend whined, his soft hair tickling your neck as he craned over to get a better look at your screen. "What'd you just give him?"
"Are you seriously jealous right now?" You huffed, squirming under his body as the comforter rustled underneath you, trying to crane your neck to get a peek at the distraught expression currently twisting all his pretty features.
"Baby, you just gave another man chocolate cake," He pouted, looking like he was considering snatching your game console from your hand.
"You're ridiculous, you know that?"
Acting like you were cheating on him when you were currently caged underneath his heavy chest, his cock literally throbbing against your ass, barely contained in his boxers. After spending most of the day with him, he'd found excuses to strip both of you down until that was all he was left in, leaving you in just a bra and a pair of pajama shorts.
"Am I?" He huffed, one of his hands slipping in the narrow space between your bodies to pull it free, readjusting so it was now pressed snugly against your entrance through the thin cotton of your shorts.
"Yes, you are," You deadpanned, pretending the pressure didn't phase you when his tip nudged harder against your clit.
"Maybe I'm ridiculous," He mimicked your voice in your ear, the same sneaky hand slipping down to your thighs to squeeze the pliable muscle there, pulling them a little further apart before tugging your underwear aside just enough to press a teasing inch inside. "But he can't do this, can he?"
"Yeah, because he's not real," You rolled your eyes, but the rest of your body was on a different page, responding to him like it was second nature, grinding back on his thick length to try and jostle him deeper.
Satoru pulled out to grab the pillow you were cuddling under your head, lifting your hips to shove it under your stomach, taking the time to yank your shorts down your thighs until they caught at your knees, pausing to unclasp your bra.
"But what if he was?"
"Are you being serious right now?" You tried to glance back at him, and he took advantage of the distraction to steal your console from you, using his long limbs to shove it just out of your reach on the desk next to your bed.
"Sweetheart," He murmured, dropping his voice lower and slipping inside further before another protest could fall from your lips. "C'mon, who would you choose?"
"Hm," You pretended to think, which, apparently was the incorrect answer because in one harsh thrust he was bottoming out before you could finish. Your teasing turned into a strangled gasp for air, his hand gripping your hip hard as he pulled back out just to slam into you again.
"Wanna answer that?" He teased, his voice thick with lust, just as out of breath as you were when he couldn't reign himself in to find a steady rhythm, sloppily stretching you out in desperate strokes.
"Y-you," You stammered, forcing short exhales out of your nose, shuddering when his finger delicately trailed up your spine to the nape of your neck like he was admiring you, brushing the hair off the back so your throat was exposed to him.
His teeth sank in, hungrily leaving wet sucks meant to mark you as his while the soft twinkling little music from the game that started this still played in the background, nearly drowned out by the lewd noise of him pumping in and out of you and his skin slapping against yours.
"Mine," He muttered, licking a clean stripe up your throat that almost tickled, a giggle you couldn't suppress slipping out.
"What, are you a dog?" You teased, just for both of his hands to latch onto your hips and hoist you up onto your hands and knees, not letting your joke slide. Your bra fell all the way off now, your breasts bouncing in the open air, the chill of your air conditioning on the exposed nipples making them harden without his touch.
"If, fuck, you want me to be," He panted, his thick thighs pressing into the back of yours, his body heat and the rich scent of his cologne and the dizzying ache of needing someone so much rattling your brain almost more than the way his swollen tip throbbing against your favorite spots did.
"Shit, there, Toru," You whimpered, trying to wiggle back against him just for him to angle away. Your needy whine catching in your throat when he used your hips to drag you closer, force himself deeper and held it there.
"You haven't asked me to marry you," He complained, like his cock wasn't practically kissing your cervix, imprinting every ridge inside you.
"Toru," You moaned, his palm pressing down on the small of your back to deepen the arch as his hips smacked against your ass. "You're supposed to ask me, idiot."
"Marry me," He grunted, not exactly asking when he was busy grinding his tip right where he knew it'd make you squeeze him tighter. He was too fucked out, too absorbed in the way you were clenching around him to notice your hand fumbling for an object on your desk barely within reach.
It wasn't until you grabbed it and brought it in front of your face that he noticed, his infuriatingly charming laugh sending fresh shivers down your spine.
"Mm, what do you think, should I be the next Ms. Gojo?" You hummed softly, shaking the magic 8 ball he'd bought on your second date after it answered definitely when you asked it if you should go out with him again. The little triangle floated to the top and you let out a small sigh. "Aw, it says ask again later."
"It's broken," He huffed, slamming into you harder now, determined to drag another definitely out of you.
"Fuck, are you trying to break me too?" You groaned, the ball rolling to the floor with a clatter so you could claw at your blanket, balling up the thick fabric in your hands.
He chuckled, his fingers digging into your hip to support your trembling legs, his chest resting on your back, skin sticky with sweat.
"Maybe."
You could feel his stupid smirk on your skin when he trailed butterfly kisses against your shoulder blade up to the nape of your neck, acting as if he wasn't attempting to split you open and fuck you dumb enough that you forgot your last name and convince you to take his instead.
It was unfortunately working.
Almost incoherent whimpers of his name falling from your lips like a prayer, preaching to a merciless god, greedy for whatever you offered him.
"That's my girl," He murmured appreciatively into your throat, sounding drunk as one of his hands slipped around to your front just to trace messy patterns against your clit, already swollen and sensitive.
"Mhm," You nodded weakly, eyes fluttering shut, his cock starting to stall at the sinful way you were constricting around him, how close you were apparent in every moan and whimper he pulled out, rolling the sore bundle of nerves between his sturdy fingers, knowing what to do to make you snap.
"Fuckin' love you," He grunted, his breath hitching in his throat, his praises pushing you over the edge. Stars splintering your vision, your body tensing for a second before the release, desperately crying his name again.
Which was all his ego needed for him to finish too, pulling out at the last second to paint your back with warm, white cum. Groaning as his fist pumped furiously until the last drops dripped on your back.
"Shit, baby," He breathlessly muttered, grabbing his discarded t-shirt and putting it underneath you before any could fall on the bed.
"Love you too," You yawned, pulling another pillow under your head while he went to grab a washcloth from the bathroom. "My needy puppy."
"What'd you just say?" He walked back out, adding a little hmph to his question.
"Nothing," You giggled, closing your eyes while he wiped you clean.
"Uh-huh." You didn't need to look to know he was rolling his eyes. But he was whining again before you could say anything else. "I'm hungry."
"You're always hungry," You pointed out with a sigh.
"You know, some chocolate cake would be really nice right now."
reblogs/comments are greatly appreciated, hope you guys enjoyed xoxoxo
shitty day in general? don’t worry, he’s already propping you on the edge of the bed. ran into an ex partner or ex friend? he’s already fucking you on his cock until you forget about the interaction altogether. bills or grades making you overwhelmed? he’ll make sure your overstimulated tears blur the print on them to the point where you’ll wonder why were you crying in the first place. feeling like the whole world’s out there to conspire against you? don’t worry, you can ride his cock until you feel better. or start crying from how good it feels. or both! he doesn’t mind
just a loving partner who’ll fuck the problems out of you and for you ^.^
pervy drug dealer suguru who preys on you cuz youre young n pretty, you’re so unsure but all your friends do it n he promised he’ll be here the whole time for you! ‘sweet thing, ya alright?’ he’d ask when you cough and choke on your spit after your first inhale and he’d smile real wide n creepy when you say you’re fine you wanna keep goin’.
testing the waters after you get real high, too high for your own good honestly, by rubbing up your thigh with comforting words. eventually he gets ballsy enough to lean in and kiss your cheek, ‘oh so cute baby’ he’d murmur when you shy away tellin him you’re uncomfortable with that.
but at this point? you’re really to high to honestly resist him, weak pushes and mumbled words as he scoots closer to you. his hand is ghostin your pretty pink panties and you shudder, trying to clench your thighs around his big hand. you’re cryin at this point, hiccuped sobs and soft pretty little ‘no’s that egg him on.
eventually he’s got his fingers under your panties and for a little thing that’s resisting so much he can’t help but note how wet you’ve gotten. your hand is barely gripping his wrist in a half ass attempt to pull it away, you’re hazy and all you can smell is the sour stench of weed and cigarette smoke wafting from getous clothes. it made you feel sick.
getou’s got his fingers spreading apart your pretty pink pussy, testing the waters as he grazes your clit. getou is usually a mean, rough man, all groping and vulgar words during sex. but you were such a cute little thing, clearly inexperienced and way too high, how could he truly be anything except sickly sweet.
he keeps going then, pressing sloppy kisses to your neck, running his fingers up and down your pretty cunt. ‘i wanna go’, you’d cry out, ‘won’t tell anyone i promise!’ but it’s a little too late for that isn’t it, really? not when he’s this deep, not when he wants nothing more then to see you cum around his fingers. he ignored your pleas, working his middle finger into your tight cunt. and god were you tight. you found a little more of your voice then, wailing in pain as he attempts to get his middle finger knuckle deep inside of you.
‘sweet thing, keep cryin just like that.’ he coos at you, pressing his thumb against your clit. suguru asks if you want another hit then, when you shake your head (as much as you can) he’s already pressing the joint to your lips, fucking his middle finger in and out of you hard making you force an inhale.
getou laughs all mean when you cough again, and after a few moments pass he’s got your pretty little tits exposed pinching your nipples with his free hand. you’re so close to coming around his thick finger, he can feel it in the way you pulse around it. you’re still a sobbing mess, embarrassed at the involuntary moans leaving your lips.
‘gna pee i think!’ you gasp, way too high to understand what was truly happening. getou laughs again, hes got a ruthless pace going, in and out hard as he rubs your clit. when you finally cum it’s the most he’s seen your body moved in a while, you spasm and cry and all he can think is he wonders if you’ll come smoke with him again.
life as a hit man was dirty but simple, and gojo preferred keeping it that way. he didn’t know his clients names, they didn’t know his. he’d send over proof of his work, they’d wire in the money. dirty, yet simple.
so when he gets a message to kill the daughter of some oil tycoon, he doesn’t think much about it. sure he thinks it’s cheap to go for the kid, but what does he know. this is the most he’s ever been offered for a one shot job, so he’s not an idiot to turn this offer down.
and unfortunately, that meant his next confirmed target was you.
he gets your information, where you go to school, what apartment building you live in, where you like to eat. usually he prefers a straight shot to the head, but sometimes sneaking in something to your food lets him off easier.
gojo gets to know your routine. what you do at what time. what shows you watch, what your favorite sweater is. he watches from the high rises that faces yours, crouching down so none of your bodyguards could see the reflection of the magnifier of his rifle.
and gojo is used to taking out a wide range of people. men, women, grandpas, aunts. it’s just business to him. but there’s something about you that makes him hesitate to pull the trigger.
maybe it’s the fact that the weeks he’s spent trailing after you he’s noticed you’re pretty much a loner. you keep to yourself, never bothering anyone. you don’t seem to have my friends in your classes, or even out of them. gojo never questions to morals of his clients or who they ask him to kill, but judging you so far you seem to have done…nothing wrong.
you treat the old lady who works in the convenience story with such kindness that gojo wonders if you were born into this level of wealth, because most people of your status treat those beneath them like ants. you always hold the door open for your body guards despite them insisting they do it for you. you always buy some food for the stray cats in the alley you pass, and you never when you’re on the phone with your dad, even though gojo tracks those calls and feels the need to yell for you.
it all comes to a moment when you’re at your favorite coffee shop (he knows this because you come here so often), and you’ve managed to weasel away from your bodyguards. he knows they must be freaking out by now, but you just want some alone time.
he’s right there, right behind you, the little pouch of his condition of drugs that instantly kill in his pocket ready, and you turn around with your coffee cup and bump into him.
your eyes seen, letting out a shocked gasp as the iced drink stains his shirt and pants, the cup not empty on the floor.
“oh my god, oh my god,” you stutter out, scrambling to find some napkins, “i’m so so sorry! i didn’t even see you there - gosh,” you shove some napkins into his hands, trying to dapple the coffee away but it does nothing to help, “i can’t believe…!” you trail off, the two of you moving out of line so you don’t hold the others up and your shaking your head in dismay, mad at your clumsiness.
“it’s alright,” he assures you, waving it off as his eyes take in your appearance. “don’t even worry about it, accidents happen.” it’s the first time he’s seen you this close, and he feels that pouch growing heavier in his pocket.
because you’re pretty. really pretty. and he likes the plush of your cheeks, the scrunch of your brows, the way you’re nearly gnawing your lip raw. you seem even prettier in person, and there’s a lump forming in his chest, something he’s never felt before.
“no, no,” you murmur, trying to find the tide pen in your bag, only to realize you left it at home, “and it’s stained too, fuck. i am so sorry about this, you probably have somewhere to be and…” your words trail off as you scramble for your wallet, pulling out some cash as you push it into his hands.
it’s more than he needs to replace the shirt and pants, probably enough to buy him a couple pairs from ralph lauren, but you still seem to think it’s not enough as you look for more.
“it’s no worries at all, i keep an extra of shirts in my car for emergencies like this,” gojo lies smoothly and you look up from your purse, eyes wide in shame. fuck he really likes your eyes too.
“no, please take it, it’ll be on my mind all day if you don’t,” you insist, but he’s shaking his head defiantly, a reassuring smile on his face as he hands the money back to you.
“and it’ll be on my conscience all day if i take it,” he promises you, and after you realize he’s not going to retract his hands you take the cash, shoving it back into your wallet as heat settles all over your body.
of course with your luck you spill coffee all over the most attractive man you’ve ever met.
you still look worried, finding another napkin as you take out a pen from your purse, messily writing something down.
“this is my contact information if you ever need me to replace your clothes,” you hand it over to the man with an apologetic smile, “please don’t hesitate to call me, i know stains and that’s gonna be really hard to get out,” you go to say something else but your eyes dart to the large windows behaubd him, catching sight of your body guards who seem to have seen you, and your face falls.
“i’m really sorry, again, but i have to go,” you mutter as you speed off, waving goodbyes to the stranger as you duck your head down and leave the coffee shop, not wanting to cause another scene as three buff men race in to find you.
gojo stands there almost in a haze, looking at his stained white shirt to the napkin with your number and name on it.
almost as if he didn’t already know it, almost as if you weren’t the girl he’s supposed to kill.
and in that moment he realizes how screwed he is, because he’d rather down that packet right there than shoot you down, and he’s never felt this dread before.
ʚɞ warnings: fem!reader, obsessive behaviour, pervy geto, stalking, penetration (p in v), doggystyle, fingering, oral (f receiving), creampie, hints of yandere, 18+ minors dni.
pervy yoga instructor!geto who notices you the moment you first attend one of his classes, immediately singling you out among the small group of his regulars laying down their mats.
he's never seen someone so young and pretty in his studio before — most of his customers were married middle-aged women old enough to be his mother. but not you.
pervy yoga instructor!geto who takes a very keen interest in you from that very first session, his sharp gaze never leaving you for long each time you come in. to his dismay, however, you always take the spot right at the back of the room, meaning he has to crane his neck around all of the gossiping older ladies to get a good look at you. hmm, that won't do.
pervy yoga instructor!geto who keeps you behind one day after a class, subtly suggesting that you move closer to the front so he can 'get a clearer look' at your progress. and if you catch on to the real reason he wants you closer, you don't say anything; so he assumes you bought the excuse. perfect.
pervy yoga instructor!geto who, once you begin working right at the front, gets more and more handsy as time goes on. what began as just a light brush of his fingers to improve your positioning turns into him fully grasping your hips to manoeuvre your body the way he wants.
pervy yoga instructor!geto who isn't oblivious to the jealous looks cast in your direction from the other women when he does this. he just pays them no mind; he's not interested in them, after all. only you.
pervy yoga instructor!geto who finds himself becoming increasingly obsessed with you after each session, talking yoga instructor!gojo's ear off about how pretty you are and how utterly delicious the arch of your back is when he gets everyone to do the downward dog stretch.
his friend laughs but reminds him that it's strictly against the rules of the yoga studio to get involved with a customer (as if he cares about such trivial things like that.)
pervy yoga instructor!geto who starts insisting on you staying behind after every single class, claiming it would be good for you to have some one-on-one sessions with him to hone your skills. when you don't protest, he thinks you must either be completely clueless or into him just as much as he is you. he really hopes it's the latter.
pervy yoga instructor!geto who uses these private classes to get you to do various risqué positions for him that definitely aren't real yoga stretches. but what you don't know can't hurt you, right?
pervy yoga instructor!geto whose mood becomes sour once you stop attending his sessions. had he gone too far? did you think he was a creep? he didn't even care if you filed a report about him for his behaviour at this point — as long as it meant he got to see you at the subsequent meeting.
pervy yoga instructor!geto who only lasts a few weeks before he's rifling through the customer files in his office, yanking out your folder and scanning the page.
once he finds your address, he's in his car and on the way there, breaking every speed limit on the way. and before he even knows it, he's outside your house, peeking in through the window.
pervy yoga instructor!geto who spots you curled up on your couch, crying softly in front of the television while spooning ice cream into your pretty mouth. and suddenly, all his previous anger is replaced with concern. he hasn't even formed an excuse to explain why he's here before he's knocking on the door.
pervy yoga instructor!geto who hurriedly tells you that "it's company policy to check on customers who haven't attended sessions for a certain amount of time", mentally patting himself on the back when you seem to buy it and let him into your apartment.
pervy yoga instructor!geto who listens intently as you spill all the details about your cheating asshole of a boyfriend. so that's why you've been absent. but don't worry — he can make you forget all about that worthless scum. after all, he didn't deserve you anyway!
suguru could treat you so much better. and he will, if you let him.
pervy yoga instructor!geto who kisses your tears away, hushing you softly and whispering in your ear about how beautiful you are and how he's had his eye on you since you first entered his studio. (he leaves out the part where he's fucked his fist to the thought of you in those tight little yoga pants countless times. he doesn't want to scare you off!)
pervy yoga instructor!geto who starts by running his hands over your perfect body he's been imagining touching just like this for so long, burying his head between your soft thighs and eating you out like it's his last meal until you're all nice and gushy.
he only stops when your tears of sadness turn into those of pleasure, until you're practically begging him to fuck you.
pervy yoga instructor!geto who starts by fucking you nice and slow on your couch in missionary, praising you over and over in that silken purr of his like you deserve. but soon enough he's flipping your body around, putting you in the yoga position that you always do the best for him; downward dog, ruthlessly rutting his fat cock into you from behind like an animal.
pervy yoga instructor!geto who has to use all of his willpower to make sure you cum on his cock first before he lets go himself, despite the fact he could've busted a nut the second he eased into your warm, tight little pussy.
pervy yoga instructor!geto who watches in silent satisfaction as his goopy cum oozes out of your abused cunt, quickly fingering it right back inside to make sure not a single drop goes to waste. "it's all for you, sweet baby." he murmurs, voice raspy and deep.
pervy yoga instructor!geto who effortlessly carries your exhausted body to your bedroom bridal style, cooing in your ear the entire way about how you're his now, and he's going to take such good care of you, his favourite girl.
♡ TW: nsfw, noncon/dubcon, yandere, omegaverse, forced bonding, subjugation, some type of discrimination, elements of androgyny
♡ fem reader
Thinking about the big and burly behemoth Omega finally finding himself the cutest little Alpha to breed with…
He could never bring himself to breed with Alphas. Growing up, he developed a great disdain for them—all high and mighty rabid animals prone to violence, more often than not completely dimwitted to top it off, as if their massive ego had usurped the place of basic brain operation.
He couldn’t hate them more, yet he doesn’t correct anyone when they mistake him for one, either. In many ways, he wished he was born one instead of an Omega. It would make it easier to fulfill his desires that way. A dominant Omega isn’t all that normal, after all—and submissive Alphas are an even rarer breed to come by.
He hadn't found one yet. And other Omegas don’t really do it for him. They approach him, thinking he’s an Alpha, then feel disappointed when figuring out he’s not—which is fine, as he isn’t particularly interested in their scent either. Betas make for an okay compromise—they don’t care if he’s an Omega, it makes no difference to them—yet he could never really shake the feeling that something was missing when lying with them.
At the office, the scent of Alphas plagues him all day—how they strut around, stinking up the place with no concern for anyone else. This is a workplace, for fuck’s sake—can’t they have a little dignity and not treat it like a mating ground? He really hates them. All bigheaded assholes—
“Ow—” there’s bark and a hard thunk of something hitting the floor.
Someone just bumped into him—someone so small he hadn’t even seen them over the top of his clipboard. Looking down, he sees a fellow Omega—a pretty one. You must be as disoriented by the scent around you as he is—probably why you walked right into him—poor thing. He ought to help you up.
You hold your head in your hand, wincing at the sting of your rear—you’d fallen right on your tailbone. Looking up, you give the fellow Alpha who’d knocked you down a mean glare, “What the hell, asshole!”
His outstretched hand stiffens midway. That’s not a very Omega-like thing to say—especially not by one so small as you. No, wait… what’s that scent?
You ignore his hand and get up on your own, dusting down your pin-stripes with angry brushes—face pursed, almost pouty, but not quite, too stink-eyed as you lean in and jab a finger into his chest to punctuate your words, “Watch where you’re going next time, you…”
You soften up halfway through the sentence. It must have dawned on you as well. His scent. Not like other Alphas, but something else entirely—something that suddenly makes you blush all over, wide-eyed.
You don’t say another word, only giving a weak huff before turning tail and stomping away.
There’s something very cute about it—he’s left thinking while watching you, utterly stunned and still, replaying the events that just occurred over and over in his head—wondering how he’d never seen you before. You must work on a different floor.
Luckily, he’d made sure to read your name tag—pinned all properly on your chest like a badge of honor, neatly like the rest of you. Well put together from the top of your salon-styled hair down to the tips of your pointy black stilettos. Even with their added height, you must have been two heads shorter than him—no taller than any regular Omega.
It's no wonder he mistook you for one. You were as cute as one, too—like a doll he could put behind glass, up on a mantle, and keep forever. But oh my… that mouth on you and that awful snarl. Just like any other imposing Alpha, he supposed. Bratty and arrogant, quick to jump the gun and pick a fight instead of taking it for the simple accident it was.
He goes back and sets himself down by his desk—but he’s way too distracted to work now, too busy with the thought of you. That flushed face you showed him before teetering off was something he wouldn’t mind seeing again—also that cute scowl under certain circumstances and what type of expression you’d give him if he wiped it off.
He's lucky an office party came along so quickly. He wouldn’t usually go, but now he had a reason. He bet you’d be there—the way you were dressed when you’d bumped into him tells him you’re one to respect the memo—head to toe in such a neat suit, trying to come off as androgynous as if in desperation needing everyone to know you were an Alpha. It must be hard for you—looking like that but wanting to look… well, suppose more like him.
He's glad he never felt that way—wishing to be smaller and cuter like other Omegas. Sure, he’s been envious of them at times, but more so of their easy pickings and not their appearance. He’s happy being bigger and stronger—it keeps unwanted attention at bay. You probably struggle to do the same. He bets you get a lot of the wrong eyes following you. Yeah… you must attract the bad sort all the time—alphas swarming you only to catch your scent and lose interest. Or maybe not… Alphas are sick, after all. Come to think of it, most of them would probably get off on dominating another Alpha. In that regard, it must have been worse for you than for him. Luckily, both of your issues are now solved.
He wondered what you’d wear tonight. You’d look much better in something feminine and not that suit you’d been wearing. He hopes, but no, you’re wearing much the same thing—another tailored two-piece that all but drowns you.
He understands what you’re going for. You have to dress like that, or else what Omega would ever want you looking the way you do? Aside from him, of course.
No matter. When you move in with him, he’ll dress you in all the pretty things he knows you want to wear. After all, pretty colors, ruffles, and lace will suit you so much better.
“Hello again.” He approaches you by the hors d’oeuvres even after you’d visibly and explicitly chosen to ignore him.
You groan under your breath, responding without even bothering to look at him, “Do I know you?”
Your tough act is cute. He has to withhold a chuckle before answering, “Don’t remember? You called me an asshole a week ago.”
“You walked right into me, so it’s not like it wasn’t deserved.”
You have to love that arrogance—that air of unfounded superiority. He wonders, where do you keep it all? “Well, how could I not? You’re so small I didn’t even see you.”
You’re quick to bare your teeth—obviously, he hit a nerve—showing him that same snarl you’d done back then. Cute little canines—he bet they won’t even hurt going into his neck once you mark him.
“Watch your mouth, Omega.”
Still, with a small smile, he feigns surprise. “Wow—are you an Alpha? Funny, I didn’t know they came in such tiny packages.”
It flusters you, no doubt—your brows lowered into a full glower now. “And I didn’t know Omegas could be so rude.”
You turn to stomp again, as you’d done before—though this time, he grabs your arm before you’re gone.
You whip around with another bark, “Hands off—"
“I’m sorry,” he apologizes unexpectedly, giving you puppy-dog eyes you hadn’t thought him capable of. “I should have been more mindful of my steps. It was entirely my fault.”
You go still at the sudden show of humility and respect. Finding yourself softening by the tilt of his head, bowing at you in acknowledgment of your higher standing. Not that many bother doing that to you—between mistaking you for an Omega or otherwise neglecting your standing as an Alpha, both due to your physique. Seeing it up close and so abruptly flusters you.
“Let me get you a drink to make up for it?” he offers politely, almost in plead.
Struck with feelings of somewhat regret for your own uncouth attitude, you nearly accept on a whim. “That’s kind…” But then think it over. You don’t really want to lead him on, either. You nearly stutter, yet steal yourself. After all… “But you’re not really my type.”
He hangs his head with a dejected sigh, “That’s harsh.” But he’d already figured as much and didn’t really care. Giving you his most sorry grin, he insists, “Humor me anyway? Just one drink so I don’t feel like an asshole for the rest of my life.”
It’s clear you want to refuse—still, as suspected, your heart just can’t handle seeing a desperate Omega in need. Bless your dim Alpha instincts.
“Okay, fine. One drink, that’s all,” you end up agreeing. One drink can’t hurt, right?
You feel like a good Samaritan once the big hunk of an Omega runs off to fetch you a glass. Pitying him or even sympathizing, maybe—it can’t be easy for an Omega in the mating scene to look like that. No Alpha around would want an Omega bigger than them—it’s utterly emasculating, not to mention unnatural.
Of course, you’re aware you’re in much the same shoes as him—you’re not delusional. Only, it’s easy being an independent Alpha—you don’t mind being a lone wolf in the world—but Omegas were built to be domestic. So yeah, you pity him—the poor guy, he’ll probably never find a proper mate.
But you can’t let your pity grant him too many favors—you have no intention of taking on any charity case tonight, especially not a pity fuck. You’ll have one drink with him as a mutual apology. That’s all.
Luckily… one drink is all he needs. Add a little sprinkle of this and that in your glass, and you’re already in the palm of his hand.
He has to carry you bridal style before he’s even managed to lead you to the elevator—it’s empty all the way down to the garage. He puts you in his car, locks your seatbelt in place, then drives off. It’s honestly quite astounding how easy it had been. He’d thought trapping an Alpha would be a much more remarkable feat, an impossible one for an Omega—but this was no different from eating an unguarded piece of cake.
You’re drowsy as he carries you into his apartment. And that’s when the other drug kicks in. The overwhelming scent of being inside his nest sets off your rut like a matchstick being ripped along the red.
Your claws come out, puncturing his sheets as he lays you down on his bed.
You’re too delirious to do much but writhe—making it easy for him to unbutton your dress shirt, followed by your slacks. He has to scoff at your plain black boxers and binder bra. You poor thing, always trying to run with the big dogs when you’re no bigger than a bite-sized puppy. From now on, you’ll only wear lacey things he brings home for you. You won’t have to puff your chest—you can be as sweet and pretty as your delicate physique constitutes—his cutest, littlest, most perfect mate.
You gain newfound strength once he’s peeled your underwear down, baring your needy heat to his touch. Instantly, your arms spring into action, flinging themselves around him, pouncing like a predator at its prey with your fangs bared.
He stops you easily—placing his wrist between your teeth, using it as a muzzle. He chuckles, looking at you gnaw on it like a bone.
“I think the world has it all wrong,” he starts, though he’s not sure you’re even capable of understanding speech in your state. “Omegas are the ones better suited as leaders of society, not Alphas.”
As he talks, he continues with his ministrations, stroking your needy slit with a mean finger, swiping it cruelly before splitting between the folds.
“I mean, look at you—mindless in a rut, willing to pounce on anything that moves—like a wild animal.” Once he sticks his finger inside you, your teeth do his wrist the same justice—drawing blood, making him hiss through his smile, “I ought to keep you in a cage.” And yet he doesn’t pull either hand away. “It would suit you well—on your knees with a pretty leash and collar upon your throat.”
You’re wet in his hand—soaked and so warm he loses track of his own finger as if melting within you. His cock strains against his boxer, wanting to feel it for himself. But you’re still way too tight for that.
He feeds you another digit, and you moan—suckling on his wrist now more than biting, though still with your canines out and seeking.
“Look at these wittle teeth, tch—” he grins upon closer inspection, looking between them and your eyes—pupil-fat orbs, far gone in your instincts. “I bet they’re just itching for my neck instead, huh?”
The provocation seems to make you more desperate. Pumping you slowly, more so to stretch you out than stimulate, he can feel your breaths turn thicker with need, how you press your tongue against his wrist, wet and lousy, wanting for more.
“Well, go on then, Alpha...” He chuckles again, removing his arm from barring your mouth before wrapping your throat with the same hand, holding it like a collar, keeping you under control.
saw your yan denji fic and loved it :D if you dont mind, could you also make some yandere denji headcanons?
"love at first sight"
cw: stalking, yandere themes, obsessive behavior
a/n: tyy!! And ofc, I hope you like it<3
Yan!Denji who randomly bumped into you one day. All you did was apologize and go on your way. But your voice. Your face. You. It drew him in, like an irresistible song from a siren. He couldn't help himself.
He followed you, he tried to be smart about it, to not be suspicious. To make sure you didn't see him. You didn't, in the end. But honestly he didn't do a good job.
Yan!Denji who watched as you walked into your apartment, he watched you close the door and turn on the light. He watched the house as you went to bed, and he watched for a little longer for anymore glimpses of you, before he left.
He was scolded by Aki for straying off and not coming back until the sky turned black, and the moonlight danced on the rooftops. Your rooftop. He wonders how you'd look in different lighting. In the evening, the sun shining softly through clouds and giving off a beautiful golden glow. Every sight anyone would fall in love with.
Yan!Denji who didn't get much sleep that night, only thinking of you. He wonders if you're thinking of him. He knows you're not. But a delusional part of his mind thinks that you are.
Eventually he fell asleep, thinking of how you looked doing a million different things. How you looked when you bit into a delicious apple, how you looked when you slept, when you cried. Do you like apples? He wishes he knew.
Yan!Denji who found himself watching you enter your house the next day, and the next, and the next. He crept closer to your window every night. Never looking in at your sleeping face just yet, before he left.
One night he does, and what he sees is better than anything he could've imagined. Your face is soft, relaxed. One of your legs is out of your blanket, and the moonlight shines through your window and lights up your room, your face, beautifully. You're the type of girl people write poems for. That people would kill for. And that begs the question,
do you have someone in your life?
Yan!Denji who constantly thinks about you. Thinks about how you probably have a boyfriend. He doesn't even know your name. Maybe he should try to talk to you.
Aki and Power can tell something has been going on, Aki had asked when Denji started seeming distracted but he just got an annoyed, dismissive response.
Yan!Denji who thinks of you like you're the sun. He's like the moon, always chasing after you, but never moving from his spot behind you. Never progressing, never seeing your warmth in full. Maybe he's not even a moon, not even a star or a planet. Only a human, basking in your warmth through the day, left in the cold when you're gone.
So far away from you, yet you seem so close. Soon, he'll meet you really. He hopes, at least. He'll see you in full.
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