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machtwehr · 6 months

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Accentuations of Nigel and Alex.

*Accentuation of personality is the personality traits that tend to move to a pathological condition. Possible negative aspects of such state between normal and pathology usually occur under the influence of unfavorable external factors.

I had the option to use the Leonhard type classification, but it is quite outdated and has some inaccuracies, so I used the Lichko classification. According to Lichko’s classification, all types are described in more detail, and the classification itself is more popular. I haven’t found any more common or newer classifications. In addition, the Lichko system is more applicable to teenagers, so I think the choice is more justified.

If we look at the film directly, without taking into account any guesswork. Nigel has the traits of Schizoid, Paranoid and Epileptoid. Alex Hysteroid with paranoid traits.

Nigel, as we know, is a mentally and physically developed person, he is of normal build. He is consistent, attentive to details, calm, careful in his notes and clothes. He has a difficult relationship with his parents, who raised him in conditions of increased moral responsibility. In addition, there may have been a harsh upbringing because Nigel is able to tell by ear whether his Father is picking up a gun. In addition, he hates his father, which can also indicate that their relationship had a harsh upbringing and increased demands. However, everything seems to be fine on the mother’s side, because he talks to her about what he cannot tell his father.

These types of unwanted upbringing and family environment can provoke accentuations close to psychopathy.

Nigel is definitely and predominantly typed as Schizoid. Nigel is shown to us as essentially withdrawn. He is mostly isolated from others, he does not want (more likely does not want than is not able) to establish contacts with peers, he has a reduced need for communication. He is cold and does have the untypical restraint for a teenager. Spiritual loneliness does not particularly bother him, because the only contact he established was only with Alex and only when he decided that Alex was worthy of this very contact. Nigel lives in his own world, with his own unusual interests and hobbies. Hobbies of an intellectual and aesthetic nature are characteristic of a schizoid. All this is never done for show, only for oneself.

Despite the fact that Nigel conditionally penetrates Alex's thoughts, he still does not intuitively grasp the hostile attitude towards himself and when he should not impose his presence.

The inner world, as already indicated, is always closed from prying eyes and only in front of a select few the curtain can suddenly be lifted. Interests are shared in exceptional cases. Perhaps Nigel, in a lesson where Alex was arguing with the teacher, saw a hint of a common interest between them. Alex is the chosen one for Nigel, so he begins to actively draw him into his inner world in all available ways.

In addition, as we can observe, Nigel's behavior is quite contradictory. At first he was silent and looked closely, then he opened up and gave Alex smiles more than once.

In addition, Nigel has clear features of the Epileptoid type and has Epileptoid type affects. (nothing to do with epilepsy). The affect of an epileptoid is like a steam boiler; person incubates for a long time and conceals within itself emotions that find a sudden release, an explosive reaction. (Suicide with collapse of beliefs). In general, the suicide scene also demonstrates the suicidal model characteristic of Epileptoid. Nigel shot himself from Alex's hands rather to show him the state of affairs that Nigel himself sees. It is possible that this was also intended to punish Alex for his resistance.

Epileptoid also corresponds to scrupulousness and pedantry in running any household, including student farming.

Nigel's love (maybe it was love, who knows) is colored by the dark tones of jealousy. Jealousy is quite strong, reaching the point of a valuable idea. In the end, out of jealousy, he goes to kill Susan. Probably so that she doesn't interfere.

In addition, he suppresses Alex's will and tries to gain power over his minds. The desire for power, extreme actions - all this is characteristic of an epileptoid.

Traits of the Paranoid type manifest themselves in overvalued ideas. Nigel is confident in the uniqueness of his origins, especially his destiny. Everything Nigel says is absolutely true. Nigel is confident that he has the right to everything he puport. He overestimates his personality, wisdom and understanding of everything.

He cherishes his ideas and shows extreme fanaticism towards them, bringing an extremely valuable idea to the status of a “crazy idea”.

She gives herself to the idea with exceptional passion, does not accept rejection, and convinces Alex of the value of her idea. It is common for a paranoid person to suffer defeat in a war for his beliefs. But having been defeated, he does not despair, does not become despondent, does not know that he is wrong; on the contrary, from failures he draws strength for further struggle.

Alex. Asthenic, also mentally developed, physically corresponds to his age. He was also brought up in undesirable conditions, without a real home, with increased moral responsibility. His father is emotionally distant from him, does not listen to his son’s requests, and is not interested in anything other than Alex’s assessments. Even in a difficult situation, he still distances himself from Alex. There is no mother.

Throughout the story, he demonstrates obvious features of a hysteroid.

All his behavior is aimed at capturing the attention of anyone: his father, school friends, Nigel, a psychologist. Demanding admiration, surprise, and reverence for one’s personality. Boundless egocentrism. At worst, he prefers indignation or hatred, but not indifference. Suggestibility, which is often brought to the fore, is selective. Hysteroids willingly act in public and show artistic abilities. Apparent emotionality actually turns into a lack of deep feelings with great expression of emotions, theatricality, and a tendency to show off and pose.

Alex also has the easily wounded pride characteristic of a hysteroid. He read the diary and Nigel's opinion about himself and decided to teach him a lesson, to show that elders should be respected.

Hysterics retain the childish reactions of the opposition. Having received a rebuff from Nigel, Alex took on the role of a “quiet” teenager who seemed to be sick from the outside, putting on a mask of indifference and painful loss.

It is also possible to refuse all “masks”, since Nigel literally saw through it. Withdrawing into oneself and leaving the company in this state of affairs is a typical reaction of a hysteroid.

The emancipation of a hysteroid has violent manifestations: running away from home, conflicts with elders, demands for freedom and independence. All this was also demonstrated to us. Alex constantly ran away from school at night with his friends, and demanded that his father not move neighbors in with him.

In the group, Alex characteristically takes the position of leader. In an impulse, he can easily lead a company. Alex also has a good intuitive sense. He reads the horror in the eyes of a friend on the verge of death, guesses who is giving him unusual “gifts”, and finds a good moment to ask Susan out on a date.

Hobbies are concentrated in the area of egocentric hobby. Just like schizoids, they pick up unusual hobbies, but unlike schizoids, they are more for show. Knowing that Alex's school is quite religious, he studies history and presents the facts to the teachers in such a way as to once again omit religious motives, bringing more prosaic ones to the fore.

Alex's self-esteem is far from objective; he emphasizes traits in himself that can make an impression at the moment.

Just like Nigel, he demonstrates paranoid type ideas. The extremely valuable idea of its exclusivity.

No wonder Nigel confirms this with his note “Alex is an egocentric megalomaniac with delusions of grandeur.” In addition, Alex is painfully touchy.

He evaluates all the people with whom Alex comes into contact by the attitude they show towards his activities. He does not forgive disagreement and indifference.

Now, if we look at the story in reverse, from the perspective of an unreliable narrator. Alex is the mastermind, Nigel the victim.

They, in fact, change characters with each other, but everything takes on more sinister and categorical features. Their Types become more pure.

Alex takes on the image of a more classic epileptoid, who is terrifying in his behavior in essence.

Long-lasting dysphoria comes first in Alex’s behavior and motivation, which, transforming into affect, is completely taken out on Nigel.

Alex probably has sadistic tendencies if he was the one who intimidated Nigel with a severed hand and a bloody knife. (We swapped them after all). It is possible that Alex committed the murder of Susan, because again, I repeat, such extreme actions as murder and fights at school are characteristic of an epileptoid.

In such positions, Alex is definitely a quarrelsome, conflicted teenager. In addition, the methods of reprisal against the victim by epiletoid teenagers are more developed. They are distinguished by extraordinary meanness.

The paranoid component of an overvalued idea is also present.

Nigel, if we consider him from the position of a victim who, by the will of fate, was not lucky enough to get along with Alex, loses all his epileptoid and paranoid traits. He still has the Schizoid type.

#I started a course in psychiatry at university #Could I pass by and not write this article?#Absolutely not #Of course there may be inaccuracies #because psychiatry is as accurate as astrology #like minds #like minds 2006 #murderous intent #nigel colbie #alex forbes #like minds analysis

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pollyna · 1 year

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There's a job offer for which I'm kinda qualified for? And it pays better than the other two I have seen but now the point is if what I think is "my qualifications" is actually something valuable and valid or not. 🫡

#work #i mean it was all archival work the one we did for the article? like all the hours cataloguing docs and writing the antalic inventory???#at the same it was for a precise purpose and not for or volunteering?? maybe i should ask the e for the paper that reports all my'#-hours there.#i know it's almost impossibile they're going to consider my candidacy bc i haven't a degree but the work is kinda awsome and it would-#-really help me to finish uni and pass to the next step and maybe with a little help from the pubblication of the article it could be -#-material enough for a doctorate???#but okay feet on the ground i need to take a step at time #personal~

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radioprune · 2 years

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god. it’s incredible just how bad i am at writing non-fiction

#got asked to write an article for redacted publication and it’s soooooo bad.#my academic writing was really never that good either but my ideas were interesting enough that I got a pass I guess. Christ #doesn’t help that I actively detest it. why I could never be a writer for a living #or like. go back to school. I’ll throw up if I have to do anything for a grade ever again

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screampied · 1 month

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‘ #KNOCK(HER)OUT ! ’

ᡴꪫ‎ sum. you get more than what you bargained for by getting involved with two boxers—two boxers that can’t keep their hands off the pretty new journalist. what happens in the ring stays in the ring though…. right?

wc. 5.7k

warnings. fem! reader x t. fushiguro & s. ryōmen, boxer!au, thrēesome, manhandling, unprotected, semi public, size kink, ōral (f & m receiving), head lock, spīt, sqūirting, they fight over you, brēeding, fīngering, implied multiple ōrgasms, nipple play.

an. based on this ask, haven’t recovered since :,)

sukuna ryōmen and toji fushiguro. . .

the talk of the town. top most infamous boxers of your city, they were supposedly rivals but ended up becoming super close friends. 'friends' was probably a stretch. acquaintances was probably a far better word to describe the two. there was hardly anyone that didn’t tune into your detailed magazines about them—your occupation? a journalist. you’d be the first to write about their fights, their strengths, weaknesses, their total wins & losses, and even a few unnecessary things like their love life. you were new, but you were good. always in the front row, you’d watch them spar against some of the most scariest opponents imaginable. something about guys taking it out in the ring right before your eyes got your panties in a twist. how unprofessional..

you only did it for the money, the publicity— a lot of people adored your skill to make such stories so interesting. between toji and sukuna, they were almost always compared, and oh did they hate it. ex rivals continuously pinned against each other, it’d piss anyone off. although, you were in dire need for a new story topic to write and you just so happen to stumble into their private gym.

“yo,” a rough sly yet cunning voice mutters, and it’s so deep—you recognize it from anywhere, toji fushiguro in the flesh. “are ya lost? no fuckin’ autographs.”

“don’t be rude, ‘toj,” and your eyes avert towards sukuna— he’s a few inches taller and your eyes roam at them both. they had droplets of sweat racing down their washboard abs, scars coating their skin with ruffled hair as if they’d just finished a match. sukuna drags his feet towards you before his eyes light up. “ohh, i know you,” he snickers, grabbing your notepad before nudging his friend. “she’s our little journalist toji. and she’s a damn fine one too..”

“. . . uh,” was all you could make out, feeling a sudden tightness in your stomach. your eyes continue to stare, your lewd thoughts only become more and more vulgar. seconds pass before you realize sukuna took your notebook, toji pauses his sets to get a good look at you. “i thought this was the ladies' room.”

“girl bye,” toji grumbles with two hands buried into his shorts pockets— he reads right through you as if you were some sort of exposed novel. people said he was a lot sassier in person but you didn’t think it’d actually be true. green dark eyes linger onto you for a long time before he stretches, leaning down to get a good glimpse at your figure. “did you come here just to stare or what?”

you were taken aback at how blunt he was.

a coy grin appears on his lips as he watches you struggle to formulate a good enough response.

you were nosy, you were really really nosy. for once, perhaps you didn’t wanna just jot down things about these two— just maybe, just maybe . . you wanted a hands-on experience.

“i… needed new material for my article before the next match starts,” you utter, squeezing your thighs together. sukuna tilts his head, eyeing you in a way that makes you feel hot. toji’s stare was ten times more intimate, darkened irises practically staring right into your soul—you knew this wasn’t the bathroom, you were lying. “i was hoping maybe you’d give me some uh . . inspo.”

they were both towering over you with height, you felt small—like an ant that was preparing itself to be crushed by a villainous shoe.

“inspiration, she says?” sukuna hums, his voice is low—raspy, an almost purr hiding underneath it before he moves closer towards you. “just tell us what you really want, princess.”

“nah don’t get all shy now,” toji chimes in once he sees you grow more sheepish. they both close in on you—you felt like you were trapped in a fever dream, you weren’t exactly complaining either. they smelled so good, a mixture of sultry sweat and a loud scent of heavy cologne that wafts throughout the entire training room. “you got our attention so spit it out, girl.”

“i— i want you both.” you finally mutter after seven long consecutive seconds. with the way toji’s staring right through you, you felt like your stomach sank between your legs - your legs that were throbbing with nothing but mere arousal, again perhaps this was unprofessional. no, it was very unprofessional—but anyone would kill to be in your position, being sandwiched between the top two boxers of your city.

sukuna snickers. “both? what makes you think i’d wanna share with this bum?”

“shut up,” toji snarls, and the way his facial expressions tense a bit—so attractive. the headlines + press was right about toji, he was a lot more handsome in person. he was a fairly new boxer yet a pure lady's man. he’s had a plethora of fangirls while in the ring and maybe you were one of them. as he inches towards you with a hand softly gripping underneath your chin, he inhales. his entire facial structure, so chiseled—brief dark stubble coats the entirety lower half of his jaw and he rubs his left boxing glove against his left knee. “that really want you want? both of us?” and his voice softens. it’s a bit more pitchy and low, and he sneers. “on me, look at me when you reply too, girl.”

your lip gradually pulls down from his thumb playing against it. you felt so hot, the air suddenly felt thick.

a sudden lump gets caught in your throat before you mumble. “i want you both,” and your eyes meet the dark-haired boxer, simultaneously glancing at his attire— shirtless, boxing shorts on with his custom-made ‘fushiguro’ briefs wilting near the top—only showing the hem part. just a teensy detail like that was so enticing that you even spot a few parts of his exposing snatched waist. only after awhile you then abruptly snap out of your vulgar fantasm. “…please.”

“the real question is, pretty little journalist,” sukuna steps in, a hand stroking against your chin. you didn’t know where to even look. both boxers had their hands on you and the tightened squeezing between your plush thighs grew even more. “can you handle both?”

“yes.” you’d speak in a soft voice, most likely as of now you were probably speaking from between your legs—you didn’t care though, everyone’s a little delusional at some point. emphasis on a little in your case, because you had no idea what you were getting in to with these two.

toji snickers. “hm,” he mutters, eyes focusing on you for a long time before he raises his chin. “fine. let’s test your strength then,” and he briefly gazes at sukuna. “sukuna. we can take her ‘n the ring.”

and they mean it quite literally— taking you, the both of them versus you, except you weren’t relatively fighting.

not in that sense, but it was versus an opponent that was throbbing between your thighs.

the arena was empty, about a good hundred or more vacant blood-shot red seats scatter everywhere.

inside the ring, it was a mere raised platform, guided and shaped by strong stringy ropes that were yanking between poles at each side and corner. you lay on the spongy canvas of the ring’s floor before biting back a moan.

“scared yet?” sukuna hums, and he props himself right between your legs. this was risky—entirely risky, anyone could just walk in. besides, you were pretty sure they had a match in about a good forty-five minutes. with sprawled-out legs, he moved closer before dragging a thumb down your panties. his voice was a bit deeper than toji’s, they both shared the same amount of rasp.

sukuna had the charm, toji had the suaveness.

you shake your head, feeling yourself grow even hotter the more he stalls time. it feels warm, the entire air around you is humidly thick and you whine as he teasingly bites your panties. not enough to pierce his teeth into your folds, but he bites near the fabric—you watch, the string of your underwear slowly dragging with him. yet, you can’t help but glance at toji who’s just standing there—arms crossed and that same scowl that stuck against his face. “mhm,” he jibes, eyes flickering towards toji. “toji. she’s looking at you.”

“i know she fuckin’ is,” he grumbles, and your head tilts upward. you’re face first with his bulge that was right against your face. talk about space, it was right there. such a big bulge, who were you even kidding though—you found yourself gawking at his bulge at every match he had. with the skin-tight shorts he’d worn, you just knew he was nothing more than a packer. “nosy girl. y’er mouth bored or somethin’?” and he watches your hands paw at the hem of his tucked-out briefs. “need a bit of throat training, huh?”

sukuna’s playing with your panties still. by now, he’s peeling them towards the crevices of your thighs and you whine whilst you feel a thumb of his drag down your honeyed slit. sopping wet, just a three-second stare and he was suddenly esurient.

“look at me, not him,” toji lightly turns your head to face back up to him again. his bulge, his damn bulge that was right up against you. you nod, feeling your mouth dry—you wanted your throat to be filled, it wasn’t even a question. toji gruffs lowly, moving your chin side to side. “huuuh? girl, i don’t speak silence. thought i told ya how to use those words when you speak.”

“i- i wanna suck you off, ‘toj,” and you get cut off once he pulls his boxing shorts down halfway, bringing your face close to his briefs. you’re taken by surprise once he makes you rub your face against his hardened bulge—you moan, as if on instinct, your tongue lolls out just to taste him. even if it’s just the clothed fabric protecting his actual cock, it was something.

he scoffs. “y’er a nasty girl, huh,” he mumbles, peering down to see sukuna starting to lick against your cunt. your legs quaver upon impact and you slump back against the corner of the ring. “can’t wait, yeah. want me to train this empty throat? maybe it’ll make ya a better journalist, nosy ass.”

you’d almost laugh at his little side remark if it wasn’t for sukuna’s tongue lapping against your slick entrance. your lips part as you lean back, a hand going through his hair. “mphm,” he grunts, one hand squeezing the right part of your thigh. “sweetest taste i’ve had in a . . . looong while.” and he’s so sloppy, not even a few seconds pass before he’s already slurping. your panties were lazily shoved to the side and that’s when toji hauls down his briefs.

you gulp, damn.

he wasn’t just big, he was huge…

your mouth starts to salivate the more you stared at the swollen shaft. toji was a big guy . . hence meaning, toji he was a thick guy.

staggering height and a fat base to back it up, he had about two veins running down the side. his tip was a reddish pink, you could already taste him throbbing in your mouth. toji was quite well shaved a bit— though, it was a few specks of black hairs scattered everywhere. however, his happy trail was so pleasing to look. it roams all down his sculpted body, he sighs once you slowly wrap a hand around his cock.

“spit the fuck on it.”

five words and you didn’t hesitate to roll out your pink tongue once more.

you gather a good amount before watching it coat against his pink sweet tip. he groans, watching your hand stroke him a bit. he was so big, so fucking big that you could barely wrap your entire hand around his dick. toji groans, watching you make a total mess out of yourself. pretty glossy lips, pretty glossy lips that would soon be wrapped around his hefty length.

once you get it wet enough, you gently move your mouth onto him. he hisses, the warmth of your throat has his abs clenching.

“m-mhm,” you’d moan out, though your words were purely muffled. sukuna’s sucking on your clit, occasionally nipping and nibbling on it just to make you squirm even more. it was cute— the way your legs could barely hold still, so this was your weak spot. it’s what he thought to himself, lapping his tongue against your slick entrance. brief kisses coat near your folds before he maneuvers such circles against your pussy. feeling his canines nip against your folds every few seconds had you feral in the best way possible.

“y’er makin’ her squirm all over, ‘kuna,” toji lowly chuckles, such baritone in his voice that it makes you soak even more. you didn’t even know how it was possible with the way you were just profusely dripping like a faucet. not even—you put faucets to shame with how slick you were, quickly coating the lower part of sukuna’s chin with your syrupy taste. “open that mouth a ‘lil more, yeah . . . yeah,” and he tilts your head back a bit, prying your mouth open some more. he starts to slowly sink his cock in, so slow. the pace was incredibly tantalizing, your tongue runs against his slit before he pushed more inches inside. “fuckkk, girl,” he continues to grunt out, knees already starting to buckle. the way you took him in, hollow cheeks all puffed, you were already starting to drool a bit. small amounts of your saliva trickle past the corners of your lips as he goes deeper and deeper. deeper until his tip ends up mashing against your uvula and you gag.

“. . ooooh,” he hums, and just a simple noise as that was so seductive. “good…. good,” he swallows, a hand digging through your hair before maintaining a good grip against it. “now . . let’s test this pretty throat’s durability, hm.”

your little nod makes his sly smile widen, your jaw hangs and he starts to gradually piston his hips. such a mess, he was just so big that you were surprised all of it even fit.

“alllll the way down, shit,” your head starts to move, bobbling as your tongue swiftly running against his pulsating head. he gnashes his teeth together, dim eyes flickering towards your hands. you were feeling hot yourself so you made a cute attempt at reaching between your legs. doing so only greets you to a soft concise smack.

“hands to yourself, silly girl,” sukuna grumbles, and this time he grabs your wrist. he simpers, watching you try to even still rub one out but with his grip, you weren’t getting anywhere. as your mouth was occupied with such inches, you whimper once you feel sukuna spank your cunt a few times. “don’t touch my pussy.”

one turns into two, then three, then four. . .

your pretty cunt starts to become his new obsession—the way you’d squelch for him so easily, he gets hard in his boxers. so wet, he knows the layout as if he’s so used to doing this. you wouldn’t be surprised, especially with a tongue like he had. lapping left and right, he parts your legs just a bit farther before the tip of his tongue swirls all around it. he lays it flat, getting a good enough taste before giving it yet another mean spank.

you whimper, feeling your tummy cave in before toji makes you face him once more. “eyes up here, eyes on me,” and he sounds almost jealous the more you focus your attention strictly on his boxer acquaintance. you’re still stroking him, a thumb sliding down a vein that prods alongside his shaft and he groans. your throat, so warm that he starts to feel his right thigh bounce. “should be . . usin’ this throat for shit like this instead of running that mouth.” his voice pitches lower, boxer shorts pulled down and his hair was slightly ruffled. you stare up at toji and he gives you that same cunning smirk. oh, you were soaked. again, this simply felt like a fever dream. even if at the slightest chance that you were dreaming, you never wanted to wake up.

toji’s quite talkative throughout the entire thing, sukuna’s dragging you further and further onto your incoming release and your legs start to rapidly shake even more. you whine and mewl out such sweetened moans, occasionally coming back up for air as you kept his cock warm in your mouth. each time it hits the roof of your mouth, you let off a straddled noise and he finds it so cute, so filthy.

“relax y’er throat, girl,” he mutters, a firm grip on your scalp. with glossy eyes, you follow his words and you stop gagging a bit. he grunts, getting hard every time your pretty eyes make direct contact with him. “such a pretty girl when you listen.” and his tone gets a bit more sensual, more tender.

you whine, feeling sukuna insert a single finger inside of you—you swallow his digit almost immediately and you cringe at hearing your own salaciously lewd squelches.

soaking, sopping wet,

three perfect words to describe between your legs, you choke out a moan once you feel that sensation brew right up inside your stomach. steadily, it was coming closer and closer. you’re breathing through your nose—feeling a few of his pubic hairs tickle against you. you’re moaning, eyes becoming half-lidded and droopy. toji had a mere pout stretching against his face and he felt himself coming close too.

the icing on the cake was your tongue, the way you swirl and slide it against his frenulum—he groans out a low grunt that rings throughout the arena. it reverberates, it's raspy and it only makes you even more aroused. “s-shit, you close too?”

you nod, and toji jeers, finding it amusing to taunt with you as you’re about to reach your inevitable peak. “yeah? gonna make a mess on ‘kuna’s face?”

“told ya don’t call me that,” sukuna grouses, resuming to pump not one but two fingers into you now—you’re almost there. it’s a hot feeling stirring up near your lower abdomen, a pool of it. your eyes start to roll, still slobbering down toji’s cock before he starts to thrust and thrust into your mouth.

“make me.” toji stared at him—and the both of them grew quiet before laughing with each other.

idiots.

your maw opens just a bit wider, and he’s shoving himself in and out of your tight throat—the noises that follow are so lewd, he finds you so pretty like this. mascara all smeared and runny, your hand continues to wrap around his length—his sagged base, so full. you start to salivate again, imagining what his taste was like. you craved it like you crave sweets, sukuna’s tongue running against your clit only made things far more intense before you start to convulse.

“f-fuckkk, ‘m gonna cum,” toji rasps, tilting your head back a bit more. you stare at him, tongue still grazing against the pulsing slit before after a few more pumps—he shoots a nice velvety load into your mouth. he grunts lowly, nostrils flaring up, jaw tightening and all. “. . damn,” he swallows, allowing himself to slow down. you end up finishing around the same time, costing sukuna’s mouth with a honeyed amount of your slick and he hums. you whimper, legs barely able to hold themselves up before you feel toji’s dick pour the remnants of his cum flat on your tongue. “nah, don’t fuckin’ swallow yet. stick it out, lemme see that shit.”

your legs felt like they were about to fall off, sukuna’s kissing near your now swollen entrance and you slowly loll out your tongue. obeying, you didn’t exactly swallow yet and he hums. “best savor that shit,” he groans, giving his veiny cock a few subtle strokes before he smacks his angry tip against your tongue. “and where’s my thank you for the meal, baby?”

“t—thwak y—you toji,” you speak, barely coherent with his seed splattered all on your tongue. you didn’t wanna spill any, and if you did—you didn’t wanna stick around to find out his reaction.

“yeah,” he huffs. “you can swallow now. get every drop in.”

sukuna moves towards you, you’re still laid on the ring’s mat before he softly wraps a hand around your throat. “hey. don’t let this bastard have all the fun, i want a taste too,” and you're taken by surprise once he pulls you into a deep steamy kiss. you moan, feeling him quite literally take your breath away. your tongue drags against sukuna’s chin, the bitterness. a concoction mixture of your saliva and his mixes, and you whine once he snakes a hand up your blazer. you taste yourself on his tongue and it’s so dirty, hot breaths mash against each other, teeth gnashing, and only then do you feel his cunning smirk.

“no one told you to hog her,” toji grumbles, pulling you back towards him. you briefly gasp for air and they both stare at each other, then you. “tell me, baby. who’d you think win in a fight? me or this . . . thing.”

sukuna glares.

“i don’t … know,” you pant out, heaving from your current orgasm—so cute, yet you only wanted more. from kissing sukuna to having your throat entirely filled, you didn’t know which was better. “can we finish?”

“aw, is someone impatient?” sukuna titters, and you stare at his glistening body—beads of sweat race down his precious v-line, the ideal body for a boxer. you just couldn’t stop staring at his pecs, so chiseled. you even thought his pictures were edited, but seeing them up close . . you wanted him, you wanted both of them. “hm. how ‘bout this? we teach you a few ah, moves. full nelson to start, ‘s pretty easy.”

easy, sure.

with it all being easy, you’d least expect to be put into a full nelson position. a mere popular wrestling position, although you’d be performing it with no one other than sukuna.

he’d have you slump back against him, hooking both arms underneath your thighs as you’re taking such mean thrusts from him. time and time again, you’re spasming out. mouth all open, saliva running down the very corners of your lips before you moan. “s—sukuna, oh my godddd,” and you glance up at toji who’s got a cute pout, stroking himself. you lost count of the time, it’s probably been about a good thirty-three minutes by now, thirty plus minutes of various teeth shattering orgasms. your head hits back against him and each time his tip smacks against your cervix, you short circuit. “fuck, fuck, right there, hit it thereee.”

“you coachin’ me how to fuck, dumb girl?” he chortles with a groan shortly following—he was so deep, the heftiness of his base taps against you each time you bounce back against his cock. he sucks his teeth, the way you easily took him had him groaning all up against your ear. “gotta get a little more stretchy, we gotta . . hah, work on your flexibility too, huh.”

“sukuna hurry the fuck up. watching you fuck my girl ‘s boring as shit,” toji grouses, pumping his cock into his fist every few seconds—you stare and he’s so needy, you could tell. his scowl he had earlier forms into a cute pout, dark eyebrows furrowing together and he’s growing impatient.

you caught that though. ‘my’ girl.

who would have thought toji . . the womanizing boxer who’s never had time for any woman throughout his career would start batting for you?

“your girl?” sukuna snickers, resuming to hold your legs up a bit further. he reaches so deep, that your stomach starts to seize and your maw drops. hooded eyes, your lashes flutter and you felt continuous strained breaths get yanked from your lungs. “your girl yet she’s gettin’ fucked by me? the better boxer?”

toji snarls, and he kneels to kiss you. you moan, barely able to return the gesture since you were in the midst of taking sukuna. with being gifted with such sharp thrusts, you dig your nails into his thighs before running tangling your tongue alongside toji’s. his breath was warm, you whine once you feel one of his hands stroke your cheek.

“aha, look at him. already whipped before me,” sukuna snickers, feeling you sink and gape around him—he stretched you out so good already, it was so relentless. each time you bounce back against his lap, the ringing in your ears grows louder and louder. he feels his dick twitch inside you. seeing you make out with toji irks him a bit before he spanks your ass—the recoil making him even more aroused than before. sukuna hums, seeing the current pout on toji’s face before nodding, “aw. toji wants a turn too, yeah? don’t ya . . big guy?” and he intakes a breath, your pussy constricting around his length as sukuna pulls you further to slam back and forth against him. you’re moving against him now as his dick jackhammers right into your gummy was. your mouth idly dangles with your tongue stil shamelessly lolled out. a raw moan rips from the back of your throat at the pure feeling of utter bliss.

so thick, so girthy—you gasp once you feel his fingers tend towards your neglected tits. toji shortly follows, a hand going between your thighs. your cunt was all stuffed of sukuna, feeding your swollen pussy was so many inches. “hngh, f-fuck, fuckkk,” you’d whine between wet, saturated kisses. toji purposely feels against your folds, all stuffed and sopping wet. he rubs a thumb against your slick entrance as your legs were just about to give out. “toji, m-more. need you to touch me more.”

“you don’t need shit, little girl,” he corrects you, squeezing your lips together before presses a kiss against it. you moan, your ass stinging every few seconds from the stings of sukuna’s palm making direct contact against your ass cheek. spank after spank, oh how he adores the jiggle. he could watch it all day, even in slow motion if he could. “such a cute thing though, had the nerve to say you thought our training room was the fuckin’ ladies' room.”

you cringe once he repeats that. the same ringing going through your ears once more. your ears perk, hearing sukuna’s raspy grunts against the shells of your lobes before you start to stammer, “toji, touch me.”

“i’ll touch this messy body when i wanna,” he gruffs, leaning to nip kisses near your neck. sukuna’s still holding you up—you’re like a rag doll, eyes goggling from the stretch before you start to feel it. not your orgasm, but something entirely different. it was a new type of pressure, sweet whiny moans emit out of you before you feel sukuna’s rude tip thrash against your g-spot again, and again, and again..

toji’s thumb softly strokes underneath your neck as he pulls you into a short kiss. you whimper, pulling away before spreading your legs a bit further.

“i— something’s coming, i f-feel tingly.”

sukuna roughly laughs against your ear, seemingly getting what you were implying. “yeah, gonna make another mess on us, princess? oh. i mean on me, heh?”

you shudder, your pussy feeling entirely stuffed and your eyes merely roll way back. he fit nice and snug, you bare around him before a whine drags out your throat. so deep, so so deep, you’re spasming—each relentless piston of his hips makes you whine louder. a feeling that was purely euphoric welts right against you, and you’re laid all back against sukuna’s bare chest, riding him in reverse. “c-choke me, ‘kuna, choke me, please.”

“want me to put you in a headlock, yeah,” he whispers to you in a rough low voice. you moan, feeling him lick against your earlobe before toji strokes your cheek. you could tell he wanted a turn too, the pout on his lips stretching even further. you’re nodding against him before your cunt gapes more. “sure. i’ll let you in on what my opponents feel, pretty girl.”

you moan, his voice was so low up against your ear, you’re about to cum. or were you, you swallow thickly despite having a sudden dry throat— voice all raspy and strained from moaning for such a duration that your head’s woozy. it feels too good, your thighs ache and quaver before you feel a beefy arm wrap around your neck. “upsie daisy, thereee we go,” and he scoots you on his lap just a bit farther. he’s buried to the hilt. you moan, toji pulling you into the nth kiss of the night, lips moving in pure tandem. just when you’re about to finish, you feel him rub against your stuffed cunt once more. yet that’s only when you decide to move your hands towards the boxers . . . nipples.

“t-the fuck,” he grunts in a hoarse tone, his voice was suddenly a bit shaky. it was cute—you couldn’t lie to yourself, you found yourself staring at toji’s chest way more often than you should. practically always shirtless, his pecs were huge. such pink swollen nipples, you slide a thumb against it and he shivers from your touch. “fuckin’ weirdo. ‘m sensitive there, s-shit.”

he doesn’t tell you to stop—instead, he grips your hair not so tightly but firmly. you look up at him, speaking in a tiny yet sheepish tone. “can— can i?”

“can ya what?” he grits, watching as sukuna continues to feed your cunt of his cock — you were just about to burst, you felt it and your toes clench and curl all up. so cute.

with a thumb still sliding against his pecs tenderly, you murmur. dilated pupils flicker towards his chest, then back up at him. “. . can,” you huff out in short breaths, tummy seizing, breathing hot and heavy. “can i suck on them?”

“no you can’t fuckin’ suck on them. what kinda question is tha—”

“toji, don’t be fuckin’ mean. you claim she’s your girl so let her suck your tits, big guy.” sukuna chimes in, releasing his soft grip against your neck. you gasp, leaning way back against him now. he was so warm pent up against you—you whimper out, sukuna leans against your ear and he starts to talk you through your incoming orgasm. “right? wanna make toji a little whiny bitch?”

“shut the fuck up,” he rasps, and his pecs literally stare at you—so beefy, you could have sworn they twitched. he groans, watching you give him such eyes before he inches closer towards you, bending down. “…….fine. whatever.”

still grinding against sukuna’s lap, you hold toji’s pecs before latching your tongue against it. his face scrunches up and it’s so cute, for whatever reason, the way your tongue curls against his perky nipples feels … good. awkwardly, he pulls your head closer towards his chest, eyeing closely as you briefly start to suck. as usual, you were so sloppy too—moaning up against his sensitive skin, rolling your tongue all against his nipple.

“nasty little g—girl,” he chokes out.

you glance up at him, parting your lips away before he makes you go back to tending to his tense nipples. “i didn’t tell you to stop. use y’er fuckin’ tongue some more. and stare at me while you do that . . . weird shit.”

toji’s voice significantly pitches and you’re so into it that you don’t even realize that before you know it, you end up squirting. everything comes at once, you’re pulsing with sukuna’s cock still twitching vigorously inside you and you whimper, mouth still sucking onto toji’s tits nipples. low laughter could be heard from behind you, and it’s all so much. your pussy was equivalent to a waterpark, gushing out all into sukuna’s lap. “fuckkk, princess,” he chortles, slowing down your hips and he ends up finishing a few seconds after you.

when he came inside, it came out quite a lot too. a hefty amount, it came out in ropes to where he paints the entirety of your womb. so warm from the inside, your tummy briefly caves in and your legs felt like mush.

“heh, did you just squirt?” sukuna points out, cock still twitching inside but he just lies still. you’re stretched out literally on the mat, seeing pure stars— the lights of the arena merely blinding you before you lie back against him. “a squirter and you’re tapping out already? aw boo. ‘n here i thought you could handle a few more rounds in the ring, princess.”

“i— i can,” you protest, parting your lips away from toji’s sheeny pecs. your lips were spit-glossed, he stared at you before squatting down to stare at the mess right between your legs. so messy, sukuna lifts you off of him and it just pours right down between your thighs. “i can go for more.”

toji hums, taking a quick three-second glance at his watch. “five fuckin’ minutes, ‘s all you’ll get with . . me,” and it’s cute because a mere pink forms on his face.

he’s still embarrassed from you sucking on his nipples that he tries to act all tough—but that only makes his tone quaver even more. “match’s gonna start soon. sukuna, let’s take her both.”

he snickers, pulling your shirt that was tucked underneath your blazer all the way up.

“both?” and sukuna lifts you to sit on top of toji, straddling him. you were being preparing to be overly stuffed with not one but two cocks. you fall face forward into toji’s broad chest, the coldness of his chain that wraps around his neck brushes against your skin before he helps you align yourself.

you moan, feeling sukuna get behind too—you gulp, toji’s fondling your breasts that almost poke out through your unbuttoned shirt whilst sukuna was behind. you’d be taking them both— one in each hole. “can you handle us both at the same time, pretty girl? toji’s known for his record of lasting a good ah . . . two solid rounds.”

toji glares, feeling himself start to open you up again. with his plump crownhead of his cock, he splits you open, and he is a tad thicker than sukuna—you moan, wrapping flimsy arms around him before sukuna enters from behind with toji focusing on the front. “shut up. you say that ‘n act like i won’t k.o. you right now.”

“oh yeah?” sukuna cavils, and you gasp, landing on the cold canvas with an 'oof' once the boxer lightly places you down. you pout—glancing up at the two of them who were having a face off at a time like this. sukuna already pulled out and they stared each other down before toji slyly smiles. “is that a fact?” and for a brief moment, he leers down at toji’s sheeny lips— the dark-haired boxer slides his tongue against his scar before humming.

“don’t play, you know it is,” he replies, giving you one ogle before turning back towards his rival. “y’know, ‘kuna. you sure talk a lot of shit but you couldn’t even pin me down if you tried.”

sukuna rasps lowly, inching closer before they were inches apart—you thought they were gonna kiss at this rate. oh, something like this would be such a good inspiration for the headlines.

“if you wanted my attention, should have said so,” sukuna sneers, rubbing his hand that was carefully wrapped up in a white bandage against his slim torso. “besides, i think we all know who can last more rounds.”

“did you two just forget about me—?” you furrow your eyebrows, literally still soaked and laid against the corner of the ring. they shoot you a glance before turning back towards each other.

toji scoffs back at sukuna, ignoring you. “prove it then. pin me the fuck down, hot shot.”

“bend the fuck over then, big guy. we’ll show the pretty journalist who’s gonna win this night’s match. round fuckin’ one.”

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xxsabitoxx · 9 months

Text

How JJK Men Eat Pussy 2.0

Satoru, Suguru, Nanami, Toji, Sukuna, Yuta, Itadori, Megumi

Warnings: All characters are 18+, this post is explicit smut. As if you couldn’t tell that from the title

A/N: Funny story, I forgot I already wrote this same concept last year… but since I didn’t realize until I finished writing this… imma post it anyways. But if you’d like to see my original thoughts on this topic, you can see them here with an additional 2 characters lol

Gojo Satoru

He is relentless, especially when he’s in the mood to go down on you. These little moods of his will have him between your legs for hours, multiple times a day. You always like to joke that he knows when you’re ovulating because somehow these little moods seem to fall in sync. If Satoru goes more than three days without you, it’s like he’s going through withdrawals. He’s skilled with his tongue, he’s able to move it in ways and speeds you didn’t know a man could. Typically he’s a tease, he’ll edge you until you have an orgasm so pathetic you can’t even call it one. Ya know, the kinds where you come and don’t feel that satisfaction, just the pulsating ache of needing more. But recently, Satoru discovered how much more fun it is to overstimulate you. He loves the way your finger’s bury in his hair and try to tug him off as he sucks on your clit until you’re sobbing and begging him to ease up. He’ll keep your thighs spread wide, large hands effortlessly keeping them in place while they desperately try and close. He’s also the type to see those “pineapple make’s your cum sweet” articles and come home with enough pineapples to feed a village. He’s not even embarrassed about his reasoning, even if it’s just a myth, his sweet tooth can’t pass up the opportunity. Satoru loves your natural taste, but you surprised him with edible lubes in various fruity and sweet flavors one night… you still recall seeing the sun rise.

Geto Suguru

He’s a god at eating pussy and you can’t convince me otherwise. Suguru has always been about your pleasure over his, not to say he doesn’t have his selfish moments, but your pleasure is just so much fun to him. He loves the noise, the facial expressions, the smell, the taste. The first time he went down on you, you were convinced he was lying about it being his first time. The ability just came naturally to Suguru. Like Satoru, Suguru loves to tease you. He’ll focus all of his attention on your dripping entrance, only stimulating your clit if his nose bumps it. He loves the way you squirm, his nails leaving crescent shaped nail marks in the plump flesh of your thighs as he holds you in place. He loves your breathless gasps, his long hair tickling your thighs as he eats you out, only adding to the stimulation that’s making your toes curl. Suguru loves to make you beg, pulling his mouth away from your cunt to just barely flick his tongue over your clit. He’ll stop all together just to taunt you until you’re sobbing, begging him to do something. He has a whole album on his phone dedicated to you, most of the content being videos of him eating you out, some he even made you take just so he could see the camera shake with your effort to keep it straight and hear your noises better. He puts on a show for you, slurping and sucking and moaning just to feel your thighs tremble as you moan with him.

Nanami Kento

Eating you out is a stress reliever for Nanami… so it happens like very fucking day. Lord help me this man will spend hours edging you, cheek pressed into your thigh as he lazily licks and nips at your cunt. He can’t think about anything but you when he is between our legs, moaning and whining his name like a beautiful lullaby. He’ll let you cum eventually, but for the time being you are completely at his mercy. Nanami is the type to wake you up with his head between your legs, especially on nights where he comes home late and you’re already passed out in bed. He’ll make out with your cunt honestly, licking and sucking and nipping at your folds until he can’t tell if you’re wet from his saliva or your own arousal. The answer is both. He doesn’t care for any of the fancy shit, so don’t bother with flavored lubes or eating particular fruits to try and alter your taste, he just wants you and you alone. I feel like this man has a scent kink so the smell of your arousal honestly gets him going even more. He prefers eating you out in bed, mostly because he’s tired and nothing feels better to him than laying on his plush mattress while using your thighs as his pillow. He’s a whore for face sitting by the way, even less of his energy needs to be put into that, especially when you’re grinding your cunt against his tongue. Nanami’s other favorite thing to do is use his tie to bind your wrists, that way you really can’t interrupt him.

Fushiguro Toji

I had to restart Toji’s so many times because I got too aggressive. Listen, this bummy ass bitch will eat you out till the sunrises and he will make a fucking mess of you while he does it. Toji will eat you out and finger fuck you until you’re screaming. He’ll give you a “break” by stuffing you full with his dick and then get back to work eating you out again after he blew his load in you. Filthy bitch. He’ll eat you out anytime, anywhere, any position. He’ll never turn down the opportunity and depending on your relationship with him, this bitch may even charge you for his services. Which is just another way he likes to tease you, watching you whine and squirm while you cough up the money he wants. He’ll call you pathetic as he gets on his knees and basically rips your underwear off of you, commenting the whole time about how much of a whore you are… like he ain’t selling his body to you rn. This man will somehow make you feel inferior, but you can’t be bothered when his tongue is lapping at your cunt like a starved man. Toji will make sure your thighs and your cunt are swollen, bruised, overstimulated, and sore by the time he’s done with you. Your cunt is puffy from his sucking and biting, thighs littered in dark marks and teeth indents. He'd go as far as to find a marker and write “cum dumpster” on you if he was really in the mood to see you sob.

Ryomen Sukuna

Listen, you thought Toji could be mean? Sukuna is ten times worse. The thing is, the king of curses actually likes to eat pussy but he won’t admit it. But that is not to say he can’t live without it, Sukuna is selfish and really only prefers things that pleasure him in the process. But, when you’re sobbing, pathetically begging him to go down on you, he may just crack. Especially if you’re looking at him with watery eyes, swollen lips from sucking him off, your neck littered with bite marks and bruises. Oh, and, if you’ve made him cum, he’s more likely to agree and indulge you. If you manage to convince the king of curses to go down on you, don’t expect him to be easy on you. His nails are digging into the flesh of your thighs, blood dripping slowly as he eats you out with so much force it’s borderline painful. He’s using his tongue and his teeth, nipping at your folds and even grazing your clit with them until he can tell your sobs are a breathless mix of pleasure and pain. If we’re talking true form Sukuna, I promise you he won’t stop until you’ve blacked out. He’ll use one set of arms to hold your waist while the other set keeps your thighs spread. He’s forcefully dragging your cunt over the long tongue that protrudes from his stomach, occasionally stopping just to hold you still as he spreads you open and stuffs you with the same tongue, watching you yelp and moan as he toys with you.

Okkotsu Yuta

If you look up the definition of “pussy drunk” you’ll see a picture of Yuta. This man cannot go down on you without becoming delirious. Your body puts him in a trance, he can’t even explain the way you make him feel. Yuta is all about body worship and his favorite way to go about it is having his face shoved between your legs for hours. He’s just as vocal as you are while he eats you out, groaning and whining against your cunt until the vibrations are making your eyes roll back as you cum again. He’ll be kneading your thighs as he eats, squeezing them like stress balls and hitting nerves that send sparks of electricity all the way to your toes and all the way up to the base of your neck. Without even trying, Yuta will manage to overstimulate you until you’re unironically going cross-eyed, fingers twitching as they bury in his hair and try to pull him off so you can catch your breath. Yuta is still a bit shy when it comes to being intimate outside of the privacy of your home. But that doesn’t mean he won’t drag you into the nearest bathroom and eat you out against the bathroom stall. In this sense, he’s almost cocky when someone unknowingly enters the bathroom only to see two sets of feet in one of the stalls. Not to mention the noises are echoing. Yuta lives to see your eyes going wide from embarrassment as he doesn’t stop, your noises are uncontrollable as he tongue fucks you. The poor bastard who entered the bathroom with the intention of properly using it just muttered under their breath and walked out.

Itadori Yuji

Yuji is eager, so, so damn eager. He wants to do anything and everything that brings you pleasure so when it comes to eating you out, he’s determined to be great at it. Yuji is the type to ask you for “practice” or “lessons” which is just his way of indirectly asking if he can eat you out. Most of the time, it’s an offer you can’t refuse, because as fate would have it, Yuji isn’t bad at anything. He’s so praise focused, eyes glued to your face as he flicks his tongue along your folds and waits for you to tell him he’s doing good. He’ll slow down when your praise isn’t coming fast enough because he wants you to beg. Yuji is a sucker for adding fingers to the mix, as much as he loves making you cum with just his tongue, he sees no point in limiting your pleasure for his own confidence boost. Kind of contradictory since he likes when you beg. Yuji is also the type to wake you up with his head between your legs, just slowly lapping at your cunt while also rutting his hips into the mattress, trying to not wake you up until you’re coming. He finds it so pretty when you wake up gasping, completely unable to restrict any of your noises as you orgasm. It’s important to mention that Yuji is a sucker for 69-ing and face sitting, he loves, loves, feeling your plush thighs caging in his head. He can’t get enough of the way your body settles so nicely into him, no longer afraid of “suffocating him” by sitting all the way down on him.

Fushiguro Megumi

He won’t admit it but he loves to eat you out. Megumi is shy at heart so even if he’s been with you for years, he can still get embarrassed when telling you how badly he wants to go down on you. He’s focused when he does get between your legs, hands gripping your thighs or hips while his tongue laps greedily at your cunt. Megumi loves to tongue fuck you, just because he knows it’s not enough stimulation to make you cum but enough to make you embarrassingly wet. He’s a bit mean at first, not willing to let you come until he feels you’ve earned it. He’ll stop abruptly just to sink his teeth into your inner thighs, not stopping until you’re gasping as the pain turns bruising. He’ll admire the teeth indents he’s left on your skin while his nails are scratching down your other thigh, tongue moving to wiggle against your clit until your hips are bucking. Megumi finds toys to be very hit or miss, but he’s found a love for stuffing you with a vibrator while putting all of his attention on your clit. Megumi’s preferred method of “torture” depends on his mood, either he’ll edge you until you’re begging or overstimulate you until you’re crying. He’s very private when it comes to these things… unless he’s jealous. Much like Yuta, he will not hesitate to drag you somewhere private while out in public to remind you of who you belong to.

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alastorss · 3 months

Note

Hi! I hope you're having a good day! I've been thinking, how would Alastor react to the reader casually saying stuff like "I like your laugh, it's nice," and "You voice is really soothing," out of the blue.

a/n: oh i loooooved writing this ^ ^ he would 100% be the type to try and hide that he actually likes the compliments but fail miserably. thank you and i hope you like this!

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You'd like to say you know everything about Alastor, but that's far from the truth.

You know his mother's jambalaya recipe, sure, and that he takes his coffee black. You've memorized the intro of his morning broadcast, and learned the feeling of his chin propped on your shoulder.

There are pieces of Alastor you know like the back of your hand, but somehow you've never even scratched the surface of deciphering him. He was just like that, you suppose—an enigma wrapped in another mystery that would take a lifetime to unravel.

The only thing he liked more than his secrets was keeping them, after all.

And he especially enjoyed toying with you—dangling little tidbits of trivia about him in front of your face and snatching it away when you inevitably took the bait. He'd laugh about it, too, saying you were so adorable for trying.

For some time you had hypothesized that his ears were a good way of gauging his real thoughts about matters, but he was irritatingly good at controlling those as well. Not even the slightest twitch to give away his inner monologue.

"You are so annoying, you know that?" You once told him while brushing your teeth, words coming out muffled from your toothbrush. Minty foam gathered at your mouth while you glared at him through the reflection in the mirror.

He only laughed, as he always did, and propped his chin on your shoulder.

"How rude!" He chastised you playfully.

You leaned down to rinse your mouth. "I'm just saying," you muttered after standing tall again, "I wish I knew what was going through that head of yours sometimes."

Unsurprisingly, Alastor's expression was unreadable.

He opted to bite your cheek and walk away from the conversation after that, not bothering to enlighten you even slightly.

You watched him from across the bathroom, eyeing the way his shadow danced around him with a mind of its own before it disappeared into the darkness.

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His downfall began with a comment you made after you ended up falling asleep with your head on his shoulder.

He had been reading the latest article about the Vees to you out loud, practically singing his amusement with how terrible this column had painted out Vox to be. With fame came criticism, of course, and Alastor would happily sit there and criticize Vox all day if he could.

Your head hit his shoulder quick and he sighed, ears perking at the familiar sound of your slowing breaths. (He didn't bother waking you. It's not like he had much else to do at the time.)

"Your voice is so soothing," you shrugged when you finally awoke. "The static is like... comforting white noise for me, or something."

'Or something?' he wanted to ask.

He didn't, because he didn't really care for an explanation further than that. (He definitely didn't avoid prying because he felt something warm in his chest knowing you thought that way about him.)

It kept happening after that, as much as he wishes it didn't.

Little comments you slid into conversation so casually—tiny compliments and teases that drove him up the wall. They were softening him up, flattering him in dangerous ways.

The demon felt his sanity wearing thin with each passing day, making tremendous efforts to hide the way your slips made him warm.

He's sure he is about to crack. At any moment, his ears will flick or his cheeks will cherub with genuine joy because you can't keep your words to yourself. But he's done well for himself thus far, pat on the back, for not gratifying you.

He mentally groans when you join him at the bar, eyeing his drink. "It's the middle of the day," you point out.

"And you've come to scold me?" He tuts.

"I've come to join you, actually."

Alastor chuckles, voice missing it's usual static filter. He reaches over to pour you a glass when you smile at him.

"You have a nice laugh."

He nearly shatters the glass in his hands.

You snicker quietly, leaning over the bar to creep under his face which is scrunched up in concentration.

"What's wrong? I like your laugh, you should do it more!"

Taking a deep breath, the Radio Demon reaches over to pinch your nose. You yelp and jerk away from him, glaring.

"Flattery will get you nowhere~" he sings.

Your head tilts to the side in confusion. There's a smugness to your gaze that makes him feel like a trapped animal, and he realizes that you've known all along what you've done to him.

"Oh, but I think it does," you laugh, nodding to his shadow burned into the floor.

Its smile is uncharacteristically soft, missing all semblance of its usual fangs and sharp edges. Howling in embarrassment, the shadow dives away, abandoning its owner to confront you alone.

All this time, his shadow had been the one betraying him. Through all the times he had forced his ears to stay rigid, with all the effort to maintain his mask of indifference, you'd seen where he had overlooked.

His jaw clenches so hard he can feel his teeth grinding into each other. "You are perceptive, my dear."

"No," you giggle. "You're just bad at hiding how you feel. I think it's cute."

Alastor glowers at you, but his ears flop back and forth atop his head at your praise anyway.

taglist (i totally forgot i'm sorry!!): @the-lake-is-calling @dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice @averylonelysea @bri22222 @cxrsedwxrlds @amarokofficial @anae-naea-zacheria @for-hearthand-home @fantasy-is-best @angixyc @th3-st4r-gur1 (send and ask to be added!)

#🍓 faye's thoughts <3 #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin x reader #alastor fanfic #alastor fanfiction #alastor fic #alastor headcanons #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x you #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin #hazbin hotel headcanons #hazbin hotel fanfic

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transmascrage · 1 year

Text

Video by ErinInTheMorning on TikTok

[Transcript (there's captions on screen but in case you can't turn on audio):

Erin: "File this one away for the transgender history books, whenever they write about our history; today Lindsey Spero, a trans man, stood in front of the Florida Board of Medicine, which was about to vote to medically ban all gender affirming care for trans youth.

He stood there to deliver his testimony, he delivered a little bit of it, but then he took the remainder of his testimony time to stand there and inject his hormone therapy in front of all of them in stunned silence, and then he turned around and raised his fist. Watch this."

Lindsey: "My name is Lindsey Spero, I'm 25 years old, I'm a resident of St. Petersburg, Florida. I'm also transgender.

I am someone who was subjected to treatments that have been questionable, that were mentioned by people like that woman who came up and spoke, I can tell you for a fact that her child is going to grow up hating her.

I'm sure you've heard many stories that sound like mine already, over the last few months my trans siblings and family members have stood before you, put their hearts on full display and vulnerable pleaded with you to listen to our stories and perspectives.

The American Academy of Pediatrics has condemned your actions and our federal government has spoken out against the actions you seek to take regarding the necessary health care for trans youth.

I could stand here and tell you about the times I attempted to end my life because I didn't have access to gender affirming care but I know, I know you don't care. I see you sneering at us while we come here and talk to you.

Instead I'm going to take the rest of my time to demonstrate the sacred and weekly ritual of my shot in front of you, in this body.

My medication is life saving, I will use HRT for the rest of my life, your denial of my need for this medication, doesn't make my existence as a trans person any less real.

I will be giving myself my subcutaneous shot in my stomach. If you have a needle phobia, please look away."

Lindsey injects his T-shot in silence, helped by another person who passes him a needle and the testosterone in its vial.

After finishing, he raises his fist and turns around to the audience.

Lindsey: "Tomorrow and forever."

The crowd cheers and a few people get up to clap.

Erin: "That, that is what I'm talking about! Good job Lindsey! This is the kind of resistance that matters!"

End transcript.]

(As a sidenote, it seems that Lindsey identifies as nonbinary, not necessarily (or exclusively, anyways) as a trans man. Some articles identify him as transmasc but all of his socials state nonbinary.)

#lgbtq #queer community #trans ftm #transmasc #transphobia #trans youth

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her-favorite · 28 days

Text

“WHAT ARE YOU READING?”; M. STURNIOLO

MATT STURNIOLO X F!READER

warnings: the “fic” is a little suggestive but no actual smut!

a/n: random but why can’t some of you just let people write 😭 you don’t like “y/n,” no one’s forcing you to read it!! you don’t like smut or some shit, you are not being held at gun point. grow up

wc: 940 - something short (and terrible) until i get some requests (guys i’m begging)/better ideas!

SYNOPSIS: You caught Matt reading something on his phone, not expecting it to be about you..

The moment you stepped foot inside your boyfriend’s room, your eyes watched the way he slammed his phone down on his bed.

With a confused look on your face, you close the door behind you and begin walking over to the side of his mattress. “What’re you looking at?” You can’t help but tease as you sit next to him.

“Nothin’.” Matt replies shortly, turning over to face you. Bringing you down next to him, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you in to his chest.

“Should I be worried?” You say playfully, your lips brushing against his bare chest as he squeezes you. With a groan from your boyfriend, you look up at him from your position as much as you could. A light pink hue forms on his pale cheeks as he tries to fight a smile.

“Mm, ‘s’nothin’, sweetheart.” He slurs, a fight of sleep still lingering in his voice. You figured he accidentally fell asleep while you were getting ready to leave earlier, given he was still in bed and has yet to put a shirt on (not that you were complaining).

You hum in response, seemingly letting it go as you cuddled in to his warm skin. A light conversation was held between you two for a couple minutes, discussing when Matt and his brothers were going to film a car video later and what to have for dinner tonight. With a soothing hand on your back, Matt quickly helps you relax, washing the anxious feelings you had grown to have earlier away.

A little while passes by as you and Matt lay with each other, enjoying the others company. As time goes, the night gets closer and closer, signaling for Matt to get ready to film a video with his brothers.

With a text from Nick, Matt groans when he sees his phone light up. “What’s it say?” He mumbles, his eyes still closed as he subconsciously squeezes you closer to his warm body.

Unlocking his phone, you laugh softly as you read out, “You better be ready in under 5 minutes before I beat your ass.” Matt scoffs lightly at the mindless threat from his brother, moving his head to look at the time: 12:03 am. “You should get ready, Matt.” You suggest, looking up at him. With an immediate groan of disapproval from the man underneath you, a chuckle leaves your lips.

“Just wanna lay here with you.” He mutters, suddenly flipping you both over so he can rest on your chest. A surprised sound slips past your lips, a smile taking over. With a soft laugh, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and press a kiss to his head.

“Two more minutes before Nick gets here,” you whisper teasingly, resulting in another irritated moan from the man on top of you. With a huff, Matt moves up to his forearms to hover above you. “Hi,” you smile.

“Hey, baby.” He cracks a smile as well, quickly leaning down to kiss you. Sucking gently on your bottom lip, he pulls away with a smug look on his face, knowing how something so little could get you going for him. Getting up swiftly, he giggles at the smack you left against his back, dashing for his bathroom.

As your boyfriend changes, you look back down at his bed, noticing a light protruding from something. Throwing his comforter around, his phone reveals itself, the screen on and lighting up the dark space. Reaching over to turn it off, your eyes can’t help but scan over the words that took up his screen.

“The fabric fell off of her body softly, dropping down to the floor with a light thud. As she kept eye contact, the last article of clothing was pushed down her body, a small curl to her lips catching my attention.

She knew what she was doing, I knew that… but I couldn’t help but be entranced by her. Her pretty curves, and her pretty hair, everything about her made me ache. I needed her.”

“What are you doing?” Matt’s voice made you jump, your eyes searching up for him. The smile that took over your lips was involuntary as you noticed the visibly embarrassed look on his face, even though he tried to cover it up.

“What are you reading, Matthew?” You tease, holding up his phone. With wide eyes, your boyfriend lunges forward and tries to take it from you. Standing up on his bed, you try and get away from him, laughs uncontrollably leaving your lips.

“Give it to me!” Matt exclaims, trapping your waist and bringing you down on to the bed with him. Letting him take the phone, he turns it off and stashes it in his empty pocket.

With chuckles still leaving your mouth, you begin to ask, “Were you reading fanf—“

“No.” Matt interrupts you, getting up from the bed.

“I think you were—“

“No, I wasn’t.” He denies, looking away from you. One last laugh leaves you as you get up from his bed, walking over to him.

“Don’t be embarrassed, sweetheart!” You smile, still finding the situation amusing. He glances over at you, not even thinking twice about how he melts into your touch. As you press one of your palms to his cheek, you reassure him.

“I was just curious, I swear.”

“Alright.”

“I was!”

With a nod in response from you, Matt groans dramatically. The smile has yet to leave your face throughout the entire conversation, knowing that this was something you would never forget.

Before you even realized, you dashed out of his room. “Nick! Chris!”

“No!”

#matt sturniolo x reader #matt stuniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x you

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taketheringtolohac · 2 years

Text

Just did 6 future moodle posts in one night #scholar!

#no I didn’t read the articles I just did all of them bc momentum and bc I keep getting emails from the professor telling me to do them #like. i don’t want to do more Nancy. I’m not going to. i will do half of them and you will be happy. literally fuck off #and I also did the one for tmr so. lol. i am probably not going to write any more of these all term lol lmao #i don’t need to excel! just pass! like Jesus Nancy if I felt like I could tell you that I would but I can’t so I won’t answer ur emails #roxy talks

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sukunasweetheart · 7 months

Note

👀👉🏾👈🏾 Sukuna x Reader ex's to lovers?

wowowow i cant believe im doing like another celebrity au again but here goes nothing ahaha...

i love this trope, i ended up writing a WHOLE, lengthy ass, detailed plotline on it i hope u dont mind <3 (A WHOLE WHOPPING 6K WORDS YALL)

prepare for hella angst, OOC sukuna, insecure fem!reader, ghosting, messy break up, conflicting and complicated feelings + sexual tension and then intense smut @ the end (make up sex)

imagine sukuna being like, an amateur model-turned-actor, with you being his highschool sweetheart, who was there to support him since day one

a very happy, fulfilling relationship for the most part-- until he starts gaining huge amounts of popularity.

youve always known that he was meant and born to reach sky-high levels of success, and you were certain he was going to make it one day

but things get rockier by the second, and insecurity is such an ugly, ugly thing

seeing him model with other beautiful celebrities, acting in roles where he had a love interest to kiss and fondle, reading those gossip scandal articles involving him and another party every few months or so-

it all got too much for you.

all you needed was some reassurance... but young and vivacious sukuna, drunk on this fame and attention, failed to recognise that and left you feeling neglected.

not on purpose tho, he's never engaged in infidelity, he's never gazed upon someone else with lust or love on his mind - he was using everyone around him as a stepping stone towards his own career

sukuna's known you since forever, and he was confident that you knew his affection for you was unwavering... so he failed to understand where you were coming from whenever you brought these things up

arguments after arguments after arguments

the worst part of it was that he wanted to keep his relationship with you a secret. saying something about how having a significant other would slow his progress in his career down... the decision was urged on by the entertainment company that he was in a contract with

it hurt so damn much when he was being interviewed on tv about his romantic life, only for him to tell the world he was single.

it leads to more arguing.

of course, as a rising celebrity, he was quite awfully busy with many business trips and attending a lot of parties and galas

another terrible fight occurred right before he had to leave for a flight overseas but by then, youd pretty much already decided that you were going to leave him

you basically ghosted him, packing all your belongings overnight, blocking his number and all his social media accounts, making sure even all yours and his mutual friends didn't know of your whereabouts. you're going to start fresh. and give him no closure.

it was petty revenge, and maybe immature of you, but you were just as young as he was, and you wanted him to hurt as badly as you were hurting back then.

sukuna's still overseas, having just come back from another fancy gathering and is fresh out of the shower, in his hotel room... he decides he's gonna try and give you a call, but ofc you don't pick up

he sighs and convinces himself that he'll sort things out with you later when he gets back, not knowing that there won't be a 'later'.

meanwhile you're dragging a suitcase out of the apartment, taking a taxi somewhere else far away, crying as you pass by giant billboards that have pictures of sukuna plastered all over

he feels like such a faraway person now. no longer someone who you used to cuddle closely in bed, or hold hands with. you're not even sure of who you are without him anymore.

you could imagine his reaction when he came home, only to find your entire existence missing. seriously, it was like you were never there. you left nothing of yours behind, and the place was cleaned spick and span, not a hair of yours to be found.

when was the last time sukuna felt so panicked?? this dull ache in his chest, as he spams you calls and texts that never reach you

he contacts mutual friends in rotation but everyone is absolutely clueless... he considers filing a missing persons case but then a trusted friend of yours tells him to not look for you... and that you wanted them to relay a message to him, just a simple goodbye.

what the fuck are you talking about?

oh, here comes a severe headache.

his mind is whirring with overlapping memories, thoughts, regrets, thinking about any clues that might give away where you couldve gone, but theres simply nothing

the shock moves into sorrow, then denial, and then it turns to anger. does he mean nothing to you? so much so that youd abandon him without saying a word?

its like he was going through the five stages of grief, but for someone who he knew was still alive..

eventually, he finds a rebound out of spite. if youve left him, then it's means he's free and single, right? he gets himself piss-drunk, and beds another, only to wake up feeling absolutely disgusted. it feels like... it feels like he's cheated on you. even though you're already gone. he's just a mess of conflicting emotions, and it lasts for so long.

the reason why he doesnt hire someone or use some other underhanded method to actually look for you is because of a weird mixture of both his pride and feelings of insecurity, thinking that maybe, just maybe, you do deserve someone better, someone who understands you more... (and he's also fearful that someone like you, might've already found love somewhere else, and he's definitely not confident that he'll be able to act maturely if he sees its true)

eventually, acceptance does come... but does it really?

i like to think he went through many failed relationships, his partners always leaving him upon witnessing him getting intoxicated and calling for none other than your name in his state. someone who no one around him knows anymore.

years pass, and time really does allow you to forget. for both you and sukuna alike. in your mid thirties, both of you are single at this time.

you've been busy with your new job at some company (dont ask me, i was too lazy to decide what kind, so u guys can make this one up bye), and he made sure to keep himself busy as well. no time for fleeting romance.

of course, until fate does that weird thing where it pushes people together again... a new project lands in your lap, where it involves some kind of collaboration with THE celebrity, ryomen sukuna. of fucking course.

you really did desperately try to get it off and pass this off to some other colleague but they insisted your involvement was necessary. what are you supposed to do? you almost decide to quit... but this job means a lot to you... you can't just throw everything away because of an ex... right?

and, oh my god, when the first meeting does happen, involving the celebrity himself, you and a couple other coworkers to discuss the project, sukuna sees you and his brain short circuits for a moment.

he starts doubting his own vision, and then he reminisces, in the middle of whatever the fuck everyone else was talking about during the meeting.

"... Mr. Ryomen?" one of the other participants ask.

he clears his throat, regains his composure and regathers his focus. he's an actor for god's sake. and he starts speaking, with thoughts of you in the back of his mind. about how much youve changed, but also remained exactly the same...

during introductions, you shake his hand and act professionally. his eye twitches. will you continue to pretend not to know him even afterwards? should he talk to you separately after this? no... doing that would mean he's the desperate one...

when you saw sukuna hesitating, part of you felt relieved. so you're not the only one getting freaked out. you don't expect him to acknowledge you anymore, though.

after the meeting, he walks out feeling confident that he's going to ignore you back, if this was the kind of game you're going to play with him. you mean nothing to him, just as he means nothing to you.

but he remembers the shock that went down his spine at the feeling of the warmth in your hand. he watches you take an elevator by yourself, and tries to make a split second decision on whether he wants to let you go, or if he wants to chase you down.

he probably shouldn't bother.

but he impulsively speed walks down towards you, anyway.

youre startled when the elevator doors are blocked from closing just at the last second, with someone's arm coming through between. your heart skips a beat seeing that it's none other than sukuna.

what is this sensation? this mix of fear and... excitement. you should be unperturbed. you're over him. he's someone from the past. you're buzzing with these feelings, but there also comes a creeping resentment that finds its way to you again, as you try to remember why you left him in the first place.

he unclicks whatever level you were heading to, and clicks on the highest level instead. he's gonna take you to the rooftop of the building, where he can confront you peacefully.

"Mr. Ryomen? Is there something wrong?" you ask him. still feigning ignorance. like salt to a wound. you know its another petty move from your part, but you can't help yourself.

"Don't call me that. You know damn well why I'm here," Sukuna drawls, sounding more sad than angry. they've really become strangers.

you grow silent, being hit with a pang of guilt. deep down, you knew you shouldve handled it more maturely than that. he deserved closure, and you needed it too. but isn't it too late for all that now?

the conversation flows tense, but unravels slowly. there's still a lot of questions being withheld though. he wants to ask you how youve been. were you able to sleep peacefully after you left him? why did you have to leave in the worst way possible?

a familiar headache creeps up.

simultaneously, the anger finds its way in his heart all over again. he knows he didn't do much good towards the end of their relationship either but ghosting him was plain disrespectful and childish.

you surprise him when you give a sudden heartfelt apology.

you tell him that you know apologising now after all these years is frankly almost meaningless but still, he didnt deserve to be left behind in that kind of way. you admit that you should've communicated with him properly that you were breaking up with him.

he's left kinda speechless, bc he was so ready to be all snarky to you after everything.. he's still mad, but he can't really say shit anymore without sounding like too much of an asshole.

truth be told, if you did stay around to tell him that you were breaking up with him beforehand, he probably wouldn't have let you go... where would you guys be now, if you never separated?

"i've always wanted to apologise. it's been weighing on me ever since i left."

...and yet, you didn't ever think to call or text him even once afterwards? he never changed his number in hopes for that, and he hates himself for it.

"i understand that you hate me now, but let's try to get through the collaboration without trouble. and then we can part ways again."

that one pierces his heart, like a bullet. you haven't said anything technically wrong. he should hate you. or at least, he should feel indifferent by now. and yet... the way that you automatically assume so irks him badly.

"do you really believe that i hate you? aren't you the one that hates me?"

it's a stupid fucking question. what the fuck is he even saying? he wants to kick the elevator door.

"...i left because i thought you hated me, that you didn't need me anymore. and i tried to convince myself that i hated you too. but that couldn't be further from the truth. even now, i don't ha-"

before you can say any more, the elevator doors open, and a small group of employees are standing outside them, looking curiously in at you and sukuna. then, they realise who he is. they come flocking in, asking for autographs and pictures.

you quietly slip out of the crowd, and after giving one quick glance at sukuna, who visibly wants to pursue you again, you walk away to avoid gathering attention on yourself. wait-! dammit- he thinks.

he can't chase after you. he can't call out for you to stop. he can't push all of these people away. if he did, it will cause rumours and unfavourable articles to fly out. let's try to get through the collaboration without trouble. his own fame becomes another obstacle between you and him.

back then, you were his whole world, yet somewhere along the path, he started to fail in making you feel like it.

he watches you take the fire exit towards the emergency stairs, while he's surrounded by overbearing fans who beg for his attention. you're going to have to walk down in your heels, all because of him. as he catches the final glimpse of you, as he's reluctantly dealing with his fans, he begins to understand, a little bit. he didn't want to understand why you decided to leave him. but he does now. a little.

a couple of stairwells down, you eventually pause for a moment and sit down on the last step to take a breather. you wipe your sweaty palms against your skirt. the familiar tug at your heart, in which your insecurities come flowing back to you, seeing him surrounded. you need to build higher, stronger walls around you from now.

when sukuna is done on his end, and sends them off down the elevator, he goes off to check down the stairs you went, but you've already booked it. slipped right through his fingers. you were about to say something important. with unresolved feelings, sukuna also takes the stairs down, with a heavy heart. each step down brings him another old, nostalgic memory of you to him.

from then on, the more he interacts with you during work-related matters, the more apparent it becomes that he still harbors feelings for you. he tries to ignore it, push it back down, but it only returns twice as overwhelming.

your voice. the way you smile. the scent of your perfume. exactly the same as back then. yet, he also observes the changes that have occurred in you; how you act, speak and the kinds of words you use, as well as seeing you in such a professional setting rather than personal - everything is coming together to allure him more, and he's in a state where he's unable to resist this attraction, but also unable to act on it, because he's not sure how you'd react to it.

he knows it's not just him getting drunk on nostalgia.

the next time he catches you alone, he makes sure to tell you that he doesn't hate you like you believe he does. you'd never admit it, but that gave you butterflies in your stomach.

in fact, everything sukuna does, even just locking eyes with you for a few seconds, is enough to make your heart rate increase, intensifying when he looks at you almost like... almost like he wants you. you must be imagining things.

he finds himself doing uncharacteristic deeds, like sending coffee for all the staff members. his manager passes them out to everybody, including you. he doesn't know if you still like your coffee the same way as he remembers, but he makes sure that yours is a little different, a little more specific than everyone else's, in hopes that you'll notice these small gestures of his.

over the course of the project, he inches closer to you, ever so slowly. but you don't seem to budge. even worse, you seem to be avoiding him as much as you possibly can. you avert your gaze from his. stagger away when he gets close.

he brings it up on one occasion, when he's able to approach you at the back of the building, where there's no one around, and no watchful eyes of a nosy audience. it's definitely frustrating and unpleasant- when he wants to speak with you, he has to keep distance in case another scandal rises. he doesn't want to drag you into the spotlight, without knowing if you're okay with it first.

sukuna only really talks to you when there's nobody around. maybe he's being considerate of you, but it gives you the impression that he doesn't want to be seen hanging around with you. it makes you remember things you don't want to. it makes you remember that being with him now requires a courage that you're not sure that you have. at the very least, you know you definitely didn't have it back then.

you keep conversations short with him, and try to leave. but he keeps at it persistently. what is he trying to do? is he toying with you?

"you're acting like you want us to get back together. don't do things that'll make me misunderstand," you tell him. you were trying to provoke him. expecting him to deny it harshly and back away, because you knew he was prideful- he'd never be caught being hung up over an ex.

"...and? what if i told you that i do want that? would you stop avoiding me then?" he takes one step forward, and you take one back, proving his point.

why is he pushing aside his ego for you? where did all his arrogance go off to? this isn't how the sukuna in his twenties would've responded. his answer makes you waver, and you don't appreciate that. you try not to show it.

"no. i'd only begin to avoid you even more. so don't start."

"i'm not," you deny, but your voice betrays you. he clings onto that.

"why? ...afraid that you'd cave in to me?"

like the way he's already pretty much caved in for you?

"you don't sound very convincing."

"...would you want someone who'd choose their career over you?"

that stops him in his tracks. he has nothing to say to that. because he did make that mistake. where he prioritised his job over your feelings.

"i don't hate or blame you for that anymore, sukuna. but you have to understand... i don't want to go through that pain ever again. i don't want to hold you back. we both deserve more compatible partners."

your own words sting yourself, and you try to go again right after saying that, because it's getting too much for you. his hand flies out to grab yours out of instinct, to stop you from leaving. leaving him again.

it's really not like him to be the clingy ex, pathetically begging to be taken back, but he's willing to throw such pride away if it means you'll be appeased. if you'll let him back into your life again.

"don't say that. you never held me back-- you were my home and my everything, and i was the one that started to take you for granted," he says gently, his low voice laced with sorrow, so uncharacteristically. you've only ever heard this kind of tone from him once before, and it was when his grandfather, who was like a parent to him, had passed away. his thumb brushes over your hand.

"give me another chance. this time i'll let the whole world know about us. about how much you mean to me."

he gets in close ever so slowly, and you let him, for only a moment, before gently pushing him away, with a hand on his chest.

sukuna hitches in a breath, heart sinking to his stomach. he wants to embrace you so, so, so bad. he needs your warmth. always has been. always will. but he sees that you're unrelenting, which breaks him.

"no, stop... i'm sorry, i can't."

you're still scared. you keep thinking about how lonely you felt when you were with him, at least right before the break up. seeing him laughing through the tv screen. alone in the living room. and all the arguments.

your hand slips out of his, and he lets you go. he feels empty when you walk away. hollow. the similar feeling he felt when you first left him, but less anguish and more despair. when he gets home, he tries to drink those feelings away. something he rarely does. old regrets and heartaches return, and he drinks until he passes out.

while he drinks, you weep. crying into your pillow, wondering if you're doing the right thing. wondering if this is how it's supposed to be. terrified of being with him again, but also terrified of losing him, like a hypocrite.

from then on, sukuna keeps a respectful distance from you... no longer trying to make approaches in secret, no longer pursuing you every chance he gets. but he still sends out coffee. even provides snacks to the crew. little do they know, they're the kinds of snacks that he knows you loved. hopefully, you still do. he'll keep his distance because it's what you want, but he wishes to keep doing these little things for you. subtly.

and you notice it, too. you have vivid memories of telling him about your favourites and preferences back then, and you recognise what he's trying to do. you drink the coffee. and you always grab a handful of the snacks. you do appreciate it. it makes you happy that he remembers. on a few occasions, you turn to look at him, only to witness him looking away at the last second.

it's not too long before the project is successfully finalised, and all their efforts have been rewarded. a celebration is due, and your boss throws a party at a fancy hotel for everyone to enjoy themselves at. sukuna had stopped going to so many gatherings and parties quite a while ago, but he attends knowing that you'll be there as well. he'll see you for the final time before he'll lose any excuses to be around you ever again. it'll be the final night.

you exchange a few words with him at the venue, but the two of you leave each other to mingle with other groups reluctantly, to avoid suspicion. both of you are quite tense all throughout the night, sipping on some wine to ease it, but it still doesn't relax the tension you feel, no matter how far away sukuna stands from you.

a few hours in, and you decide to excuse yourself early to head up into your designated hotel room. your boss covered the expenses for a night, and it would've been a waste to decline it, so you decided to stay. sukuna isn't around anywhere at the venue anymore, so you assume he's already left. you thought about saying farewell, but it didn't seem appropriate after you flat out rejected him. you still have doubts about the decision. because you miss him. but what's done is done, and you can't take back what you've already said.

however, getting to the hotel elevator, you notice he's standing there, with miraculous timing. you awkwardly "hey" him, and he says it back, hands in his pockets.

the two of you step inside when it arrives, and the thick tension remains.

"i'm surprised. i thought you'd be staying around longer for the party," you tell him.

he can't tell you that he found it unbearable, to see you hanging around other people, but being unable to get closer to you himself.

"i just got a bit tired," he lies. "did you have a lot to drink?"

"not at all. i had a few glasses, but i'm still sober."

"same here."

as the lift gets closer to your level, you get antsy, thinking about what to say before you leave, but your thoughts get interrupted when he asks you something abruptly.

"...can i walk you to your room? for the last time."

you swallow thickly on nothing, and feel how your chest aches at the words. last time.

"alright. sure," you say.

he wasn't expecting you to say yes, but he's glad you're letting him stay beside you a little longer. you're staring at the elevator doors, but he's looking at your face from the side. if only the lift would malfunction and stop, right here.

but it doesn't, and soon, he's really walking beside you as you get to your hotel room door, in silence. you unlock it using your key, and then that's it.

"thanks for walking me here," you say rather sheepishly. the thought of him wanting to spend even a few more seconds with you... your hold on the door knob is tight as you stand, face turned around to look at him. it's taking everything in you to stand your ground. last minute guilt and regrets are bombarding your thoughts, and...

"i'll say this now because i probably won't get another chance again," sukuna starts, looking directly into your eyes. his eyes are mellow, and he looks wistful.

"i'm sorry. i realised i never apologised, even though that's the first thing you did for me," he starts. he knows there's a mountain of reasons he is apologising for, but he decides he'll keep this short for your sake.

".. i can't lie to you and say that i wish for your happiness with someone else. 'm not that nice." you know it the best. and you understand, because you don't think you'd be able to withstand seeing him happy with someone else, either.

"find your happiness elsewhere, thanks," he grunts humorously. for god's sake. he's never been good at things like this. being heartfelt. at least it made you chuckle a bit. his expression of indignation melts away into a melancholic one again.

"i still love you." (always have, always will.)

you fight back sudden tears, and your throat begins to ache. sukuna unclenches his fist, and tries to relax himself more.

"and...i'll miss you," he breathes the phrase out. says it so quietly, like it hurts for him to say. (i don't want to let you go.)

something snaps within you and everything starts to scream at you to take everything back, and stop him from going away. don't go- don't go- don't go-

"...goodnight."

he notices your wet eyes, and he has to fight back against the urge to reach out and wipe it away. to rescind his farewell, and pull you into his arms again - forcefully, if he has to. he needs to leave, before he loses control.

you're panicking, and your vision is swimming, and you don't think you'll ever be happy again if you let him go like this-- you're gonna be heartbroken in the worst way imaginable. you want him back, and you know you're being unreasonable after turning him down like that, but you don't care anymore. you want to go against your fears. you want to try being with him again.

before you can stop yourself, your hand catches onto the hem of sukuna's sleeve, seconds before he takes another step away from you.

his eyes widen, and he looks at your grip on his sleeve, like he's checking to see if it's real, and he's not making this shit up in his mind. his heart beats impossibly fast. his hopes skyrocket. the world decided to have mercy on him.

"...you're being unfair, grabbing onto me like this. after i went through hell just now, trying to say goodbye." he's being awfully patient right now.

you don't respond, only silently weeping.

he waits to see if you'll let go, whether this was just an act out of a temporary fickle in your heart, but your grip remains tight, and you're now just looking up at him with tears rolling down, eyes glossy and desperate, pulling at his heart strings. you only let go when he comes back to you, not hesitant to brush his thumbs across your face now, wiping the wetness away.

"what do you want me to do? tell me, and i'll do it. leave? stay?" sukuna coos at you, like he's always done before, waiting patiently until you've calmed down enough to respond properly.

"i shouldn't... i shouldn't let you in. not after how much i'd pushed you away," you whisper. today was supposed to mark the end of it all.

he doesn't even give a fuck about that anymore. what matters is now.

"...but do you want to let me in?"

"...yes," you hic.

he takes a couple of steps forward, making you step back with him, his hand on your waist to make sure you don't trip on the way. he goes past the doorway and into your hotel room slowly. one- two- three- steps. he closes the door behind him quietly.

"and..? what next?" he asks in a low voice, standing close to you, one hand still remaining on your waist, and the other on your upperarm.

"i... i don't know. i just need you," you mumble, looking up at him, eyes red from crying and half-closed. your hands inch up along his back, grabbing handfuls of his suit jacket. sukuna hitches in a breath and something dark flashes across his eyes. they reflect his desire, his almost carnal desperation for you-

"forgive me. i don't think i can hold myself back, anymore."

he captures your lips in his, and groans shamelessly into you. you grip onto him tighter, heart beating so rambunctiously that you fear he can hear it too. it feels too good. the moment he reached you, it felt like the final piece of a puzzle clicking in to complete a full picture.

you part your mouth, and he wastes no time in slipping his tongue inside, kissing you in the way he knows you love, in the way it makes your lips tingle, and, oh god, even after all these years, he still knows how to get you going like no other.

sukuna tastes the traces of wine on your tongue, and even better, he tastes you, the one he'd been missing and craving all this time, the warmth of your skin and touch, your scent, just everything about you, you, you.

he backs you towards the bed, without breaking this breathless, hungry kiss, where he softly lays you down, with him being above you, chest to chest, arms supporting his weight. he momentarily pulls away from you simply just to breathe, and the two of you gaze at each other for a hot second, full of love and lust, breaths overlapping one another. he attempts to ask you "do you still wanna continue?" just in case, but before he gets to say a word, you grab him by his tie and pull his lips to yours again, beginning to loosen it and take it off.

he understands that you want it, now. you successfully manage to untie it, somehow, with just willpower alone, and you start aiming for his buttons next, undoing them one by one. your actions send sparks down to all of his limbs, and he feels so fulfilled by your desire of him, being as intense as how he obsesses over you.

soon after you're done with it, he takes them off and chucks his own clothes away, rendering him half-naked. your hole clenches around nothing at the sight once he pulls away again, his firm muscles and the same old tattoos that you vividly remembered the patterns of. you greedily run your palms across his pecs, eyes turning to hearts. he smirks at you.

it's his turn now, and he doesn't hesitate to start undressing you as well. sukuna gets dizzy at the thought of being able to feast his eyes on your body. he dives in to keep kissing you, and then begins to unbutton you with such speed, it almost startles you.

it's off. your breasts are out in the open now, and sukuna has his fill with massaging them with his large hand, having missed them so much. his palm feels so hot, and your nipples pebble up at his touch, making you gasp into his mouth.

his kiss moves over to the side of your face, it glides down your neck, shoulders, and eventually reaches the swell of your chest. your fingers brush through the pink of his hair as he does so, and you purse your lips together, basking in the feeling of his warm kisses littering your skin. he leaves you hickeys-- the same shape and size and same locations as he used to even during your days in highschool, and you chuckle to yourself at the thought.

it's not long before he's loosening your skirt and slipping your undergarments down, getting rid of your slick-stained panties, much to his satisfaction. sukuna rubs a thumb over your aroused clit, and you whimper, having missed the touch of a man- his touch specifically.

"fuck... you're so wet.... all for me?" he asks, proceeding to slip two fingers into your weeping hole. you arch your back at the feeling, how his thick digits scissor inside of you and press up against a particularly lovely spot. he watches your every response as he does so, watching how you moan because of his touch, and how you're grabbing at his wrist because it's getting too intense. his cock prods uncomfortably against his pants. you're producing so much slick, and his fingers are getting absolutely drenched.

when he takes them out, you whine a little in disappointment.

"i know, i know. i'll give you something better," he whispers, kissing your cheek.

he unbuckles himself, and lowers his boxers to reveal his aching dick, tip wet with precum, veins bulging out the sides. looks the same as you remember. he pumps it a couple of times with his hand that's still covered with your slick, and he twitches. this isn't a dream, is it?

"oh god, please, i need it-" you plead, your hole feeling eager and empty.

"it's all yours," he mumbles. your begging makes him lightheaded as he lines himself up at your weeping cunt.

"i'm all yours."

when he sinks in deep to the hilt, you cry out at the fullness, as his tip pushes the spot inside you that had been feeling so lonely for years. your hands finds themselves against his back, feeling for his tight muscles.

"shit- 'm gonna lose my mind," sukuna groans as he gives a few shallow thrusts into you, cock so hard and throbbing wildly as your plush walls clamp on him and coats him with your arousal. he grabs one of your hands from his back and interlocks his fingers with yours against the mattress, before leaning down to bring his lips against the side of your neck.

"oh, thank god... thank god, you changed your mind. i love you. i would've been so fucking miserable without you, doll. for the rest of my life," he croons, breath fanning so close to your ear. you shudder at the tone of his voice, tearing up again, mixed with pleasure and relief, and you grab his hand tighter.

you turn your head a little more to the side, making it easier for sukuna to bite and suck on the sensitive skin of your neck, as his thrusts increase in speed, nudging your g-spot with every movement.

soon enough, he's bringing his attention back to your tongue, which he caresses with his own, nibbling on your lower lip, maintaining this same perfect pace in his thrusts that brings you closer to your orgasm.

"sukuna- i'm- i'm gonna-" you say breathlessly.

but he merely kisses you again, swallowing up any words you could say or moans you could let out, not minding the gasps and whimpers that you make.

sweat beads on his perfect body, and he makes out with you through your high, groaning back when he feels your walls flutter around him. he's close. even once you've finished cumming, he begins to pound into you quicker, wanting to get to his own orgasm. you claw at his back, crying out in pleasure, as sukuna's tongue lathers your jawline.

he wants to breed you so fucking bad. but no, that'll have to wait. he can't do something to jeopardize your trust in him. he'd rather die than endure another second of being distanced from you again.

right before he's pushed off the edge, sukuna pulls out and desperately jerks himself off above your stomach, panting as his cock throbs in his hand with every spurt that coats you, feeling so hot against your tummy.

you feel a twinge of disappointment, because you also wanted to feel that in your womb...

his dick twitches weakly after being spent, and he breathes heavily, liking the sight of you being covered in his seed for another time. (and many more from now.)

" 'kuna... it's a safe day for me today," you suggest to him without thinking. "i want it inside me..."

the phrase is enough to get heat pooling in his abdomen, and he feels himself get hard all over again.

"you sure, doll? if it's what you want, i'll..." he begins to say, almost flustered by your suggestion. you know you shouldn't say this next line, but it's so easy to get carried away with this man... get caught up in the heat of the moment.

"i want your babies so bad."

you've hit his switch. sukuna growls and puts you into a mating press instantaneously, making you squeak.

"no takebacks," he mutters dangerously, beginning the second round.

the night is long, but heavenly, as soon after he dumps everything he has into your womb, then proceeds to eat you out, making you cry for the third time before sunrise.

when you're awake, it's already heading past midday, and you're relieved to see that yesterday's happenings were not a dream, seeing as the large man is sleeping with an iron hold around your body, as if subconsciously afraid you'd leave him before he woke up again.

he awakens from his slumber to your light, feathery touches on his face, which puts him in a good mood from the moment he opens an eye. it was the scenario he's always dreamed of. waking up next to you, smiling.

there's much to talk about. about what's to come next, future plans, worries, and things they need to do to make amends for all the lost years between each other. but you decide to take things slow.

back to bullet points again bc im lazy to write it properly now

you spend the weekend w him at the hotel and stuff, just playing eating and sleeping, catching up yk

he tells you on his own accord that he wants to let everyone know that he's with you now, but he's worried that it'll bring backlash to you but you tell him you're going to be brave and take it, bc you WANT everyone to know

anyway prepare for turbulence

but everything'll be alright bc hes with you

im thinking about how mopey he'll be when you have to separate from him bc you each have your own homes rn, hes always asking you to come over or if he can come over to your place

and he'll be begging you to move in soon, like old times (he lives in a rich man house now tho)

and also thinking about how its a fresh start, but they also go through old memories and now reminiscing isnt painful anymore bc yall are back together

sukuna also says he's stopped doing romance genres in acting bc he had felt annoyed acting in lovey dovey scenes when his own love life used to be in shambles all the time

and bc hes at a point in his career where he has more choice in choosing between scripts that are offered to him, he's going to continue to decline the ones that have love interests, it doesnt affect him that much anyway

he's just being more considerate of your feelings now... and you promised him that you'll never just disappear like that again when you're upset haha...

sometimes when you still have a few disagreements with him, he keeps subtly checking up on you (hes traumatised, leave him be)

lots of facetiming when he has to go overseas for filming purposes <3

okay, thats all, bye <3

Masterlist

#sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #ryomen sukuna #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #poe answers

2K notes · View notes

sehodreams · 27 days

Text

extra points

TW and tags: professor!Eunseok x student!reader, anxiety (lots of it, with added overthinking), pet names, reader is a crybaby, clothed humping, fluff (comforting I believe), even if everything sounds nice here, obviously a relationship with your professor is not okay (there's power imbalance just for the fact she's a student and he a professor).

WC: 5.2k

Summary: You want to always make him proud of you.

Comment: A bit self-indulgent since I've had a crush on a professor each semester and I also had anxiety when they praised me. Hope it makes other academic weapons here feel a bit seen. Also, tried to check the grammar and times, but idk, now it feels a bit robotic, please tell me if I should write everything in the past time again, just wanted to try something new. A bit ass, sorry, it feels as if I've forgotten how to write.

Staring at the words on your screen that no longer make sense, you try to calm your nerves down, except, you can’t forget the way your professor looked at you before he dismissed your group.

You want to cry, but you have already cried enough. Then you want to scream, but it's 3am and your parents will kill you. You start to ponder your last choice, kill yourself, but even in your head that’s a bit too much.

You just don’t know what to do with everything you’re feeling at that moment. Wishing you could be as nonchalant as your friends, you want to stop thinking about his disappointed face when you finished your exam, because maybe you’re overthinking it, perhaps it wasn’t even that bad.

No, you’re wrong. It wasn’t perfect, and for you, that’s already bad enough.

You try to go to sleep, that should help you. You watch the bottle of melatonin in your nightstand, so closing your laptop, you grab it, take three pills instead of one, and beg the gods you’ve never believed in to make you sleep until the next morning.

Of course, before you drift away, you set your three alarms to arrive on time to his class.

You’re used to walking there filled with anxiety. You always wonder if you’re going to have the answers he wants to hear that day, or if you did good in your last test. It’s terrible, stressful, and the knot on your chest is, for anyone else, a sign that they should chill out, but to you, is a sign that you should do better.

Your mother always says that the person who knows they’ve done everything they could has no reason to feel nervous, and that has pushed you to think you never do enough because she also says you can always do more.

It’s always been the same since that semester started, you go there filled with anxiety, you raise your hand whenever he makes a question to the public, and you feel the knot loosening with each minute that passes and with his smile when you say the correct answer.

You have to admit that, when the class finishes and he says goodbye with that proud smile, you feel as if all your stress and your time invested in reading all the material he has shared makes sense. It feels a bit good, and you’re addicted to that sensation.

He only wants you to reach your full potential. He has said it to the entire classroom, that all those articles and books he has shared are only for them to always have an answer out there in the real world. He says it to the public, but the extra material he emails you makes you feel special.

You’re special, right? He wouldn’t be going out of his way to give you more knowledge if it wasn’t like that.

When you arrive to the classroom you’re pale, and your friends try to tell you that everything will be fine to calm you down, but you can’t.

You’re spiralling into anxiety, and not because you have done bad, but because you have disappointed him.

When he dismissed you, he hadn’t smiled at you, he hadn’t shown you that happy expression he always has when you’ve met his expectations, and even more, he hadn’t said well done.

And if you weren’t his best student, you didn’t want to be there.

Not much later he arrives and tells everyone that he will share the grades in his office, so all of you should go to have a private talk with him when you have time if you want feedback, and if you don’t, the grades would be in the platform the next day.

The class goes as it usually does, smooth, and silent.

He does a couple questions, and you answer them after no one raises his hand and you leave the five-second space in case anyone else wants to talk first, so everything is as normal as it can be, but instead of feeling relaxed with the time passing, you feel worse.

One of your friends tells you to meet her in the cafeteria after you finish talking with the professor, that she will buy you a coffee to cheer you up, and you smile to pretend you’re okay, but you’re fucking not.

You feel like throwing up while walking to his office, but you haven’t eaten anything since yesterday, what would you throw up at that point?

It doesn’t take too much time for him to tell you to come in after you respectfully knock on his door two times. You hear him moving papers inside when you open the door, and when you walk in, you both say good afternoon before you sit.

He doesn’t search for anything, the paper he had in his hands was yours, as if he knew you would be the first person to go and see him.

‘’Well done’’ it’s all he says.

He gives you a sheet with your grades until that date and you want to feel relaxed because all of them look good, just one, the last one, is not the perfect grade you’re used to, by one point. Then, you look at his eyes, waiting for more words from him, anything, just something, a praise you hope.

‘’Are you okay?’’ he asks you. You don’t need to be a genius to know how your face must look at that moment, pale and unfocused, like any person at the border of fainting.

You’re not about to faint, you’re about to cry, which is even worse.

Your eyes prickle and your shoulders shake. They’re coming, and you wish they didn’t, because they’re the kind that can’t be stopped for a long time.

‘’Yes’’ you say and almost immediately you start crying. ‘’I’m sorry’’.

Eunseok’s eyes open and he circles his desk to meet you. He doesn’t know what to do to help you, you’re shaking, and your tears come out like a flood that nothing will dry.

‘’What’s wrong?’’ you feel he wants to say another word, maybe a baby, but of course, it is not appropriate.

‘’I’m sorry’’ it’s the only thing that comes out of your mouth.

It breaks him to see you like that, his best student, falling apart.

He knows a lot of things, he has a career teaching, yet he’s completely lost there with you shaking in front of him.

His hands move before he can think, which is a stupid move for someone his age, used to always thinking twice before doing anything.

He had to think about taking that position a month before he accepted. He was never one for teaching, more into working on his own. If he had to admit it, he was never into interacting with a bunch of kids even when he was a student, but you had changed his perspective, making him happy to go to work every morning you would sit in his class, knowing someone would happily answer instead of leaving him talking all alone for two hours.

‘’It’s okay’’ he murmurs, caressing your shoulders with his wide palms. ‘’You did good, what’s the problem?’’

You don’t answer him, standing and denying with your head, trying to go to the door.

Looking at your trembling lip and your furrowed eyebrows, his heart flinches, and he doesn’t let you leave, holding you in his arms instead.

Your arms wrap him back, tearing face pressed against his chest while he caresses your hair and lets you sob.

It’s so embarrassing you feel like crying even more, because what would he think of you from that moment on? So pathetic, crying like a child when you were a grown woman.

You’ve tried to look perfect for him for so long, and everything had gone to shit in just a second.

Still, you don’t want to let him go.

He is warm and comforting. His aroma is earthy, woody, manly. His hands feel good against you, one on your back, slowly patting you to soothe you, and the other on the back of your head, feeling your hair. However, the best thing has to be his voice so close to your ear, deep and calming you with the way he doesn’t shush and lets you cry as much as you want.

‘’It’s okay’’ he murmurs, letting you hug him even harder. He doesn’t want to think you’re crying because of him, but what else could be the reason for those fat tears bothering your pretty eyes? ‘’Is it me? Have I done anything to you? Am I being too much?’’ he had never thought he was pushing you that much, but now that he realizes, he had never treated another student, or person, like he had treated you. He wants to excuse himself with the thought of all the potential you have, you’re so smart, he couldn’t treat you as if you were just any student.

But in the end, he reminds himself, you’re just a student. He doubted you had even worked once in your life, because no one working or that thought about other things that weren’t his classes would be able to keep up with everything he was giving you.

You denied his questions, even if it was, you couldn’t tell him it was because of him. It was because of you and your stupid head not letting you sleep with the thought of disappointing him.

‘’No’’ you sob, and your hands grip his shirt, wrinkling the pristine fabric. ‘’It’s just me, I’m sorry’’.

His arms get tighter around you, almost too much. You sniffle to make your cries stop. ‘’It’s okay, I’m sorry too’’ he says because you hadn’t said out loud, but he knows you’re like that because of him.

‘’Please don’t treat me differently’’ you beg because you don’t want him to change. You want to continue receiving his emails with more work, you want him to keep having expectations of you, and you want him to keep being proud of you.

You want to be special to him because he’s special to you. You weren’t like that for any other professor, and not any other treated you like that either.

You have good grades with everyone else, but none of them make you want to give all of you to their courses. You do exactly what’s necessary and then you leave it there. But, again, none of them were him.

It’s not something that you wanted that to happen.

The ability to follow him with your eyes, concentrating on every of his moves while your hands moved on your keyboard on their own was something that had developed with time, like your feelings for him, and everything started with that silly smile gifted to you when you made him a question about something you hadn’t understood in one of the articles.

‘’It’s the first time anyone has asked me about it, I had started to think no one read the material’’ he had said, innocently smiling at you, no idea forming in his head about what your insides felt when he showed it to you.

Everyone said that he was evil, grading all his students without compassion and telling them without an ounce of fear if they didn’t meet his expectations. He said there was only one person who did good in his class all the time, and everyone (including you) knew who that person was even if he didn’t say the name. All that had made you feel things you shouldn’t for him.

Another knock on his door startles you two, and you have to move apart. He looks at you, and one of his hands goes to your cheek to clean the gleaming left by the tears, but you’re faster and clean your eyes with your hands before you say you should leave, not giving him time enough to say anything.

The same afternoon everyone starts to get anxious in the group chat and you silence them. The student who saw you running out of his office says that you were crying, so everyone believes that you flunked, and if you did bad, none of them had hope to even pass.

When your friend calls you and asks why you were crying you say that it was nothing, just stress, and that you didn’t do as bad as everyone thinks.

She believes you because, of course, you're a good girl and you don't have a reason to lie. You have no reason to feel you’ve done anything wrong, but you feel as if you had done something you shouldn’t.

First, you were embarrassed for crying in front of him, but if you had done only that, you doubted you would be having that pressure in the pitch of your abdomen. Then, you recognized what you were feeling, desire, and you definitely shouldn't be feeling that towards your professor.

It’s weird, even if it’s not okay for you to feel that way, you admit to yourself that it felt good to be held by him. He shouldn’t have hugged you, you know that, and you fool yourself thinking it was the only thing he could’ve done in that situation and that he’d have done it with anyone too.

When you receive his email with the extra material you notice that there’s less than usual and that he has written something extra apart from the typical small message listing the titles with a Best regards, Dr. Song.

He starts with a Miss next to your name, and you read it with his voice, hearing him close, just like when he whispered next to your ear. If there is any occasion in which my office or advice is needed, please do not hesitate to come to me, my door is always open.

You don’t know what to say.

You want to say thank you, but an apology feels more correct, and just like in those exams in which you get points deducted for answering wrong, you prefer to not answer at all.

The next class, you sit way in the back, and you don’t answer any of his questions after your five-second stop, to what other students, not daring to let the silent tension stay, start to give short unsatisfactory answers that make Eunseok nod instead of proudly smile.

By the end of it, you slip out of the room with your friends, which is unusual for them since they’re used to waiting for you in the cafeteria.

‘’Don’t you have any question today?’’ one of them asks you.

‘’Not today’’ you say with the excuse of not feeling good, walking faster for them to follow you.

You feel ashamed every time you’re in front of him. The sensation of his arms around you keeps replying in your head, and you shiver when you hear his voice in your head at night. You want him in a way you shouldn’t, and it doesn’t feel like an innocent crush anymore.

You can only continue like that for two more classes before he calls your name and asks you to stay back.

Your friends don’t ask anything, but they direct a suspicious sight at you two. They had joked before saying that you two had a love quarrel when you didn’t answer his questions the second time, which had started to feel weirdly real.

‘’Don’t be silly’’ you laugh. ‘’I just don’t want to stress myself more than necessary anymore.’’

What you say makes sense in everyone’s ears, you really had to chill out, especially after that last crisis.

You nod at them, and they leave without question.

You stay away enough from him, waiting for him to talk. He sees it and sighs, shoving papers into his portfolio without a second look.

‘’I can’t help but notice there’s something different in your participation in class’’ he says. ‘’And I’m sure is related to what happened in my office.’’

‘’Nothing happened Sir, I just haven’t been feeling good’’ you don’t entirely lie. You can’t seem to function around him anymore, even in that moment, you have to resist the need of pressing your thighs to stop that need you’ve developed for his touch since that day.

When he folds his arms in front of his chest and leans back into the big desk, you gulp. He looks so fucking good you can’t pull away your eyes from the way they flex and how they look covered by his simple black shirt with the first button open.

‘’I expected more from you Miss’’ he says, and you, like instinct, feel incredibly bad again.

‘’I’m- I’m sorry’’ you say, trying to stop your eyes from prickling again.

He notices your change. It’s not hard to recognize. Suddenly, you become smaller, and you blink faster, biting the inside of your cheek.

‘’I’m not scolding you’’ he clarifies. His hand gets closer to you, touching the border of your hoodie to get your attention on him instead of the floor. You didn’t notice the way you had moved your eyes from his arms to the floor, and when you see his focused eyes on your face, you feel vulnerable. ‘’You’re my student and if you’re acting this different, I can’t ignore it’’ his eyes are on yours and his thumb and his index are still holding your clothes, playing with the fabric, ‘’I just want to know you’re okay’’.

Warmness floods you. You want to hug him again, you want him to hold you, and for him to whisper that everything is okay over your ear. No, now, you want more than a simple hug.

‘’I’ll do better Sir, I’m sorry’’ you say, and he feels you’re saying the truth this time, so he slowly nods, and his hand leaves you.

You have to gulp the whimper that wants to leave your throat after he smiles at you.

You’re fucking disgusting you tell yourself when that night you want to find relief with him in your mind.

The next days are full of pain. You want to feel him so bad you don’t even know what to do anymore. Your hands are not enough, and the hands of the boy you had let touch you on that stupid Tinder date weren’t enough either.

You had started to answer his questions in class again, lifting his mood and freeing everyone from the uncomfortable moment of having to talk to fill the silence.

‘’Did you reconcile?’’ someone jokes.

‘’We never fought to start’’ you laugh and push their shoulder to leave you alone. ‘’I just want to keep my good profile and my grades’’.

Wanting to be closer to him, you’ve even volunteered to help him grade his tests, reason why you were on his office’s couch at that moment, with a thousand papers spraddled in the little coffee table in front of you and a hand full of red tint marks.

You have less time for yourself now that you’re his little assistant, but you continue reading everything he sends you at night, feeling a bit more tired from the lack of hours of sleep.

Still, everything is worth it when you receive his texts asking for your help or when you buy yourself a cup of overly sweet coffee with the card full of coffee cash he had gifted you.

‘’For your time’’ he timidly slid the gift card to you, and you couldn’t believe your eyes because you were sure no professor gave their assistants anything at all.

You wanted to say no, and you were about to, but the wide smile on your face had been faster than your brain.

‘’I was afraid you were going to reject it’’ he laughed, showing you a new face of him you hadn’t seen before. When he truly laughs, you notice, his cheekbones become more notorious, and his grin is big, showing a bit of the gummy area of his teeth, to what you tell yourself, you wouldn’t dare to deny him anything anymore.

Waking up to the sound of your alarm, you see that it is not the alarm for waking up, but the one that tells you to go out if you don’t want to lose the bus.

You get ready quicker than ever, only brushing your teeth and running out, thanking the world that you took a late-night shower just in case.

Your look is terrible, not that you dress nicely every day, but not as bad as that day, and the world you thanked before seems to laugh at you now, making you lose your bus and making you spend money that you don’t have as cab fare.

When you arrive, you’re almost an hour late, and you don’t dare to push the door open, watching through the little window how your professor is already talking loudly inside.

Eunseok doesn’t turn to you, and you prefer that. You know that he’s exigent with times, he doesn’t even give extra minutes to people that talk too much in presentations. We have to respect everyone’s times he has said on too many occasions for you to forget.

It’s the first time you’re late to his class, and you blame yourself for not putting in more alarms when you went to sleep so late after reading the last paper he had sent you.

You don’t dare to stay there; you don’t even dare to go to the only coffee shop around to wait until your next class because you feel undeserving of spending the coffee money he had given you. You walk to the library with sad eyes and hide in the archaeology section to cry.

No one studies archaeology in your school so you cry in peace until you receive a couple of texts from your friends asking where you are and one from him.

Are you okay? you read.

Yes, I’m sorry, you reply.

Come to my office.

You knock on his door and wait for him to talk even when he has told you multiple times to just go in if you don’t hear voices inside, but you still don’t dare to do it.

‘’Come in’’ he says, and you finally open the door. You don’t walk inside as soon as he talks. He’s ruffling between documents, and you first stand and just look at him from where you are, and then, when he makes eye contact with you, you close the door behind you and give a few steps closer, leaving your bag on his coffee table before you sit in front of him. He waits for you to talk and when he notices that you won’t, he does it, ‘’What happened?’’

‘’I was late…’’ you say, ‘’It’s my fault, I’m sorry’’.

‘’But why? Did anything happen to you on the way here? I need you to talk to me, I don’t know what happened to you if you don’t’’ what he says makes sense, but you feel like saying more would be making excuses. Your parents hate excuses and have always taught you to only say what’s necessary if you’ve done something wrong. In this case, you’re sure you did something wrong.

‘’I’m sorry’’ your breath starts to get harder, and your eyes get a bit wet.

He stands up and walks to you. You think he’s going to lean on the desk like he usually does when he explains something to the room, but he surprises you by moving your seat and caging you in it, slightly bending and inspecting your face.

‘’I’ll repeat my question, and I want you to stop saying you’re sorry’’ he talks, obliging you to maintain your eyes on his with how close he is. ‘’Did anything happen to you when you were coming here?’’

‘’No’’ you answer like you can.

‘’Then what happened?’’ he asks.

‘’I-I fell asleep’’ you finally say.

He sighs, looking relieved, however, you think he sighs because that's the worst reason you could’ve given, and that makes you more embarrassed.

‘’No, wait, it’s okay’’ he smiles when your eyebrows frown to contain what he recognizes as dangerous tears with how shiny your eyes are getting. ‘’Such a crybaby’’ he laughs then, cupping the side of your cheek and cleaning one of the tears that escaped with his thumb.

‘’I’m-‘’

‘’For fucks sake, stop saying you’re sorry, you’ve done nothing to be sorry for’’ he interrupts you before you finish talking and you have to contain another sorry inside your chest. ‘’Sorry’’ he says, making you smile without knowing why. ‘’I’m just glad nothing bad happened to you, I was so worried the whole time, it’s the first time you’ve ever been absent from my class.’’

‘’I was almost an hour late’’ with his palms still on your cheeks, you felt a lot calmer, ‘’I know you don’t like late showers, so I didn’t dare to knock on the door’’.

‘’Oh doll, you should know by now that you’re always the exception.’’

He’s so tender with you, and his voice is so comforting, that you want to close your eyes and just stay with him in that position.

So, you do it, you close your eyes and exhale through your nose, feeling all anxiety disappear from your insides, and you only open them again because Eunseok is kissing you, and you can’t believe what you’re feeling.

The kiss is so soft. His lips feel perfect against yours, smooth and slightly damp. You don’t know what makes you so bold, but your hands go to his neck to not let him move away. At first it was superficial, just lips touching, to then get deeper after you showed equal eagerness.

It’s not much after, as if both of you had been needing to feel each other for a long time, that his tongue caresses your lips to make you accept him, which you do immediately.

The kiss is getting so messy that for a second, he has to breathe over your mouth. Both breaths are hot and fall over each other’s open mouths, making you let a low moan out with the sensation.

Everything is really happening, and you feel your panties get wet with his simple kiss.

He takes your breath again with a groan, making you stand from your seat to pose his hands on your back and press you against his body.

You whimper feeling his belt pinch you and his hand on your back getting lower. Your hands want to do something, so instead of staying still on his neck, they go to feel his hair.

Even his hair felt good.

Silk on your hands, you let him press his thigh on your sex, moving your hips to feel him more.

‘’Fuck, this is so not okay’’ he frowns, lips going to attack your neck while you close your eyes and let him move your hips to meet his thigh and make you more of a mess inside your pants. He stops for a minute, frowning because of how his common sense screams that what he's doing is wrong in so many aspects.

‘’No- don’t stop, please’’ you beg in a whisper. You can’t be loud, you know that what you’re doing is not okay, yet you’ve been needing him for so long, you can’t stop him, and he doesn't want either.

‘’Such a good girl, always making me so proud, fuck, I won’t be able to let you go’’ he says, retaking his past action and making you hump him with both of his hands pushing your hips back and forth his tailored pants.

They’re black, simple, elegant, like him, and you want to cry because it feels like a dream.

‘’Always being so good to me, you’re gonna cum for me like this, right?’’ he asks, biting the side of your neck, making your eyes roll with how close you are to finding your orgasm.

You can’t talk or you’ll moan, you know your body, so you bite your lip and nod while gripping onto his shirt.

His chest is big, and you can’t help but rub your own to his. There, you notice that your sports bra and your hoodie do nothing to impede your hard nipples from feeling good.

He must notice the way you desperately need his attention on your chest, so one of his hands goes from your hip to directly touch you under your shirt.

‘’My pretty girl, can’t believe I’ve endured so long without touching you’’ you can’t believe he calls you pretty when at that moment you feel you look like shit, but he proves you wrong, groping your chest with need, fondling it, to then play with your nipple. His thumb is sweeping it with experience, making you dizzy with all the stimulations together.

Your cunt clenches when you press your clit on his leg, you start to hump him on your own, setting your own pace to cum, and opening your eyes to look at his face, you see shiny white dots.

Your drunken expression makes him let a breathy laugh free, and you cum with a louder whimper the moment you see his smile directed at you.

He stops his attention on your chest and lets you ride down your high while lovingly caressing your back and holding you in his arms.

You need a minute before all clearance is back in your mind and shame starts invading you because you just… well, you haven’t fucked, but you know you’ve done a lot more than a simply making out session.

Your trembling legs and the mess inside your pants are enough proof of that. You’ve never felt anything close to that in your life, so good you had no doubt you could get easily addicted.

Shame is not enough to stop you, and feeling his erection against your abdomen, you feel bad for being the only one who has had an orgasm.

‘’I- I want to make you feel good too’’ you say, inhaling his aroma and hiding your face on his shoulder.

‘’We can’t do more…’’ his arms get tighter around you, not letting you get away before he can finish, knowing the ideas that were already forming in your head about him not wanting to touch you. ‘’Not here.’’

You nod relieved.

Your phone starts ringing, and he lets you get apart enough for you to grab it out of your pocket to see who’s calling you. It’s your alarm for your next class.

‘’Busy?’’ he asks, reading the clear Math II that appears on your screen.

‘’Nah’’ you say. You hate math, and you like Eunseok, so it’s not hard to choose between them. Shoving your phone in the back pocket of your jeans, you press your body to his and hug him again.

He laughs and his hands move from the small of your back to your ass, to where your phone is, and he gives you a soft smack on the free area.

‘’Go to class, can’t let my star student get distracted if I want to keep showing off how good you do in mine’’ he says, and you feel so happy with the idea of him talking about you with others that you become weaker in his arms. ‘’I’ll call you later.’’

You reluctantly move apart from his arms when he pushes you to the door and gives you your bag. In front of his door, before he opens it for you, he gives you a long-lasting kiss that feels more like a peck. Then, pushing you out softly, he makes you leave his office, and when you turn back to see him one last time, he’s smiling at you, which makes you smile the rest of the day too.

#riize smut #riize x reader #eunseok x reader #eunseok smut #riize fluff

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boydepartment · 6 months

Note

hii :)) i saw ur requests and since i love how you do your piece of work, i was wondering if u could do enha texts when their partner (y/n) is failing one of their subjects at school? or smth like that? thank you!

enha texts + scenarios- when you’re failing your class!

a/n: OMG OF COURSE ANON!!! i really hope you aren’t failing any of your classes :( but i get it trust me. i am not very academic i’ll be fr

warnings- cursing

MASTERLIST

jungwon-

jungwon immediately after comes out of his room to watch you and jake try to tackle this math assignment. you were not wrong jake was terrifying while explaining calculus. eventually jungwon got bored and saw you needed a break so you both took a late night walk and got ice cream :)

heeseung-

heeseung surprisingly helped you a lot with your work. he doubted himself greatly but when it came to it he really did help you. he would read your books, try to get a grasp, and then explain it to you. heeseung is also super reassuring and holds your hand softly while explaining things.

jay-

making your studying session a competition was absolutely genius. jay had the rest of enha join the jeopardy game and it helped A TON. you would remember things because someone did something stupid and it’d trigger the memory in your head. eventually your grade rose and jay took you out 🫶

jake-

jake felt awful holding you in his arms and listening to you stress over school. he understood. as much as he enjoyed learning and growing, the numbers and grades always stressed him out to. it felt wrong to put a grade on learning. jake from this point forward made it his absolute goal to help you with whatever schooling you needed help with. to him it was a win win, he got to learn and help his favorite person.

sunghoon-

sunghoon didn’t know your history work from atom. he felt horrible that he couldn’t help as much as a tutor or something. however, he didn’t know all you needed was just someone there. your studying went smoothy with sunghoon leaning on you and feeding you when needed. he’d always remind you to eat and drink, to be honest you believed you only passed because of him taking care of you.

sunoo-

right when sunoo found out you were failing he immediately went to riki and begged him to help you with your language work. you were taking japanese and no matter how good you were at it the teacher just was not it. so you obviously needed extra help. sunoo hated to see you struggling so he would sit there next to you while riki attempted to help you as much as he could. if either of you got frustrated sunoo would have a 15 min break which consisted of ice cream and playing with your hair. then it was back to work

riki-

having riki in your home while you attempted to write an essay sounds like a nightmare. but to be honest, all he did was lay on you and go on tiktok as you typed away. you’d ask questions about a certain topic and he would look it up then text you the article for the bibliography page too. he really did help you even if he had no clue what the fuck MLA formatting was

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shiny-jr · 10 months

Text

Get you a guy with thighs bigger than yours.

- Warning: Gender-neutral reader.

- Characters: König.

- Summary: Thick thighs do not save lives.

- Note: This came about because I was just talking crazy in the dms with a mutual. I originally wasn't going to ever let this see the light of day, but then I decided, why the hell not? If I get smacked with delayed embarrassment, I'll just delete. Yeah, I know this isn't what I usually write and post, but oh well. Anyways, after this, we will be back to our regular scheduled content shortly. Oh, and sorry for minor mistakes, I wrote this like at midnight.

. . .

You decided to put a movie on. Just for a distraction. After about an hour into the movie, the leather couch got a bit uncomfortable since it stuck to your skin. So you slunk down to the floor, bringing a pillow or two down with you to use in case extra comfort was needed. The movie was beginning to lose your attention, but you still watched the screen attentively as if you were still focused on the film's plot.

What ended up catching your attention, was the slight shifting couch. Well, slight probably wasn't the correct word, as the movement was anything but light. It was safe to assume the shifting was from a guy who was well over 200 Ibs and a few inches short of 7 ft, although you didn't know the exact numbers because you never wanted to ask König outright.

It was easier to hear the movement, as the large figure scoot a few inches over. Instead of sitting beside you like he was a few seconds earlier, he had not so discreetly moved to take your vacant spot and sit directly behind you. He tried to stay quiet, he really did, but it wasn't so easy for him given his size. At the very least, he treaded carefully, not bumping your back once with his legs or accidentally knocking the back of your skull with his kneecaps.

You didn't move, but your eyes slowly glanced downward, where you could see the tip of his boots. Custom made, as most department stores didn't carry anything in his size. Most articles of clothing he had were custom-made or bought in special stores, save for that odd black diy mask he often wore over his head like a hood to hide himself from the world. Too afraid to lean back and accidentally make contact and disturb this fragile peace, you remain still despite the slight ache in your lower back that make you want to lean back and stretch. But you don't. All you could do was try to revert your attention back to the movie and not think any unholy thoughts, that is, until you heard more movement.

To not bump his knees against you, Konig spread his legs a bit and leaned down. The edges of his homemade cloth mask brushed against your back as you stiffened up, and you could make out the shape of his head beside yours as he whispered, "Do you, uh, want some...?"

Yes. "What???"

"Popcorn? Do you want some popcorn...??"

Oh.

After deciding whether or not you'd accept his offer, silence ensued, only fueled by the movie playing on the television. You weren't gonna lie, you have no idea what the hell was going on in the story anymore. A solid minute passed when he spoke again, sounding just as unsure as the first time. He spoke, as if whatever thoughts he had on his mind earlier where left to simmer for long enough.

"Scheiße. Sorry, should I have not moved here...? You can still lean back if you want?"

"Oh, okay... I, um, I'll do that."

Your back was starting to ache a little from sitting up without support, so, feeling just as awkward as he was feeling, you leaned your back against the couch. Instantly, as soon as you did that, your peripheral vision was covered by his knees and part of his legs. The movie was pretty much pointless now, as you were currently wondering whether you should thank whatever gods existed or curse them for the fact that König did not have shorts on. Even without shorts and with specially fitted cargo pants, they could not conceal the insane bulk of his legs. Especially his thighs. Good lord. The two pillows you brought down before from the couch were essentially useless now because on each side of your head were his limbs that rivaled the best of My Pillow.

Think of something else, anything else, is what you tried to tell yourself.

That idea would go out the window as soon as you felt something in your hair. Carefully twisting a few strands, you felt some thick and calloused fingers gently try and feel the texture of your hair. But it lasted only for a brief second, as he immediately pulled his hands away and murmured a tiny bit louder from his whisper earlier, "Ah, sorry, I should've asked first. I should not have done that. I am sorry––"

"It's okay, I... don't mind." You shrugged it off, and much to your surprise and contentment, he continued.

The first few seconds had a bit more hesitancy, but as time ticked by, seconds turned to minutes, his boldness increased. It started with his large hands carefully feeling the texture of your hair, then it became slow brush strokes as his thick fingers ever-so-carefully untangled knots in your stands of hair. Until eventually it escalated, and he gathered the courage to do something so bold as to scratch your skull. He could easily take your entire face in one hand and crush your skull, but he didn't. There was no sign of any such roughness. Instead, his fingers and nails continued to comb through your hair, lightly scratching your scalp. At first when he did this, he paused, and waited for any objections or signals of a negative reaction, but after no such thing, he continued and seemed pleased.

It was after about five-minutes and heavy mental debating in your mind that you decided to suck it up and go for it. What's the worst that could happen? Honestly, you didn't even expect to make it this far.

So, after taking in a breath, you let your head fall to the side. It wasn't like those romantic scenes where you watch the character lean their head against a love interest's shoulder. Oh no, you were skipping that part, your ear landed right on his thigh. Which was probably due to the cushion you placed underneath you on the floor that elevated you a few extra inches, or else you might've missed. In that moment, right as the side of your head landed on its intended target, you felt him freeze. His fingers stopping, nails still on your scalp. A second passed, then two, then three, like time froze.

You were almost tempted to pry yourself off and apologize, but you really didn't want to. But you had to ask. "Is this alright...?"

"J-Ja... I mean, yes..."

Your eyes widened, and you were sure you had on some goofy kinda grin but at least you weren't facing him so he couldn't tell. Once you heard his response, your shoulders slumped, relieved of tension you didn't even know you were carrying.

Even with your head against his thigh that wasn't plush but was still definitely comfortable, you realize you were no better than a man as you resisted the urge to just reach out and squeeze his other thigh that had gotten closer without you even realizing it. You had to dig your nails into your knee to prevent yourself from acting on impulse.

It was definitely almost pure muscle from what you could tell with your head on one of them. Firm but somehow still soft. Thick thighs, in fact, do not save lives, because these thighs have ended who knows how many between them in finishing moves on the battlefield. Lucky bastards. Trying your luck agian, you place a shaky hand on his other thigh, but he didn't react. A good sign? Possibly?

Forget goth gfs and thick plush thighs, apparently giant anxious austrian soldiers with thighs as thick as tree trunks and strong enough to obliterate skulls like melons were the new fad.

Movie totally forgotten, your vision was entirely covered when König leaned down a bit from his spot on the couch and you tilted your head to look up and meet his gaze. The masked man stared at you, his blue eyes peering down at you through the two small slits cut into his mask for his eyes to see. His mask partially dangled, but not fully, so not revealing himself to you. When your gaze traveled away, abruptly his thighs got closer, squishing your cheeks and the sides of your face but not enough to hurt. Just a bit of pressure to get you to look up again.

Oh god.

There was literally no space between your face and his legs anymore, and your arms instinctively went to the outer side of his thighs to try and pry them apart a bit. You didn't try much, maybe because you enjoyed it or because you didn't exactly have strength strong enough to rival his, so all you could do was clutch the pockets of his cargo pants that were just above his knees, your nails digging in softly just to get a quick feel.

Once he saw he had your attention again after he applied a bit of pressure, he cocked his head to the side and continued to look down at you through half-lidded eyes darkened by the shadow of his hood. Then he spoke, but this time with no apprehension in his quiet tone.

"You do know I've ruined others that were in a similar position to what you are in right now?"

#konig #konig mw2 #konig cod #konig call of duty #konig x reader #konig modern warfare #cod konig #konig x you #konig x y/n #könig #könig cod #könig x reader #könig mw2 #könig call of duty #könig x you #könig x y/n

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norrisleclercf1 · 1 year

Text

Thief

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Warnings: SMUT! Pure smut, dirty talk, name calling, p in v, sexting, public acts, Lando has a big dick (deal with it), I’m sure I missed some more

Rating: R

Words: 2.9K

Requested: Yes/No

Request: Hiiii! Im not sure if you're taking requests currently but if you are then could you write a piece where Lando makes a video pranking the reader by hiding all of her tshirts/tops or any piece of garment and when she asks him where her clothes are gone he just acts innocent like he knows nothing This could lead onto to anything tbh, i wouldn't mind some 18 rated content after this and i wouldn't even mind it being warning less tysmmm and love your writings ✨✨❤️

A/N: I’m going to hell for this one, still learning how to write good smut, I think I’m getting there. Anyways this got away from me, and kinda changed the request, but I hope you like it

"Lando! Where is my favorite bra?" You yell loudly at your boyfriend. Lando rips his headphones off down the hall in his game room.

"What?" He yells back. He leans back in his chair and pauses the video game, and thankfully he wasn't streaming today.

"My bra? My favorite bra it's missing. Have you seen it?" You ask, voice getting closer until you appear before him, only wearing this eyelash lingerie bottom. It was black and baby pink with the cloth covering you see-through, and damn, he was delighted he wasn't streaming today.

"Baby, fuck, trying to kill me?" Lando asks, trying hard not to pull you into his lap, lay you on the desk, and eat you out until you forget your name.

"Lando, not now. I can't find my favorite bra; it goes with this set." You whine, annoyed you've lost yet another piece of clothing.

For the past two months, you have lost clothing here and there; it's started to get you, especially after losing this bra. You don't know what's been happening, maybe from all the traveling you do with Lando, you've lost clothing, but you never let this bra out of your sight, and this time it's the piece of clothing you lose.

"We just returned from Australia, and maybe you left it at the hotel? I can buy you a new one." He shrugs, trying not to stare at your chest.

"Lan, I was wearing it on the plane; you ripped it off me when we got home." You groan, pulling your hair and storming down the hallway to your shared bedroom.

Lando lets out his signature giggle and looks down at the left corner of his desk, the familiar baby pink poking out slightly. For the two months you've believed you have lost the articles of clothing, Lando was the one the entire time stealing them slowly. It started as a silly joke, but he couldn't help but keep doing it as the weeks passed. He's kept the clothes hidden throughout the apartment and shakes his head, glad he took this piece.

You stomp back into the bedroom and look around the room for the bra, even looking in Lando's drawers. You pull the clothing out and stop, seeing your favorite cami.

"Fucker." You whisper, everything clicking when you see other pieces of your clothing.

"Fine, you wanna fuck with me, alright then. Game on." You mumble and decide to change your outfit for girls' night.

Heading to the back of your closet, you pull out something you haven't worn since you started dating Lando. At first, you stopped wearing it out of respect for your relationship, but then you forgot you owned it until you started looking for your lost clothes.

It was this soft peach-colored halter drawstring bodycon mini dress that had a thin piece of cloth tied together to hide your breast and two strings on each side to hold the skirt closed on your hips, but it did leave a gap on your waist, showing everyone you didn't have underwear on. You grab these light nude ankle strappy heels for the shoes and do them up. Wearing them, you'd be slightly taller than your boyfriend, but tonight he wouldn't be with you, so it didn't matter. You do these light but sexy makeup look to go with the dress's color and throw your hair up the way you love when you go out.

"Lando, I'm leaving!" You yell down the hall, waiting for a reply, but you don't get one. Groaning in annoyance, you walk down the hall and see he's distracted by the video game.

Opening your mouth to get his attention, you stop thinking about how to punish him for the prank he's been pulling on you for two months. You tiptoe behind him before falling on your knees and sliding under the desk. Lando has no idea you are there and decides to click on his Twitch account and start to stream. You hear the familiar tune and stop for a second, thinking if you should do this and smirk. Payback is a bitch. You wait till he is utterly unaware before you trail your hand up his thigh, making him jump almost out of his chair.

"Fu-." He slaps a hand over his mouth to stop him from cussing, he wants to say something, but there is no way he can pull you out from under the desk without the video going utterly viral.

You put a finger to your lips, silencing him as he gently sits back down and makes up an excuse on how he felt something tickling his leg and spooked. Rolling your eyes, you ghost his leg before settling it in his lap; Lando turns bright red but says it's just hot in the room.

Palming him slowly, you smirk when you feel him twitch and grow hard under your hand. You always love how he reacts to your touch, even if it is simple and innocent, except this time, it isn't. Lando tries hard not to respond; he has to save face, but you're making it hard on him. When you're content with how stiff he's grown, you unzip his jeans, making him squirm as he shifts and pulls his pants and boxers down slightly. You watch as it lays in his lap and feel your own self growing wet.

This idea would backfire, but you knew what to do and how to stop it. Lando was big, not like, holy shit, he's enormously big, but enough to need to prep before taking him. You loved that about him. He never brags about what he's packing and keeps it to himself. So the first time you fooled around and felt it, you were taken aback, making him laugh at your confusion.

You swallow slightly, trying to relax your throat and lean forward, swiping your tongue from his balls to the tip of his cock. Lando's knees jerk upward and crash into the desk, and you have to cover your mouth to stop the giggles as he slams himself forward to the desk making sure no one can see a thing.

He keeps playing the game, trying hard not to shove his cock down your throat for how you act, but he lets you be in control, or else everyone would know what was happening right now. You make the motion again, except you suck his tip into your mouth and flatten your tongue, letting him feel your warmth. He reaches down and wraps his fingers behind your neck, urging you to take more of him, which you down, loving his weight in your throat.

Biting his lip to stop the pornographic moan about to leave his lips, he squeezes his eyes shut and takes a few deep breaths trying to reign in his control.

"Sorry guys, just not feeling too hot, but I'm okay. Trust me. I'm very much okay." His voice wobbles and about dies there when you start to bob your head.

You switch between swirling your tongue around his base as you bob your head and then pulling off and sucking on his tip. You know he's close when his twitches in your mouth and the vein underneath becomes visible.

"Alright, I've got to go, guys. Bye!" He yells and frantically turns everything off, and when you hear it power down, you pull off, making him moan loudly.

"Fucking Christ, sunshine, what the hell?" He yells, mixed between anger and wanting to cum.

You climb out from underneath as he turns into a stuttering mess at what you're wearing. Fixing your dress, you look down at your boyfriend.

"I've got to go; late meeting the girls." You smile innocently and peck his lips, walking down the hall.

You giggle, hearing his feet chase after you. "Wait, you can't leave just yet." He groans, and you turn around, acting confused.

"Why not?" You ask cocking your head to the side.

"I....I didn't finish." He blushes, making you almost crack, but you hold firm and sigh, standing up straight.

Turning the door handle, you smirk at him as he stares at you. "Welcome to the club." Slamming the door fast, you bolt for the elevator before he can follow you.

It was a low blow, but it wasn't true. Lando always made sure to finish you off and hated when you couldn't; of course, he understood that it took some time for people and came pretty easy for others. You laid in the middle and just prayed Lando could realize it was a joke. But, if it riled him up even more, it was perfect.

Getting to the bar took a little time, but you were able to plan even more. You found your friends, and drinks were already going around the table. Talking and drinking helped you get your mind off your boyfriend until your thoughts drifted back to Lando and how he felt in your mouth. Pathetic would be the word you'd use to describe your state.

Sliding off the stool, you go to the bathroom and go to the sink, freshening up and wiping away the alcohol on you. For the first time that night, you look at your phone and see multiple texts from Lando.

I hope for your benefit and ability to walk, you were joking earlier

Y/n, please let me know if you're okay

Fuck, I'm still stiff and I want nothing more than to bury myself inside you

When you get home, be prepared not to leave or walk for a while

If you need me to pick you up, say the word

Giggling at the back and forth between the sweet, protective boyfriend and the very horny 23-year-old, you decide to rile him up even more before texting him to come to get you.

Looking around the bathroom, you see no one as you walk into a stall and lock the door. You unlock your phone and spread your legs; hitting the record button, you give him a light tease of your fingers trailing up your thigh before disappearing under your dress. From the angle, all you could see was your hand up your clothing. Before pulling the skirt up, Lando would get a clear view of your pussy swallowing your fingers. Breathy moans leave your mouth as you move your fingers in and out, showing off how wet you are for him.

"Lando." You whine, speeding up your fingers and starting to speed them up, moans becoming louder and louder with each passing moment.

You hit the record button again, ending it as you pull your fingers out slowly, you weren't one to edge yourself, but it was only fair, with what you did to Lando, that you wait too.

Hitting send you to watch as it's delivered, and Lando opens the text immediately.

Come get me

That is all that is attached to the message, you don't get a reply from Lando, but you don't need one to know he'd be here before you walk out. Lando is always nearby when you drink, ensuring you're okay and safe. Your friends found it weird, but to you, it was his way of keeping you safe and protected from the creeps in the world.

You don't even say anything to your friends as you see Lando's car and him leaning against the car. You smile but stop short, seeing him wear an all-black outfit with the first few buttons undone and his curls curling. He was playing dirty too.

"Let's go home." Grabbing your hand, he pulls you into him, making you breathless as he kisses you deeply. His hands landed on your ass and squeezed it before landing a playful slap on it, making you moan in his mouth.

"Mhm." Your eyes are closed as he opens your door and helps you in; he comes over to the driver's side and starts the car driving back to his place.

You both sit silently before you look at him and poke more fun.

"A guy asked for my number at the bar before I sent the video." You sigh, and out of the corner of your eye, you see his hand tighten on the wheel.

"Really? Was it me or him that made you do that in the bathroom?" His voice was calm and collected but very close to snapping.

"Him, a gorgeous millionaire, was thinking of getting on my knees for him too." You giggle, and Lando shakes his head, pulling into the parking garage.

"Come on, let's go upstairs." He smiles, kissing your hand and jogging to the other side to help you out of the car.

Walking to the elevator, Lando pulls you close to him by the hip and waits for the elevator to take you upstairs. You notice he's using the hidden elevator that puts you in his penthouse instead of walking the hallway. Stepping into the elevator, he slams you against the wall, making you whine as his hand holds your throat, not tight but enough to make you squirm.

"Sunshine, you better tread lightly. First, you blow me, but I'm not able to finish in that gorgeous mouth of yours, then you wear this slutty dress that makes me want to bury my balls in you, and lastly, that video. You've been bad." He groans, his free hand playing with the loose string holding the front of your dress together.

"M' sorry." You whine, bucking your hips up to get some friction, but Lando pins you to the wall holding you still with his own body.

"No, you're not, gorgeous." He whispers, kissing your neck before biting and sucking a mark into your skin, showing off how you're his.

His hand grazes the string before pulling it, your tits falling out as Lando moans cupping one of them, loving how soft they were.

"Don't take your time. Just fuck me like I'm your whore." You whimper, still dry-humping Lando.

He chuckles, and you hear the jingle of his belt as he leans down, sucking your tit into his mouth. The elevator door opens as you both stumble over each other before he bends you over the couch.

"You want to tease and make me jealous, and then I will do that. Who do you belong to?" He asks, taking the tip of his cock and rubbing it over your wet folds, trying hard not to come from the way you moved your hips, trying to get him in you.

"Fuck me, Lando, please." You whine, but it becomes a scream when Lando enters you in one fluid movement.

He usually gives you time to adjust slowly as he slides in you, but tonight he was different. The thought of anyone catching you in the bathroom and while he was streaming, he was furious at other men seeing you that way.

"Are you okay?" He asks, bending over your back; the pressure of his weight on you makes you lustful.

"Yes, I'm okay." Smiling at how he was still thinking of your comfort, he never wants to hurt you, but that kindness is replaced with the burning jealousy of your boyfriend.

"Fuck, how are you still tight when you like to act like a whore." He groans, ramming his hips into your ass as you moan as he hits each nerve perfectly.

"Jesus Lando!" You cry as he wraps a hand around your neck, pulling you up so his chest and back are flushed as he spreads your legs farther apart.

His head rests between your shoulder and neck as he sucks and bites more marks into your neck, marking his territory. He stops, making you gasp, finally catching some air before he pulls out of you, lays you on the couch, and steps between your legs. He arches his body over you and lifts your legs to lay them on his shoulders. Lando leans down and kisses you gently before sliding into you, making you whimper at how he fills you up.

"Lando, please, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have; please just let me come," You cry, unable to handle it anymore as his thumb rubs your swollen clit as he moves in and out, carefully dragging it out.

But you knew he was close too, he had this look of concentration on his face making you laugh out loud, and his eyes snapped to yours at your laughter.

"What are you laughing at?" He asks and slams into you, making your laughter turn to a breathy moan.

"You want to come too? You have this look like you're trying not to come." You tease, and Lando loses his serious face and smiles, biting his lip.

"Shut up; I can't help it. I could come to just at your smile. I can't help it. You left me with blue balls." Kissing you gently as you both moan when you squeeze around him.

"Damn." He mumbles as he starts to speed up, leaving you both breathless as he takes your other tit into his mouth, sucking and kissing as your fingers dig into his hair, loving the way his necklace dangles between the two of you as his thumb rubs harder, making your muscle tighten.

"Co-coming!" You cry as you fall apart underneath him, and Lando still as his orgasm crashes into him. Both of you left your mouths open, gasping for air.

"I love you." He whispers as your fingers hook his necklace and pull him in for a kiss.

"I love you too; also, stop stealing my clothes. If you want me naked, you could smile at me." Making him laugh as he pulls out of you and picks you up like nothing.

"Alright then, new rule. No clothes." Laughing as you roll your eyes, kissing his cheek.

"Deal." Making Lando smile at you, you weren't kidding, and his smile was pantie-drop-worthy.

3K notes · View notes

cherry-leclerc · 4 months

Text

method acting ☆ cl16

genre: series - humor, strangers to friends/roommates

word count: 5.1k

cherry here!... first req that turns into a mini series and I'M SO EXCITED. the idea was perfect and i really hope you all enjoy this little story based off one of the best films :) common changes and adjustments are made for the plot but HAPPY READING

*can you guess what film it's based off of? where the title originates from?

ch. one ch. two ch. three ch. four ch. five ch. six

Chapter 1

Life, as you fear, is falling apart as you're confronted with a serious case of writer's block that puts your career on the line. As a solution, you're roommate helps you plan a solo trip to the Amalfi Coast for a much needed break but it doesn't take long for you to meet a certain Monegasque who lays passed out on the beach.

Parents know best - at least that’s what we’re all told growing up. How about bioengineering? Cardiothoracic surgeon? Architecture? With braces and a messy fishtail, you shake your head profusely as you clutch onto your notebook.

"No. Journalism."

“Why didn’t I listen to my mom?” Groaning, you rub your tired hands all over your face as your roommate stares back, bewildered by your sudden frustration.

“You’re telling me doing open heart surgery would have been better than writing an article?”

Aiming a pencil at her, you gasp as you cover your mouth and she squints her brown eyes at you. “I am so sorry!” Running up, you hug her desperately. “I’m just stressed, I’m stressed, I’m stressed!” You pull away. “I’m stressed.”

Amelia chuckles as she sits down on a stool, pointing for you to do the same. “You, my serial killer friend, need a break.” You frown at her choice of words. If I take a break then I’m going to get fired. She smiles brightly. “You won’t though.”

You can distinctively pinpoint the moment a ripped up journal turned into a laptop. It was senior year of highschool and you finally had the courage to confront your parents and tell them that you, if fact, were not joking about your bachelors in journalism.

"Darling, how will you make a living out of something like that?"

For a moment, her words had you second guessing your choices. Could she be onto something? Know something perhaps you don’t? The older, the wiser, no?

But you had already applied - it was done. So you tipped your head firmly, clicked your tongue against your straight teeth, and smiled.

"I’ll find a way."

You moan softly as you hit your forehead with the palm of your hand. “What I would give to just be an elementary school teacher…Grading papers, cute kids-”

“Shit everywhere, tantrums, headaches, signs of early aging - oh God - receding hairline!” Amelia pales as she scrunches her nose in disgust. “Nightmare.” The blonde reaches for your hands, intertwining her fingers into yours. “But this is your dream, it’s what you're good at. Don’t let a little writer's block scare you away.”

“Goodness gracious! Are you alright?” Lucy’s southern accent surprises you as you fix your crutches. The older lady had been working at the famous magazine company since you can remember, always a cheerful receptionist. Loud, too.

You wince. “Oh, you know…clumsy me?”

"Eleanor is never going to let me take a vacation. I would have to die first."

Amelia’s eyes twinkle deviously.

"Then that’s what we’ll do."

"Die?"

“It’s okay, I could open it myself,” you yelp as Lucy swings the door to your boss’ office. Let me, she insists as she pushes you in. Tumbling, you hurry to fix your posture as you nervously giggle, beady eyes staring back at your rude interruption. “I had no idea you were in the middle of a meeting.”

Eleanor and a crowded room all look you up and down before she sighs. “You’re already here, what is it that you need?” You shudder at her cold tone.

“I- uh- I mean, if it’s possible, I was t-thinking I could maybe get a m-m-month off?”

Oh no, someone whispers as they catch the editor-in-cheifs face change. Your stomach drops. Or not, I’m fine! The gray haired lady stands up as she tauntingly makes her way over, circling you like a hungry lion. “And why do you need a month off?”

“Doctor’s orders?”

She hums, analyzing your casted leg and left arm. “I’m sure you can type with your right hand. Off you go.” You blink. Once she takes a seat, she narrows her eyes again. “I said you can go.”

“Of course. Have a nice day.”

"She’s going to see right through me," you repeat for the millionth time as Amelia's boyfriend, Roman, works on the fake casts.

She groans. "With that attitude she will! Get it together. You have to stand your ground and don't dare walk out of that office without a month off."

Terrified of your best friend, you nod. "Thank you again for this future doc, hope you don’t get fired."

He pales. "The things we do for the people we love, am I right?" Amelia blushes.

Letting out a shaky breath, you brace yourself before tripping and falling straight onto your back. The whole room gasps in shock as Eleanor stares back with a bored expression. Shit, are you okay? Peeking with one eye, you catch Grayson - Eleanor’s son - staring back with a helpful hand.

He had always been nice to you, bringing you coffee whenever he was around. Sometimes he even helped you brainstorm new ideas. Your heart rate accelerates as you struggle to get up. Mother, she can’t be working in this condition. She huffs as she waves her hand in dismissal, Dior bracelets clicking against one another.

A month. That’s it.

“Thank you,” you whisper as he helps you into your overly priced Uber. He tilts his head, slowly tracing your features.

“You're lying, aren’t you?” He signals at your poorly done cast.

“I c-can explain-”

He laughs. “Your secret's safe with me.” Reaching over, he buckles you. Your breath hitches. “Enjoy your time off. I’ll be waiting for you.”

“I’ll be waiting for you!” You swoon as you retell your embarrassing story to the cozy couple who cuddle on the couch like proud parents.

Amelia claps. “He’s the one! I feel it!” Roman scoffs. Settle down, daydreamers. Your friend slaps his hand. “Debbie Downer.” You giggle as she wiggles her eyebrows. “So…what are you going to do now that you're free?”

You tap your chin. “Um, probably write.”

Her smile falls. “This is the whole reason we even did any of this! For you to not think and just enjoy yourself!”

Her boyfriend nods, floppy hair bouncing up and down. “Yeah, I didn’t go through all that,” he signals to the casts that lay by the doorway, “Just for you to lay around doing what you always do.” He stands up to grab an apple. “Travel, I’m serious.”

Amalfi Coast. It called you poor in seven different languages as you tug your suitcase into your AirBnB. Amelia and Roman had sat through 8 hours of planning everything, detail and safety included.

"Oh, click that one!" Roman tsks his tongue as his fingers slide against the keypad. The blonde beams. "That’s perfect!"

"Perfectly out of my range," you sigh as you slap it shut. "I’ll die homeless if I stay there." The couple share a silent look before returning their attention.

"Well, we were thinking… " the brunette starts before your friend cuts him off, jumping up and down on his lap. He groans.

"Sorry, honey, but anyways, we’ll pay for it!" Your jaw drops as you wave your finger, shutting down the idea.

"There’s no way I’m going to let you guys do that-"

"Okay, maybe not all, but at least a good chunk of it," she butts in as Roman stays with a soft smile. "Isn’t that right? " He nods.

"Take it as an early birthday present," he adds. Your chest tightens at their kind gesture.

"That’s still a lot of money." You grow light headed.

"Then no birthday presents for two years," Amelia squeaks as she grabs your hands over the coffee table. "Just don’t say no, you need this." You debate inside your head for a few minutes before letting out a shaky breath.

"No birthday presents for the rest of my life and we have ourselves a deal."

Which is how you landed in one the most beautiful homes you think you will ever see in your entire life. You can’t even pretend to try and fit in because everything seems to make your eyes pop out of their sockets.

After a bit of unpacking, your sweet tooth gets the best out of you as you grab your purse and head out the door. You can’t help but take pictures at almost everything you see, but everyone was doing the same so there couldn’t be too much judgment. Paying for your lemon sorbet, you hum constantly as you stare into the ocean. The breeze was warm, but not obnoxiously so. The rocks underneath you tickle slightly as you get comfortable.

Then you hear it, light snores. Startled, you turn over as you catch a man sleeping, arm laying over his stomach. You think about maybe moving location but when he releases soft whimpers, you find yourself growing sympathetic. What if he was in trouble? You couldn’t let a person die if they were three feet away from you. Hesitantly, you crawl your way over as you tap his leg.

“Ciao,” you say, but you can only catch his nose scrunching up since he had a hat laying over him, covering his mysterious features. Biting down on your lip, you dig your finger harder. “Ciaooo.” Sitting up abruptly, he groans, shoulder bumping against your cone. You yelp before pouting at your treat melting all over the surface.

“Oh merda, colpa mia,” he apologizes as soon as he notices your gloomy mood. “Posso comprartene un altro se vuoi, ti prometto che non sono un serial killer-” Like a cat being bathed, you jump up high as you create a large distance.

“Serial killer?” you squeal. He catches onto your accent swiftly as he waved his hands in defense.

“I’m not! I’m not!” You eyed him suspiciously, chest heaving heavily. “I was offering to buy you another cone and saying that I’m not a sick serial killer, that’s all…” He signals to your desert. “I feel bad.”

Releasing a soft breath of relief, you smile politely. “Don’t worry about it. I was just trying to see if you were okay, you were kind of…” You theatrically twitch as he chuckles. Your cheeks burn up at the sound.

“I’m fine, thank you.” A beat. “Sort of.” Softly narrowed eyes stare back at him. Do you need anything? He winces at the bright sun. “I feel a bit sick, if I’m being honest.” He zigzags a bit before falling straight into the rocks, painful grunts following. You shriek as you run over, flipping him onto his back.

“Holy fuck, holy fuck.” Other than a cut up lip, he’s fine, but he groans like there’s no tomorrow. Rightfully so, you start panicking as you dab his bottom lip with the hem of your shirt, then you remove his hat.

“Don’t!” But you’re already tossing it over your shoulder as you analyze his bruised up cheek.

Green eyes look into yours as you stop breathing. His eyes are sensitive, like some sort of past soulmate, if you believe in that type of bullshit. His hair is rusty brown, long strands hitting up to his lashes. His nose is slightly pointy and it’s worse that they’ve always been your favorite kind. Lip swollen from his clumsiness, but a natural pink. Freckles and moles sprinkle along his face.

Scooting away, he raises finger over his lips, cryptically telling you to hush. Confused, you lay your palm against his cheekbone. “You need to see a doctor.” Now he becomes visibly bewildered as he cocks his head to the side. You don’t know who I am? Flushed, you extend your hand, introducing yourself. “And you are?”

The brunette lets out an unhinged laugh as his large hand swallows yours. “Charles, I- I m-my name is Charles.” Dimples pop up from how wide he’s smiling, and that almost leaves you gasping for air. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Then he grabs his head in discomfort. “Seriously though, you need to see a doctor.” No, he starts. You roll your eyes. “Fine, a medico or whatever you want to call it.” Helping him up, he leans against you as you wheeze.

“I’m perfectly fine, I just need to sleep.” He pants against your head, catching a whiff of your shampoo scent. “Pretty,” he mumbles. You blush harder. “Do you think you can take me to the nearest hotel?”

“I don’t know if that's such a good idea,” you mutter. “Don’t take it the wrong way, but I don’t know you at all.” He shyly nods before removing his arm away from your figure, and all of a sudden it’s cold.

“I get it, don’t worry.” The green eyed boy waves goodbye before stumbling away.

You have always been a bit of a people pleaser, one of your many flaws. Amelia and Roman had always called you out on it, stopping you from making stupid decisions.

But Amelia and Roman weren't here.

“Wait.” Charles turns around, loopy eyes squinting at your blurry physique. Making your way over, you take his arm and place it over you. “You can stay with me, I’m just up that hill.”

“You can’t be helping out boujee vagrants,” your friends scold you over the phone as you grimace. “Why would you do that?”

You nibble on your painted nail. “I felt bad…”

Roman snickers before coming into frame. “What if he’s some kind of maniac?” Like a child, you shake your head.

“He said he wasn’t!”

The couple groan at your naiveness. “Boy, let’s just trust everyone we meet then!” The blonde pushes her face directly onto the screen. “You need to slap him awake and kick him out.”

But there was something so peaceful and homey about the way Charles was sleeping, covered like a butterfly in a cocoon. His chest rises up and down as he occasionally reaches for the other pillow, bringing towards his chest. With one last glaze, you leave the bedroom.

“I can’t do that to him. He was in really bad shape, you should have seen him.”

God can’t even help her, Roman grunts before strolling away. Amelia sighs. “Listen, I know you’re just being a good person, but you don’t even know this guy. We just want you to be safe.” I know, you mumble, chewing on your hoodie’s string. She tips her head. “Let him stay the night if you want, but tomorrow, he leaves. I’m not playing around.”

“Tomorrow,” you reassure her before hanging up.

He had slept for a day and a half and you were starting to get worried but after contemplating throwing his body over the balcony, he was stretching like a newborn baby. “That was the best nap I’ve had in years.” You chuckle awkwardly at the stranger.

“That was most definitely not a nap.”

He smiles. “Did you sleep well?”

“So good,” you respond quickly and he would have settled with that if it weren’t for your dark under eyes.

“Shit, you haven’t slept?”

“I did, I promise!” Green eyes reflect intently as you crumble. “Okay, I didn’t, but it was only for two days.” Two? You cringe. “There was just one bed and I didn’t know whether you were-” You trail off.

“Wasn’t what?”

Maroon paints your cheekbones. “A psycho killer…” You can tell he’s offended by the way he rubs the tip of his nose, as if he’s trying to ease the tension.

“I’m not the Monster of Florence or anything like that,” he mutters as you begin to apologize, watching as he sits far enough away just in case you feel the need to bolt out the door. “But I understand why you don’t trust me. We don’t know each other…So, why don’t we work on that?”

It takes about an hour for him to tell you what he considers the basics about his entire persona, and you rant about your upbringing. He frowns.

“That must have sucked. Not having parents who believe in you.” You flinch at his truthful words.

“I think they’re starting to get it,” you pathetically try but even he can see right through your weak excuse. Focusing your attention onto your twiddling thumbs, you exhale. “How did your parents react when you told them you wanted to be a mechanic?”

The Monegasque seems stunned for a nanosecond before munching on a blueberry and crossing his arms. “Their only priority was for me to be happy and doing what I love.” You smile sadly.

“Are you happy? Do you love it?”

“It’s my favorite thing in the world.”

You feel a giggle bubbling inside your throat with the way he speaks about his job, but then you’d be doing the exact same thing that others do to you. He coughs. “So tell me, you really faked an injury?”

Your stomach hurts from how much Charles was making you laugh and before either of you knew it, the sun had set. “Did we really just waste an entire day?”

“I don’t see it as wasting my day. I really like talking to you.”

Forcing yourself to look away, you untuck your legs from underneath your butt. “Wanna grab something to eat?”

There’s a comfortable silence that lingers between you both as you walk the busy streets of Amalfi. “Do you really need to wear a beanie? It’s burning hot.” Looking around, he shrugs and continues walking.

You settled on sharing a plate of pasta since it was almost bedtime and neither of you weren't that hungry. “Good, right?” he questions the moment you shut your eyes about the delicious taste. You hum.

“Free orgasm right here.”

Choking on his food, he quickly takes a sip of water as you smack his back. “I think I’m good now,” he squeaks as you smile timidly. You can feel the way he judges you as you devour your fair share, but you can’t help it. Connecting your gaze to his, he looks away as he drops his fork against the fancy plate. “Thank you for letting me stay the night.”

“Oh. Yeah, no problem.”

The brunette chews on his bottom lip. “It was nice getting to know you, really.” You blink back dazed as he continues. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your trip.”

“You’re leaving?” Even your inquiry shocks you as he smiles back warmly. I don’t want to interrupt. You’re looking for peace, remember? Trying to think of a quick enough excuse, you say, “Having someone to keep me company doesn’t sound like the worst thing in the world. I-I mean if you’re not busy.”

Under the table, you were crossing your fingers as he took in your offer. The brunette nods. “I guess it could be fun.”

“You did the right thing,” Amelia congratulates you the next time you call her. “Rather be safe than sorry.”

Just then, Charles walks in with a bag of peaches, grinning proudly as he makes his way over. “Agreed. Listen Amelia, I have to go. Adventure awaits! Tell Roman that I miss him! Talk to you later!” Hanging up, you greet your roommate. Awkwardly, he passes you the juicy fruit.

“Friend back home?” You hum, biting down. Taking a bite of his own, he bows his head. “You miss your boyfriend?” You stop chewing.

“Boyfriend? Oh, you mean Roman?” He clenches his jaw, then relaxes. You cackle loudly. “He’s my best friend's boyfriend,” you clarify. “We’re close - all of us.”

“Oh.” Tossing the seed away, he rises up to his full height. “Wanna see something cool?”

“You got insurance?” you joke as he covers your eyes, leading you mysteriously. You’re not going to get hurt or die if that’s what you’re worried about. You giggle. Okay, we’re here. Removing his hands, you take a minute to adjust your eyesight. “What the fu-”

“Cool, right?”

You scoff. “Cool? This is beautiful.” Running over to the cherry red Ferrari, you reach out before turning back to the 26 year old. He nods. Delicately, you brush your hand against the leather seats. “Where did you get this?”

“I know a guy.”

“Mafia leader?”

“Ha-ha,” he mocks as he unlocks it, going in to open the door. “Hop in.”

Humid wind sends your hair flying as you let out loud shrieks from the speed. You don’t know how he found such an isolated spot, but you don’t ask questions with how much you enjoy the thrill. “Again, again!” you cheer as he does professional donuts. The car comes to a halt as you fling forward and he stays as straight as can be.

“How about I teach you?”

“Okay, put the car in gear.” Following instructions, you listen attentively. “Turn the wheel and floor it, but make sure to be alert and keep your foot on the brake just in case.” Swinging harshly, you let out a scream. “It’s okay, try again.”

After a while, you still couldn’t get it down and your frustration was starting to show. But he was patient, spilling out different versions of advice. Twist sharply. Biting on your bottom lip, you huff before trying again. His words circle your mind as you drive the Ferrari straight ahead before turning the wheel and pressing down on the gas. Your adrenaline picks up when you realize what you had just done.

“That was perfect!” Raising his hand out for a high five, you squeal as you smack it hard. He hisses, but you’re on a roll.

“Hold on, Charles, you're in for a ride.”

Though his car is moving fast, the Monegasque feels as if he’s stuck in slow motion as he admires the way you control the Ferrari. He'd be lying if he said he didn’t find any of this attractive. It took you a while, sure, but your determination got to him as he kept his eyes trained on you, peeking over at you where you sat mumbling the steps over and over. Arms maneuvering the wheel flawlessly, knotted hair fanning your face. Stepping on the break, he barely has a moment to react before he slams right onto the dashboard. You wince.

“I should have warned you, crap! But you were doing so good! Your head would not move an inch.” Admiration paints your voice. Embarrassed, he rubs his temple.

“I got a bit distracted, but I’m fine.”

“Okay,” you mumble skeptically. Honking the prancing horse, you turn to him with a Cheshire Cat grin. “How about a drink, professor? My treat.”

“What’s the occasion?” the bartender asks as he fills two glasses of whiskey. I can do donuts now, you brag. His brows raise up in shock. “That’s impressive. It takes a good person to teach you.”

“It does, but lucky for me, I got it.” Discreetly you point over at Charles who sits with yet another baseball hat. “He’s pretty great.” The man's face drops as he leans against the table, getting closer to you.

“I’d say so! That’s Charles Leclerc.” Flabbergasted as to how he knows his name, you take the two drinks and raise them up as a silent thank you. “Free drinks on me if you need anymore, amore!”

On the way back to the small table, you ponder on the weird encounter. Had they met before? Perhaps Charles had fixed his car or something along the lines. Grazie, the Monegasque smiles as he takes a sip of the cool drink. You do the same, wide eyes shining at the taste. “Holy crap, this is good.” Swallowing the rest of the golden liquid, you signal at the bartender for the rest of the bottle. Nodding, he brings it over as Charles lowers his head, green eyes trained on his lap.

“It’s somehow sweet,” you narrate as you serve yourself another. “More?” He shakes his head, wavy hair following his movement. It’s the Italian charm. You hum against your cup. “Must be. Tastes like paradise.”

It’s safe to say that you were obsessed the minute you started growing tipsy. Squinting at the squawking girl who was pouring her heart out on the stage, microphone in hand, you snap your fingers loudly, jumping up. That. I want to do that! Your travel buddy chuckles. “You do?”

“Of course I do. Plus, my voice is all warmed up.” Massaging your throat, you march over at the little old lady who plays the tarnished piano. “Potrei cantare dopo?” She nods kindly before wrapping up the song. I have another one in me, the girl yelps as her friends pull her off stage.

“Oh great, a drunk removed for another drunk,” someone shouts out when you stumble on stage.

“Hey. Blame the delicious drinks!” Flipping through the book, you narrow your eyes. “This one,” you cheer excitedly as you whisper into her ear. She beams. No one ever asks for that one! Practicing against the keys, she nods as you twirl your way back on stage.

All eyes are on you as you play with the hem of your mini dress. Normally, you’d be a nervous wreck, and maybe the liquor helped, but you weren’t afraid of making a fool out of yourself.

“You got a fast car, I want a ticket to anywhere. Maybe we make a deal, maybe together we can get somewhere.” Soft keys echo through the small bar - for sure a guitar would have been better, but something about the familiar instrument makes Charles feel cozy as he listens to your voice. It isn’t perfect - you were drunk after all - but it was enough to make everyone listen closely like you were some divine object.

Swaying, with you smiling sheepishly as you move your eyes through the crowd of strangers, and you’re glad the green eyed boy isn’t one of them. Is it fast enough so we can fly away? The brunette grins at you as you spin in your dress, ponytail fluttering like grass in the gentle breeze.

“So I remember we were driving, driving in your car. Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk. City lights lay out before us, and your arm felt nice wrapped ‘round my shoulder.”

There is some sort of unexplainable shift inside of you as you feel yourself sober up with his intense stare. His brows are drawn softly, listening to your sweet voice, as if you would disintegrate and never be seen or heard of again. A click - you just clicked.

“And I had a feeling that I belonged. I had a feeling I could be someone.”

Kicking the door wide open, Charles carries you in as he settles you on the bed. You flop around like a fish out their tank for good measure, then pout, bare feet pressing up against his clothed abs. He halts. “I need to change…take off all my makeup...” All of it, you mouth, droopy eyes struggling to stay open.

“I can get you what you need.” Last time he dug through a girl's suitcase, on a mission to find all her essentials, he had a girlfriend. Pushing away his thoughts, he jogs back over to your limp body. “Okay, here you-”

Curled up like a rolly polly, you breath gently as you sleep. The 26 year old isn’t too surprised, but rather confused. Does he just leave you now? Pacing the room, he nibbled down on his nails as he weighed his options. He could let you sleep peacefully and possibly get a beating in the morning for leaving you to rot with all the nastiness or he could get it done quick - not look twice - and maybe still get a beating.

“I’ll be fast,” he mutters to himself as he grabs your makeup wipes. He tries to be as ginger about it, a cool towel erasing your light makeup. As soon as you scrunch your face up like a baby rabbit, he stops and rushes away. Good enough.

Now comes the complicated part. Slip the dress off, change her into her jammies. Easy peasy. But the more he thinks about it, the more he’s unsure. One night with your outside clothes won’t kill you.

“Take it off, Charles, please,” you grumble as you tug on your dress. His Adam's Apple bobs up and down with panic as he nods to himself. Green eyes flicker the room before they land on his t-shirt. Oversized - would cover you whole - fast.

As if he’s being chased down by the police, he runs over and in a quick motion, slides your dress off before tugging his shirt over your head, dropping your passed out body onto the bed and throwing the duvets over you. Grazie, you murmur from underneath as he sighs.

“Don’t mention it.”

“Fucking hell,” you groan, clearly feeling the awful hangover. After promising to never drink again, you rub your eyes as you yawn, focus becoming drawn to the black shirt. Your stomach drops. No, no, no. Hurrying to look for your phone, you quickly unlock it before freezing.

Who is Charlz Leclerk? You can’t even recall when you must've searched this up, but Google definitely understood your investigation.

"Tell me, Nico," you pout as you take a sip of your whiskey as you wait for Charles to come out of the bathroom. "How do you know my friend's name?"

He beams excitedly. “Amore! He’s…” Blinking harshly, you try your best to listen and read his lips as he makes funny hand gestures. For a second, you swore he was swerving an invisible car. Waving his hand, he laughs. "Look him up."

Monegasque racing driver; Formula One; Currently racing for Scuderia Ferrari.

“What?” you whisper as you throw your phone away, eyeing it like the plague. No. Charles was a mechanic - a mechanic, for god sakes.

“Oh good, you’re awake.” He tosses you a paper bag. “It’s a sandwich. Eat.”

How can he even look at you and act like everything is okay? Did he do anything wrong? No, not really, but why would he keep this from you? You’re surprised to find yourself feeling hurt by his secretive actions as he stares back innocently.

“Is it not good?” he questions when you chomp down sadly. It is, you reassure with a mouthful. “Hey, I was thinking we could go for a swim. The weather is nice out.”

“Mhmm,” you respond meekly. “Is it okay if I meet you there? I-I was thinking I could rinse my body first.”

The brunette nods. “I can wait for you.”

“No!” You blush at your eager tone. “We’ll just meet up.” Okay? Grabbing his things and yours, he strolls out the door, but not before gifting you a small wink. Call me if you get lost. “Asshole!” you cry out as he chuckles, slamming the door behind him.

In a matter of seconds, you’re already dialing work. “Lucy! Is Eleanor there?” Sweetheart, how are you? How’s the leg? The arm? Do you need me to- “I’m fine. Can you connect me to Eleanor, it’s urgent.” The older lady giggles as she switches you over.

“This better be good.”

Clearing your throat, you fiddle with the hem of his shirt. “I have an exclusive.”

Eleanor’s rich and elegant voice scoffs. “What about your arm?”

“Like you said,” you hum. “I still got my right one."

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dumbsoftheart · 5 months

Text

pas de deux

pairing: ballerina!reader x university!coriolanus snow

tags: 18+, mdni. dub-con, semi-public sex, oral sex (fem receiving), creampie, vaginal sex, dirty talk, power play, manipulation

summary: corio is tasked with writing an exposé on his university’s prized ballet student for the school’s newsletter.

notes: self indulging on my perfectionism being ruined for coryo’s self-pleasure!

word count: 4.9k

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coriolanus hated this assignment with the same fervour and passion he hated writing for his school’s publication. the only reason he’d even applied for the position was because he knew of the ways it would put him on the scene- articles and reviews with his name plastered over them were unavoidable to anyone who had half a brain to engage in thoughtful composition. he enjoyed writing critical pieces on political discourse or literature, anything that challenged him to peel back the layers of society and dissect it, persuade others to align with his mode of thinking, so the mere thought of his byline etched onto an article about ballet- of all things- made him want to curl up and die. he tried oh so desperately to pass on the assignment to one of his female partners, and even tried his hand at requesting his supervisor for a new assignment entirely, but he was coldly dismissed and cast away to the hallowed halls of the university's dance studio. he didn't notice how frustrated he’d actually felt until he flinched behind the sound of the studio door slamming behind him, clashing uglily with the buzzing noise of music that flooded his eardrums. it was unnecessarily loud, but he knew you could hear him enter. his jaw clenched the more you ignored his presence.

instead, you focused on the strains of music you’d become uncomfortably accustomed to. the melodic rhythm of the cantilena you choreographed to consumed your body in a symphony of music. each note was dictated thoughtfully with the graceful movements you now begrudgingly danced for the stranger, weaving a story that transcended words, one only understood through the language of dance. as you traversed the space, your movements harmonised seamlessly with the refined tune, a testament to the years of dedication and passion you poured into this art form. you grew frustrated at the way his presence clashed discordantly against the elegance of your dancing and disrupted the harmony of the room. you watched in the corner of your eye how he marched his way to the centre of the room, lingering only a few steps behind you as you danced. you caught him clear his throat one, two, then three times. it grated against your patience, forcing you to stop dancing abruptly and march past him with the same conviction as he did to shut off the music, a huff escaping your lips at the sudden quiet as you stared expectantly at the tall boy before you. you watched his fists clench and then flex before he turned to face you, his pearly blond hair falling ever so slightly out of place from the speed at which he’d turned on his heel.

"can i help you?" the words slipped from your lips, delivered with a flatness that barely concealed the tinge of annoyance behind it. your hand found its place resting on your hip, a subtle gesture reinforcing your composed stance, determined to maintain an air of indifference.

“coriolanus snow. i’ve been assigned to write a review on you and your dancing for the university newsletter,” his introduction sounded pompous, as though he assumed you already knew of his identity. of course, you knew the name very well- his reputation preceded him. you couldnt deny that you too had once or twice been privy to the occasional swooning over the quite popular boy, but you found that now as he stood in front of you, tall and beautiful as he was, you felt a growing discontent for the man and his obnoxiously bright hair. yet, you clung fiercely to the facade of ignorance, a guise of disinterest veiling the curiosity that lingered beneath the surface. you held your head high, refusing to grant him the satisfaction of acknowledging his perceived importance in your realm of artistry.

you pretended to think before a moment, before turning back to the speaker and switching the sound back on, gesturing for him to sit. you rolled your eyes at his request to turn the volume down. despite you hating everything that had to do with this review, you were aware of the potential impact this coverage had on your burgeoning career. you acquiesced, lowering the volume to appease his demand, a concession made not out of respect for the boy but rather with your future in mind. you knew the power coriolanus held with his words, as much as you hated it, and you knew you couldn't risk jeopardising your future at the sake of a little attitude.

so, with an inward sigh and a curt nod, you allowed him to observe. you positioned yourself within the room as you waited to pick up on the rhythm of the music where you left off, quickly finding your place among the complexities of the song in a manner that seemed impossible had it not been for your tireless work and memorization of every single note and harmony of the song.

as snow observed your movements, he jotted down comments in a small leatherbound notebook, his pen scrawling his disdain. "lacks depth," he muttered under his breath, pausing to look up pensively at your figure.

the comment caught you so off guard it took every bit of strength in you to not fall with the abruptness at which you stopped. lacks depth? what the hell would he know? you felt rage burn inside your chest, only fueled by the way he stared at you as if he had said nothing wrong.

“what about my dance lacks depth, snow?” the question hung in the air, and you watched his adams apple bob up and down through the mirror as he swallowed, glancing briefly at his notes before looking back up at you.

"the dance is fine, quite beautiful, i might say, but your movements lack the emotional vibrancy expected from a performance of this calibre," he responded, "there's an absence of connection, it feels superficial and fails to convey the intended depth of expression."

he spoke with a measured confidence, and you scrunched your brows at his words. you didnt expect him to know the first thing about ballet, and you still stood by that sentiment, but part of you wondered if he was speaking truthfully- a consequence of the sensitivity you harbour in relation to your artistry. dance was everything, and while ballet trained you to accustom yourself to harsh criticism, you always held those criticisms to your heart, and it pushed you to always do better than you had before.

despite this, your shoulders never slumped, nor did you show any physical acknowledgement to his critique, only moving to turn your gaze from his cobalt eyes in the mirror to look him in them truly, strutting your way back to the speaker and restarting the song, determined to prove him wrong.

“you restart the song when you feel i’m ‘lacking depth’, so i can know whether or not to call bullshit.”

the two of you went at it for a while. he only gave you a few seconds at first before he continuously restarted the song, but you danced for him nonetheless. over, and over again. when you thought you’d finally caught him, he’d restart the song a few seconds later, and it took everything in you to not scream in frustration at the top of your lungs. you wanted to strangle him, in truth, especially when you caught a glance at his smirk the 12th time he’d restarted the music.

it was nearly midnight by the time he’d given you some respite, and you made no effort to be hospitable as you collected your things and stormed out the door without a word. you pretended to ignore the scribbles on his notebook as you rushed passed him, unable to make sense of the haphazard writing. you hated him. the way he seemed to try seize control of your creative space and your studio made you go mad. additionally, you were convinced he was only trying to get under your skin, and you hated that it worked- even if you refused to show it (or more appropriately, tried not to show it, because coriolanus reveled in the fact that he did, in fact, get under your skin).

coriolanus, on the other hand, walked out of the studio feeling quite prideful. he adored the effect he had on you: how despite his ignorance on your mastered art, he absorbed the control in the room. he adored seeing you struggle to keep up to his standards, watching your face twist with effort as you danced over and over again, all for him. watching the muscles of your shoulders and legs flex, the arches of your back and neck, the way you exposed yourself to him repeatedly- it festered a strange desire in him to tear you apart. you were so meticulous with how you danced that it made you look fragile. with every twist and turn of your body coriolanus felt his breath catch in his throat as if he were afraid if you moved slightly too much, you would shatter. only, he wanted to be the one to break you: tear away that meticulousness and precision built into you and mould it in a way that was perfectly suited for him. he wanted to dismantle that untouchable image you carried, strip you away of your elegance and create a dependence that would tether you to him alone. it made him care about your performance more than he wanted to admit. not because he cared for you, per se, and your success, but because he’d developed a carnal urge to shape you into perfection solely for his own satisfaction. knowing that onstage, your dance was now catered just for him, to his own liking? the thought made coriolanus’s pants grow tight with lust.

the week progressed following the same routine: he would sit and watch you overwork yourself at his beck and call until your eyes filled with tears of anger and your body would give out and he’d leave you panting on the dance room floor, killing yourself until you got it just right. the boy was acutely aware of the mental struggles that accompanied ballet- the pursuit of perfection, the strive for excellence, the intensity of the competition and the pressure to excel. he knew how hardly you critiqued yourself and used it to his advantage; knowing if he played his cards right, soon enough he’d have you wrapped around his finger, begging him for that validation you needed to keep going.

your performance was on saturday, and the way you worked yourself over the dreadful symphony of music had you lacking sleep. you couldn’t stop- even after you and coriolanus parted ways. you found yourself practising in your dorm room, counting steps on your way to class- you knew deep down that coriolanus’s article really meant nothing, as the man knew nothing about what he asked of you, and your success wasn’t at all tied to his review; but you were unable to stop. a voice nagged at you that it did matter. that somehow his influence could ruin you and everything you’d worked for. you knew how badly he was getting to you when the two of you crossed paths on your way to class.

he took in the sight of you: your hair done perfectly, not a single hair misplaced, your pink tights and leotard, the pink cover-up skirt you adorned neatly wrapped around your waist with a perfect bow. he took in your lips, swollen and red from the anxious biting you’d fallen into the habit of doing again, the way you messily tried to cover up your dark under eyes with concealer and draw attention away from it with haphazards amount of blush. in passing, you’d simply given him a nod, but he was quick to grab you, looping his finger under your chin and forcing you to stare into those piercing cobalt eyes of his as he studied you.

“you should wear white instead. pink washes you out,” he mumbled to you before turning away, his tall figure disappearing into one of the lecture halls behind you. had it been a few days prior, you would’ve found it in you to bite back. only now, you bit at your manicured fingernails as you dragged your fingers across the silky white pointe shoes in your favourite dancewear boutique, followed by the white leotard and tights you brought home with you that night.

౨ׅৎ

“i need a break,” you sighed. it was the night before your performance, and only now did coryo have the decency to step back for a moment in his unrelenting pursuit of perfecting you. he nodded, shutting off the music as he watched you saunter towards your dance bag, downing half the contents of your water bottle with short pants. he stood to meet you, making his way behind you and resting his slender fingers on your tense shoulders.

“whats bothering you, bunny?” the pet name sent a small shiver down your spine, and coriolanus threw his head back slightly at the feeling of you shudder, gathering all his strength to contain himself. you turned to face him, and he felt his dick harden at the vulnerability in your eyes. the fire that once burned behind them was fizzling, and he could tell. your mouth was parted as you searched for the right thing to say, but the words caught in your throat.

“is it the dance?” he pressed, his face now dangerously close to yours, and you croaked out a small yes as his hand made its way up to your hair, his thumb stroking it gently, “you know it’s perfect, darling, you and i have been making it perfect all week long, no? show me which part is bothering you.”

your head spun as he spoke to you- his fingers stroking your hair, the way his voice was now all of a sudden so soft; contrary to the stern way he’d spoken to you all week. but what really dizzied you was the sudden validation he’d given you. the casual way he threw it at you; as if it was what was known all along, as if you were crazy to think otherwise.

you stumbled back towards the centre of the room, slowly positioning yourself as you waited for his go-ahead, form snapping into movement as soon as the music filled your ears. you watched in the mirror as coriolanus paced behind you, his chin in his hand as he watched you and pondered. your eyes closed with focus, moving with such ease that it felt second nature to you. then, the music seized, and you froze in place as you raised your head to look up at the man now in front of you.

“you’re too tense,” he murmured, moving to press his hands into the soft skin of your shoulders, massaging the strained muscle gently. it did nothing at getting you to relax. inside, you were fuming as you replayed the past week in your head. you’d worked yourself dry all for the approval of a man whose opinion you couldn’t care less about. you let your guard down for a sliver of a moment and he used it to get inside your head. you hated him with every fibre in your being, and his breathing down your neck only fueled the fire burning inside of you.

“get off of me.”

“just relax.” the way he whispered it was short of anything kind, spat at you with annoyance as he tightened his grip on you.

“i said get off!” it was the loudest you’d spoken all day. it was barely a shout, but it was enough for the man to recoil from behind you. you breathed shakily, hands trembling at your side. when you turned to face him, you nearly flinched at the sight of him. his usually perfectly combed back hair was now a mess, curls fallen out of place as he ran his hand through the golden strands harshly. you both stared at each other for what seemed to be an eternity, panting heavily, waiting for the other to say or do anything to loosen the tension that filled the studio air.

he looked down at the floor for a second, tonguing his cheek with a smile before surging forward, crashing his chapped lips into your plump, soft ones with a groan. you tried to push him away, but his grip on your face was too strong- and you couldn’t ignore the way your legs turned to jelly from the way he kissed you with an undying hunger. one hand made its way down your waist as he moved you backwards into the large studio mirror, your head thumping painfully against the glass, pain mixing with pleasure as coryo attacked your lips and dragged his hands all over your body, savouring the warmth of your skin through the fabric of your garments.

“so good for me,” he groaned against your neck, the hot breath of his words sending shivers straight down to your core, “so perfect.. so pliable.. all for me. isnt that right, princess?”

it was truly embarrassing, the way his words made you moan softly and rub your thighs together with want. embarrassing how compliant you’d become for him, how eager you were to please him. he took notice of the pathetic state you were in, watching with glossy and swollen lips how your legs trembled and your hips stuttered in a desperate attempt to gain friction against your growing heat.

“look at that, so fucking precious,” he continued to watch you struggle, laughing softly to himself before snaking his hand between your thighs, cupping your cunt and slowly encouraging you to rock your hips back and forth. you whined at the contact, relief and pleasure swarming you as you ground yourself into the palm of his hand, gripping tightly onto the curls at the back of his head for leverage. lost in bliss, you barely noticed when the man made his way down to his knees, lip bitten so hard you swore you could smell the metallic scent of blood peer through your senses as he toyed his fingers across your clothed cunt. you moved to remove your small skirt, untying the meticulous bow around your waist and tossing it to the side. when your hand reached to remove your leotard, coriolanus removed his hand with a small chuckle.

“what do you think you’re doing?” he tutted, and you whined at the sight of him below you, willing and able to keep pleasuring you but withholding that power. you scrunched your brows together with confusion, and coriolanus thought you’d never looked so beautiful: face flushed with heat, writhing above him while your hips urged for his fingers to touch you again. too lost in the pleasure that lingered, head thrashing from side to side with pleads to keep going- he wanted to ruin you.

“good girls wait and do what they’re told. are you gonna be a good girl for me?” he chuckled at the way you shook your head aggressively, savouring your small moans as he returned his hand to where you wanted it most. a loud gasp escaped your lips when he ripped your tights viciously, the soft torn fabric now giving him better access to the skin of your thighs. he splayed his hands over them, massaging your muscles and soft tissue before pulling your leotard to the side and diving his tongue into the wetness of your folds.

he pulled back with a moan, gasping as he peered down at the mixture of his spit and your slick connecting your cunt to his chin, and he looked up at you like you were a god, sticky and wet from the most trivial of touches.

“you’re so wet for me, princess- such a good girl. you’re so good for me,” you couldn't get a word out before he took a long swipe with the flat of his tongue, lapping messily and so, so loudly- chasing the taste of you. he loved teasing you with his mouth. he thought about it that day, unashamed as he jerked his cock into nothingness when he caught sight of you on campus earlier that day, dressed all in white- just for him. the small gesture was enough confirmation to him that he’d won at the game you two were playing, that you let him break you into submission and you were now his to claim. the thought of taking ownership of you by reducing you to nothingness with his tongue alone had him cumming onto his stomach with a loud, broken cry. now, he had you right where he wanted- and he wasn’t going to let that pass just yet.

he relished every sound and movement you made when he flicked his tongue up and down your lips, relished the tears that fell when he slowly circled it around your swollen clit, rejoiced in the way you gripped his curls tighter when he tongued your hole, gazing up at your already fucked out faced with pure lust and admiration when you came undone and released yourself into his mouth. he continued to lap and suck every moan and whine out of you until you cried with overstimulation. he stood up, licking his lips and stared down at you like a predator who’d hunted its prey.

“you did so good for me, bunny,” he mewled, kissing your neck softly as you came down from your high. you had started to gain back your senses, and a wave of humiliation washed over you. the man you claimed to hate had just given you the best orgasm of your life, and suddenly you could no longer find it in you to hate him again. every fibre in your body ached when he praised you, called you good and cooed in your ear as you regained your strength. you continued to cry, no longer out of pleasure but in self-disappointment. you felt the urge to scream and lash out at him for robbing you of your senses, for reducing you to a state where the tiniest shred of approval clouded every bit your perspectives until you couldn’t figure out left from right. he continued to coo in your ear as you sobbed, but your eyes widened with fear when you heard the small sound of a zipper and looked down to see his cock in his hands, pumping slowly as he made his way into you.

he shushed every one of your protests, his lips pressed tight against your collarbone as you tried to push away from him when his tip made contact with your hole, “be good, bunny, be good for me,” he chanted into your skin and your body broke down into more sobs as you willingly let him push into you. alarms were blaring in your head for you to stop giving into him, but your body was unrelenting and begging with want- and so all you did was cry as he thrust slowly into you, small moans of praise nonsensically falling from his lips as your cunt struggled to take all of him in.

the way he mumbled his sweet words into your neck and the slow stretch of his cock prying you open had your brain short-circuiting, the sweet tone of his voice once again making you lose all sense of what was unfolding before you. you winced as he tried to thrust his length deeper into you.

coriolanus didn’t like that. he took the sounds of complaint as direct disobedience. he wanted to hear nothing but your begging- he wanted you to thank him for letting you have his cock, and hear nothing but your loud moans and pathetic mewls as he fucked you. he grabbed at your bun, yanking your head back with such force that the once perfectly smoothed back hair came undone painfully, strands falling to your face and wisping at your shoulders.

“does it hurt?” he asked, and for a moment you thought he was trying to take you with care, but when you nodded and his grip tightened on your hair, you knew you were oh so wrong, “i thought i told you to be a good, fucking. girl.”

he thrusted into you harshly with each word and you cried out in pain, his cock stretching you out far beyond what you could handle, overstimulation making your knees buckle and tears fall from your eyes again.

“thats it, baby. take it, be a good girl and take my cock.”

your fingers dug into his back and coriolanus let out a loud, lewd moan, unable to peel his eyes away from the sight of his cock thrusting without preamble into the slick mess of your cunt. he threw his head back as you moaned through your cries, and thrusted even harder when you wrapped a leg around him to let him fuck you even deeper.

he moved to rip off the top of your leotard, licking his lips hungrily as he watched your tits fall and bounce in tandem with his thrusts. he dove his head down, latching his lips onto your hardened nipple and sucking harshly, nipping and biting the soft flesh while his hand pinched and flicked at the other one.

you were incoherent. your stop’s had turned into more’s and your sobs turned into that of pure desire. you threw your head to the side and gasped at the spectacle the two of you were making of yourselves in the middle of the dance studio. the mirror you were pressed up against had begun to fog up along the silhouette of your body pressed up against it, the cool glass dripping condensation onto your back and through your ruined clothes as coryo fucked you into oblivion. he looked right at you now, his fingers making their way to lace into yours as he pressed you even closer to him, your arms now bound against the coolness of the mirror.

“fuck, princess, you’re so fucking tight. so tight for me, yeah? gonna make this pussy mine,” your head spun with his words and the constant pumping of his cock, unable to contain the obscene sounds you let out. you were so close, and the way you tightened around him as you chased your release almost had him cumming prematurely.

“you gonna let me make you mine, huh bunny?”

“fuck, yes!”

“s’at right? gonna let me claim you? such a good girl.”

you moved your hips against his with no rhythm, simply in pursuit of the orgasm that coiled in the pit of your stomach. you kept your eyes on his, your mouth open with pants as you urged him to keep going. he hiked one hand behind the knee you had wrapped around him, the other one pulling you up so you were off the ground, letting him fuck you in a way that hit all the right spots in all the right places, and you just about lost it right there.

he smiled, “you like that?”

“uh-huh..”

“you want me to keep going?”

“please- please dont stop, coryo, please!”

his cries got louder, moans twisting up into a slightly higher octave, his face scrunched with pleasure as your cunt clenched around him with each of his words.

“gonna fill you up with my cum, baby. is that what you want? for me to breed you?” he babbled, voice trembling, “gonna fuck you full of cum ‘n make you mine. no one else can have you.” his voice got weaker as his hips pivoted upwards to thrust even deeper. he was in complete in control of you; his elbows hooked beneath your knees and opening a new gateway to your soul.

“naughty fucking girl, huh? ‘s alright, good girls get to be naughty sometimes..”

“i’m gonna cum,” you whined pathetically, rambling over and over as it was the only thing you could think of. you were so close, and each word he groaned at you brought you infinitely closer.

“you wanna cum?”

“i want- i want it so bad.”

“s’at right?”

“please, coryo- god, please! ‘m gonna be good for you. so good for you, daddy—”

your words collapsed into meaningless cries and shattered sentences— fuckyesyesyes— and cumonmycockbaby— as you worked each other towards release. you pulled him deeper to your center, tightening around him as the coil in your stomach finally burst and you saw white. you both came with a loud moan, yours no doubt shattering through the walls of the confined space, and coriolanus released his load into you with a long, droned out fuuuuuck as he slowly pumped his cum into you, mesmerised by the way it mixed and swirled with the mess of your own release. you whined at the overstimulation, body still jerking from the aftershocks of your orgasm, but coriolanus only felt himself grow harder.

“coryo, i cant..”

he snapped up at you, gaze softening as he took in your tear stained and fucked out face. he took your face in one hand, squeezing your jaw tightly and admiring the slight cross-eyed look you had on and the dribble of spit falling from your perfect lips. he cocked his head to the side, smiling coyly.

“oh, bunny, you don’t have a choice..”

౨ׅৎ

@dumbsoftheart, 2023

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus smut #coriolanus snow smut #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

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