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biggameplayertrentaa · 2 days

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Reassurance

Word count: 3.2k

Warning: smut (18+)

Summary: Jude gets bitten by the green-eyed monster

a/n: I don’t think the feud between Foden and Jude is legit. This is strictly for the plot

“...and I’ve been in the doghouse since.” Jude is only half-hearing Madder’s rants; nodding at what he hopes were appropriate times; raising the occasional brow; even humming to fill brief moments of silence; but his mind, his eyes, were laser-trained on the scene before him. You stand just a few feet from the open bar, a champagne flute tucked delicately between your fingers. Clung to your body, an off-the-shoulder black dress that emphasized the bone of your collars and the curve on your hip. You looked stunning–to say the least–topping off the already elegant look with a red lip and a sleek low pony that made the tips of Jude’s finger tingle with the desire to tug at it. Nearly tainting your appearance stood his fellow Englishman, his teammate, his competition–Phil Foden. Jude’s knuckles are white as he grips the stem of his now empty champagne flute; jaw, clenching as he watches your waving hands and animated face. Phil looks a little too engrossed for Jude’s liking; holding his mouth in the most obnoxious grin, eyes trained intently as he nods along to your words.

Jude hates the way his stomach flips. He never considered himself to be anything less than the best–and that went for just about everything. This mentality served as the perfect repellent to anything remotely resembling insecurity. It kept his head high, his shoulders back; it lit that fire in him that made his acquired accolades obtainable. There was not a single thing or person in the world that could trigger an ounce of anything even remotely resembling insecurity in him.

…Well, apart from you.

Along with experiencing every cliched feeling imaginable, the day he met you, Jude also felt something within him kneel. He was yours before you had even uttered a word to him, making him quickly realize no amount of confidence can adequately combat what visceral feeling you evoked–and continue to evoke even six months later. It’s what made the sight before him so nausea-inducing. Though he wished otherwise, he knew others saw what he saw in you. He did not doubt your charming capabilities; he’s a proud victim of it and typically wouldn’t fret. But this wasn’t just any random bloke; this was a man that he was constantly compared to. He already had to prove his worth to the public, he didn’t want to have to prove it to you too. Fueled by this thought, Jude pushes his glass into the rambling hands of the man at his ear. “I haven’t-hey, where are you going?” He hears from over his shoulder, but he is already stepping in your direction.

Your eyes meet his just as he reaches you. Spread across your face, a knee-wobbling smile that almost dissipates that abhorrent feeling burning his core. “Hey, babe.” He says once beside you.

A possessive palm finds the small of your back, just barely above your ass. He pulls you into him, bending down until his lips are against your neck; his eyes, focused on his fellow Englishman as he places an openmouthed kiss to the skin of it. “Oh, hey mate.” Jude then throws at Phil after decorating your neck with several wet pecks.

You place a distancing palm on his chest, stepping to stand between the two men. “Is everything alright, Judet?” Tone laced with heavy annoyance. You clocked his game the second you noticed him walking over to you, having felt his boring stare the entire duration of your conversation with Phil. You paid little attention to it, not expecting Jude to do much of anything considering his awareness of your friendship with the Foden brothers. But there was an unfamiliar look in your boyfriend’s eyes; a notable shift in his demeanor that leaves you slightly confused. He’s never touched you like this, looked at you like this; so covetous, so possessive. It both pisses you off and intrigues you.

“I’m just ready to get you home.” Your eyes widen, nostrils flare as the words stroll past his lips in the most cocksure way. His eyes shamelessly drag over your figure, taking the corner of his bottom lip into his mouth as he does. He goes to grip your waist again, but you step closer to Phil, eyes slit, arms crossed chastizingly over your breast. This was not a game you were willing to play, especially not at an event related to his job.

“We can leave after I’m done talking to Phil.” You see his jaw clench when you say his name. He cocks a brow, going to speak but Phil beats him to it.

“It’s alright, y/n. We can catch up another time.” He decorates his statement with a disarming smile, baring all of his teeth as his eyes dart from you to Jude. A wave of sheer annoyance watches over you as you watch the City player turn on his heel, leaving you and Jude to stand in angry silence. You turn to face Jude, the tips of your ears immediately burning when you’re met with his disgustingly smug expression.

“Let’s go.” He motions towards the exit of the banquet with a head tilt.

“No.” You say, loving the way that expression melts off his face.

“No?” He parrots, brows furrowed and low on his forehead. He takes a step towards you, lips set in a heavy pout.

“No.” You repeat. “I was in the middle of a conversation with a friend. We can leave after I’m done.” Your tone is cold and curt, deepening the crease just above his thick brows.

“You serious?”

“Yes, Jude. You’re being ridiculous.” You say. A look flashes in his eyes–a cocktail combination of jealousy, and anger; it makes them almost black. But you refuse to waver, punctuating your message with a heel-turn and switching hips as you walk away, leaving him pouty and seething in your wake.

When you eventually find Phil, he is at first very reluctant to even continue talking to you. Eventually, though the two you ease into a natural flow, picking up exactly where you left off before Jude decided to lift his leg and piss on you. Thirty minutes later, Phil is bidding you farewell with a kiss on the cheek and a side hug. You immediately scan the room in search of Jude, already mentally preparing yourself for the argument the two of you were destined for when home. It takes you no time to find him, pouty and posted in a corner with a babbling James Maddison at his ear. You maneuver through the chattering bodies with ease, inhaling several deep breaths as you do. His little comment and his actions are still at the forefront of your mind, affecting your temperament and leaving your cheeks tingling with embarrassment. Jude straightens his posture the second he notes you approaching him, but his lips remain fixed in a heavy frown.

If he were a cartoon character, steam would surely be coming out of his ears– he looks so heated.

“y/n, hey!” Chirps Madders. You smile at him, parting your mouth to return the greeting but Jude interjects before you can.

“Finally done talking to your boyfriend?” Jude cocks a brow at you, his pout shifting into a sardonic smile. You falter, eyes widening slightly. Was he really going to do this right here, you think just as you hear Madders let a hum of confusion. The midfielder awkwardly coughs into his fist, then stammer out some excuse about another drink or a trip to the loo, before hastily walking away from you and Jude.

“I’m not doing this with you.” You say through gritted teeth, “Not here. Not now.” You see his nostrils flare; his brown eyes darken as his gaze hardens.

“Fine, let’s go home then.”

Besides Jude barking at the driver to keep the partition up, the drive is ominously silent. His knuckles are white from how tightly he is clenching his fist; his gaze, though still hard, is distant out the window. Your knees bounce and mind soars with an array of jumbled thoughts. One side of your mind is queuing up quips and potential rebuttals to whatever justifications he may come up with; while the other is simply confused. A possessive Jude was not something you experienced despite being with him for six months. He was always cool, calm, and collected, especially when it came to you, never doing much of anything when he witnessed you get hit on. So what was different about tonight? With Phil Foden, all of the people?

Jude is still mute upon your arrival at his house. Though he jogs around to open the car door for you, he doesn’t take your hand and lead you inside like he typically does. Instead, he briskly walks up the steps and enters the house, leaving you even more annoyed. When you eventually make it into the house, you find him in the kitchen, fingers working at the knot of his tie. “What the fuck was that?” You say as you go to stand in front of him. You can’t help but be the first to break the silence. The words are practically spat at him, pointing to your annoyance. Your demeanor wavers the second his eyes land on yours, their blaze apparent and menacing.

His fingers seize, “I could ask you the same thing,” He seethes, accent thick. “Phil Foden?” Jude spits the name like it’s the most vile thing he’s ever tasted.

You roll your eyes, “He’s my friend, Jude.”

“He wants to fuck you!”

You can’t help the scoff and the accompanying eye roll that follows. “You’re mad.” You retort, throwing it over your shoulder as you make your way to the bedroom. You only make it a couple of steps before you feel a grip on your wrist. Jude whips you around, pressing you against his chest. He’s only centimeters away from your face, his breath tickling you slightly. You’re eyes immediately drop to the ground, finding his gaze more than just intense. Just as your gaze falls, you feel a delicate tug on your ponytail that softly lolls your head back, until you once again meet his eye.

“No, you’re mad if you think he only sees you as a friend.” His tone mimics that of a chastizing parent.

It irks you.

“Jealousy is not a good look on you, Mr.Bellingham.” He scoffs at this, his grip on your hair tightening slightly.

“I have nothing to be jealous of,” He gives the ponytail another tug, “let’s make that clear.” It is not arrogant, nor egotistical the way the words sound leaving his lips. His tone was dripping in something else…confidence? Conviction? You can’t quite put your finger on it, but it does trigger a steady throb between your thighs.

“You’re mine, y/n,” says Jude against your already parted lips, “all mine.”

“Jud-” You naturally go to protest, but your lids are already hooded; lips, tingling with the absolute need to be captured by his.

He grants your silent wish, pulling you into him with another jerk of your ponytail. The second his lips are slotted between yours–soft and deliciously plump–your mind is immediately freed of whatever thoughts of annoyance plagued it. You feel the wet tip of his tongue swipes across your bottom lip before entering past its barriers; your knees, instantly buckling when it rolls over yours–gently, teasingly. The grip on your hair tightens, inciting a moan that completely shocks you. Jude takes this opportunity to catch your bottom lip between his teeth. He sucks on the skin before pulling away from you, winded. Both breathless and speechless, you stare at him expectantly.

“You think I can just let you get away with that little stunt you pulled earlier?” He rasps.

“I did-” Jude’s large palm against your ass silences you. Though the slap is less than stinging, you still let out a surprised yelp.

“Go to the room. I want you stripped and waiting on the bed.”

The low, harsh tone of his words leaves you with little room to protest. You don’t allow yourself to dwell on how quickly you obeyed, not only walking with haste to the bedroom but fumbling with the zipper of your dress as you did. By the time you make it to the room, the dress is already bunched at your waist. You discard it and your underwear in one swift motion, leaving you bare–just as Jude instructed. You’re already positioned at the edge of the bed by the time Jude signals his entrance by flicking on the light. His white button-up is untucked, his loose tie, dangling past his collarbones.

“So,” He begins to walk over to you, his pace slow and measured as his fingers work at the buckle of his belt, “What were the two of you talking about?” He asks once he’s finally hovering over you. Your gaze flickers from his eyes to his lower half, where his trousers are loose and opened, exposing the material of his black briefs. Jude cups your jaw, forcing you to look up at him. “I asked you a question, y/n.” You have half the mind to answer his inquiry, and ease whatever insecurity may be festering in his conscience, but you also were curious to explore this side of him. “Don’t be difficult.” He warns, dragging his thumb from your cheek and settling it against your puffed lips. Instinctively, you take the pad of his thumb in your mouth, eyes never leaving his as you do. Jude’s lips part, his eyes widening slightly but he regains his composure with quickness and ease. His thumb leaves your lips with a pop. You go to protest, but are silenced when you see him take a step back and rid himself of his boxer, leaving him in nothing but his briefs and disheveled dress shirt.

“Come here.” He instructs and you do so with no hesitation. “Get on your knees f’me.” The timbre of his voice has you practically shaking in anticipation as you drop to your knees. Jude takes your ponytail in his fist again, wrapping his fingers around it with a force that intensifies the throb between your thighs. You are, once again faced to his brief-cladded bulge.

“Go on.” He urges, his smug expression now having the opposite effect on you than it had earlier. Without a word, you hook your fingers in the band of his brief, peppering delicate kisses along his bulge. When you finally push the material past his thigh, you subconsciously lick your lips when you note the tip of his cock glistening his arousal. The kiss you leave on his light brown tip is feather light, but that doesn’t stop Jude from letting out a gutteral noise. “Don’t tease.” He groans, tugging at your hair. You bite back a giggle, continuing your light attack down his shaft. It isn’t until you reach his base when you finally allow your tongue to make contact with his cock. You press your tongue flatly to the surface of his skin, dragging it up its length before wrapping your lips around the head of his cock.

“Oh-fuck.” He rasps, his lids hooded and plumps lips parted. His cock is heavy against your tongue and deliciously salty. You moan at the taste and at the small whimpers you hear above you. As you take the entirety of him in your mouth, your nose hitting the skin of stomach, you make your eyes remained laser-trained on his. “So good, baby.” He coos as you bob down his length, a mixture of your spit and his precum glistening against your cheek and chin. “So, so good and all mine.” He is thrusting gently, his hips meeting your mouth in controlled greed. His possessive affirmation surprisingly has you beaming with pride. Jude isn’t the only one acting out of character tonight, it was you too.

This is bad behavior.

You did not reward bad behavior.

But you would be lying if you said his jealousy didn’t turn you on. You had not a clue as to why it was the married, father of two Phil Foden that triggered such a display, but you found yourself wanting to send him a gift of gratitude. Though Jude has always made it known that you were one person he did not and would not play about–tonight solidified it. And what better way to show your recognition and appreciation of that, with some head?

The only sounds filling the room are your slurping and his groans and spews of admiration. The words do nothing but encourage you to completely show out. You take his balls in your free hand, applying just enough pressure to make Jude shutter against you. You moan as you nestle his cock in the back of your throat. Your vision is blurred with tears, but that barely obscures the beautiful sight above you.

Jude is watching you with hooded eyes, his plump lips tucked delicately between his two teeth. His fingers are still wrapped around your hair, but his grip is loose, allowing you to do the thing you’ve become an absolute expert in: pleasing him. Already sensing his orgasm by the trembles of his thighs, you make your way up to the head of his cock and focus your attention there. You tap his tip against your tongue before taking it back in your mouth. Your thighs are slick with your own arousal; the throb between them almost mind-numbing.

Almost. The desire to make him cum trumped any other feelings you have at the moment.

“I’m so close, baby.” You hear, triggering you to up your pace. “F-fuc-y/n!” Jude’s posture falters slightly, his eyes now completely closed as you continue to take him with ease. It isn’t long before you feel him flinch and hear his low groan. As you feel his warm load travel down your throat, you continue to bob up his length. “Bab-y/n” He stammer out. His entire body is shaking but you do not stop until he’s exploding in your mouth again. You release him with a pop, a lazy smile playing at your lips.

Jude looks at you, his face caught between two expressions: pure admiration and astonishment. You wipe him and your salva from your mouth messily before rising to your feet. He waste no time wrapping his arms around your naked figure and pressing his lips to yours in a sloppy kiss. He moans into it, his tongue dragging against yours hungrily as if you did not just finish sucking his cock.

A Man.

“You know I love you and only you, right?” You ask as you finally pull away.

Jude nods, eyes still closed, “If I didn’t before, I certainly do now.”

A/N: I’m rusty and I don’t feel too good about this but I feel like this is a nice little peace offering to Jude/rm girlies. I’ve been talking a lot of shit about our man lately, so I figured a fic dedicated to him getting some head and objectifying y/n would make up for it. Please ignore any typos (i’m just a girl). Feel free to send request! I will get to them as soon as I’m finished with courses for the semester:) Stay lovely and lmk what you think!

#Spotify #jude:)#jude x reader #jude bellingham #jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham fanfics #jude bellingham imagines #football smut #football fits

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hauntedestheart · 2 days

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Security Footage - Body Swaps (Part 2)

A continuation of the story started here- fair warning, this is a long one

The instant Andy realized the swap was starting he retreated to his own room, managing to stumble there even as he felt his muscles withering and his bones shifting inside of him, and he locked the door behind him so Trevor couldn't follow. Andy knew that his boyfriend just wanted to be helpful but these changes were often more uncomfortable than he liked to let on, and he preferred to shield his sweet little guy from as much of the messiness as he could.

Besides that, he always preferred to have a moment to himself to take stock of the changes he'd be stuck with for the duration of the latest swap and this... this was gonna be a rough one.

Andy stared in the mirror and a pudgy old white guy stared back- he knew his dad would lecture him about calling someone in their early fifties "old" but since Andy had been about half that age a few hours ago, he sure as hell was gonna be overdramatic about it. He was bald at 23! That wasn't fair.

He ran his hands over his smooth head and shuddered, which made him even more disturbed because his belly wobbled with him when he moved- his abs would never do that to him. Experimentally he lifted his arm up and tried to flex, but the flesh on his arm just hung downwards instead of rising up like he was used to. It didn't seem like this guy had even looked at a gym in years! Andy didn't understand how some people were able to live without muscles, and he sorely wanted his back.

He tried in vain to make his pecs bounce but the masses on his current chest were sagging fat rather than trained pectorals so they just sat there- it was a strange experience because his brain knew the command to make it happen, knew where the muscles were supposed to be, but the body just wouldn't respond. None of the bodies he switched into could ever make their chest move and he was sick of it, sick of having the things that he worked for taken away from him. Call it vanity or whatever but his physicality had been a core part of his identity ever since he was a kid and he didn't want to be away from it for a second, let alone let somebody else have it.

But the worst part of getting a new body was always checking out the oh-so-important organ that no amount of working out would change, something he had to actually lift up his gut to see this time, and the sight of the wrinkly cock and balls now hanging between his mushy thighs made him want to cry. Size wasn't everything, Andy knew that, but he also wasn't going to lie and pretend that being well hung wasn't a ton of fun, so going from packing the kind of equipment that made other guys jealous to a well below average penis was just... emasculating.

And to top it all off, his knees were killing him.

Andy now kept clothing in a variety of sizes in his closet for occasions like this and he shuffled through them robotically, grimacing when he realized that he was probably going to need the largest sizes to accommodate the waistline he was stuck with. He settled on a pair of sweatpants with an elastic waistband and an XL cotton tee that still rode up slightly and exposed a hint of a hairy belly, and he hated how he looked but at least he felt marginally better once his borrowed body was covered up.

"Can I come in?" Trevor called from the hallway, and Andy hesitated. His natural instinct whenever this shit happened was to hide away in shame, to not let Trevor see him like this, but he knew he needed his boyfriend's help to fix things so he swallowed his pride and unlocked the door.

Trevor slipped into the room almost shyly, keeping his eyes on the floor for a moment, before working up the courage to look at what he would be stuck with as a boyfriend for the time being. One thing Andy admired about Trevor was his poker face- he was very controlled with his emotions, especially compared to the way Andy expressed his feelings with his entire physicality -but despite his placid expression Andy couldn't imagine he was feeling anything other than disgust at the body before him.

"You hate it," Andy's shoulders slumped and he allowed himself to collapse backwards onto his bed like a sack of potatoes, wincing at the whine that the springs gave beneath his weight. He stared blankly at the ceiling and sighed. "I'm a gross old man now and you're never gonna be attracted to me again."

"No, it's just-" Trevor stumbled over his words for a moment as he thought of the best way to phrase things, biting his lip and quirking his head to the side. "It's just the clothes I think, I'm not used to seeing a guy like that in athleisure. You look like you should be wearing a suit or something. That's all."

He waited for a response but Andy didn't say anything, he just kept staring up at the ceiling with his arms spread out like he wanted his hands as far away from his new body as possible, and Trevor's heart broke a little. Admittedly the man Andy had swapped with was... not exactly Trevor's type, but that didn't really matter. What mattered was that it was Andy inside, Trevor's boyfriend who he loved for more than just his body, so he got over himself and laid on the bed next to his now-middle-aged boyfriend.

He rested his head on Andy's temporary chest and the position was a strange sort of parody of the beginning of the evening, as if someone had taken a snapshot of the young couple lying together and used photoshop to replace the golden skinned hunk with a pasty dad bod, but when Trevor closed his eyes it didn't matter what they looked like. As long as he could feel Andy's heart beating, then they could be together.

"I know this is hard for you but you don't have to worry, we'll fix this," Trevor whispered soothingly, and he pressed a kiss into the side of Andy's chin. "We always do. You'll be back to your stupidly pretty self in no time, okay?"

Andy grumbled something incoherent and likely whiney, but he wrapped his arms around Trevor and pulled the skinny young man closer to his side again, which helped both of them relax a bit.

"At least I know who this guy is, he's my classics professor," Andy finally said, and he shuddered uncomfortably. "It's so fucked up to think that I was just sitting there in class while he was watching me, thinking about how he was gonna steal my body."

"Well, it's always nice to have a lead," Trevor mused, half-formed plans already springing into his mind. He nudged Andy on the side. "And he's local too. Remember that time the guy you swapped with lived on a boat? That was a hassle."

"Don't remind me," Andy gave a small chuckle, his laugh hitting the same cadence even with a different voice box. "I got my body back with sunburn on my ass because he kept sunbathing nude, I could barely sit down for a week."

Trevor smiled at the memory of the week Andy spent awkwardly shuffling around. "I'm aware, I was the one who had to rub aloe on your butt twice a day."

"Don't act like you didn't love that," Andy turned his neck to try to playfully bat his head against Trevor but he hissed with pain as he pulled a muscle he didn't realize would be stiff. He rubbed his fingers into his neck and groaned. "Honestly I don't even blame this guy for swapping with me, I feel so gross right now."

"It could be worse?" Trevor offered a weak smile, but his boyfriend remained unamused.

"Could be better too," Andy grumbled, and he glared down at his crotch (which he couldn't even see thanks to his new gut). "You know, just once, I'd like to get a new body and find out my dick is bigger. Is that too much to ask?"

"I mean... kinda?" Trevor rolled his eyes- he'd never cease to find it amusing what a size queen his boyfriend was. "Andy, if your dick gets any bigger you're gonna hurt somebody. The rest of us make do with perfectly normal sized genitalia, maybe it'll do you some good to spend some time living like us common men live."

Andy raised his eyebrow and shot his boyfriend some major side eye. "First off, you know I love your dick and would gladly take it any day over this one," he paused in his rant to bury his face in Trevor's hair for a moment a plant a kiss there. "But more importantly, let me point out that you benefit from my big dick more than anyone, Trev, so you can act cute about it but until we fix this you're the one getting screwed by this thing." He bounced his hips up and down, watching as Trevor's eyes were drawn to his diminished manhood, and he smirked. His hand snaked down and tweaked Trevor's butt. "You're not so above it all- your cute little ass has been spoiled so I know you'll be missing my big guy in no time."

"Hey, I top sometimes!" Trevor protested- weakly, but he protested nonetheless. Being a twink didn't mean he was always the bottom, especially since it would be a shame to waste an ass like Andy's. "You like it when I fuck you. Maybe this is my moment to take over as the big man in the relationship!"

"Oh yeah? You're gonna go top full time?" Andy scoffed and rolled over on the bed, lifting himself up on his hands and knees (despite the way his joints protested) and putting Professor Smith's less-than-impressive buttocks on full display. He twisted his face into an exaggerated smolder and wiggled his hips at Trevor like a challenge. "Doesn't this look so sexy? Have fun going to town on this guy."

Trevor stared at the shapeless expanse of wrinkled flesh Andy was presenting to him and his mind drifted back to his boyfriend's real ass, that toned bubble of perfection that some old man was running around doing god knows what with. He loved his boyfriend for more than just his body of course, but if he had the option of which butt he wanted to sleep next to at night... well there was no contest really.

"Point taken," he admitted with a sigh, holding back a laugh as he watched Andy (still unused to how out-of-shape his new body was) struggle to stand up from the kneeling position he'd placed him in.

Still, always proud when he could get one over on Trevor, Andy smirked and puffed his chest out- a behavioral tic that looked far less impressive now that his chest was sagging man boobs rather than bulging pecs, but it made Trevor's heart swell to see a glimmer of his boyfriend's usual confidence back. Trevor sprang up to his feet as well and smacked Andy on his non-existent behind.

"Now get your flat ass moving so we can get your body back."

🔀

Valencia Street, three blocks west of the college campus, had a nickname: Party Avenue.

Contrary to popular belief, Fraternity Row was actually fairly tame due to the intense restrictions imposed by the school's charter onto affiliated groups- but private residences were not bound by the same rules, so students seeking debauchery had gradually clustered in close proximity until Party Avenue was born. Each weekend, once classes were released, the houses lit up and the students... cut loose.

While school administration vehemently denied the existence of any sort of underage drinking or illegal debauchery anywhere near their campus, faculty were firmly advised (for no particular reason) to stay away from that block on the weekends or risk liability. As such, the street had attained a sort of mythos amongst the teachers of the school as a modern day Sodom and Gomorrah that swallowed their students on the weekend and spat them back out on Monday for class with a hangover.

Such Earthly delights were denied to the professors... but fortunately Bernard Smith was not a professor anymore, he was a twenty-something college student named Andy. And Andy was ready to have some fun on Friday night.

Walking down Party Avenue while flashing lights spilled from windows and muffled music filled the air felt almost illegal to Professor Smith, but cloaked behind his new face none of the passing students gave him a second glance (save for the occasional double take from someone struck by his looks). The older man felt like he'd become one of the explorers he'd studied in grad school, boldly venturing into new territory in search of treasure- except the treasure he was on the hunt for was far more precious than dusty gold or ancient artifacts. No, he was on the lookout for something... fresher.

"Hi there ladies," he winked at a group of passing girls, who glanced him up and down erupted into pleased giggles as they waved back at him.

Bernard continued his journey with a spring in his step that came from feeling like a complete and total stud; thus far, being a hot young man was intoxicating. All of his aches and pains were gone and replaced with a boundless energy that fizzed through his veins and made him feel like he could lift a house and run for miles with it, but he resisted the urge and instead took things nice and slow. There was no rush, and he wanted to enjoy the first night of the rest of his life in this new body. No sense in skipping to dessert, he wanted to enjoy the full five course feast first.

His new cock seemed to disagree with him, perking up eagerly at the sight of every young woman they passed and trying its damndest to tear through his dress pants to get to her, but Bernard could hardly be upset about having such a virile set of tools at his disposal. He'd had more erections in the past hour with Andy's body than he'd had in the past year with his old one!

A stranger to this area without any clue where to go, the professor treated his new penis almost like a compass pointing the way towards the true North that was the pleasure he sought. He didn't know where it was, but he'd know it when he found it.

"Andy?" someone called out as he rounded a corner.

Bernard didn't think much of that and continued walking, ignoring as the voice repeated the name several times, and it wasn't until a boy ran across the street waving his arms and pointing at him that the professor realized that he was the Andy being addressed.

"Andy Douglass?" the young man asked, clearly very excited to see the boy who's body Bernard had stolen, and without asking he greeted Bernard with a one armed hug and a clap on the back. "My man! Remember me? It's Kirk! Long time no see!"

The older man resisted the urge to grimace and pulled away, taking a moment to assess the young man. "Kirk" was a tall, muscular black boy (though not as tall or muscular as Bernard's current body was, he noted proudly) with a relaxed attitude, a devil-may-care smile, and dim eyes- carbon copies of this exact student had filtered through Professor Smith's classroom for years, another brainless jock who only cared about drinking and screwing. He despised the type.

The most notable thing about Kirk was that instead of clothes, he was wearing a stereotypical "bedsheet toga-" one which the professor knew looked nothing like the genuine article would, and he was deeply unimpressed. Still, because this was his life now, he figured he should play nice.

"Oh yes, Kirk! Yes, it's me, Andy," Bernard cleared his throat and prepared to drop into character- he wasn't an old college professor anymore, this was his peer now. He had to talk to him in a language he understood. "Whazzup bro, how are you hanging this evening?"

"I'm chillin', I'm chillin'. Just out with the boys-" Kirk pointed across the street to a gaggle of equally cliche college students, all clad in similar sheet outfits, and they all waved and hollered over at Bernard. The old man gave them a half-hearted wave, barely concealing his disgust, and returned his attention to the one in front of him, who was still staring at him with those dumb eyes of his. "Man, it's crazy to see you out on a Friday night. You kinda disappeared once you started dating that guy- what was his name, Trent? The little guy. How's he doing?"

"Guy?" Now that caught Bernard's attention.

Andy Douglass was dating a boy? he marveled to himself. That would certainly explain why the young man had never flirted with any of the girls from class. The professor had half-suspected that a stud like that must have a girl back home but he would never have guessed about a boy because Andy just seemed so... manly. Subconsciously, the body snatcher reached up and rubbed a finger over the stubble that adorned his strong jaw, arm muscles battling for space with his shoulder, and he shook his head in disbelief. Kids today and their experiments.

Fortunately the many erections Bernard had gotten in this body from glancing at passing girls assured him he was still a staunch heterosexual, but the reveal had still thrown him for a loop. Thank goodness he'd taken this body, lest the women on campus be deprived of its assets!

Realizing that Kirk was still staring at him with a confused look on his face, Bernard cleared his throat (which rumbled rich and low) and responded.

"Oh yes, him. We won't be seeing much more of him anymore, I've turned over a new leaf- turned out the whole boys thing wasn't for me," he shrugged and threw a rueful smile on his face. "Actually, I'm out tonight on the prowl for some female companionship, if you catch my drift."

"Shit, it didn't work out?" Surprise actually brought a bit of life into Kirk's dull eyes as he shook his head sadly. "Sorry man, but hey, it's his loss. He's a fucking dumbass if he let a catch like you go," Kirk turned his head and spat into the street, then looked sidelong at Bernard with a smirk. "But it sounds like what you need to get over him is to get your dick wet."

"Indeed," Bernard agreed heartily, though the crude expression did make him cringe internally, and he spoke more truth than Kirk would understand. "It's been far too long since I've been in the arms of a woman and I'm starving for a screw."

His dick was hard once again just at the mere thought of being with a woman and he had to reach down to adjust himself before the bulge in his pants got too obscene- Kirk watched him struggle with his endowment and gave a laugh.

"Well if I remember anything about Andy, you're not gonna have to go begging for your rebound," the young man scanned Andy's body up and down and gave a whistle of appreciation. "Damn dude, you're looking swole!"

"Swole?" Bernard patted at his face, feeling for swelling. "Where?"

"Everywhere, man, the gym's really paying off," Kirk reached forward and grabbed one of Andy's biceps, giving the firm muscle a squeeze. "The ladies are gonna take one look at those pythons and their panties'll come flying off."

"Oh," Bernard thought. "It's a compliment."

"Yes, I've got quite a remarkable body, don't I?" Bernard muttered, and unable to resist showing off a bit, he made his bicep jump under Kirk's hand. One of his hands flew up and carded through the meadow of locks on top of his head, and he beamed with a mouth full of white teeth. "All of these muscles, this stunning face, and I've got hair! I'm a modern day Adonis."

Rather than being put off by his friend's sudden vanity, Kirk seemed excited by it, actually clapping his hands together and giving a holler in a show of appreciation. Bernard was starting to like him a bit more.

"Hell yeah, dude! Hashtag love yourself, king," he cheered, but then he paused and cocked his head to the side like a dog. "But what's up with the fit though? You're dressed like you're going to a job interview."

Professor Smith looked down at his clothes: a tight red button up dress shirt that hugged his arms (unbuttoned so it would billow open every now and then and allow for a glimpse of his pectorals) with a matching blue tie and some smart dress pants. Admittedly, the dress pants were a bit snug around the rear end (Bernard was half-worried he would burst the seams before the night was up), but otherwise it was a perfectly respectable way to dress for an evening on the town.

Young people have no sense of class, Bernard thought to himself as he eyed Kirk's wrinkled sheet toga.

"I don't know what you mean, I'm dressed to impress," Bernard said defensively, shaking his arms out and adjusting his cuffs a bit. He glared pointedly at Kirk's excuse for an outfit. "Besides, I think it's very rich of you to critique my smart attire when you're literally wrapped in a bedsheet."

"Oh, you like that?" Kirk stuck his tongue out and struck a pose like he was modelling the unsightly garment. "Lee scored an invite to a kegger some some business students are throwing and it's Greek themed, so I'm dressed like fucking Julius Caesar."

Professor Smith grimaced. "Caesar was Roman."

"Whatever," Kirk rolled his eyes and waved his hand as if to say same difference, and Bernard was half-tempted to argue before remembering that he wasn't a professor anymore and the ignorance of young men like this was no longer his responsibility. The thought brightened him up considerably, and he was a good mood when Kirk spoke next. "Anyways, this party sounds like it's gonna be lit! You should tag along, we haven't partied together in forever. I can be your wingman for tonight, help you bag the hottest chicks."

And that- Bernard thought that was the smartest thing Kirk had said all evening. Now he had a destination, a party invite, and a handy translator who could help him disguise his complete lack of knowledge of the drivel that kids today passed off as slang. It didn't matter that listening to Kirk talk made him want to tear his new hair out, he'd be leaving him for the company of a woman soon enough!

Besides, he thought as he looked over at the gaggle of unwashed college jocks who would be his companions for the evening, it would do these men some good to see how a real man conducts himself. Perhaps they might learn something from him- though if the grades Professor Smith had been giving out in his classes were any indication, the chances of that were slim.

🔀

Trevor had a separate Instagram page exclusively devoted to following the biggest party animals on campus- not because he cared, but because they were useful. As inane as these peoples' compulsive need to broadcast their behavior to the world was, it also meant that their accounts were a treasure trove of information on where the best parties were and who was at them. All Trevor had to do when Andy got swapped was fire up the app and scan the sea of photos/videos for a glimpse of his pretty face... or more frequently, his ass, which the people who stole his body often left that hanging out and drew cameras to it like nothing else.

"Thank god we live in a surveillance state," Trevor remarked dryly as he picked his way through the crowded living room of the random house party they'd tracked Professor Smith to.

"Speak for yourself," Andy replied, wincing when he looked back at the photo they'd found of his body posing with a drink in one hand and a girl hanging from the other. "It's not your picture floating around on the web."

Seeing pictures like this was always surreal for Andy because it was like getting a glimpse into an alternate reality, one where he'd gone down an different path and become a mindless party animal. The type of guy who pounded down beers, screamed obnoxiously loud, and spent every night with a different girl- visually, he fit the stereotype perfectly, but that wasn't who he wanted to be. Unfortunately, since other people often ran around with his face, he didn't really get a choice in what people thought of him.

While he still enjoyed going out with friends, he was past his party boy days, so a random rager like this on the outskirts of campus wasn't really his scene anymore. Still, at least he was more used to the loud music and crowded hallways than poor Trevor, who seemed to be having an awful time.

"I hate how crowded this place is!" Trevor rose up on his toes and tried to peek over the crowd, grunting in frustration as his eyes roamed a wall of college students' backs. "Why are there people so many people here? Don't they have lives?"

Andy snorted as he watched his petite boyfriend struggling, and it was so cute he wanted to pull him close and give him a kiss, but he resisted the urge to do so when he still looked like their professor. He accidentally made eye contact with a student, who gave him a bewildered look, and he awkwardly averted his eyes. Andy sighed- he was used to people eyeing him up at parties but usually it was because they were checking him out, not because they were confused why he was there.

He returned his attention to Trevor, who was still laser focused on their mission, and quickened his pace so he wouldn't be left behind (doing his best to ignore the way that his fat wobbled as he moved).

"You know Trev," he remarked, glancing around the lively soiree at the smiling faces and dancing bodies. "Speaking as a reformed party boy, I think most people would describe going out and having a good time on a Friday night as 'a life.'"

"Yes, well," the smaller boy huffed and gave a little hop to try to get a bit more height to search the room for glimpses of brown skin and muscles. "They should do it quieter."

Then, as if to spite Trevor's request, the clue they were looking for came in the form of someone being loud.

A group of voices chanting "Andy! Andy! Andy!" echoed over the din of the party, and the boyfriends exchanged a nervous glance before rushing off to find the source of the noise. They traced the shouts out into the (spacious) backyard of the house where a group of clearly drunk guys wrapped in bedsheet togas surrounded a large keg of beer, all of them losing their minds with glee as they pushed a familiar face forwards towards the metal barrel.

There was a brief moment of relief when the boyfriends saw that they had finally located Andy's body, but it was quickly replaced by anger and frustration as they examined the state that said body was in.

Professor Smith seemed to have made himself comfortable in the hunky body he'd stolen: the man was clad only in a bedsheet loosely wrapped around his form (in some approximation of a toga) which hung off of his shoulder and put the rippling muscles of his upper body on clear display. Lipstick stains showing where kisses had been were smudged across the exposed skin, crime scenes in the shiny layer of sweat that coated him, and a blue necktie was tied sideways around his head like he had jumped off the screen of some '80s movie.

If the way he was stumbling around tipsily was any indication, he had been drinking, and as he leaned forwards and grabbed on to the keg with a dopey grin on his face, it seemed he intended to drink some more.

"Oh fuck," Andy groaned, hiding his face behind his hands in shame. Not a fucking keg stand. "Trev, he's making me look like a douche!"

With too much confidence for someone who had only had that body for a few hours, Professor Smith leaped off the ground and jackknifed his legs up into the air, powerful muscles straining as he pulled himself into a handstand position atop the keg. (For a moment, Andy regretted all the time he spent working on core strength- but in his defense, he didn't know that it would be used for this!) Two guys slipped behind him, each one grabbing a leg, and they held him in position as someone else slipped the nozzle of the keg into his mouth.

"Chug! Chug! Chug!" the partygoers chanted, and Andy and Trevor watched in horror as someone turned the faucet and the man in Andy's body began to suck down a copious amount of alcohol.

The boys holding his legs shook him back and forth encouragingly and the sheet toga (which had been tangled around his legs and barely hanging on) slipped down and revealed that Bernard was wearing nothing underneath except his borrowed birthday suit. The reveal of Andy's massive cock, hanging high above the crowd like it was sent from heaven itself, drew another round of cheers from the crowd, and every girl in attendance began whispering to each other. Trevor frowned, feeling a bit jealous for no real reason.

"What the fuck?" Andy's annoyingly white face flushed beet red as he watched his privates swinging around in the air- just because he was proud of his equipment didn't mean he wanted everyone to see it! Fortunately his face was shoved into a barrel and it was rather dark outside so any footage would be blurry, but still, the number of phones he saw pointed at his naked body made him cringe. "Why is my dick hanging out? He was definitely wearing clothes in the photo we saw earlier, what the fuck happened to them?"

"Guess he decided he didn't need them looking like that," Trevor mused, unimpressed by the professor's lack of imagination in how he would use Andy's body. The boy was so used to seeing other people parading around naked as his boyfriend that his perspective on the scene was almost clinical- though he did take a moment to admire the way that the perky butt Andy worked so hard for jutted out nicely when his legs were in the air. "You look good upside down."

"Oh no you don't," Andy slapped his hands over Trevor's eyes, glaring over at himself territorially. "No sexualizing my body until I'm back inside it."

One of the boys holding Professor Smith up gave his ass a smack, allowing everyone a front row seat to what Andy's juicy butt looked like when it jiggled, and he and his partner lowered the stud to the ground. The professor stumbled a bit, a small amount of beer dribbling out of his still full mouth before he managed to swallow the rest of his drink, then he shook his head and let out a huge belch that echoed out into the night.

His companions (for some reason) let out a huge cheer at that and swarmed around him, and emboldened by their attention, Professor Smith threw his head back and let out a roar. As the other boys chanted Andy's name he pounded on his chest like a gorilla, his fists making meaty thwacks as they shook his toned pecs, and it seemed for a moment that he was on the verge of turning into a literal party animal.

The real Andy was growing progressively madder and madder at the spectacle, but before he could do anything, he felt someone tap him on his shoulder. Barely managing to keep a lid on his rage, he turned and was faced with a young woman he vaguely recognized from class staring up at him with confusion.

"Professor Smith?" the girl asked, eyeing him with a mix of surprsie and suspicion. "Are you allowed to be at a student party?"

"No, I'm not," Andy hissed through gritted teeth, whipping his head around to glare over at the impostor wearing his face. "Let me go fix that."

And then he stormed off without another word, leaving the poor student standing there looking bewildered and most likely wondering if she should call someone. Trevor just shrugged at her and hurried away after his irate boyfriend.

🔀

Meanwhile, Bernard Smith was having the best night of his life.

As a teacher, he'd absolutely hated college boys like Kirk. They were loud, obnoxious, and only seemed to care about when the next party was. But now that he was one of them? They were his best bros!

Now that the barrier of age and profession was gone, he found that he had a lot in common with them: just like them, he loved drinking and kissing hot girls. And in light of the recent breakup that Bernard had manufactured, the horde of college boys had been very eager to reacquaint "Andy" with the party-goer lifestyle, guiding him around the festivities all evening and always making sure he had a drink in his hand and a girl on his arm.

And the girls... the girls were glorious.

After years of staring at pretty young college girls from the front of the classroom, the professor was finally allowed to touch them, and he had gone positively wild with the privilege. All evening long he had been gorging himself on forbidden fruit, making great use of Andy's incredible sex appeal to seduce every girl that crossed his path. He'd become a regular Casanova, barely able to get started kissing one girl with one girl before another caught his eye and whisked him away for a make out session of her own.

Getting to grab a barely-legal girl's breasts without her screaming for help was incredibly hot, but the thing Bernard found the most erotic was the way the girls worshipped the peaks and valleys of his rock hard body. Still getting a feel for what his new body was capable of, he'd yet to bed any of them, but if the power in his hips as he ground his huge cock into their thighs and the ease with which he hoisted girls up and pinned them to the wall was any indication, he was in for a borderline spiritual experience when he finally decided to go there.

He wasn't reliving his youth- this was better than his youth! In his youth he hadn't been a hot hung hunk with no cares except which of the girls surrounding him he'd be taking home at the end of the night... that is, if he settled for just one. Perhaps he'd even invite all of them!

The notion was impossibly greedy but well, tonight was a night for indulgence, wasn't it?

His new body was a wonder- he half-suspected he had enough in his loins to satisfy all of these girls and then some. The amount of alcohol he'd imbibed would have made his old cock into a limp noodle and made his liver cry out for help, but as the beer sloshed around in the guts hidden behind his new six pack, all he felt was a pleasant buzz and an easy looseness to his limbs. This body had even made drinking better!

His current healthy cock was still fully operational, something comically obvious at a glance thanks to the sizeable tent in the front of his sheet toga that bounced with every movement he made. The idea of walking around with such an obvious erection would have been mortifying just yesterday, but his new body had allowed him to shed his inhibitions as freely as he had shed his clothes and now he wanted everyone to see that he had a big fat boner. He was damn proud of the thing!

That was the greatest thing that he'd stolen from Andy: confidence. The knowledge that everyone wanted to see him, and that finally, he was someone worth looking at. (Although the penis was great too.)

He shivered as he felt a cool breeze waft across his balls- he'd long ago ditched his formal wear in favor of one of the simple togas that the other boys around him were wearing. At first he'd thought they'd all looked ridiculous, but the more he drank, the better the idea sounded. What was he all buttoned up for? Why had he bothered stealing the body of a young man if he was still going to behave like he was old? He'd discarded those stuffy old clothes in a corner somewhere and proudly joined the ranks of the toga clad college boys.

When in Rome, he thought to himself, not even caring that he'd just conflated the Greek and Roman empires (something he'd failed many a student for).

Besides allowing him to fit in with his new "bros," the bastardized toga also displayed his body perfectly and allowed plenty of places for girls to rub their hands over his bulging muscles- a convenience several were taking advantage of right now.

A blonde on his left and a brunette on his right... he was in heaven.

"You're so big," purred the brown haired girl as she rubbed at his belly- focusing mainly on his six pack, but every so often her hand "accidentally" brushed against the head of his cock. "I love big guys like you."

"Oh yeah? You like what you see?" he clenched his stomach, causing his abs to flex beneath her hand, and she cooed in delight. A glance down at her dark brown bosoms peeking out the top of her barely-there shirt made him pretty happy too.

"I love it," she grabbed her shoulder and tugged him down so she could whisper in his ear. "And I'd love to see more."

A shiver ran down Bernard's back all the way down to his cock, and a small wet spot appeared in the front of his sheet toga. He brushed off the girl who was on his other side (who pouted as she stomped away) and grabbed the other girl by her waist, yanking her close and crashing their lips together. His tongue thrust into her mouth and the two shared a long, deep kiss for a moment before he pulled back.

"Say, how old are you?" he asked, and she looked at him strangely.

"Twenty-four," she said. "Why, am I too old for you?"

Bernard let out a moan of lust and pounced on her, sending the two tumbling to the ground right there on the patio for everyone to see, and his gaggle of new buddies erupted into cheers. He paused in his make out session and looked up so he could shoot his boys a cocky smile, but froze when he saw a familiar face storming towards him.

"Get off of her you thief!" the real Andy bellowed, shoving his way through a group of guys to glower down at the body snatcher currently misusing his body, and the party goers around him erupted into chatter.

The version of "himself" on the floor had frozen in place, staring up the real Andy with an expression of shock on his face, and the girl beneath him (oblivious to the interruption) was still sucking on his neck. The sight of his body in such an X-rated position scandalized Andy (what exactly was this guy's plan, fuck a girl on the lawn in front of a crowd?) but as he glanced around at the attentive crowd, he knew that getting seen being manhandled by a professor would be worse, so he held himself back and clenched his fists by his side as he waited for the thief to respond.

A moment later, the thief snapped out of his stupor and an evil looking grin appeared split his face.

"What the fuck are you talking about old man?" Bernard responded, injecting venom into those last two words, and he rolled his hips and ground his crotch into the girl beneath him (who squeaked with delight). "I have no idea what you could possibly be talking about. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm trying to enjoy myself."

"Yo, aren't you a professor here?" Kirk piped up, glancing between the two with confusion. He grabbed the man he thought to be Professor Smith by the shoulder and gripped him tightly. "Andy, is this guy bothering you?"

Not fucking Kirk, Andy thought. The two had lived in the same dorm freshman year and crossed paths out a lot back in his party days, but Andy had begun avoiding the guy for being annoying as hell and partying too hard. But it looks like the "new" Andy had become fast friends with Kirk, and was picking up some of his bad habits. This guy is the worst.

"Step the fuck off dude," he groaned, shoving Kirk on the shoulder, and (caught off-guard) the boy stumbled back into his posse without much resistance. The group erupted into nondescript hollering, shaking fists angrily, and Trevor decided to step in while everyone else was distracted.

The sight of his boyfriend's body being used to make out with another girl filled him with hatred, but he channeled that into a cold, calculating rage chilled the air between him and body snatcher as Trevor leaned down to whisper in his ear.

"Actually I think you'll want to hear what we have to say, Andy," Trevor hissed the name out through gritted teeth, and it made the hairs on the back of the thief's next stand up. "Somewhere private. There are some things I think you'll want to hear about that involve the 'project' you were working on."

There was a hint of steel in Trevor's voice that compelled Bernard to listen to the strange boy, and undercurrent of a threat that was just intriguing enough that the professor reluctantly pulled himself away from the embrace of the girl in his arms and rose up to his feet.

His abandoned partner scrambled to her feet and grabbed his hand, staring at him with disbelief. "You're leaving?"

Bernard turned to look at the beautiful young woman and grinned, yanking her closer and crashing their mouths together for a deep kiss that lasted about fifteen seconds too long- but he was staring into his old body's eyes the whole time, savoring the rage he saw on the face of the former Andy, who was powerless to stop him. He pulled away and smacked her on the ass for good measure.

"Don't worry sweet cheeks, I'll be right back," he winked. "I don't plan on going anywhere."

🔀

The three retreated into the house (Bernard shouting some weak excuse to his new friends that they were all too drunk to care about anyways) and made their way down a random hallway, pushing open doors to reveal packed tableaus until they found a bedroom that was only occupied by a single couple making out on the bed.

"Out, we need to deal with something," Trevor commanded them, and the pair were so confused by the sudden appearance of the mismatched trio that they obeyed without question, zipping up their pants and brushing past Professor Smith in Andy's body as he strutted confidently through the doorway.

Although he'd agreed to go off with them, Bernard wasn't worried at all about Andy and the other boy; actually he was feeling quite cocky. After all, he was the smart one here and he held all the cards... and he knew just how to remind these two kids who was the alpha in this situation.

Bernard casually let his "sheet toga" slip to the floor to stand butt naked, shamelessly flaunting the beautiful new body that was now his in front of its previous owner, and he flung himself onto the bed with the ease of a man in his early twenties. He leaned against the bedframe and crossed his arms behind his head, his powerful biceps displayed proudly, and made sure to spread his thick legs so that his opponents could have a clear view of the prize-worthy cock and balls he possessed. He had no doubt he made quite a sight, and just to rub salt in the wound he looked straight at the real Andy and made a big show of scanning his former body up and down. His eyes lingered pointedly on its bald head and sagging gut, and an ugly smile split his handsome face as he locked on to his watery old eyes.

"How can I help you Professor Smith and-" he glanced over at Andy's smaller brown-skinned companion and sneered. "And you must be my ex-boyfriend. Trent, was it?"

"Trevor," the boy muttered, boldly holding eye contact with the body snatcher rather than giving in to his intimidation tactics, but Bernard wasn't phased. His new body outclassed Trevor's in every aspect- if anything, he was just surprised that a hunk like Andy had chosen to settle down with a boy like that.

"You're rather scrawny, aren't you?" he remarked, looking down at his pecs as he gave them an exaggerated flex, then back up at Trevor with a pitying smile on his face. "No wonder I broke up with you when I have a body that looks like this."

Incensed by the attack on his boyfriend, Andy shoved himself between the two and glared down at the body snatcher lounging on the bed with all the rage he could muster. Getting a view of himself from the outside always gave him a shocking perspective on how other people saw him- his gorgeous body with its smooth caramel skin and carefully sculpted muscles (his workout routine was hitting right) sprawled out long and large was an impressive sight, but when he looked at his face and saw the sheer malice radiating from the soul hiding behind those eyes, it sent chills down his spine. He was sure that he'd never looked like that.

"You don't have shit actually," Andy shouted, mustering up his courage and jabbing a finger accusingly at Professor Smith, and the man wearing his face laughed at him. "You just stole my body!"

"Excellent deduction skills Mr. Douglass," Bernard sneered, rolling his eyes sarcastically. "What gave it away? Was it the back pains? The baldness? The skin color? Or maybe..." the professor reached down between his legs and took Andy's girthy member in his hands, shaking its length back and forth with a devious grin on his face. "Maybe it was that little limp thing between your legs that you're stuck with now."

From the way his old face grew pinched and red, Bernard knew he'd struck a nerve with that one. The memory of what his old cock was like was still fresh in his mind and he didn't envy Andy one bit- or the little boyfriend, for that matter.

"Regardless of what it was that sparked the epiphany your juvenile pea brain," he continued, hammering the nail in a bit further just to enjoy the look of shame on the formerly young man's face. "Maybe if you'd applied some of those skills to your classwork you'd be getting an A! You should be thanking me- stealing my body was the only way you were going to get a degree."

"Shut up," Andy snapped, desperately wishing that he still had his own body so he could do that thing where he puffed himself up and made himself look scary to get an edge in an argument. As it was, all the weight he had to throw around was fat. "I'm not gonna take shit from some old body snatcher- and stop touching my dick!"

Although the professor obviously wasn't turned on by the sight of his disgusting old body, he couldn't deny the sick sense of pleasure he got from toying with his new cock while maintaining eye contact with its real owner, and his manhood just grew more intimidating every second. The mind games were working- the way the body snatcher rolled it around in his hands so lecherously was disturbing to Andy and set him a bit off-balance.

Andy's dick, not caring at all that it was being used for evil, flopped around looking happy and heavy in the thief's hands and engorged itself with more blood.

Traitor, Andy though spitefully. What was the point of having a big dick if it wasn't on your side?

"From what I've heard, you don't seem to mind when another man touches your dick!" Bernard taunted, malice bubbling up from deep within him. He knew it was something of a playground insult, but he was far past the Rubicon at this point and might as well play dirty.

The professor glanced at Andy's boyfriend and shuddered at the thought of the big dick in his hands being used to pleasure the scrawny young man- or worse, the little fellow mounting Andy's sturdy frame and jamming his own prick into the annoyingly bouncy ass Bernard currently possessed. Not while I'm in charge, he thought to himself.

"I'm a liberal, of course, I don't have anything against gay people, but I must say it seems like such a shame that you were wasting this incredible body on men. A masculine form like this deserves to know the love of a good woman! Preferably a new one every night," Bernard smirked and slid his hands down to cup his balls, gently rolling the heavy orbs around in his fingers. "Hell, maybe even two or three! I'll bet I'm plenty virile now, I can handle it."

"First of all, I'm not gay, I'm bi, I've been with girls before," Andy protested, then he shook his head in disbelief. "Second of all, do you even hear yourself? You just want to steal my body so you can use it to be a manwhore? That's so fucked up!"

"Youth is wasted on the young," Bernard tsked the boy sadly. "Trust me, after a few days in that body you'll come to regret not indulging in life's pleasures while you could."

"Oh I can't wait to fuck a woman with this thing- I don't know if I'll ever be able to stop fucking women with this thing! I tell you kids, it's a dream come true," Bernard grinned from ear to ear, not a trace of shame on his face, and rolled his broad shoulders to feel his muscles stretch. "I could take this pretty face and this big dick out into that party right now and any girl would be on her knees for me in an instant. The young women of the world should be thanking me for liberating this body."

Andy fought the urge to gag (how was this old guy so gross?) and crossed his arms in an attempt to look stern. "Yeah, well, I don't think those girls out there would be happy to find out that the guy they're grinding on is actually old enough to be their grandfather."

"Grandfather?" Bernard gasped. "I'm fifty three, I'm not that old you dunderhead!" Then a devious smile crossed his handsome face and he ran a finger over his jawline, appreciating the smooth, tight skin. "Besides, I believe you're the old one actually. I'm currently what, twenty six years old?"

"I'm twenty-three," Andy corrected him with a harumph. "Jackass."

"Just twenty-three?" Bernard was genuinely surprised by that, and he looked down at Andy's well-developed muscles with a new appreciation. At twenty three years old Bernard had been out of breath when he climbed the stairs, yet in the same amount of years Andy had sculpted himself into a Greek statue. "What are they putting in the food these days? You've got an incredible body for your age, I was right to steal it."

"See!" Andy exclaimed triumphantly. "How do you think you can steal my life when you don't even know how old I am? Do you even know where I live? What my major is? What my family is like?" Andy shook his head. "You'll never be able to pull this off."

"Pish posh," the professor waved his hands back and forth and turned his nose up, a distinctly old school gesture that looked out of place on Andy's form. "I know you've got a handsome face and a nice body, that's all that matters. As long as I've got all this-" he placed his hands on Andy's heavy pecs and heaved the meat up and down for emphasis. "Everything will work itself out."

"Oh yeah? Well all that didn't just happen overnight," Andy snapped, and he put his hands to the sagging manboobs his current body had and heaved them in a mocking parody of what Bernard had just done with his body. "Something tells me you aren't exactly familiar with the gym, do you even know what it takes to build up a body like that? I give it two months before you've wrecked my body!"

"Please, how hard can it be to pick heavy things up and put them down again? I have a PHD, I think I can figure it out," Bernard rolled his eyes, then teased his fingers up and down the ridges of his abs tauntingly. "Besides, you've already given me the base, all I have to do is maintain it. Rest assured that your six pack is safe with me..." he rolled his body to the side slightly so his butt was exposed, and he glared down at it. "Although I'll be happy to let this ridiculous rump of yours go."

"My 'rump?' Ridiculous?" Andy gasped, both hands flying to his mouth with shock. He didn't care how shallow it sounded but his bubble butt was one of his prized possessions- big, shapely, and with the perfect combination of firmness and bounce -so hearing the older man disrespect it like that was borderline blasphemy. "My ass is legendary on campus. Do you have any idea how many squats I had to hit to get a dump truck like that?"

A dump truck? Bernard shook his head. Kids today and their slang.

"No, I don't know how much time you wasted doing squats, and I don't intend to find out either," Bernard frowned at the globes of flesh jutting out of his lower half like they had done something to offend to him. "Honestly, you kids today and your obsession with having big butts should be studied. There's nothing manly about looking like the seams of your pants are going to burst!" Then he reached back and grabbed at one of his cheeks, squeezing it violently in his hands and giving the muscle a rough shake. "And why does it move like this? I'm sick of it bouncing around all the time! No, I think you'll look much better without this thing."

"Okay, that is IT," Andy bellowed, bending forwards and slamming his fists down on the mattress dramatically- to angry to care about how he tweaked his back in the process. "You can steal my face, take my life, make me look like an idiot- but when you come for my ass, it's personal." He pointed at the body snatcher and glared with every ounce of authority he had in him. "You need to get out of my body now, or else."

"Or else what?" Professor Smith sneered. He pushed himself off the bed and drew himself up to Andy's impressive 6'2'' (his new body had about six inches on his old body- and also was four inches taller), spreading his shoulders and puffing his chest out so he looked like a sturdy mountain of muscles. He leered down at Andy with a wolfish grin. "And what are you going to do about it?"

"I'll-" Andy paused, came up short for an answer, then turned to his boyfriend. "Trev, tell him what we're gonna do."

"Are you two done bickering?" Trevor asked, sounding mildly amused. He stepped up to stand side by side with his boyfriend, subtly twining their hands together to show support, and looked up into the professor's eyes. "Because if you are, I'd like to get to the part where you two switch back to your real bodies."

Professor Smith threw his head back and laughed. "Switch back? Why on Earth would I go back to being an old man when I could be this?" He flexed dramatically like a body builder, once again flaunting his strapping young body, and Trevor rolled his eyes.

"I'm not asking you, I'm telling you," the twink said flatly, unimpressed by the older man's posturing despite how big Andy's body made him look. "You've pulled off a good trick but it won't last forever, there's a way to reverse any spell."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Professor Smith said, looking all too smug. "I translated that spell myself from an archaic hieroglyphic script- I'm the only one on the planet who knows how it works and I'm not keen to give up that secret any time soon."

"Interesting theory," Trevor nodded, glancing down and picking at his fingernails for a moment before looking back up with a knowing glint in his eye. "Well here's my take- you left your shit lying out back at your house and I'm pretty sure what you translated was just a variation of an older Sumerian ritual that I am familiar with. And that's how I know," he paused for dramatic effect, and Andy grinned in anticipation. "That you didn't translate the whole thing."

He slipped his backpack off of his shoulder and began rifling through it, but Professor Smith was more concerned with other matters.

"Wait, my house?" he interrupted, a bit taken aback by that detail. "How did you get into my house?"

"Threw a rock through your window," Andy said with a shit eating grin. "Also I carved a dick into the side of your car."

"You WHAT?" Bernard bellowed, so enraged that he reached forwards and shoved Andy back- but though the boy stumbled, he didn't stop smiling. "I'm going to call the cops!"

"And tell them what?" Andy chuckled, glad that he finally had the upper hand over the body snatcher. "All of your neighbors saw 'you' do it- right before you mooned them, by the way." He turned tail and patted at his nonexistent behind. "Bet they would have preferred to see my ass instead of yours."

"Anyways," Trevor interjected before Professor Smith could say anything else, and he held up a long red wax candle he'd produced from his bag. "If you had done your due diligence with your translations of this spell you'd be aware that it's anchored to the lifespan of this candle here, which means that if I just-" Trevor turned the candle sideways and pushed on both ends, snapping it in half effortlessly. "-then you'll both revert back to normal."

A pulse of energy ripped through the room as the spell unwove itself and the change back was instantaneous- the professor's borrowed body practically exploded with fat, the shocked thief letting out a cry as his massive arms sagged and his tight six pack was swallowed up by a bulbous gut. The jock butt which he had been so rude to deflated like a beach ball and the second it was gone Bernard suddenly realized what a fool he'd been to not appreciate the damn thing. He was filled with despair as he felt the delicious power he'd borrowed abandon him as his stolen muscles melted away leaving him back in the pale and unimpressive body he'd been neglecting for years.

To make things even worse, the absurd amount of alcohol he'd consumed as a massive twenty three year old had stayed with him and his fifty three year old stomach was already revolting.

Worst of all he was still butt naked, and no longer had anything to be proud of.

Trevor averted his eyes from this process- he had no interest in looking at Professor Smith's body now that his boyfriend wasn't stuck inside of it. Instead he looked at Andy as his body snapped back to its true form and returned to him the physique that he'd worked so hard on, which was a much more pleasant sight.

The boy was grinning from ear to ear as his facial features morphed, returning him to his handsome visage, and the wrinkles all across his body faded away as his skin returned to its healthy light brown shade. Hair began to sprout from the top of his head, and Andy breathed out a sigh of relief as he ran his fingers through the wooly strands.

Okay good, he thought to himself. I could not pull off bald.

The transformation to his body was equally dramatic, his rotund form retreating as his frame reclaimed its rightful height and muscle. Andy was glowing with excitement to be a twenty three year old hunk again, Trevor couldn't help but feel a tingle of arousal as he watched his boyfriend shimmy out of the oversized clothes he'd been using to cover Professor Smith's old body to expose his sexy real form instead.

"Oh thank fuck, I'm back to me again!" Andy cheered, hands roaming his body as he took stock of the changes. He needed to make sure that everything was returned to him just the way he'd left it. Pecs, abs, biceps, his beautiful ass- a sudden tug of gravity between his legs confirmed that his dick had reclaimed its former glory as well. A huge smile cracked his face as he stared down, twisting himself back and forth to admire his lovingly sculpted body. "Oh, I fucking missed this!"

"But- that's supposed to be mine!" Professor Smith whined, his own hands pressed in front of his privates to preserve some measure of dignity as he watched Andy caressing the body that had been his less than a minute ago. Already he missed the intoxicating feeling of strength that came with those muscles, and (as he shifted awkwardly on the balls of his feet) the confidence that came with having a big cock.

Trevor rolled his eyes and pulled some spare clothes from his backpack to toss to his boyfriend, who caught them effortlessly and began to dress himself.

"Don't be stupid, you know it's not," the smaller boy snapped at Professor Smith, snatching up the oversized clothes Andy had discarded and waving them at the older man like they were a weapon. "And don't even think about trying to mess with occult dealings again or else I'll use some of the tricks I've learned and turn you into an actual pig- since you seem so intent on acting like one."

The professor, feeling much less bold now that he was a middle aged man again, widened his eyes in fear. "You can do that?"

Andy, now dressed in some basketball shorts and a snug t-shirt, slung an arm across Trevor's shoulder and smiled down at his boyfriend affectionately. "Trev can do anything."

"Thank you Andy..." Trevor muttered, his cheeks flushing dark brown for a moment, before he cleared his throat and returned his attention to the would-be body snatcher in front of them. He jabbed a finger at Bernard, getting a small thrill at the way the bigger man flinched. "So here's what happens now: you will delete any records you have of this ritual and pretend like this never happened. Andy will not be going back to your class, but he will be getting an A for the semester. Do we have an understanding?"

"And if I refuse?" Professor Smith ventured, his bluster betrayed by the way his voice shook. Trevor and Andy exchanged a look.

"Then we release the videos we made while Andy was in your body of you doing some very inappropriate and possibly illegal things and you never work again," Trevor said flatly, and Andy gave a devious chuckle.

"Oh and it was some weird shit," the young man taunted. He crossed his arms menacingly- being switched out of his body always reminded him to appreciate the benefits that came with the presence of his own hulking form. "Only seemed fair since you were making an asshole out of yourself with my body that I did it with yours."

Trevor continued. "But if you say yes right now, we'll be nice and give you the clothes Andy walked out in so you don't get fired for being naked at a student's party. Doesn't that sound fair?"

Professor Smith looked down at his naked body let out a small noise from the back of his throat when he finally processed just how bad the situation was for him. Stumbling out without clothes on wasn't an option- if he were still in Andy's body it wouldn't be a problem (hell, people would probably thank him for the free show) but as an over-the-hill professor surrounded by a bunch of students they'd slap him in handcuffs before he could get a word out. He'd be lucky if all he lost was his job.

His eyes darted between the two boys like a rat cornered by two cats, and his eyes landed mournfully on the swell of Andy's pectoral muscles as they pressed through the thin fabric of his shirt.

"So I can't have just one night in his body?" Bernard pleaded, one last desperate time. "Just one, I promise! Or even just an hour! Please, I didn't get to fuck anybody! Hell, I can pay you!"

"Oh hey that's an idea," Andy turned to his boyfriend and grinned mischievously. "Should we make him give us money too?"

Trevor shook his head. "Just the compliance will be fine. And you accept the terms of our deal, right?"

"Alright, you two win!" Professor Smith threw his hands in the air, exposing his shriveled cock, and Andy and Trevor averted their eyes. "No more magic just... can I please have some clothes?"

🔀

The two boys, eager to get things over with, threw the clothes in Bernard's face (along with a promise from Trevor that he would be in touch and Bernard better hold up his end of the deal) and then made their exit, literally slamming the door on the whole ordeal behind them. The dip leaned against the wall of the hallway and caught their breath, staring out at the throngs of bodies and multicolored lights of the still-raging party, and then the two of them burst out laughing.

Andy's entire body was shaking and he clutched at his (once again tight) belly, nearly doubled over with laughter, and then he sucked in a deep breath and tried to calm himself down a bit. The small shoulder bounces that Trevor always did when he was laughing were starting to fade, and Andy smiled.

"God that guy was a douche," he said, jamming his thumb back towards the room, and Trevor nodded in agreement.

"Tell me about it," he snorted, then he glanced sidelong at Andy. "Was I that bad when I was in your body?"

"Nah," Andy sniffed dismissively, then he took advantage of his reclaimed height and leaned over to peer down at Trevor with a lopsided grin. "When you did it, it was hot."

The expression on Andy's face was so damn goofy that Trevor almost wanted to laugh and flick him in the forehead, but instead the sight just melted his heart. There was a carefree ease to Andy that no one else could match- that was his body and his alone, and the fact that he wanted to use it to be with Trevor (of all people) still felt like a miracle.

"It's good to have you back," the lovestruck boy whispered, not sure if he would even be audible above the din of the party, but from the way Andy's face softened he must have heard it.

"All thanks to you, Trev," Andy murmured back, rubbing at the back of his neck somewhat nervously. He was finding it hard to look into Trevor's chocolate eyes without feeling like a fool so instead he trained his eyes on the floor, grateful that he once again had a complexion that would hide his blush somewhat. "You were incredible in there, I'm so- I'm so lucky to have you. I would have been screwed if you weren't here so, thanks dude."

"Hey, you know I'd do anything for you," Trevor tucked a strand of his floppy hair behind his ear and placed his hand on Andy's shoulder, relishing the familiar feeling of his boyfriend's sturdy form under his fingers once again. "I'm just glad that you're you again. Nobody else can wear that body like you can."

Andy reached his hand up and grabbed onto Trevor's, squeezing it tight with all the love in his body, and the two boys took a moment to bask in the wave of relief that came with successfully surviving another snatch. Trevor studied Andy's face, that beautiful face that everyone wanted for themselves, and he almost leaned in for a kiss- but then he glanced sidelong at the throngs of people watching them and decided against it.

"Anyways, let's get out of here," Trevor sniffed at the air, his nose wrinkling at the smell of sweat, sugar, and weed that wafted through the cramped space. "This party sucks."

"Oh this party's ass," Andy agreed, glancing over at the crowd with a mysterious glint in his eye. "But we gotta do one thing before we go."

Eager to show off a bit now that he was young and strong again, Andy bent at his supple knees and swept Trevor's legs out from under him, catching the unsuspecting boy in midair and effortlessly hoisting him up into a bridal carry. His boyfriend was an easy, comfortable weight in his arms, and Andy grinned- this was why he went to the gym. Those muscles weren't just for show!

"Andy!" Trevor squeaked out, grabbing on to Andy's thick neck for stability. He wasn't worried that Andy was going to drop him, but he was worried about what people would think if they saw them like this. "Put me down, asshole!"

"No can do cinnamon stick," Andy teased, pulling Trevor close for a second so he could plant a kiss on his forehead. "Everybody at this party has spent all night watching 'me' run around trying to bang chicks- I think we'd better remind them all that I'm taken. And now that I've got these big old arms of mine back," he hefted up Trevor up and down a few times, like he was pumping iron at the gym, and the twink's stomach swooped. "I think I'm gonna use them to carry you past all of these people back to our apartment so we can watch that damn movie. Would you be down for that?"

Now, Trevor wasn't really one to show off- in fact, he tended to be on the shy side -but swaddled in the arms of his hunky boyfriend (reclining on top of giant biceps like they were pillows, because his life was a fairy tale) he couldn't find it in himself to feel any shame about nodding yes.

And besides, with the way their lives went, the two of them should try to enjoy Andy's body while they still had it.

#male body swap #Series: Security #this turned out so long T_T this is over 12k words #I got sooo indulgent here and just kept adding stuff #I promise the next installment will be more concise

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fortunekookie07 · 3 days

Text

X amount of time ago, I got my first request for a story. I am still over the moon about that. And being that Xavier's new memories just dropped, I chose him per requesters prompt.

Potatosugar this one is for you

Moment Forever Lost

Rafayel, just thinking or hearing his name sent butterflies coursing through your stomach. Your best friend, the person you felt closest to in the world. The one you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.

Rafayel, the one existence in this world you felt you could never reach. Not after she entered the picture. How many plans had been rearranged, canceled, or simply forgotten because for Rafayel, she always came first.

When Rafayel told you that she was the one who had rescued him as a kid, and then confided in you that I'm that moment he fell in love with her. Your heart shattered into a million pieces.

After all, how could you compete with that? She was a hero to Rafayel, and he was smitten. The first time you met her you wanted to abandon all hope. She was beautiful.

Perfect, straight, long dark brown hair. A small frame and delicate features. It was like fate had created a perfect girl and then sent her your way to destroy the future you'd wanted.

You had begun to war with yourself internally. Half of you instantly hated her for stealing your place. The spot next to Rafayel had belonged to you. You'd been the one friend who stuck by him since middle school. Rafayel's personality was a bit off putting to most people after all. Even she had found his manners a bit extreme.

The other half of you actually liked her. She was nice, friendly, and very likeable. Her smile alone put anyone at ease. Then there was her talents. As a Deepspace Hunter, her skills were unrivaled amongst her graduating class. She had been named the best and she'd gotten to join the Unicorns Team that took on the most dangerous missions. It was no wonder that Rafayel was smitten with her.

You constantly compared yourself to her. Frustration rising whenever you thought about the goal you once had. Your Evol had never really developed. Making the ground shake around you would not benefit you or your partner at all. Often times you couldn't even control it. Whenever your emotions got out of hand so would your Evol. It drove you crazy to see someone else living your dream.

You hated yourself for having such negative thoughts about someone so kind. She ha never once been cruel to you. Even if she constantly seemed to but in whenever you were spending time with Rafayel.

*******************************************************

Today was your birthday, twenty four years old now. The same age as Rafayel. By a few months, as he constantly reminded you. Proud of being the older, and therefore wiser one.

Rafayel had insisted on going out to celebrate. He'd wanted to take you to his favorite restraint. It was high class and typically only catered to famous individuals and top notch business men and women. It wasn't unusual to see this place booked out for some high tech companies meeting.

Rafayel had persuaded you to come here. He wanted to make you feel important. Not just to him, but for yourself. He wanted to make this a day to remember. He had reserved a table with a fantastic view of the city below and gotten you a beautiful dress to wear.

The color was a deep, dark blue. A sheer outer skirt of intricate lace. The lace went all over the dress and the sleeves. Fitting your figure perfectly. Complimenting all of your best features.

You arrive at the restaurant and walk to the maitre'D. "Reservation for two. Under Rafayel, has he arrived yet?" You ask with a smile. The man looked down at the tablet in front oh him, scanning the list of reservations for the night.

"I'm sorry miss, I don't have any reservations for Mr. Rafayel tonight". The man looked apologetic as he relayed the news. "Oh maybe he made the reservation under my name"? You say with a question and rattle off your own name. The man shakes his head again. "No miss, no reservations under you either". You felt your heart sunk as you stepped away from his podium.

You fish your phone out of the small hand bag you'd brought and immediately call Rafayel. It goes straight to voicemail so you leave a message. "Rafayel, I'm here at the restaurant but they don't have a reservation for us. I'll just wait for you. See you in a few". After hanging up you go to sit on the cushy bench just outside the entrance doors.

Five minutes goes by and you check your phone anxiously. Nothing, no calls or texts. You tuck your phone back into the bag. Couples drift by you once in a while. Some of them glance at you curiously as they walk inside.

Fifteen minutes go by and Rafayel has still not appeared. A sinking feeling in your stomach knots your insides up. This is not the first time you've been stood up, but like a puppy everytime he calls your name you go running back. A burn in the corners of your eyes start as you desperately try not to cry.

You pull your phone out again and call Rafayel once more. It still goes straight to voice mail. "Rafayel where are you? You are coming right? I'm still here waiting for you". Your voice cracks a bit at the end before you finally manage to stave off your tears.

Still wanting to belive that he would not ditch you on your birthday, you continue waiting. Perched on the seat, hoping, just praying, that Rafayel will suddenly appear. Hair disheveled from running and face apologetic, but it doesn't.

For forty-five minutes you sit on that bench and wait. When some of the people who'd gone in for dinner are now coming out you stand up, shame burning your face red. The looks on their faces clearly peg you as having had your date ditch you. You can't take being judged by people you don't even know and run off. The tears have broken free and are streaming down your face.

You don't know or care where you are going at the moment. Just away from there. You stop running after you stumble and realize you've made it to the edge of the downtown area. The restaurant is some thirty blocks behind you. Thankfully it isn't too late and this is a well traveled area. You're able to get a taxi.

Your phone rings as the taxi pulls up in front of your apartment. Rafayel's name and picture flashing on the screen. You send the call to voice mail and pay the driver.

As you're unlocking your door your phone starts ringing again. Rafayel's name and picture showing up once more. In anger you just turn your phone straight off and stuff it into the bottom of your bag. A voice speaks behind you.

"Wow, are you so against taking my call that your abusing your phone too"? That haughty tone can only belong to one person. Rafayel.

You turn and pin him with your angriest glare. "I don't even want to see you right now, much less hear your voice." You spit, hurling all the venom you can muster with your pain and humiliation.

He reaches out to take your hand and you're quick to slap it away. You hide the wince at the loud sound if the smack and the stinging on your palm. His arm is still held out towards you. The back of his hand red with the marks of your fingers.

Tears gather in the corners of your eyes again. "I get that I am not first in your life and that I never will be, but how could you stand me up on my birthday with plans that YOU made"? You ask not looking at him as your voice cracks. He moves in closer and forces you to look at him.

"You are important to me, you're my best friend. I am so sorry about tonight...". You cut him off placing your hand over his mouth before he can say her name. "I don't want to hear it Rafayel, don't say her name. Especially right now". You feel like your soul will shatter if he utters her name now.

He brushes your tears away one handed and you finally realize he's been holding his other arm behind his back. Before you can ask he's drawing his arm from behind his back and presents you with a bouquet. The fragrance hits you before your mind can register what you are seeing.

In his hands is a dozen of the largest white chrysanthemums you have ever seen. The bloom easily bigger than his hand. You didn't even know the flower could get this big. You close your eyes breathing in the scent of your favorite flower.

"I am sorry, this couldn't be avoided. It was an emergency. Let me make it up to you tomorrow. It's the first day of the lantern festival. Let me take you". You look at him in surprise. It was a well known fact that Rafayel hated crowds, for anything. It was one of the reasons why he so often skipped out on his painting exhibits. He didn't care for all the noise either. You'd never been able to get him to go to one before.

"R-really"?!? You ask hardly believing your ears as your heart soars. He nods before replying. "Really, let me take you". You hug him tightly in response. The ruined birthday all but forgotten now.

"I'll pick you up at 6:30 tomorrow". He says when you finally let go. "See you romorrow"! You tell him excitedly before going inside.

Once in the kitchen you search for your flower vases. Finding the perfect one that can hold such a large bouquet, you fill it with water and csrefully place them in it.

You take a deep whiff of the flowers before heading to your bedroom. As you get your pj's on you feel a sense of dread, like something bad is going to happen real soon. You squash it down and force yourself to sleep.

The following day can't pass fast enough. All day long you are distracted, even you co workers notice that you aren't getting much done. Seeing as you are usually zipping through your work it isn't hard to notice.

Finally the end of the work day has come. You excitedly clean up your desk and shut your computer down. Being an office consultant had its drawbacks but the job was easy and the pay was good. Even if it was boring sometimes. It was the safe and stable direction your parents had encouraged you to take after failing to qualify for the Hunter's Association.

After you got home you were quick to jump in the shower and freshen up. You only had an hour before Rafayel would be knocking at the door.

You decide to wear easy to move in clothes. A white dress and sandals with no heel. The dress is simple and cute. Having a halter style top and a point cut skirt that swishes while you walk.

Just as you finish tying your hair into place the doorbell rings. You grab your phone, keys, and wallet then slip them into your small off white knit bag and run towards the door.

Rafayel smiles in the other side and draws you into a hug. "You're right on time"! You say brightly closing thr door behind you after locking it. Rafayel casually takes your hand as he's done many times before and you start walking.

He asks you what you want to do first when the first lights appear just ahead of you. "Let's walk around the stalls and play some games"! You say just as a familiar figure comes into view. Your blood freezes as you recognize her.

You turn and look sharply at Rafayel and stop short. He tries to mask his expression and you can stop the look of betrayal on your face. You jerk your hand out of his. "Did you invite her to come with us"?!? You ask your eyes darting back and forth across his face searching for a denial.

She quickly interjects. "Rafayel didn't invite me. He told me he was going and I decided to come too. I didn't know I was interrupting a date". She says holding her hands up to calm you down. Her face is genuinely sorry and guilt is written all over her face.

"If it makes you feel better I'm meeting up with someone too. I though we could walk around as a threesome. But we can make that pairs. He's my partner from work. His name is Xavier, he's a good guy. Easy to get along with. You might like him". She says with a bashful smile.

Oh, OH there's that look on her face. You recognize it as you'd worn that same expression whenever you thought about Rafayel before. You glance at the man in question. His face is tight and there is a forced smile on his lips.

"There he is now! Xavier"! She calls waving wildly to someone coming up behind you. Turning you see a tall man with ash blond hair and a pair of the deepest blue eyes you've ever seen. "This is Rafayel and his friend". She introduces the two of you to him. He nods and looks you over before nodding with a small smile. "I'm Xavier, nice to met you". He says going to stand beside her.

This man radiates calmness but you can feel a dangerous aura lurking beneath that. As well as a fierce protectiveness for the small woman beside him. She grabs your hand and tugs you into the bustling crowd ahead. "Come on, or were going to miss all the fun"! Her excitement is contagious and your earlier anger had completely disappeared.

It seemed for once that Rafayel had not interjected her into your plans. That happiness was short lived when you noticed he kept paying attention to Xavier and suggesting that he play this and that game with her. Alot of the time she agreed, sometimes she would decline and play with Xavier. Most of the time she would play twice with both of them.

You were beginning to feel like a third wheel and regretting ever having come to this festival. Rafayel was hardly doing any of the activities with you and it stung sharply. Wasn't this supposed to be his apology for ditching you on your birthday?

Finally you could stand it no more and you stopped walking. The only one to notice was Xavier he looked back at you and asked "Are you ok"? You shook your head. "I'm not feeling well, I'm going home". You turned and walked straight back the way you'd come. Ignoring the protests from everyone coming this way and them telling you, you were going the wrong way.

It seemed like it took forever but finally you made it back to the entrance of the festival and you sat down. The tears came again. You just couldn't understand how and why you were so ignored by Rafayel. Your jealousy burned as every scene played back in your head. Rafayel had only played a few games with you and every time had been when she hadn't wanted dtonolaybwith him first. It had only been then, once she'd rejected that he would ask you like a second choice.

Once again you found yourself completely distraught for the second time, for the same man in only two days.

You walked home alone. Mood completely sour and expression dark. Fishing your keys out as you stood in front of your door you noticed your phone. Unlocking it you were unsurprised to find that there were no messages. Either Rafayel hadn't noticed you were gone yet, or he just didn't care. You shut it off and opened the door. Silence greeted you, just as it always did.

"I'm tired of being alone". You say out loud to no one. "I don't want to be in love with someone who doesn't even see me anymore". You cry sinking to the floor and sobbing again. You don't know how long you sit with your back to the front door crying. Your thoughts are jarred when the doorbell rings. You say nothing and listen. The bell goes off again two and then three more times.

Rafayel's soft voice comes from the other side. "Why did you leave without saying anything to me? Why didn't you tell me you were feeling sick in the first place. I was worried". He says and the concern in his tone irritates you. You stand up and yank the door open.

"Were you actually worried? How long did it even take you to notice I was gone??? Did you even look for me? Why did you ignore me almost the entire time I was there? Am I just a doormat to you? Am I supposed to act grateful any time you decide to toss me even a SECOND of your precious time"? You hurl all your pent up frustrations at him as more tears slip down your face.

Rafayel frowns and you can see him getting angry but you cut him off. "I'm tired Rafayel, I'm not a puppy that will keep running back to you every time you call my name. I will not be grateful just because you remember that I exist. I can't do this anymore. Loving you hurts to much and I just can't take it. It's killing me inside". You try to wipe your tears away.

"I never asked you to love me. I told you she was important to me a long time ago. It was your stupid choice to fall in love with me knowing all that". He spots back at you angry now. Not since your days in middle school when you first met has Rafayel spoken to you this way.

"You think she'll come to love you back?!? Open your eyes and look you stupid ass! She's in love with someone else too! She won't choose you"! You slam the door in his face before he can respond and run to your room and throw yourself into your bed. You sob yourself to sleep and wish that you had never met Rafayel. He's finally driven you into that dark place you'd tried so hard to avoid.

In the days that pass you feel numb to the world. Two weeks have gone by and not a single message or call from him. Not that you were expecting any or wanted any. The last message was from him and one of the silly stickers he liked to use.

If your heart wasn't broken and you weren't trying to recover from the severe emotional beating you'd taken, you might care that your phone was so silent for the first time that you could remember.

Several times you'd opened your contacts and went to trash all his messages and then block and delete his number all together. You just couldn't bring yourself to do it yet. Maybe in a few more days. You kept telling yourself that over and over again. You were caught in this vicious cycle. Wanting to move on and finally free yourself from him altogether and being unable to do just that.

You had adjusted to your life without Rafayel in it. A few times you'd seen his writing a message bubble pop up in your conversations but he never sent anything. You still didn't care.

Two months had gone by and nothing. Once Thomas had reached out to you asking why you hadn't been to the gallery recently but you didn't answer that message either. Under different circumstances you might have felt guilty leaving him on read.

After work that day you decided to change your pace for the first time in weeks. You went to the coffee shop you used to frequent. The Cafe style had always been cute to you and the chairs were so comfortable. Just as you put your hand on the door you noticed a familiar figure in your favorite chair.

Rafayel was slouched in the chair, completely unlike him. His wavy purple hair was messy and ot looked like he was neglecting his sleep. Badly at that, if the dark circles under his eyes were anything to go by. His head was perched on his hand and he was tapping the arm of the chair.

As if sensing your gaze he looked up. His eyes went wide and he immediately stood up and took a step in your direction. You let go of the door handle and stepped back blending into the people walking as you hurriedly left. The moment your eyes met you felt a twinge in your heart. You weren't ready to see him again.

The next day at work your mood was positively black, as if a heavy thunderstorm was hanging over your head. Everyone steered clear of you. Only coming to speak to you when absolutely necessary.

The day passed by slowly and you paid little attention to anything around you. By the time you noticed that it was quiet everyone had already gone home. You packed your things up slowly and were getting ready to leave when the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. There was a strange energy in the room and your senses screamed danger at you.

Just then a strange screech echoed in the room and something hit you out of nowhere. You flew up into the air and across the room just as alarm bells went off in the building. Metaflux! Your alarmed brain screamed at you through the pain as you were crumpled on the floor where you'd fallen. A Wanderer was inside the room with you and you had no way to defend yourself.

Sheer panic overtook you ss you lifted your head and looked behind you at the horrible monster bearing down at you. That was when the tremors started and you screamed as it's blade bore down on you.

Just as it was about to strike you a gunshot rang out. The monster was knocked sideways and it's blade swung off course. Cutting the desk in two, instead of you. The creature screeched as a flaming dagger sunk into its arm. Rafayel had showed you his Evol many times before. You knew that dagger even at a glance.

The screen around you changed suddenly and then you weren't in your office building. "Protofield"! A female voice called out. Finally you could see Rafayel and her. He called your name and tried to come to you but was held back by the group of Wanderers.

"Just stay put we'll rescue you"! She called tone serious. You couldn't exactly move. Pain and fear had you rooted to the ground. You'd read about protofields before but lacking the skills, you'd never been in one.

Gunshots, screeches, grunts, and communication between the pair sounded all around as they fought the Wanderers off. Just as quickly as it had appeared the protofield vanished. The last Wanderer seeming to have been destroyed.

The two made their way over to you, picking across the damaged desks and scattered paper. Rafayel knelt next to you. Assessing your injuries as she made a call on her watch. Relaying the situation back to the Association as well as medical support.

You hadn't realized it yet, but your breaths were coming in short gasps and you were starting to feel dizzy.

That was when the floor started shaking again. This time the tremors were violent. Rafayel glanced around as he stood up trying to hold his footing. "Earthquake"? He asked glancing at he watch. She shook her head as Rafayel looked around some more.

Only you realized where the tremors were coming from. You'd never told Rafayel you had any Evol at all. He'd believed you when you said you were born without one and had never developed one after the Wanderers first appeared.

The shaking got worse and cracks appeared in the windows as it seemed like the whole building was moving. "Danger"! You managed to gasp out feeling like your energy was being sucked out of your body. You lay on the ground feeling dizzy and nauseous. The windows busted out, sending glass straight to the ground ten floors below.

Rafayel took as step towards you just as a violent shudder went through the building and the floor gave way beneath you. Then you were falling. You tried to scream as you fell. Above you Rafayel was falling too. Seeming to have jumped through the hole after you. Groaning metal and breaking glass was all that you could hear before you blacked out and then silence. Nothing but silence.

*******************************************************

Three months later

Rafayel sat at your bedside. He was usually here at this time of day. It was part of his routine now. He'd gotten used to the beeps of the machines in your hospital room. He'd thought back again and again. The Dr's had determined the earthquake like tremors had come from you. When you had panicked your body's natural instinct to protect itself forced your Evol out of control.

The result had collapsed the building you'd worked in. Thankfully everyone else had gone home for the day. His injuries were nothing compared to yours. Bumps, scrapes, and bruises. He hadn't even needed to be checked into the hospital.

You on the other hand, the list was long and scary. Broken ribs, a punctured lung, skull fractures, a dislocated arm, broken leg, the list went on. He had tried not to read all of it.

The Dr's had treated all your physical injuries and you'd had to under go three different surgeries. The skull fractures had caused the most concern for them. A concussion was the least of your problems.

Right now you were comatose. Your body had shut down all necessary functions to try and repair the damage. The extent of damage to your head had been undetermined as long as you remained asleep.

Rafayel looked at you again, glad most of the bandages were gone now. Beeing wrapped in gauze nearly from head to toe was hard to look at. He took your hand again, careful not to disturb the IV.

"Hurry and wake up, I'll even let you yell at me. I don't mind anymore. You can be mad all you want. Just don't sleep anymore. Please". His voice was a weak whisper as he rubbed his thumb on the back of your hand.

For the first time your hand twitched in his and he looked up sharply at your face. He called your name and the heart monitor picked up your increased hear rate immediately.

He waited anxiously with baited breath and then after what seemed like hours your eyes fluttered open. He leaned over and pressed the call button on your bed after informing the nurse you were awake he turned his attention back to you.

"I'm sorry for everything that happened. You were right. I acted like a jerk, and I didn't treat you very well. I knew for a while that my feelings wouldn't be returned. It's not like she didn't tell me about Xavier before. I just didn't want to listen. If you'll just forgive me, I don't need anything else. " Rafayel said in a rush. Spewing everything out that had crossed his mind in the last three months.

Confusion had knit your brows together. You were looking at him with an odd expression. The door opened as the Dr came in just as you started speaking in a raspy voice. Your words had his heart sinking to the floor.

"Who are you?"

****************************************************

Uwahhhhhh I just realized how long this was editing and proofreading 😵‍💫😵‍💫

I really do torture myself, but then again, short stories aren't very common for me. Oh, well.

I do hope you liked this one. It's a no happy end one. Unless you want to pick it up from my ending and make it happy.

#love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace #lnds #lnds mc #lnds xavier #love and deepspace xavier #lnds rafayel #love and deepspace rafayel #angst #angsty #angst with a sad ending #@potatosugar #request fic #request prompts #requested

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coryosbaby · 1 day

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𝑀𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑀𝓎 𝐻𝓊𝓈𝒷𝒶𝓃𝒹

Ramsay Bolton x fem! Reader

Content warning . Acts of manipulation, arranged marriage, Stockholme syndrome, nsfw. Reader is implied to be plus sized but perceive her however you want. 18+, MDNI !!

*. ੈ♡*ੈ⸝⋆

Ramsay Bolton was never someone you intended to love, but it wasn’t long after your arranged marriage that you started to fall for him.

As much as you hated to say it, the man had a specific… softness for you. You knew deep down that it was probably a manipulation tactic to make you more vulnerable towards him, but it was working like a charm, no matter how hard you tried to stop it. When you were both asleep in your chambers— see, he had had a room specifically designed for you to both sleep in the same bed— you would curl up onto his chest, sleepily smacking your lips and muttering a “g’night, Ramsay,” as you drifted off into slumber.

A slumber that you always felt safe in, for some strange reason.

Ramsay would only hum, his grip around your waist almost possessive even as you both slept. If you got too uncomfortable when staying in that position for too long, you would flip over. Ramsay would soon follow suit, his arm slinging itself over your waist, mumbling something like, “keep still, pup,” as he pulled you close against his chest. That was your routine every night after the first month, curled up in each other’s embrace.

During the day he would go hunting. You didn’t dare ask what he hunted for, though you had a vague suspicion. You didn’t mind the handmaidens gossiping around you so you could learn more about your husband, and so far, it wasn’t anything good. Not that there was anything good that you heard to begin with—It was no secret what Ramsay Bolton did behind closed doors. When he would come back from a hunt, he would be giddy, proud, caked in blood and gore, an almost violent smile on his face. You would smile back at him, glancing up with sweet eyes as he pulled you into his arms. He would kiss you hard on the mouth, hands traveling down to the hem of your dress— “Shouldn’t I get a reward for my hard work, lady wife?”— and then he would bend you over the nearest surface and make you cum on his cock for hours, ridding you of any apprehension or thought.

You didn’t mind these things. You were married, after all, and Ramsay Bolton was definitely skilled in a lot of aspects. This included playing your body like a violin, rubbing and licking and pushing in ways that made you squirm. He loved to be in between your thighs and eat your cunt like a man starved, or thrust his fingers into your needy hole until you were releasing messily all over his mouth. He’d bend you in half instead of over on a lot of nights, putting all his weight on top of you so you couldn’t move away from him.

So you couldn’t escape him.

There were hardships sometimes. Ramsay would be in a very angry mood, and you would do something very minor and it would upset him— he’d yell at you, call you names and laugh in your face when you began to cry, or he’d scream some more if you decided to snap back at him. But it was all because he was a blind person when he was angry; you didn’t try and judge him too harshly for that. He had a long fuse when it came to you, compared to the others.

Regardless, he would always return to you the night of the argument, covered in blood once again, with apologies on his tongue and a gift on occasion. Like the wolf pup he had gifted you on your twentieth name day— “A protector for when I’m not around. You look so perfect when you smile, my beautiful girl.”— or his head between your thighs. Whichever worked, really.

When he asked you to accompany him on a hunt one day, your eyebrows had raised in surprise. What could he have awaiting in those woods for you to shoot down with a bow and arrow? You wondered about it, and honestly dreamed of the day when you as a lady would have the freedom to learn the ways of hunting. But when you got there, there was no prey to be found.

None except you, of course.

It wasn’t as scary as it sounds. Ramsay had left his weapons behind, which you noticed once you got a decent way into the woods. Such a ditzy little thing you were, always in your own world and too far gone to even notice. Ramsay had told you to run, that you were both playing tag. When you were It, he had shoved you down onto the forest floor and lifted up your skirts, a growl evident in his throat as he claimed you.

“Mine.”

You had came back to the castle, shy, your dress’ bodice ripped from Ramsay’s rough manhandling. No one said a thing, and Ramsay gave you the reward of keeping his cock warm while you slept.

When you bathed, he loved to watch you. You never understood why, but you assumed it may have been some weird sort of intimacy that only Ramsay Bolton would want with his partner. He would sit in a seat reserved just for him, and he would watch your body sink into the water, bare breasts supple and soaped. He would watch the curve of your ear as you pushed your wet hair out of your eyes and the Cupid’s bow above your lip. Sometimes he loved to admire the thatch of hair between your legs, covering the place he loved most, or the soft tummy you had grown to have because he fed you good, hearty food.

Other times, he would listen to the tinkling of your laugh as he told you something that was funny. He would pass on his information of Philosophy and the fine arts which Roose had forced him to learn, and he would adore how excited you got when he taught you these things. It seemed like everytime, eyes wide with fascination, you would bloom, like a pretty orchid or a wild rose.

Ramsay swooned when you presented your psyche to him this way, but you never knew that unless he told you such.

One night he had even helped you bathe. He had gathered a sponge and a bar of soap, had asked quietly if he could do the work for you. You had been exhausted from the previous day and had nodded your head, sighing in content when he begun to gently rub the sponge over your back. He had ran it over your shoulders, arms, thighs, every nook and cranny just to watch the contortions of your form. He had washed you off, and with a soft voice as sweet as honey, began to speak.

“Do you trust me?”

You didn’t know how to reply to him, though you knew answer already.

“Yes.”

He had tilted his head, something in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place. He resumed his tasks, now moving on to massage your scalp with soft fingers. He had gently pushed your head under the water so he could rinse your hair, and his hands had held you under. Not forcefully, it seemed, but he wanted to.. keep you there. And you let him. Your body relaxed against the warmth of his hands and the waves, and it was then that you realized he could hurt you at any moment. Drown you, hold you under and water board you, beat your head against the tub until your brain splattered to mush.

But he didn’t. And as you stared at him, eyes wide through the water, watching his blue eyes staring back at you, you knew then that you were completely and utterly fucked.

You hated yourself for it, for this revelation that overcame you in that moment: You were basking in this man, in the complete darkness that was Ramsay Bolton. You didn’t know how or why it became this way, but you liked your husband, big and strong, there to keep you and hold you and gift you small trinkets and whisper sweet nothings. It was almost too much.

But that night, you curled up onto his chest anyway, like a kitten, purring in a soft lilt, “I love you, Ramsay.”

He had squeezed your hand tight, a small smile on his face. This is exactly what he wanted.

“I know you do, little dove.”

:: @mysticpenguincreation @nightmare-niko @iheartinkonpaper @becauseseaotters @emmalandry @princesstiti14 @aerangi @kaithoughs @jamespotterismydaddy @wildgirllz

#Ramsay brainrot tbh even though i wish his death would’ve been slower and more painful ☹️#definition of too fine to be acting like that #Ramsay Bolton #Ramsay Bolton x reader #Ramsay Bolton x fem! reader #Ramsay Bolton x plus size! reader #Ramsay Bolton smut #Ramsay Bolton Drabble #Ramsay Bolton oneshot #Ramsay Bolton blurb #Ramsay Bolton fanfic #game of thrones #game of thrones fanfic #got #got fanfic #Ramsay got #dom! Ramsay Bolton #sub! reader #plus size! reader

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leecherish · 2 years

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#yesterday evening i felt so... can't really put it into words?#was talking with a friend and the conversation took a turn #and somehow they ended up tapping into something i needed to hear so badly ever since i was a child #that it felt... incredibly cathartic??#i thought people only experience this level of catharsis in fiction.#and even compared to that it felt over the top #like i can't describe it to you. i was shaking and i felt what i can best describe as 'high'.#when i'm high i get super calm and content and warm and fuzzy. so it was like that except super amplified?? and i wasn't on anything.#and like you might expect it was something deep and life-changing #but it was literally just a conversation about getting wayyy too into playing and imagining things as a kid #i would get into detail but it's long and even i have no idea why what they said touched me so deepy. i cried man #and then i couldn't sleep because i was in such an elevated mood. so happy. so comfortable. haven't felt this way in literal years maybe???#it's strange #my brain chemistry is strange.#tbd #<- maybe. i think i actually want to remember it yknow.

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screampied · 22 days

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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.”

8K notes · View notes

dadsbongos · 7 months

Text

my type?

4.3 K words

summary - Yuuji Itadori is a total knockout boyfriend - the only hitch? You’re nothing like his usual type of woman, and it’s making you unsure.

warnings - 18+!, femreader with jugs and vagene, p in v sex, unrealistic car sex, specifically stated that reader is non-tall with big tits, dumbification for both parties, squirting, non-curse AU where sukuna and yuuji are brother-roommates, unprotected sex

Itadori, Yuuji was an amazing boyfriend - something straight out of a top-selling shoujo manga.

Faithful and doting and affectionate. He handed over his hoodies the moment you mentioned an unpleasant breeze, he proudly held your hand in public, and he boasted about the very act of dating you to anyone with ears. But even those displays felt backhanded, the deeper you dug into your own mind. You had no real reason to complain about the situation.

And you especially had no reason when the cause behind your complaints would be so shallow.

You had an ass in the same way that everybody else did, but nothing comparable to the pin-up poster Yuuji tore down when you two started dating. Or his celebrity fascination, Jennifer Lawrence (which also mysteriously stopped being mentioned when you two started dating).

Rather, your body was much more endowed in ways that made Nobara tease as you passed lingerie stores with hot pink lighting and black walls and heavy busts plastered in the windows. She’d snag you by the sleeve and point, just to watch how you scoff and look away.

Yuuji pointedly ignores those stores. He ignores everything in relation to them.

You’d picked this shirt just for tonight. It dips low into your cleavage, just tight enough to still push up the tender meat of your breasts. Not to mention the color - deep crimson, Yuuji’s favorite. Well, at least the closest you’ll ever get to a favorite color with his indecisive nature.

Yuuji sits across from you at the scratched table. When his eyes aren’t scavenging the conveyor belt for small, shiny, colored plates serving anything that may catch his eye, they’re on your face. And only your face.

Normally something you’d absolutely cheer over - if this were a first date, but the fact is that this is one of many dates. And after so many dates that you can’t count anymore, you’re starting to want Yuuji’s eyes to drift.

You want him to look and you want to watch him sweat and go red. You’re starting to need it.

The need only grows more apparent mere days later.

Yuuji keeps his hands stubbornly on your hips, barely making an imprint from outside your clothes. But you choose not to make a fuss since he’s otherwise fully engrossed with keeping his lips pasted to yours. Your hands are sweaty and hot on Yuuji’s cheeks, you just know they are, but he doesn’t seem to mind when he lets you hold him close and grind on him.

Yet his palms are stiff against you. They don’t feel warm or cold or clammy or moist. They just… are. He chokes back every groan and huff and you almost feel embarrassed to be letting out hitches and breathy moans so freely in comparison.

Puffing your chest out, you can feel your breasts pillowing against Yuuji and you’re hoping to tempt him to move his hands up. Under your shirt and bra with bare skin on bare skin. The idea makes you mewl, dragging your hips harder against his and further pushing out your tits for him to grope.

And suddenly, his stiff hands are picking you up off his lap, sliding you beside him on your couch. Yuuji grins, standing and swiping his hands down the legs of his sweatpants before planting a kiss on your forehead, “Sorry, gotta pee.”

“Oversharing!” you call after his retreating form.

When Yuuji returns, he sits down and rewinds the movie you two had put on earlier. He frowns and murmurs about how much the both of you missed. When you don’t turn back to the TV immediately, Yuuji smiles again and kisses your cheek.

Your gut twists unpleasantly.

And that need festers into utter desperation by just the next afternoon.

“Hey, Yuuji,” you come up from behind your boyfriend, arms dangling over the back of his couch and framing his shoulders. You place your chin on his head, staring at the intense cooking competition he’s watching, “So, I know I just got here… but! I’ve got a small, teensy errand to run.”

“Mhm?” he tilts his head back to meet your eyes, “Want me to go with you?”

His offer has you nodding, trying to smother down the bright simper he threatens to drag out of you, “Yeah, if you’re not busy.”

Sucking in air noisily through his teeth, Yuuji gestures out to the show he lazes in front of, “I dunno, babe, I am watching TV.”

“Very funny,” you back away from his couch, already heading to the door to tug your shoes on, “Just saying, you don’t have to come with if you don’t want to,” Yuuji always wants to come with, you like that about him, “Just getting some new bras.”

Your current ones are fine, but maybe a stuffy changing room is that nudge he needs.

“Oh,” your boyfriend pauses, eyes widening, “Uh. You might want to take Kugisaki for that, she’d know more than me,” he can’t even look at you, “I’m not really the kinda person you’d want around for that.”

You almost ask what he means by that, but the rejection has fried your brain to a gray, crunchy crisp. The kind of fry that looks like it could flake apart with a harsh jab. Again, that terrible, awful knotting in your stomach returns, but you carry on. Because if you claimed to no longer need this errand ran, then he might know what your scheme was - and that was far worse than whatever this hell was.

So you nod slowly and meekly call out that you love him before exiting the door. He says he loves you more.

You really wish you asked what he meant.

Finally, desperation comes to a head when you meet Yuuji’s friend - Todo, Aoi.

Todo, Aoi, who stares at you - eyes narrow as he judges each wrinkle in your clothes and jitter of your muscles - then turns to Yuuji, and asks point-blank, “Did you lie about your type, then, brother?”

Yuuji rips the hand in his pocket out and cuts it across his neck in a slicing motion, mouthing a couple of rude ‘shut up’s. You lean into Yuuji’s side, squeezing the hand he lays in yours tighter. It isn’t sweaty. And it isn’t very warm, either.

Aoi doesn’t seem very upset at the idea, “I’m happy you’re happy,” you look down at your shoes when he glances back over at you, “I was excited when I thought we had the same type.”

No, you weren’t very tall. And no, your butt wasn’t exceptionally big. You fell on the more mediocre sides of those categories, the thing you excelled in (what you thought most guys were thrilled over) was having a large bust.

“Dude!” Yuuji hits Aoi in the shoulder. Hard, “Shut up!”

He squeezes your hand so tight you think it might bruise.

“Sorry, brother,” Aoi, you were warned, was extremely unusual - little to no boundaries and almost inept at social interactions outside of fighting. He does seem sympathetic enough, turning to you, “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

It’s all so sickening. How you wish Yuuji would hurry up and show interest in shallow things. How you place personal esteem on this whole fiasco. How right Aoi is. How badly you’re letting everything affect you.

The ringing in your ears, for example. The way you no longer think you can stomach whatever Aoi was cooking tonight. The shortness of your breath.

You try to push it down. Tonight is supposed to be fun.

Yuuji shoves his friend, much more lightheartedly than his previous blow, and goes to kiss your forehead - but hesitates. His smile is uneven, “Don’t listen to him, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” he squeezes your hand, “I love you,” then, apologetically, he smooths his thumb over the sore spots where he clenched your hand, “I love you so much.”

And you know that. You know it like you know your favorite movie.

Tonight was supposed to be fun.

He loves you, you know that - what you don’t know, is if he wants you. Doesn’t he get sweaty palms like you? Doesn’t he feel his intestines tie into bunches of little knots like you? Doesn’t he get all hot in the face like you? Doesn’t he want you like you want him?

It’s humiliating to imagine that he doesn’t, and the mere idea makes you so nauseous you think you might hurl at this very moment.

Maybe your boyfriend just doesn’t find you as attractive as you want him to.

Maybe you should give up this repetitive scheme.

The car is quiet, unbearably so. Your knees are angled away from Yuuji defiantly, legs pushed to the far side of your seat so it’d be a hassle for him to reach out and hold your thigh. You used to think it meant something when he did that, but now it seems as though he’s doing it out of duty. Like holding the door for someone behind you. Or offering your seat on the bus to elderly passengers. Simple acts of simple kindness.

The most basic peacekeeping, if anything.

Yuuji peeks at you without turning away from the road, hands tightening around the steering wheel, “Are you upset?”

You could be snippy. You could even opt to not respond.

But you do neither, “Yeah.”

He sighs through his nose, “Seriously, don’t listen to Todo. He doesn’t know anything.”

Now, you’re a little snippy. To point out that Aoi’s being stupid isn’t uncalled for, but to claim he doesn’t know exactly what stupid shit he’s saying is.

“He has a point.”

“Huh?” Yuuji turns his head fully to look at you, something he only does because the quiet backroad home is empty, “What’re you talking about?”

Only flickering, crooked, rusty street lamps are witness to your impending breakdown. Your boyfriend returns his stare to the road. Crickets sing outside and the wind flattens over long grass that shines under moonlight.

“Yuuji,” sinking into your seat, you ignore his eyes, “You can’t seriously say you have no idea,” he’s quiet, lips pressed thinly, “Since we met, practically everybody has known your type. I knew you had a type! It was a shock to our friends when we got together! And now that we are…”

Pulling off into the grassy plain lining your way home, Yuuji slips the key from the ignition and unclicks his seatbelt to really examine you. His eyes scramble over you, every part the sensitive, concerned boyfriend you know and treasure. He pouts, but it’s in earnest; hurt simply because you’re hurt.

“And now that we are?”

“Why don’t you look at me?”

“I look at you!” he rubs the back of his neck, now quirking a brow at you, “I look at you all the time.”

“No,” you whine like a petulant child, hands coming up to cover your face, “It’s different!”

Aoi’s words just won’t stop creeping up your spine. Yuuji setting you aside on the couch. Yuuji insisting that you bring Nobara to a lingerie store instead of him. He was lying to someone, right? Was it to Aoi or you?

But everybody had seen that poster, and everybody could hear him declare his preferences.

“It’s way different,” you’re so humiliated you’re nauseous, your voice wobbles.

Yuuji tenderly takes your wrists, dragging down your hands. His smile is squiggly, brows high to his forehead, “Talk to me, pretty girl. You want me to look at you?” you nod, “So tell me what you mean by that.”

You almost hate how soft his voice is. It makes it so hard to be upset.

“I’m not your type,” your eyes trail the way Yuuji’s fingers dance around yours, “And every time I try to… you know, get you to think of me as something other than just cute or pretty - you turn me down. I feel like you don’t find me attractive.”

“Oh, like sexually?”

“Mhmm,” you nod glumly. When he’s quiet for just a couple of seconds too long, you ask, “Did you know what I was trying to do?”

“Kind of,” Yuuji’s cheeks are growing red, eyes now abandoning your entwined hands to stare out the windshield, “I do find you attractive - that’s a little bit of the problem.”

“What?”

He sucks in a breath sharply, engulfing your hands completely with his and squeezing (much more mindfully this time), “I’m crazy about you,” he can tell you don’t believe him, “It scares me a little,” he pulls his hands away and cradles his own over his lap, “I’m worried that if I give in, I’ll scare you off… like I’m too eager or something.”

“Yuuji!” you adjust in your seat, moving sideways and finally letting your knees face your boyfriend again, “You wouldn’t scare me off by being eager about my body! That’s a good thing, right? When we’re both into each other, that’s good!”

“No, I mean,” he’s gone rouge all the way up to his ears now, a fire bright in his chest, “I want you so bad it makes me feel like all my skin’s burning. My hands get all gross and sweaty so I have to wipe them on my pants, and- and I can’t think straight,” he’s still not looking at you, but the way he’s pressing his arms down on his crotch tells you he wants to, “Even now, I think I’m going crazy just imagining you…”

You sit up on your knees, leaning over the center console just to watch your boy squirm at the invasion of space, “Imagining me?” he nods shakily, “Imagining me how?”

He whines, turning his head and pressing his scorching face into your neck, “You know how.”

“Come on, pretty boy,” you kneel over the console entirely, squeezing behind the wheel to settle on Yuuji’s lap - slapping away his hands from the growing tent in his baggy pants, “Entertain me, please?”

“Imagining you under me, on me, between my legs,” his hands fly to your hips, palms slipping up under your shirt, and, God, his palms are sweaty, “Any way you’ll have me,” you cup his cheeks and press messy kisses to his lips. Yuuji’s hands roam further up your shirt, fingertips teasing under the cups of your bra, “Any way I can see your tits.”

“I thought you were more into ass,” your bravado falls under his admission, suddenly bashful.

Yuuji closes his eyes, swallowing hard while pushing his hands under your bra, he can feel his heartbeat all the way at the back of his throat. His rough palms cupping the soft, fleshy fat on your chest, “As if that matters,” his brows knit, hips subconsciously jerking up into yours, “I’m a horny guy: my hot girlfriend has big boobs, and I’m obsessed with her big boobs.”

“Just ‘cuz you’re horny?” you tease, grinding down on the bump of his hard cock. His loose pants let him spring up under your skirt, knocking into your panty-clad cunt.

“Nah,” his eyes flutter open, sweaty palms moving around your back and clumsily unhooking your troublesome bra. It takes him three tries, “I like every part of you all the time…” the tip of his tongue parts his lips in hard concentration, “Your whole body makes me feel like I’m full of bugs.”

“‘Full of bugs?!’” you snort, lifting your arms so Yuuji can yank off your shirt and bra in one ungraceful motion.

“In a good way,” he promises, eyes locked on your heaving chest. You can hear the thick breaths he struggles through, “‘m so nervous and horny at the same time, it feels like bugs in my stomach.”

“What’re you nervous for?”

“‘Cuz I wanna make you cum, but I’m worried I’ll cream my pants before we even get to it,” he finally looks into your eyes, he smiles at you with flaming cheeks and palms at your breasts, “It was so hard making sure I kept it together… Been jerkin’ off every night thinking of you - ask Sukuna, he’ll tell you. It’s been embarrassing.”

“Augh, Yuuji!”

“It’s true!”

It makes your palms hot and sweaty, the image of him so desperate. All for you.

“Hm,” you croon, grinding against your boyfriend’s cock, back arching to press your tits closer to his face, “Yuuji...”

Wrapping his arms around your waist, Yuuji sucks one of your nipples between his lips and laves it with his tongue. He bucks up against your wetting panties. Pulling away from your nipple with a soft pop, Yuuji stares up at you with another earnest, flustered pout, “Can you take it out for me?”

As if you could forget what he’s talking about, he humps you again.

“Please, take it out,” he cranes his neck to run his warm, wet tongue over your other, unattended nipple.

“Aw,” you didn’t think seeing your big, energetic boyfriend act so pathetic would set you on fire the way it does. One of your hands stretches down between you and Yuuji, wrangling down his pants with him lifting his hips to help, “Do you want me to play with your cock?”

He hums against your breast, nodding eagerly, “Yuh- yeah- ! Please?”

Your fingers wrap around the warm softness of Yuuji’s erection, thumb playfully nudging his mushroom tip’s slit. He throws his head back, ricocheting against the car seat headrest with a throaty groan.

Giggling, you lean in to kiss the sensitive spot just under Yuuji’s jaw, hand still working up Yuuji’s weeping cock, “Having a good time, honey?”

“Uh-huh,” he unwinds his arms around you to grasp your hips once again, fingers bruising at your sides, “Feels so good - so, so good…”

“Who’s making you feel good, Yuuji?”

“You!” his right thigh twitches under you, “You, you - ‘s always you!”

“Always me?”

His chuckle breaks off into a slack-jawed moan, “Said I jerk off to you every night, didn’t I?” he reaches for your wrist, “Wait, wait!”

“Were you…?” so soon?

“I told you!” now he’s the one whining like a petulant brat, “I don’t wanna cum before you, but you just make it so hard.”

So soon.

Your thighs squish around Yuuji’s, hips grinding on nothing - desperate in search of friction.

“You like that?” he sounds breathless, staring at you as you watch his bobbing cock. All red at the head and straining against your hand, “You’re so mean, babe.”

“I like it a lot,” you sit up, lips finding Yuuji’s drool-slicked ones, “I like knowing I have that effect on you.”

“Since I first saw you, I think,” he admits, hands skimming under your skirt now, “Can I… ?”

You nod, holding tightly to Yuuji’s shoulders while you lean on one leg. You could, theoretically, drag your panties down your lifted leg by yourself - but Yuuji stubbornly joins your hand all the way down to your ankle.

Before trying to slip inside you, Yuuji cups your hot sex. His chest tightens, middle finger shakily tracing along your soaked cunt. Tongue lolling back out of his mouth, Yuuji tucks your nipple back into his mouth when he inserts his finger in your hole. Trying to keep his mind as busy as possible so he can stop thinking about how badly he needs to bury himself inside you.

“Yuuji,” your breathing is ragged, already lowering yourself before he even pulls his finger out of you, “I’m so past ready.”

“You’re so wet,” he mumbles against the swell of your tit, teasing his teeth against the full flesh, “I dunno if I’ll be able to get in…” he chuckles to himself, lightheaded when he taps the head of his cock against your clit, “Might slip right out, huh?”

“Stop teasing,” you cradle Yuuji’s head to your chest, arms thrown around his neck, “You’re the mean one.”

“I know, I know,” he lowers in his seat, pressing himself finally, finally, finally inside your pussy. Your tits press even closer to his face when you gasp at the stretch, “I’ve been ignoring my poor pretty girl this whole time,” he says it so mournfully, so heartfelt, “So selfish, just thinking of my pride - I didn’t even wonder how my girl felt.”

“Ahh, Yuuji,” you moan, piercing your bottom lip between your teeth.

“I’m sorry, pretty girl,” he pushes down on your hips, lowering you on his stiff cock until your thighs are flush with his soft pants. They’re a little wet. You don’t care much, and you don’t think Yuuji does either right now. He screws up into you, one arm tight around your waist to pull you down into his thrusts and the other hand finding your slippery clit, “I’m so sorry, angel, can you forgive me?”

“Ah, ah, ah,” his fingers work quick circles on your nerves as he fucks you and you’re barely able to scramble together the words (let alone carry those words out in a sensible form), “Yes - ah! - yes, Yuuji!”

There’s something in the way he twists his hips this time because his cock beats into a particular spot that sends white sparks through your veins. You snap back, head hanging and forcing your bouncing tits directly in Yuuji’s face. Before you can even begin to beg, your big, energetic (and maybe a little pathetic) boyfriend is already nodding to himself.

“Right there, angel?” his fingers leave your clit to press down on where his cock batters your insides, “Is that it? Want me right here?”

“Please!” you squeal, thighs quivering and lungs fresh out of air.

“Uh-huh,” he keeps nodding, head too empty to realize he doesn’t need to anymore, “Uh-huh, anything for you… fuckin’ anything…”

When your lower half burns out, Yuuji keeps you upright - fully fucking up into you at that same spot he pushes down on your tummy. The need to cum burns every nerve in your body - it burns and burns and burns until it changes.

Something fuller and more familiar - in a more daily-life kind of way.

“Ah, Yuuji,” your hands perch on his shoulders, body bouncing with the weight of Yuuji’s hips slinging into yours, “I think- ! It feels like- !”

“Talk to me, angel,” dumbly, he looks up at you, almost snickering, “‘Entertain me.’”

“Feels like ‘m gonna pee,” you try warning him, you really do.

But something behind his eyes just shines brighter, grin widening and he actually laughs, “Yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“Fuck yeah,” he stares, wide-eyed, at where you’re creaming on his cock, “You gonna squirt on me, baby?” his foolish nodding quickens with his hips, “Squirt all over me, angel, I want it - want it so bad. Soak my car, oh,” his pretty mouth circles into an ‘O’ just at the thought, “Please, please soak my fucking car!”

Your head jerks back, nails digging into Yuuji’s shoulders, throat snapping raw as you cry out braindead mixtures of your boyfriend’s name and pleas for more and harder and his cum.

He moves the hand on your tummy to swish your clit and spread your mess as far as he can, mouth popping open almost instinctively just to catch stray droplets of your cum in his mouth. One day (tomorrow) he might regret (will definitely regret) intentionally making you spray cum all over his front, and even back, seats, but right now he couldn’t possibly imagine not doing it.

“‘m gonna cum,” he grits his teeth, moans choked back in his throat, “‘m gonna cum - where?” before he can ask again, you find the strength to swivel your hips down on him, “Inside?”

“Inside!” you sob, chest tight and eyes watering at the overstimulation of Yuuji still swirling a thumb on your clit, “Cum inside, Yuuji!”

“Fu- ck,” he squeezes the word out of his chest, seating you fully on his lap when his cock throbs. He juts his chin out towards you when he starts cumming, “Kiss me?”

And you waste no time throwing yourself forward to press chaste, sweet kisses on Yuuji’s drooling lips. He hums and whimpers into your mouth, greedily drinking in the taste of your lips on his. As if he’d been starved of it his entire life.

Yuuji keeps you against him, the both of you slowly coming back down to Earth.

His sopping pants are beginning to cool underneath you.

“Ugh,” you groan at the feeling, “I think we made a mistake.”

“Yeah…” Yuuji sighs, “Oh well. Can’t unfuck in the car now.”

You’re kind of dreading pulling off Yuuji’s soft cock - if you hadn’t done enough to ruin Yuuji’s pants before, then that most certainly will.

Yuuji sighs again, heartier, hands coddling your hips and tenderly rubbing circles into your bone. His eyes fall to your breasts and remain there, “I really am sorry, angel. I- I never, ever wanted you to feel like I didn’t want you.”

Because he does. Good, God, he always does.

Every time he sees you, his hands get all sweaty and his cheeks are hot and his stomach twists into jumbles of knots.

“It hurt,” you admit, “but it’s fine now,” you giggle at the idea of him apologizing over trying to be respectful, “It isn’t like you were being a dick, you know?”

“Yeah, but! Ugh!” he clenches a hand over his heart dramatically, frowning, “I hurt my girlfriend’s feelings. My sweet girl :( “

“You’re cute,” you kiss one of Yuuji’s fiery cheeks, “Okay, help me off.”

“Oh, yeah, huh,” he stretches over your shoulder to wring your panties back up your leg, “It’ll be unpleasant, but I think you need to wear these back to your apartment.”

“I’ll live,” you pick at the elastic to Yuuji’s pants and snap them back against his sweaty thigh, “Can’t be worse than this, pee pants.”

“Hey, it’s not pee,” he pouts once again tonight, “And be nice.”

You shake your head, leaning down to press your lips against Yuuji’s once again. Soaking in the taste like you’d been starved of it your entire life, “Never.”

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