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satoruhour · 2 years ago

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HIS FAVOURITE W— STUDENT !

a/n: dilly / @crysugu i am losing the pwp war i needed the lore to be in this HELP. anyway !!! professors bc i cannot stop my mind from spiralling while starting my university classes — im not entirely proud of this but eehhh ….

wc: 4k

warnings: ultimately semi-public sex for all, unprotected sex, cumshot, standing doggy, brief oral (m receiving), brief f! masturbation, brief fingering (gojo), geto is a professor who is also a camboy, camgirl!reader, f! and m! masturbation, mentions of bad dragon’s cumtubes, brief fingering, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink (geto), pussy slapping, spitting (on yo pussy), pet names, clit stimulation, oral / cunnilingus, tit play, fingering, implied f! masturbation (nanami), mentions of murder, stripper!reader, riding, degradation, calls you ‘slut’ and ‘whore’, calls you ‘mama’ once too, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving), deep-throating, slight face-fucking (toji), n*sfw under the cut

✶ GOJO

professor gojo was… an interesting teaching figure. he didn’t have a set way of doing lectures or tutorials, nor was his feedback on assignments entirely coherent, but he was fun and unorthodox. he was also hot as fuck, as you’ve heard from your friends, but you never really got the deal even after seeing his photo on the university website or from miles away entertaining some starstruck student. his classes were always left with no vacancies, too, only able to see what your friends meant after stepping foot first into the lecture.

you were a tad bit early, greeted with gojo sitting at the front with his legs propped up on the desk as he shot you a nonchalant greeting and you think maybe you should’ve signed up for another lecture group, but then he speaks and the air is knocked out of your chest. professor gojo is charismatic when he teaches about art, design and media, captivating everyone with the stark white hair and blue eyes, but he’s clever with his glances because you aren’t realising he stares at you more than anyone else.

aren’t you in your second year? how did he not see you anywhere last year? why did you just sign up?

the smiles he gives you are sweeter than others, the words more sugar coated with lilts in his voice and you’re chastising yourself for not being any different from everyone else, soon turning into the girls who ask for extra tutoring sessions and sidling up to him on campus — at least you’d get the full experience.

“oh! sweetness, what are you doing here?” you’ve managed to get gojo just as he leaves his office, standing outside for quite some time thinking if you’d really want to do this. several lecturers and professors have already walked past asking if you needed anything, but no matter how much you wanted to say professor gojo’s name, it always turned into something like waiting for a friend.

“oh— uhm, professor gojo, just wondering if the grade for that major project is really set in stone?”

gojo makes a show of thinking, but you know you’re asking for the devil himself when he replies yes with a stifled grin and you’re asking if the two week period of appealing works for the major you’re in.

“you can submit other collaterals as an appeal but it might either boost your grade or bring it down,” the professor leans down with a sick smile on his face, because he’s had so many people outside just like this, nervous from his advances and yet not going through with what they thought they could do. but this time it’s you, the you who he imagined taking on his office desk or even in a lecture theatre for everyone to see, who wants the words to fall from your lips just so he could be your knight in shining armour.

“is there really no… other way to appeal?” you swallow when gojo switches the position and gets you in exactly where he wants you: your back facing his office, his face dangerously close to yours while his eyes slyly catching the way your thighs rub together.

gojo smirks to himself when you knock down yet another cup of stationery on his desk after “discussing” ways you could improve your grades, nails making unsatisfactory noises on the wooden desk while he can hear your cunt gush around him, made obvious from the squelch of your hole and he’s muttering praises into your neck from behind.

“this what you had in mind, baby?” just another girl in his roster, getting ruined just for a grade that wasn’t even that bad. what you didn’t know is that you were the only girl, getting professor gojo so hard in lectures and tutorial classes just from the sight of you that to finally have you — it’s a sweet reward. you shiver when his hand reaches to your front to rub at your clit and you’re grasping at nothing as moans leave your lips.

“y-yeah, professor—” gojo is filthy, lewd, lifting your leg to prop up on the desk just so he could get deeper in you, your pussy everything he imagined and more as he continues to fuck into you. you’re warmer than his hand, than some hookup’s mouth from the club, clenching around his cock so tightly his hips stutter.

“f-fuck, angel, tryna snap my dick off?” you let out an incredulous chuckle at that, hips moving back to meet his while the sounds of his balls slapping against your ass fill the room. your juices are coating his length so well, too, that gojo’s eyes lock on your cunt that sucks him in over and over again, the spread of your pussy lips just amplifying his moans. the other spreads your cheeks and sighs at the translucent ring of cum at the base of his cock, hips fucking up to hit your sweet spot that you’re cumming with a shock down your spine — so hard, so deep, so intense that you’re jolting from the orgasm with whimpers of his name. gojo never truly is done with you after pulling out to cum on your ass, however, and you aren’t either.

there’s a thrill that runs through his veins when you back him up onto the sofa, a glimmer in your eyes that suggest you’re as intoxicated on him as he is on you, a sultry gaze taking over your shyness from earlier before he’s pushed onto the cushions.

“thank you for the meal, professor,” you giggle and gojo swears he’s reached his death when your mouth first closes around his still sensitive tip and he whines loudly, hearing your fingers fill your drooling cunt as your hand squeezes out leftover cum from before. a hand runs through your hair and your cockdrunk face is enough for him to see white—

professor gojo thinks you look heavenly between his legs.

✶ GETO

you sigh echoes throughout your dorm room, ending the stream and collecting your keep for the day as you grimace at the mess you’ve made on your sheets. it’s not like it wasn’t pleasurable, but on some days you’re wondering how long you truly need to serve gross men on the internet for it to be enough to pay off your university fees. sure, there were a few attractive people who commented and tipped you, but that was the extent of it. it’s not long before you can only think about cleaning up and taking a big fat nap, but a video in the sidebar catches your attention.

it seemed like a casual stream — no script or planned storyline apart from a heavily tattooed arm taking up half the screen, his pelvis just slightly off the thumbnail. he was faceless, too, filming rather from the chest down which was also inked, something that sends a chill to your core.

it’s only later when you’re slipping your dildo back into you as you watch this stranger pump his cock, guttural groans and slick noises filling your airpods that you realise the dragon wrapping around his arm looks awfully familiar. you’re so blissed out by pleasure, focusing on the needy moans that the man lets out before he cums with a grunt, so much cum leaking out from him. you’ve reached your high too, but you have no time to admire the stranger because it seemed like he was in a hurry, but not before you’ve caught a glimpse of his lip ring.

you know why he looked so familiar, now, standing in front of him in his office while his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, something he doesn’t do often. geto suguru doesn’t wear his lip ring in lecturers either, and now you think you know why because they match the video you’ve seen just last night. you aren’t even entirely sure why you were called in, and you think maybe it’s because you “accidentally” sent a friend request, but you’re taken aback when he asks you if you’ve already selected a tutor to be your mentor throughout your major project.

“surprised? i sent out the email a week ago, love.” you try not to let the name get to you, and the confession lingers at the tip of your tongue.

“y-yeah! i saw it, professor geto, just—”

everyone was no stranger to professor geto’s striking looks, always turning heads with his unconventional gauges and long hair that probably should’ve landed him in a modelling agency in the first place. except, he’s opting instead to teach linguistics, a fitting major for him to talk of the history of language and its formation of it, even slipping in some latin and greek to show its origins but you can hardly listen when all you can focus on is the tight pull of his shirt around his body while his hair falls around his face and you think maybe it was a bad time to think if his hair falls out of his bun while he rails someone. you hope soon it’ll be you, just so you can confirm it for yourself with no other reason involved (you’re a fucking liar).

geto clears his throat and you swallow and the flex of his forearms only distract you further, the dragon on his arm seemingly laughing at your torment as it moves along his skin — the other doesn’t miss your dilemma, staring at you for your answer with a dark stare and enjoying the effect he had on you. your brain doesn’t respond fast enough, though, and you’re blurting out the first thing as you watch the curve of his mouth turn in either distaste or satisfaction; you weren’t sure.

“i saw you stream yesterday—” and you slap a hand over your mouth, wanting to run immediately, but you didn’t expect him to smile after a moment of recognition, making the connections to your account until his mouth falls open just a little.

“you’re the little cutie who sent me a request last night, aren’t ya?”

as he asks the question you hoped he wouldn’t ask, you find there’s nothing on your mind except maybe seeing his tattooed arms wrap around you — and you did. they looked so much better up close, leading from one thing to another in that stuffy office soon they’re looking especially good with how he’s currently dragging the tip of his cock along your folds, collecting your slick as you hold onto his biceps after confessing sin after sin about you from—

“i’ve jerked off to your videos.” a burn on your cheeks when geto sets you on his office table, palms leaving hot trails along your thighs and skin. he lets you play with his bulge, hands probably forming bruises on you from how you relieve the tension in his pants.

“the way your cunt wraps around that dildo — makes me wish i was there fuckin’ your pussy instead.” a gasp and a moan when he preps you with both fingers as he sucks hickeys into your neck and plays with your tits, pinching your nipple that has you clenching around him.

“didn’t miss how you like to be bred in your videos too. think maybe you need some real cum, princess,” geto’s button up shirt is pried open by now, trousers just barely pulled down below his hips because he has a lecture in about half n’ hour. though, he wanted your pussy all to himself and if 27 minutes was all he was granted, he was going to make full use of it. geto groans into your hair when your legs wrap around his middle and he’s reeling at how he’s been watching your videos for the longest time and yet, nothing compares to having you fall apart by his hands.

a quick glance to his watch tells him fifteen minutes, eyes flitting back to the squelch of your cunt around him and he smiles smugly at the whimpers he knows so well. he’s sure it’s imprinted on his brain by now but his dick still jumps at the many variations you’ve let out during the 27; he’d commit every single one to memory. “professor— s-shit!”

geto angles his hips up, the curve of his cock hitting that spot just right that your back arches and you let out a drawn out moan, “yes, baby?”

“w-wan’ your cum in me, suguru,” you’re pleading with a drunk little smile and your face is twisted into such pleasure he’s only seen through pixels that geto cums almost immediately with a pained laugh seeing the real thing, hips stilling as he fills you up, up, up to the brim with hot, white semen that geto feels embarrassed to climaxing so quickly. but what can he do? when his favourite camgirl and student asks to be bred, it’s only natural.

how could he possibly say no?

✶ NANAMI

“does that mean the poem is written from the cross’ perspective?” your hand shoots up in hopes of interpreting the text correctly, but also because, just maybe, that you wanted to impress a little someone at the front of the lecture theatre. beside you, you can hear the gasp of your friend along with the eyes of various other students. “sort of like— personification?”

nanami points to you with his glasses that he’s long removed, a small smile on his face. it’s not like you’re trying too hard, but of course you know your shit fairly well. you always have in every class, it was just a bonus you were so attractive that all nanami could think about was spreading your legs right on this desk. “yes, almost. anthropomorphism, something that was very common in poems or works written in old english.”

you were sceptical about professor nanami at first, especially since he was a lecturer who was transferred here from overseas only three months ago and is technically quarter of a white man, but he held command of the japanese language well enough for you to understand, both in speech and concepts. you were more interested in the lecturer himself though, piqued from the moment he explained his grandfather was danish and you turn to your friend, explains the blonde hair, doesn’t explain how he’s so insanely fine, giggling quietly to each other the first day.

as for your major, it was texts after story after poem, but you enjoyed it alongside giving your own input in class — something you knew would help your participation grades. you’ve raised your hand in more ways than one, always coming up at the end of lectures with a question, stopping him in hallways to show him the book you were currently reading. so that’s why you were confused when you were called to the front of the lecture theatre after everything’s over. it couldn’t be bad, right?

it wasn’t bad, it was much better, especially when nanami’s got your legs on either side of him on the lecture theatre desk while he takes his rightful place between your legs — somewhere he’s always longed to be. both the front and back doors are locked, with only your soft, muffled moans filling the room. but nanami has no shame, slurping up the juices that drip from your pussy loudly, possibly staining the desk below him. he’s cared before about the condensation of his drinks but when it comes to your sweet, sweet cunt? he doesn’t give one fuck.

“taste so good, sweetheart,” nanami moans wrapping a forearm around your thighs and just eats. he flicks his tongue over your clit, while the other hand goes up to squeeze at your tits, kneading and playing with them while you’re still at awe at the man on his knees, at how you’ve gotten one of the hottest professors in the university eating out of your pussy like it’s the last meal on earth.

you’re snapped out of your daze when nanami lands a few slaps onto your pussy, brown eyes boring holes into your skull. but this stare is different, as opposed to glaring down the mischievous boys who can’t stop making noise, this is…

“pay attention when i eat your little pussy, angel,” the demanding tone has you shivering, a small grin stifled when he nods in deserved approval and continues his assault. fingers slip in before you have time to react and your head is thrown back so hard it bumps against the wood but you don’t care, clamping down around his fingers. nanami’s pace is unforgiving, sucking hard on your clit while he pumps them in and out.

“feel good?” nanami asks through slurps as he catches your eye, licking one last stripe before gathering his saliva into a ball and he spits onto your clit, sight so lewd you clamp around his fingers. he admires how the way the glob of liquid runs down your cunt and mixes with your arousal that he can’t wait for it to be his cum instead.

“better than…” your voice trails off when he rubs in his spit, a thumb on your bud while he continues to move his fingers and your thighs are already trembling from how nanami knows all your sweet spots in such a short period of time. nanami simply chuckles at your sensitivity, meeting you halfway as you sit up to feel his lips against yours and he whispers against your lips—

“what were you gonna say, baby?”

you’re heaving for oxygen as he adds a third finger and you’re just hoping he’d show you his fucking dick already. hot breath fans across your lips and you smile to yourself seeing how your words affect him.

“better than fucking myself with my fingers thinkin’ it’s your cock, prof.”

✶ TOJI

it was nine in the morning, and toji could already feel a headache forming from the amount of absentees in his class, simply sighing before pulling up the details for today’s lecture, eyes unknowingly looking for you in the large lecture theatre. he finds that you’re already looking, clad in a cardigan and tired eyes — no doubt from trying to reach his deadline earlier than usual. toji found that you liked to do that, the first one to always submit your essays and assignments, so that’s why he knows what game you’re playing at when you’re asking the difference between first, second and third degree murder when you already know their definitions.

he would know — you got full marks the other time.

“hm?” toji only hums when he sees your enthusiastic face and a quick look down to your lower half shows how your legs spread naturally for him. the professor only licks his lips before he spots your underwear, entertaining you for now as you stare on earnestly, while nothing is actually entering your brain. that’s okay, though, you’re smart.

toji can count on one hand the amount of times you manage to catch him off guard, but he didn’t expect both of those times to be on the same day. it was a busy night at the club, trailing behind professor gojo, bored, until the clock hits 11 and the shift changes, some dancers retiring for the night whilst others make their way out. they emerge with pumps and skimpy outfits, but toji still hasn’t found someone worth wasting his loaded bank account on until you’re stepping out in a corset and garters and toji whistles lowly, eyes travelling up your person unforgivingly before he hears a small gasp.

his curiosity is piqued at the small noise, only to be greeted with your widened eyes and taut muscles at having seen your professor at the strip club you work at, but with a clap from somewhere backstage your body moves naturally into a professional stance, and perhaps a little more sluttily than other days.

your professor was hot, of course you would work twice as hard, twisting your body around the pole while you show off your assets — things you were covering just this morning in professor toji’s lecture. he taught criminology, a minor that you were trying out in your second year of uni and if it didn’t work, you’d drop it, but no matter how much you complained about the class, the green eyes that bore into yours in lectures always seem to ask you to stay. you never really knew whether he was looking at you or not.

at least now, you’ll make him.

toji’s hands tightened around the wad of cash he planned to waste tonight, all put on hold just from watching the way you put your body on display. he wouldn’t have imagined seeing you tonight at the strip club he let gojo drag him to, but he’s almost glad he’s here when you seem to be only dancing for him, all focus on the other patrons lost.

your eyes are still locked with toji’s, reminding you of the times in the lecture theatre where green was all you could see, a smile creeping on your face when one of your girlfriends behind you whispers that the man with the black hair and tight shirt wants a private session with you.

that’s all it took before you feel toji’s hands on your ass later in the private room, pulling you to his front with a smirk. “what’s a sweet girl like you doin’ here?”

you roll your eyes as you feign annoyance. your heart was pounding along with the music, finally being able to feel his toned body from the front., “cut the crap, prof. you booked me for a reason. what, here to talk about my grades or something?”

“what? can’t see my favourite student?” you scoff with a small smile.

“and how did you know i work here?”

“i didn’t, but seeing you work that pole,” toji grins, landing a smack on your butt before grinding his very obvious, large bulge on you and he’s loving the way it seemed to stimulate your clit, “i need ya to show me what i’ve been missing, mama.”

toji groans later while you’ve got his cock in his mouth, on your knees in front of him while you’re fisting the places you can’t reach. you take most of him easily, feeling the tip of his length reach the back of your throat. there, your eyes flick up to him, doe eyed and pleading. it isn’t long before you feel his hips bucking into your mouth and the cute twitch of his cock in your mouth, moaning around him as you knead his thighs, dragging him closer with what little strength you had.

“dirty fuckin’ slut, huh?” toji mumbles out breathlessly, tightening his grip around your hair before you start bobbing your head again, a plethora of lewd noises alongside the slurp of your saliva and his pre-cum mixing only makes your panties wetter and sends your cunt clenching around nothing. “who knew my cutest student was such a whore?” your head reels at the degradation, sucking in your cheeks even more while you slobber over him. toji swears under his breath when your tongue sweeps over his tip, collecting his pre-cum.

“it’s s’big in my mouth, professor,” giggling, you bob your head faster as the other’s noises increase in volume, and he’s left to tap the side of your skull, causing you to tilt your head in question. the vibrations of your moans has him grinding into your mouth, shutting you up until he’s cumming down your throat with a loud groan. toji spills so much into your mouth that you have to swallow twice, pulling on your jaw as you show him the remnants of the cum still on your tongue.

“’m sure they have it somewhere in the conduct about professors not having sexual relations with a student,” toji chuckles when he sees you peel off your underwear, eagerly wrapping his arms around your waist. “or even something about cutting corners to get your grades up…” it’s a little soft, trailing off when he feels you drag his tip along your pussy and he’s mesmerised with how your dripping folds accommodate him easily.

you pout in dramatics, thighs tightening around his when you take inch after inch of him before you’re bottoming out. there’s a deep sigh coming from you before you’re moving your hips lazily, a certain slur to your words that already show you’re drunk on your professor’s cock and toji only smiles.

“yeah, but my grades are perfectly fine,” you whisper with a small whine when toji squeezes your ass, something he never thought he’d get a taste of.

“plus, we’re not in the classroom now, are we, professor?”

9K notes · View notes

fligniuz · 3 months ago

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sex for homework

luigi mangione x reader

｡𖦹°‧ you ask your cute tutor to help you study for your math final.

word count: 5.5k • part of my study buddies series (read here!) • nsfw • read on ao3

warnings : f! reader; EXPLICIT; dumbification if U squint; praise; oral (m! receiving); pre calc lol

notes : crossposting my shit to tumblr and starting with arguably one of my greatest uses of free will in history. title frommm:

You have a bit of a dilemma.

Well, it would be more accurate to say that you had a dilemma, have had one for quite a while now—your current grievances are merely extensions of a constant, one raging, blood-thirsty, borderline psychopathic problem of a class. MTH121, Concepts & Applications, is the only remaining mathematics credit required for your degree, and, coincidentally, absolutely no one told you that that’s really just a fancy name for pre-calculus. Because the universe hates you.

Your final is tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow. If that wasn’t bad enough, your brain has utterly fucked you; months spent poring over formulas and right triangles amounts to nothing in the moment, every relevant fragment of knowledge completely foreign to your burnt out, sleep deprived, caffeine ridden psyche. So here you sit, “studying”, armed with just your textbook and Khan Academy tutorials.

Is it too late to switch majors? Yes, you decide, massaging your temples as you take another glance at your notes. A mass of numbers, variables, and scribbled matrices clogs the pages, complete with your near ineligible annotations, details added in the heat of a lecture. You never knew there could be so many different types of numbers. Solve for x. 5 + 2x to the 2nd power = 8x. Factor x3 - 3x to the 2nd power - 4x + 12. Find the vertex of the function f(x) = x to the 2nd power + 4x + 3. Determine the value of x if the sum of the following sequence converges to 5. How any of this is relevant to your future non-mathematics degree is beyond you.

What the hell is a vertex again? And what does it matter? You’d rather be sleeping, or drunk. Whatever.

You have one saving grace. Since your freshman year you’ve been employing a little cheat-sheet, your one-way ticket to having math explained to you in a language understood by plebeians like yourself: one Luigi Mangione, a friend of a friend of a friend, possibly the smartest guy you know (and you’re far from the only person to voice that opinion). Your self-appointed tutor—and unfortunately for you, probably the most appetizing of any of the frat guys you’ve met in college, to put it chastely. The actual knowledge is just a bonus, really, because unlike other tutors you’ve worked with Luigi seems to actually care; he wants you to walk away from him with a solid understanding of the material, rather than a temporary knowledge that gets your homework done but is absent from your memory by the time of your exams. And it’s hard to write off the fact that he’s easy on the eyes.

…Pretty damn hard, actually. Because—in all honesty—you’re really into Luigi. Another thing that’s hard to do is get your math homework done when you’re busy fucking yourself with your fingers, like you tend to do after your time with him, thinking about his cock, his hands, the way he would fill you, pin you down underneath him, smirk at you and tell you dirty things like that’s my girl, that’s my good fucking girl, that’s it, give it to me, show me how pretty you look when you come all over me like this…

Great. At this pace, you’ll never get anything done.

Your phone buzzes.

About an hour ago, you sent him a photo of your current predicament: your laptop and notebook open, and you sitting criss-crossed in front of it, an exaggerated pout on your lips. A few moments later, you sent another, this time of your middle finger pointed directly at your professor’s official portrait. Now, he responds:

Academic Weapon (Luigi) : Smh

Who studies the night before their final?? Dummy

You smile, replying:

i do :(

help pls :((

Academic Weapon (Luigi) : You poor thing

And then:

Academic Weapon (Luigi) : Come over. In like 15

We’ll work it out together

Score. He adds:

Academic Weapon (Luigi) : And I better not hear any complaining when I make you actually do the math

Your crush feels elementary, like you’ve got the hots for the nerdy jock on the playground that’s miles out of your league and that every girl on planet Earth is fighting tooth and nail for. You respond:

no promises :P

You pray to your lucky stars that you can study as nonchalantly as humanly possible.

You told him you wouldn’t complain, and you’ve tried, you really have. But dividing radicals is fucking stupid and useless and the more you look at your paper the more these numbers and symbols really start to look all the same to you, just scribbles, meaningless scribbles of made-up concepts that have nothing to do with your career prospects whatsoever. Who gives a flying fuck about solving equations with these weird ass numbers that normal people don’t even use?

You must be thinking out loud, because Luigi laughs next to you on the couch. He is laughing at your frustration. What an emotionally supportive tutor. You groan and thread your fingers through your hair, massaging your temples.

Still smiling just slightly, he starts to gather up your things. “Alright, look, how about we take a break?” He glances over at you, still holding your head in your hands. “Yeah, let’s take a break for a minute.”

He gets up from the couch, disappears into the kitchen for just a moment. Comes back with a glass of orange juice. For you. You try not to think about how pathetic it is that the most romantic gesture a man has done for you in the past three years is bring you juice. Instead you watch him, sipping slowly—no pulp, he knows you so well—and peeking through your eyelashes as he scuttles around his dorm, just the two of you alone together, while he throws some laundry into a basket and absentmindedly closes doors of unoccupied rooms. You have never noticed how defined his calves are before, nor how his curls bounce just slightly when he walks fast or how his shorts sag on his hips just right, just enough for you to get a peek of his V-line and the waistband of his boxers when he raises his arms to stretch—

Nonchalant. Demure. Mindful. You are failing so hard at the one thing you’ve forbidden yourself from doing: staring at him until your eyes are practically burning holes in his clothes and he’s melting into the floor. Not entirely your fault. He should’ve known to dress modestly around you. Around anybody, for that matter.

Luigi comes to sit by you now. As you tuck your hair behind your ears you can feel his arm move to rest along the back of the couch, almost around you, but not quite.

“Hi,” you say, propping your head up on your arm.

He smiles at you. You can’t even look him in the eye. “Did you think more about your radicals?”

“Don’t remind me,” you groan, rolling your eyes. “No. I didn’t.”

“Well, what were you thinking about?”

You swallow the conspiratorial intuition that he has to be fucking with you. Maybe he sees it on your face. Can smell it on you. Something.

“I was trying to think of some things I’d rather be doing,” you offer. “Instead of math.”

Your heart feels three beats faster all of a sudden, and when did he get so close to you? Your thighs are touching, his knee brushing against yours. “And what did you come up with?” he asks.

Oh, fuck. He’s definitely fucking with you. Right? He has that goddamn smirk on his face, that one that makes your insides twist with a feeling reserved only for boys who look at you just like this, like you’re busted, like he knows exactly what you’ve been thinking about every second you’ve spent sitting next to him doing algebra. You want to kiss it right off of him.

“Nothing,” you lie, sitting up straight and trying to pretend like you really are interested in your studies. “Here, will you show me how to do it again?”

He calls your name. He doesn’t even have to ask for you to look at him; the tone of his voice and the tilt of his head makes his intentions entirely clear. When your eyes meet his he inches closer, and all you can manage to do is stare at his lips.

“Tell me what you want,” he demands, stern and warm enough to boil.

If he truly knew what he was asking for he wouldn’t be asking at all, you think. Not unless he was prepared for whatever your fervent need has in store for him. Embarrassment feels bright red and prickly on your skin. “I shouldn’t say.”

”But I think you should,” he whispers.

Oh. Oh. All bets are off, now. This has officially progressed from studying to “studying”.

Luigi lets you lead, his hand settling on the small of your back as you come a little closer to kiss him, properly. You hear him giggle before your lips meet; the curve of his smile against you is unmistakable, casting sparks through your body and down your thighs. He tastes like spearmint. You learn quickly that he is a fantastic kisser, and his tongue finds yours with curious excitement when your breathing starts to pick up. Without question, he claims the expanse of you, drinking in your essence, licking, biting. Those irresistible curls demand attention, and so you thread your fingers through his hair, your hand sweeping from behind his ear to the nape of his neck. Luigi shivers under your touch, exhaling softly against you.

When the fingers of his left hand raise to grasp your leg, you stop kissing him only to swing your body over his lap so that you’re straddling him. Luigi breathes in deep then, like his nervous system collectively seizes at the feeling of you so close. To give him room to breathe you stop short of settling all your weight onto him. Lips meeting once more, his hands greet your hips; his touch is warm, and timid, like you’re made of sand, like you might collapse and dissolve into immeasurable particles between his fingers.

He groans into your mouth. Murmurs your name. “This isn’t very productive,” he quips.

“Intellectually, no,” you agree, nails brushing the back of his neck. He has goosebumps. A ghost of a smile dancing on your lips, you slowly lower yourself down onto his lap; there are two layers of clothes between your bare skin but he is impossibly warm against you. “But what about physically?”

Luigi smiles, and fuck, he is too fucking beautiful. “I guess I can’t argue with that.”

And so you kiss him again and again and again, your heart doing backflips inside your chest when his big hands glide lower, and lower, thumb toying with the waistband of your skirt, and lower still, until he’s gripping your ass. You can’t help but nuzzle against the growing stiffness underneath you, poking between your thighs—and you definitely can’t help but love the way he grinds back, hips meeting yours with just as much enthusiasm. Fuck. About an hour ago you were working through polynomials and linear equations, and now the dreamiest guy you’ve ever met is hard for you, holding you in his lap. You might as well thank your professor.

When Luigi sucks at your bottom lip for a few euphoric moments, you make the most pathetic sound into his mouth, and he growls, his hands suddenly coming up to grasp your hips and hold them steady. “Was this your plan all along?” he rasps, his lips moving swiftly to the side of your face, your jaw, the junction between your neck and shoulder.

Sharp teeth graze skin and you whimper. “What do you mean?”

“What, now you’re playing coy?” Luigi finds the pulse point in your throat and bites, softly at first, then harder when your fingers curl into the hair at the back of his head. “You didn’t want to study. You called me because you wanted to get fucked, because you knew I’d want to touch you just like this, didn’t you?”

This boy is out of his mind. First he practically eye-fucks you while schooling you about imaginary numbers, and then he “scolds” you like he’s disappointed in your lack of interest in algebra, like he’s mad that you can’t resist him for being so damn gorgeous. That half-hearted meanness in his tone leaves butterflies in your stomach, in no way helped by the feeling of his tongue sliding over your collarbone.

“No,” you mutter. It’s not completely a lie. You really did need his help with the math, which he is really good at…but you can’t deny that you were really hoping you two would end up like this, with him kissing your neck all over until you’re speckled with purple and pink. You don’t even care about the obvious evidence of him on your skin—you want his entire dorm hall to know just how well-acquainted the two of you are by the time he’s done with you. The thought of everyone knowing you’re his makes you weak.

Luigi is kissing you again, slowly and deeply, one hand coming up to cup your breast through your shirt. His touch is too much and not enough simultaneously, your need overwhelming, and your hips are searching desperately for friction, rolling against him eagerly. So much for nonchalance.

He grasps your chin, firm but not at all painful, and flashes you that pretty smile, tutting, “I don’t believe you.”

Your mind is far too preoccupied with thoughts of his touch in other places to try to formulate a witty rebut. You opt instead to kiss him harder and sneak a hand between your bodies, tracing over his chest, down his carefully crafted abdomen, and then over the front of his shorts, groping his hard cock through polyester. Luigi groans into your mouth. He is big, almost intimidating, and imagining him inside of you has your body feeling hot all over.

As you palm the outline of his length through his trousers, his hands make their way underneath your sweater, the sudden warmth of him jolting through your torso. You look up at him through your lashes and he smirks.

“Do you want to sit on it?” he asks you, entirely stoic despite the weight of his words.

You kiss him, still squeezing his cock. “Can I put it in my mouth first?”

Fuck. You have him wrapped around your finger. How could he possibly say no when you ask so sweetly? Luigi is instantly pulling down his shorts for you, the rustle of fabric making your head spin. He’s left in just his boxers and a sweater that you quickly help him shrug off, too. Once you have him undressed, he takes a moment to survey you, your cheeks flushed, eyes lidded, hair tousled from his hands. You feel a surge of confidence now that you have his full attention and so you pull your top up and over your head, smiling when he reaches behind you to help you with your bra. He has it and your skirt off in just a few seconds, leaving your combined clothes to pile up next to the couch.

You shift so that you’re kneeling on the floor in front of him, wearing only your panties, watching him watching you. He is grinning, his cock standing proud, and you know you must be blushing by the way his teeth flash from under the curve of his lips. You feel gooey and hot in the pit of your stomach. Swallowing your shyness, you reach forward to take him in your hand. He’s already sticky at the tip, precum glistening on his slit, and so you begin to stroke him, starting at the head of his dick and spreading slick down his shaft. His cock is probably the most gorgeous thing you’ve ever seen, at the very least a runner-up for his face: tan and thick, his girth evenly distributed, and big enough to have you feeling your heartbeat between your legs. There is a prominent vein along the underside of him, ending at his frenulum. He pulses with each movement of your hand.

Once he’s as wet as you like, you come closer to tease him with your tongue, licking up the base, tracing his vein, passing over his slit. Luigi groans—“fuuuuuck, baby,”—and threads his fingers into your hair, tugging hard.

“Don’t be a fucking tease,” he rasps. “You asked for this. Show me what that mouth can do.”

Your lips are halfway wrapped around the head of him and when you moan at his words it vibrates through him, his abs flexing deliciously. You move further down, then, mouth closed around his length, applying light pressure on your way back up. He’s too big to take all of him at once and so your left hand grasps the length you can’t reach, pumping gently. You start a subtle, easy rhythm, evenly paced and obviously satisfying enough to have Luigi panting and swearing above you: your mouth starts at his tip, sucking gently, then gliding lower, until you can feel him in the back of your throat and you’re nearly gagging on him—and then you move upward again, cheeks hollowing around him, finally reaching the head of him once more. Rinse and repeat. It is organized. Formulaic. Your process leaves you practically drooling on his cock, spit collecting at the base where you are stroking him. Fuck. You haven’t pleased a guy like this in quite a while, and under any other circumstances you’d probably feel a bit insecure about your work; but it’s difficult to justify any doubts you might have, what with the noises coming from above you:

“Oh, fuck, yes, baby, yes, just like that, fuck yes,” Luigi moans, fingers knotted tightly in your hair. “Oh my god, your mouth…”

You slip your free hand into your panties, middle and ring finger rubbing your clit.

As your ministrations intensify, his reactions do, too. You can feel his thighs and hips tensing in an effort not to fuck into your throat. But you made a promise to yourself; you want to take the entirety of his length in your mouth before all of this is over, and so you move your left hand down to his balls, kneading him and carefully lowering your face until your nose is pressed into the curly hairs of his groin, his cock as deep as it can reach. And Luigi keens, head thrown back against the couch, one hand in your hair and the other gripping the armrest tight. You can feel him twitching in your throat.

There are a few blissful moments of you sucking him just like this, sinking him deep into your throat and pinching your lips around his tip, and you almost wish the two of you were recording because the sounds he makes are top tier jerk material for at least the next few months. He’d be a natural on camera. You want to commit every second of this to your memory.

When he goes quiet for a moment you open your eyes to look at him. You find him staring down at you, mouth agape. “Are you touching yourself?” he asks.

It’s difficult to answer with his dick in your mouth, so you settle for moaning around him again, eyes fluttering shut.

“Holy fuck,” he grunts, his voice sweeter than sugar.

You could sit here sucking him off for the rest of your life—you could die with his dick in your mouth—but you regrettably begin to feel your jaw aching, knowing full well that keeping this up will have you hurting. Not that you really mind. When you begin to sputter and tear up around him, he grabs both sides of your face and pulls your mouth off of his cock. You are crying, just a little, crocodile tears streaming down your cheeks, your throat raw.

Luigi looks down at you sweetly. “Oh, baby,” he coos, wiping your wet face dry with his thumbs. “That’s my perfect girl. So good to me. Come here.”

He welcomes you back onto his lap with open arms and a smile. He is warm, so warm and soft against you, you could fall asleep just like this. But he is kissing you now, so slowly that you feel dizzy, and so you ground yourself, fingers embracing his curls. His hands move to your hips, grasping the waistband of your panties, teasing you, rubbing the fabric against your heat. When he finally has them off his fingers are instantly examining you, collecting your slick, slipping through your folds.

“Let’s see about a little reward for you, hm?” he whispers, capturing your lips with his.

You kiss him eagerly and arch your back so that your thighs spread wide enough for his fingers to enter you with ease—not that it would be difficult without, considering that you’re so wet you can hear him touching you, even over the sound of your blood rushing in your ears. Two long digits move inside of you, stretching you, massaging that spot that makes your knees buckle and your eyes cross, plus a few more that you never knew existed. His touch feels so good, just how you imagined, and you have to lean forward into the crook of his neck to keep yourself upright, your teeth sinking into a firm shoulder. Luigi makes a gruff sound, almost a chuckle, and his cock jumps at your whiny, choked noises when he adds a third finger into your pussy.

“So needy, aren’t you?” he teases. “Have you been thinking about this, gorgeous? About sucking my cock and taking my fingers like this?”

You nod, because of course you have. In that exact order. Who wouldn’t?

Luigi smiles at you, soft and adoring. You make a curious sound and his fingers depart from you, lingering at your entrance until you grind down into his lap. Your cunt brushes against him, raw, hungry, slathering his cock with your slick.

“I want you,” you whine, grabbing his face and kissing him again. “I want all of you.”

“Yeah, baby?” His hands are guiding your hips, moving you slowly against him. “Tell me about it.”

Well, you would, if your brain weren’t short-circuiting at the moment. His fault. You mumble into his ear, something about infinity, something about the way you hug your pillow at night and all the times you’ve fucked yourself stupid thinking about this very image of you and him together like this. But there are countless words for your endless feelings, words you would preach to him from high places if your body had the agency to; your attraction to him is primal, but neatly arranged, layered, wrapped up with variables galore and multiplying with each moment you spend in his presence. A mess, no doubt about it, but one you can control, a tangle to unravel, an equation to solve. Nothing less. You aren’t sure of how this ends but you know that you need him, bad, more than you knew was possible before.

You crash into him, mouths colliding, everything that you left unsaid spilling into your embrace. Words are hard. Kissing Luigi and grinding your warm, throbbing cunt against him takes much less brainpower.

He is speaking to you when you pull away: “Baby, just a second, wait right here, let me get something.” Gently you are pushed from his lap and he disappears into his room momentarily, leaving you waiting, alone, aching for him, until he rounds the corner again with a familiar foil packet, finding his way back to the couch and sweeping you on top of him once more.

“Hi. Sorry.” And now he is fully yours.

You whine and wiggle against him the second the condom is on.

“Shh,” Luigi whispers, “I got you, ‘s okay, gorgeous. Gonna take good care of you, yeah? Don’t you worry. Gonna give you just what you need, baby.”

The tip of his cock is pressing into you, then, slowly easing himself inside, and fuck, he fits just right, fills you up perfectly, has you seeing stars already. The sound you make when he bottoms out is a hop, skip, and a jump away from pornographic. Luigi purrs underneath you.

“Oh, I know, baby, I know.” His hand slides down to grip your ass, spreading you, and from this angle you can feel just how much he stretches you out. And then, as he begins to roll his hips: “My sweet girl, working so hard, can’t even think for yourself, can you, beautiful? That’s okay, baby. I can do all the thinking for you, you just sit back and let me work it out for you, yeah? Don’t think. Just let me please this pussy.”

It’s like he’s trying to kill you. Every single word he says into your ear shoots straight to your cunt, the mere sound of his voice so near you electrifying. He’s deep, and with your thighs spread wide like this you just have to take advantage of the perfect angle to rub your clit against him. You can’t help but squeal into the crook of his neck each time his hips ram up into you, thighs clapping against your ass; by the way his muscles tense you assume it must take much of his energy, and yet he pounds you like you weigh nothing in his lap, exerting himself like it’s a cakewalk so long as he can watch your face shrivel up with overwhelming delectation. You can tell that he loves it when you tug his hair or bite him, and so you do it every chance you get, just in case your hushed utterances in his ear fail to make your message clear enough:

“Luigi, fuckfuckfuck, oh my god, oh, fuck…”

As he paces himself Luigi wraps his strong arms around you, one caging your waist and the other pulling tight at your hair. Your neck is arched and exposed, leaving him free to smother his love all over you in sharp, uneven hickeys. You needed this, so, so bad, and you tell him exactly that, chanting thank you, thank you, thank you and holding him tight.

“Whatever you want,” he whispers. “You can have whatever you want with me. Anything.” His lips meet yours, fleeting, and then, with the slightest hint of a grin: “You earned this, baby.”

You groan directly into his ear. It’s straight from your dreams, you think, like you’ve been swept from your bed in the midst of the night and dropped right here, in the lap of the sweetest, smartest, most handsome boy you’ve ever so much as looked at, bouncing on his cock while he kisses you like you’ll float away if he lets go. The two of you work together to heighten each other’s inevitable undoing, like a function of sorts; Luigi pushes and you push back, meeting his hips every time, your clit brushing against him just right, and him breaching unknown depths of you, hands roaming, learning you inside and out.

“My sweet girl,” he grabs your face and rests his forehead against yours, driving into you with precision. “This is all yours, baby.”

Sweat starts to gather at his hairline and you can feel him shuddering in your arms. Kissing him, you press down on his toned chest, pinning him against the couch, and Luigi is practically singing for you, little grunts and babys and murmurs of your name traveling through your ears and echoing in your mind. You want this to last forever. His hips slow to a stop when you begin to move on your own; you raise yourself up, resting all your weight on your knees, with him sliding out of your cunt until just the tip is still inside—and then you drop down, letting him sink back into you quickly, slick and smooth, his cock so deep you can nearly feel it in your stomach.

Fuck. You love this. You love the way his hands grip your ass, your thighs, rubbing your back, moaning your name and kissing behind your ear. You love the way he looks at you. The pupils of those dark eyes are blown wide, watching you move, worshipping how your tits bounce, the gyration of your hips, the blush of arousal all over you, your bottom lip wedged between your teeth. The sounds of sex and the shameless way he takes in every feature of your body have you feeling hot and ready to burst. You moan his name, drawn out and raspy.

“Yes,” Luigi groans. “You’re so pretty on top of me.”

Even through the haze of your pleasure you smile at his praise. He is telling you everything, every single thought that passes by in his mind, as if there will be no proof of how good he fucked you once you leave his dorm, as if every word will dissipate into thin air and leave you waiting, unsatisfied, hanging on the edge: “You take it so well, baby, my sweet girl, so perfect, so perfect just for me.”

His big hands are all over you. One cups your breast, sucking your nipple into his mouth, with the other splayed over your hip. You start to feel dizzy, anxious for his attention, a little bit crazy. Close. Luigi must notice the way your eyes screw shut and your pussy squeezes him tight, because his hand moves down your chest, over your stomach, and then to your clit, circling his fingers with purpose. He wishes—almost—that you were beneath him, so that he could replace his hand with his mouth, trace down your body with his lips and bring you to your very edge with his tongue, over and over again, until you’re begging him to stop.

He settles instead for kissing you, hard, slowly, lingering. “You have no fucking idea how bad I’ve been wanting this, baby.”

You nod, moaning, “yes, yes, me too,” your noises pained and rough in your throat.

The way his cock slams into you with each movement of your hips is ruthless, bruising; he’s kissing you so sweetly and you can feel your climax churning in your abdomen, rippling through you. It knocks the air from your lungs. Sex with him hurts so good. It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before.

“Gonna come,” you huff. There are fingernail-sized dents in his skin. “Gonna come for you.”

Luigi nods, whispers, “good girl, such a good girl,” and circles his fingers over your clit as fast as he can manage.

You tense around him at that. You can’t even count how many times you’ve come imagining those very words whispered in your ear by the very man that you’re riding right now.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “Yeah? You like that? You like being a good girl for me?”

You nod wildly, and everything feels so real all of a sudden, like you’ve been floating mindlessly in space and you are crashing down into reality. His teeth dig into the sensitive skin of your neck and his hips start to pump again and by the time he’s meeting your thrusts you’ve had enough, thighs shaking, and he starts moaning into your ear so that you know he’s right there with you, and fuck, he’s really trying to kill you—

Your orgasm hits you like a truck. A 5’11, dark haired and brown eyed muscle truck that looks at you like you are the only good thing left in the world.

For a moment there is only your deep panting and his equally spent breaths as the both of you rest, his hand tracing gentle patterns on your back, yours combing through his sweat-soaked curls. The dorm is quiet, calm, almost with an air of innocence, completely unswayed by the heady aftermath of what the two of you just did right there on the couch. You lean back and look into his eyes, brooding and trained entirely on you. And he has that stupid grin on his face, the one that gives both of you away for good, the one that screams we’re not the only ones who know what we’ve been up to.

You want to kiss it right off of his beautiful, beautiful face. But right now you just sigh, lean into his shoulder, and let him hold you tight. Tonight you will walk back to your dorm, all the way on the other side of campus, where your roommates will be waiting for you, likely getting ready for bed. You will walk inside and they will watch you without a clue as to whose hands have been on you, whose name has been on your lips, whose cock has been buried to the hilt inside of you for the past hour. Your legs will be aching—you are sure of it.

Your roommates will ask you, “how’d it go?”, completely unaware of what your wobbly smile really means, how you really spent your time with your cute tutor.

And you will respond, “oh, great,” with a barely masked giggle. “I’m gonna ace my test tomorrow.”

^ dividers by cafekitsune

#luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione imagine #luigi mangione fanfiction #luigi mangione fic #flig’s work #✏️tutor gi

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fayelero · 5 days ago

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ⓘ 01. JUST FOR SCIENCE !

⤷ SMUT ﹫ nerd!tsukishima kei x fem!reader ﹫ mdni ﹫ university au!

⚠︎ mdni, (kinda rough?) fingering, dirty talk kinda, p with plot, established relationship .ᐟ.ᐟ

it was a req! but I weirdly couldn’t answer it so, here!!

Tsukishima had been deep in a study session at the university library when you sent the message. He almost didn’t check it—his phone buzzed against the table, and he rolled his eyes before flipping it over lazily. The preview alone made his entire body lock up:

“Babe I saw this vid and thought of u. Try it on me later?”

Attached was a screenshot from a TikTok that screamed chaos. It featured some guy, dead serious, explaining how to make a girl squirt—his voice flat, instructional: _“Press down right here on her lower stomach, tense your fingers hard, and shake—_like actually shake—if you do it right, she’ll flood.”

Tsukishima had paused, blinked once. Then again.

And again.

Of course you would send something like that.

He’d cleared his throat and tilted his screen away from Yamaguchi, who was mid-rant about some biochem professor being a demon in human form. Kei pretended to nod along, face schooled into neutrality, but his ears burned red hot. He tried to shove the image out of his mind—your voice asking him to try it on you, the mental picture of your thighs trembling under his hand, your face twisted in overwhelmed pleasure.

God, he was not going to survive the rest of this class.

⸻

By the time he got back to the apartment, his brain was a mess of formulas, suppressed hard-ons, and way too many tabs open on his laptop—half were lecture notes, the rest were very, very specific Reddit threads.

The place was dim and warm when he walked in, the lights low, the curtains drawn. You were already there, stretched out on his bed in nothing but one of his hoodies, scrolling your phone like you hadn’t just ruined him in the middle of a public academic setting.

He dropped his bag and closed the door behind him with a soft click.

You didn’t look up. “Learn anything in class today?”

Kei kicked off his shoes and stalked over. “Mm. Something like that.”

You smirked but barely had time to react before he was over you—knees pressing into the mattress, one hand bracing beside your head, the other pushing your thighs apart with no preamble. He didn’t even kiss you first. He just looked at you with a sharp, unreadable gaze and murmured, “Still want me to try it?”

You blinked. “Try wha—oh.”

Then it hit. You swallowed.

He leaned down and kissed the side of your neck, slowly. “Don’t get shy now. You asked for this, didn’t you?” His voice was low and lazy, but his fingers already curled into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down. “Sent me fucking tutorials in public.”

You let out a breathy laugh. “You liked it.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m letting it slide.” He ghosted his knuckles along your inner thigh. “You made me sit through a 90-minute lecture with a hard-on. You’re paying for that.”

Your stomach flipped. You spread your legs a little wider, feeling heat pulse through your core. He sat back and took in the sight like he was memorizing it—your body under him, already flushed and open.

Tsukishima rolled his sleeves up. “Let’s be clear—this is science.”

You snorted. “Science, huh?”

“I’m testing a hypothesis,” he said, dry. “Let’s see if your little video was telling the truth.”

⸻

He was careful at first—methodical. It was annoyingly hot how analytical he got about it.

Two fingers in, slow. A curl. A press.

He watched your face like he was taking notes in his head.

“That it?” he asked. “Right there?”

You gasped, hips twitching. “Yes—yes, that’s it—”

His glasses slid a little down his nose as he adjusted, leaning forward for better leverage. His fingers pressed deeper, and this time he added pressure with the heel of his hand to your pelvis. You cried out, thighs tensing.

“Okay,” he muttered more to himself. “Now… tense up the forearm…”

You could feel it—his entire arm stiffening. Then his fingers shook, a small, fast motion inside you that felt like a jolt of electricity.

You arched, moaning, nails digging into his wrist. “Kei—!”

“There it is,” he said softly, like he’d just discovered a new species.

He kept going, movements precise but brutal, and you were unraveling fast. He pressed down harder, rubbed exactly where you needed it from inside, and when your stomach jumped under his palm, he glanced up with a smirk.

“Feel that?” he murmured. “That tension right here—that’s your bladder shifting. But don’t worry. You’re not going to piss yourself.”

“Wh—what—?”

He was still talking. “Squirting is basically a form of female ejaculation—it’s expelled from the urethra, but chemically, it’s not urine. The Skene’s glands—sometimes called the female prostate—produce a fluid when stimulated—”

“Kei—!” you gasped.

“—and when the anterior wall of the vagina is stimulated enough, like this—” he curled his fingers harder, grinding them into that spot again, “—it builds pressure until the pelvic floor releases.”

You were close. Too close.

“I—I think I’m gonna—wait—I don’t know if—”

He didn’t stop. “It’s fine. Let it go. It’s just your body responding to stimuli—completely natural, really. Biomechanics at its best—”

You slammed a hand over your face, panting. “K-kei, just shut up—!”

He laughed, dark and low. “Oh? You want me to stop being educational while you soak my bed?”

“I’m serious—!” your voice cracked, and then your body tensed, thighs shaking, muscles locking up so hard you thought you might explode.

Then—

It hit. Hard.

A sudden rush, a high-pitched cry ripped from your throat as your body convulsed, hips jerking up against his hand. You felt warmth, wetness, everything crashing down in an overwhelming wave. Your legs refused to stop twitching.

You lay there gasping, limp, soaked, and stunned.

Kei pulled his fingers out slow, slick and glistening. His face was flushed, his glasses slightly fogged. He looked at his hand like a scientist who just cracked open a star.

“Huh,” he said calmly. “It worked.”

You swatted him weakly. “I can’t believe you talked through the whole thing.”

He smirked. “It helped, didn’t it?”

You groaned. “You’re the worst.”

He leaned in, pressed a kiss to your jaw. “And yet you still squirted all over my sheets.”

You rolled onto your side, completely boneless. “Shut up and take your pants off.”

He stripped in record time.

a/n : im sorry if its not good, i just can’t write for tsukishima, i find myself struggling to write for a character i don’t really like. (no hate!) so pls don’t ask me for tsukishima again cuz i lowkey think its bad :(

#⋆⋰☄︎ kie’s writes #haikyuu fic #hq x reader #hq smut #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei #haikyuu tsukishima #tsukishima x you #hq tsukishima #tsukishima x y/n #tsukishima smut #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima kei x you #smut

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edenspoem · 9 months ago

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𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐊𝐈𝐃 𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐑! ★

content: prodigy!abby x nerdy!reader, childhood friends, university-based, fluff (for now), romance + tension (little bit angsty), drabble length but switching up the small caps (experimenting. heh), mainly jotting an idea, not a certified abby expert.

It was an absolute murder to discover that she could not fufill this one off her bucket list.

Fucking video gaming?

Exactamundo! Abby can outstand everybody in nearly anything, being everything from a virtuoso violinist, to a glorified part-time fisherman, and a damn gourmet chef as well. She paraded around the entire campus pursuing a name in every elective and Olympic hobby you could ever think of. Name it, chances are she's done it. Actually, more than done it, all things considered.

But video games? Guess the esteemed Abby Anderson had finally tumbled downhill and suffered defeat; looking you up out of all computer-smart people felt treasonous to her, but seemed high-priority to the eye of the beholder, the eyes in question even rolling. You don't need an in-person class course on fucking Skyrim. Look at the tutorials!

“So, how the hell do I shorten my speedrun times?”

None of it made a lick of sense. Well, the wanting to do speedruns part, you see the appeal in a medieval-inspired game. Speedrunning sucks the fun and the atmosphere out of a truly gorgeous game such as the forenamed. Yet, it's not like you haven't experimented in closed-world speedruns after immersing yourself in collecting all the achievements; Firewatch takes the cake.

But, still, coming to you—a forgotten, childhood friend whom she ghosted—makes no logical sense. Games are easy-peasy. Literal pieces of cake!

You scrunch your nose at the reclined blondie on your bed, confused. “Um, by watching a tutorial?” Almost laying back into a condescending tone, maybe even a little. “Did you even think to do that before knocking in the dead of night?” Her mordant, stick-up-the-ass kind does the same thing to you, so, you can gripe at that game all you desire.

“Hey,” she pouts, sounding out mock-offense. She scoots up from her prone position on the bed to face you—so proper. “Everything has more to it than what you see.” Sure, philosopher. “And there definitely is with video games. I keep losing. Besides, if I can't stomach skydiving or rock-climbing, then this is next on my list.”

“Pft—”

“What? You know I don't do heights.”

Oh, my god. “'You keep losing?'” Is she a prodigy at radical honesty?

Pond-blue eyes toss in a perfect, resentful circle. She scoffs, “Why do you think I came over here?” Complaining right hand flicking with attitude.

“I don't teach beginners.”

Your sarcasm flies not even an inch under her radar; it was always a retreat tactic back in highschool—when this imitative facade first hardened. “Oh, okay.” She bites you back with it too. But it never even occured to her that you might just be serving a tablespoon of teasery. Being old friends, having lonesome yearns, even stubborn prodigies can be painted in a rosy picture.

Still can see those young, faded freckles. Lovely ones.

“This was a mistake, wasn't it?” An unpleasant question. Drops from her lips almost wantonly.

It strains your chest cavity.

Is seeing her a mistake?

Not really. You hope not really. Once, there was a time where she was suddenly rude, dismissive and up every aspiring valedictorian's ass, but all paths lead back, you believe. Somewhere underneath that porcelain facade—and hot, rocking bod—is a clean crack in her over-achiever matrix; softness is bleeding out. You can see the beginning brooks of it like a kingly ichor. Possible smiles that aren't contemptuous.

What next, an apology?

“Can I at least.. say sorry, before going?”

Sorry—going? Fuck, you majorly zoned out. “What?” You loom in closer, throwing the one-brow raise. The proximity barely even occurs to you.

“For being a jerk, for blowing you off, ..” The list implies endlessness as her voice fades out. In a way, you expect her to pick up and continue. But, after the gestures and head-tilts, she pauses. Reinstates eye contact, pauses, and works her lips again. An awkward, prefacing breath skims. “And I guess, 'm also sorry for.. this?”

Before comprehension hits, it is too late. Darkly, a warmth brushes your cheek and a silence catches your lips, blocking your eyes out. It makes you feel blindsided, this short-lived kiss, one you suspend wide eyes for, tilt your neck for, accept without question. A strange deja vu rushes to your nape.

You shiver.

It even ends before you understand it, Abby pulling away with light-glossed eyes you swear are stones of aquamarine in disguise. She cracks; dints a smile in her cheek. Proud, anticipating. Having her this close made your inhales excessive; you needed all the air in the world to function right now. Deep breathing.

She smells like the outdoors.

Naturally.

“Good?” She has to reassure herself.

“Yeah,” you quickly spout, croak even. Wherever in the world your head is, it's not here. “Not really a prodigy at kissing, so..” And while it is somewhere, the remnants of her kiss are phantom. They have not stopped yet.

An amused chuckle greets in gusts across your lips, from your radical honesty, the moment itself, whatever. Crowns you the jokester anyways. “Guess we both have something to learn then.”

Wonder what future that comment entails.

#✮─── . aestra's bibliotheca #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #tlou abby #abbyanderson #prodigy!abby #abby tlou #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson angst #abby anderson imagine #abby anderson drabble #abby anderson tlou2 #abby the last of us #tlou 2 #tlou x reader

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yanderecrazysie · 5 months ago

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Intertwined (Yandere Oikawa and Iwaizumi)

Thank you again for commissioning me! It means the world to me! I don’t usually do poly, but I decided it would work best with your request!

Title: Intertwined

Pairings: Iwaizumi Hajime x Reader x Oikawa Tooru

WARNINGS: yandere themes, NSFW, non-con, bondage, branding, chubby reader, poly relationship, aged up characters of course

AU: Red string of fate Soulmate AU

Oikawa and Iwaizumi had been lucky to find each other early on- the red string of fate connecting them at the pinkies for many years now. They knew that each string only had two ends, but they had always felt like there was someone missing.

There was an emptiness that ached every time they were together. They always sat a little bit apart from each other, feeling as though someone belonged there between them.

“My project is about Pompeii,” came a timid voice from the front of the class. Oikawa, who had been barely listening to the world history projects, suddenly perked up at the sound.

His brown eyes shot to the front of the classroom. There, standing right in front of him, was a girl unlike any he’d seen before.

You clutched the volcano you’d spent hours making to your chubby form, no doubt feeling self-conscious with all eyes on you- especially the wide-eyed stare from Oikawa himself. But he couldn’t help but stare! You were so cute, so squishy, so precious that he couldn’t believe someone like you existed. How had he never noticed you before?

You were the first one out the door when the bell rang. Oikawa slung his backpack over his shoulder and shoved through the crowd, clearly a man on a mission. You had barely made it out of the classroom before he intercepted you with a charming smile.

“Hi there!” he chirped, “I’m Oikawa Tooru. I was so impressed by your project! You’ve got a real eye for detail! How did you make that volcano look so good?”

You blinked, startled. Then, you clutched your volcano tightly and stammered out, “Oh, um, thank you… I just looked up some tutorials online for it… It’s nothing special.”

“Mhm, mhm,” Oikawa nodded, absentmindedly looking around for Iwaizumi, “Why don’t you eat lunch with me and my soulmate?”

“I don’t want to intrude.”

“You wouldn’t be intruding! Iwaizumi will be so excited to meet you!”

A crowd was starting to form and you were panicking slightly at being on display, “O-okay…”

Oikawa mussed up your hair and said, “Perfect! See you in an hour!”

You nodded and quickly retreated down the hallway. Finally, Oikawa spotted Iwaizumi leaving his class. Oikawa nearly tackled his soulmate- grabbing him by the arms and hissing, “I found our third.”

Iwaizumi’s expression didn’t change, “Don’t joke about things like that.”

“I’m not joking,” Oikawa shook his best friend roughly, “She’s perfect- I know you’ll love her! She’s meeting us at lunch in an hour!”

—-----------------------------------------------------------

You took your seat across from Iwaizumi and Oikawa in the cafeteria, unable to shake the feeling that you were being studied.

“So, how long have you been attending this university?” Oikawa asked, leaning in close enough for you to smell his minty breath.

“For two years.”

Iwaizumi, who had been initially staring at you with a mildly stunned expression, finally frowned, “Then how did we never notice you?”

You shrugged awkwardly, “I stay out of the spotlight and it’s a big university…”

Oikawa laughed, but there was a sharp edge to it, “Well, that’s not going to work anymore.”

You forced a smile but you didn’t really understand what he was saying. The three of you ate in silence, Iwaizumi and Oikawa’s eyes on you the whole time. The bell eventually tolled, signaling the start of a new hour.

“Let’s do this again tomorrow, sweetie,” Oikawa said with a dazzling smile.

Iwaizumi nodded, “Same time.”

“We’ll walk you back to your dorm,” Oikawa said as the three of you stood up and grabbed your trays.

“Oh,” you suddenly felt very nervous, “No, you don’t have-”

“We want to,” Iwaizumi said sharply. Unable to argue with that, you allowed them to walk you back.

They walked on either side of you, so that their red string of fate brushed against your legs several times. You stopped in front of your dorm room’s door.

“This is me,” you said softly. You unlocked the door and Oikawa immediately pushed past you.

“Where’s your roommates?” he asked.

“I dunno,” you said. You really hoped your RA didn’t think you were bringing boys into a “girls only” dorm room.

“Do you think they’ll be back soon?” Oikawa asked.

“They probably have classes…” you regretted the words as soon as they left your mouth. Oikawa’s eyes gleamed with excitement and, suddenly, Iwaizumi was pushing you into the dark room and closing the door.

Iwaizumi and Oikawa were meant for each other- working in harmony without saying a word to each other. The red string of fate could apparently be lengthened and these men were using it to their advantage.

Oikawa wrapped your wrists in the soft red string while Iwaizumi looped your ankles to opposite bed poles. You tried desperately to escape, but you couldn’t separate your wrists or move your legs at all.

You quickly closed your eyes as they started to undress.

“Rock Paper Scissors?” Oikawa suggested with a grin. Iwaizumi nodded, both men ignoring the sobs that suddenly spilled out from your mouth.

Iwaizumi won after a short battle of hands, and he crawled over your form on the bed, grasping your hips and raising them. He slid a pillow under your ass, giving him access to your unprotected cunt.

He dove in with his tongue, gently lapping at your slit at first, before thrusting the tip of his tongue inside. It wasn’t particularly pleasing. At least, it wasn’t until his lips closed around your clit and sucked lightly.

You were focused on the pleasure, trying to mentally escape from Oikawa’s coos and laughs. When he pulled away, you let out a little whine, which made both men laugh.

“She wants you, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa purred, “Better give our baby what she wants.”

Iwaizumi grasped his cock in his hand, using his thumb to swipe at the precum that was already accumulating at the mushroom tip. He was by no means small in length or girth and you were not ready for this at all. You closed your eyes.

You could feel him sinking into your heat, inch by inch, mercifully slow. It was quickly too much stretching for you and you tried to cry out. As soon as your lips parted, Oikawa shoved his cock inside.

You let out a muffled sound of surprise then gagged as it went too deep. Oikawa chuckled and brushed your hair out of your face. His hand then went to your round belly and gently stroked it.

“So cute…” he cooed.

“Thought you were waiting your turn,” Iwaizumi muttered.

Oikawa laughed, “I can go more than one round, you know that, Iwa-chan.”

The two looked at each other lovingly before turning their sweet gazes onto you. Iwaizumi pulled out and slammed back inside, starting a brutal pace that made you sob and gag around Oikawa’s cock. The former didn’t even bother with moving, since you were already vibrating his dick with every sound you made.

You tried to move your tongue from under Oikawa’s cock but accidentally succeeded in circling his tip with it, which made Oikawa’s hips jerk in shock, his orgasm hitting him by complete surprise.

Thick cum spurted down your throat and partially filled your mouth until your cheeks were bulging with it. “Swallow,” Oikawa demanded and, despite not wanting to listen to him, you did so to get the taste out of your mouth as quickly as possible and not anger him.

Iwaizumi, unfortunately, lasted much longer than Oikawa, who had resorted to playing with your nipples- tweaking and pulling on them until it almost hurt. The attention to your breasts tied with Iwaizumi starting to hit your sweet spot caused you to wail through your own orgasm, shuddering from head to toe by the intensity of it.

Iwaizumi followed shortly after, pulling out and painting your round belly with ropes of white. The two men looked down at you, satisfied. You hoped it was over, but soon enough, Oikawa was playfully shoving his soulmate out of the way and taking his place. Iwaizumi swapped places and began gently sliding his still-hard cock into your mouth.

You wanted to say that it was too much and your jaw hurt, but you couldn’t say a thing without choking around his cock.

“Next time, our place,” Oikawa groaned through a slow, sensual thrust. Iwaizumi just nodded, still staring down at you as though you were all that mattered in the world just then.

—----------------------------------

You felt like a shell of your former self months later, sitting on the couch and “watching” a movie with Iwaizumi and Oikawa on either side of you. In reality, none of you were focused on the movie. You were trying to be, but it’s difficult when one man is groping your chest and the other has his hand down your underwear.

“Her mark is fading,” Oikawa pouted, eyes on your stomach.

Your blood went cold, “No, please, not again!”

The words on your stomach read “Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi Hajime, My Soulmates”. It almost looked like a red tattoo, but you knew better.

Iwaizumi held you down, using his red string to tie your wrists together like they do so often that it’s become second-nature. Oikawa held up the metal brander, the words that matched your stomach glowing orange with heat.

You screamed as he pressed it into your stomach, unable to hear their reassurances when in so much pain. It seared the words back where they belonged.

As soon as the fiery pain was lifted, you began to cry. All you wanted was to go back to university, maybe meet your real soulmate, and live a normal life. But if you were to say all that, your new soulmates would be furious.

Oikawa gave you a kiss on the head, “You’re all we’ve ever wanted, sweetie.”

Iwaizumi nodded, “Mother Nature messed up not giving you a red thread connected to ours.”

And maybe, you thought as you felt your consciousness fading from shock and pain, maybe she did mess up.

Maybe you were never supposed to meet them.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere one shot #one shot #yandere haikyuu #haikyuu!!#tw: noncon #yandere oikawa #oikawa tooru #yandere iwaizumi #iwaizumi hajime

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vasito-de-leche · 9 days ago

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;R1999 A Study on Afflatus (I)

Analysis and theories regarding the concept of Afflatus within the universe of Reverse: 1999

if you're from the old r99 news server or the current r99 rp one (or if you've talked to me at any point about r99) then you might know how obsessed I am with afflatus analysis!

so after going feral on my main account about it, and seeing my afflatus thesis drafts just catch dust on my wips, I decided to just open a discussion about it in the fandom! just little by little as I get the thoughts out of my brain!

so yes, this is very much an invitation for people to discuss and theorize about smaller details of the game such as afflatus, medium and other things--there are many fun ways to interpret the way afflatus applies to characters, I'd love to hear everyone's thoughts! ping me in your posts, go feral in the reblogs or comments!

as usual, transcripts were taken from the R1999 Neocities transcript project!

During the first few months of GL's launch, "Afflatus" was generally considered an extradiegetic aspect of the game--a simple mechanic meant to facilitate gameplay for the player, without any relevance to the lore or the plot. Throughout the course of the following patches, namely within the main story, this idea was disproved in many ways, and there were plenty of clues that reinforced its existence in-universe from the very beginning. For the sake of those who have never noticed, I'll do my best to be thorough, but there may be some instances of Afflatus that I missed, feel free to let me know!

The very first time Afflatus is mentioned is in the main story; Chapter 01 - Stage 4 "Chicago Rescue," Sonetto is the one to bring it up during one of the battle tutorials.

Sonetto: That's quite a lot of critters! Timekeeper, we must do something to turn things around now. Remember what the instructor said in class? "Afflatus is a way to hunt in the world." "Observations of the minerals, plants, stars, and beasts as well as our experiences with the spirit and intelligence let us better understand our own existence." Sonetto: Select a proper target for me, Timekeeper. Sonetto: Use an incantation that is strong against the enemy's Afflatus to defeat them more quickly. You can take it from here, Timekeeper.

The fact that this conversation takes place during a game tutorial doesn't instantly render the contents discussed as "just meta," since we've had many different instances of game mechanics being relevant to the overall history and worldbuilding of the setting; Artificial Somnambulism Therapy is both a game mode and a type of therapy developed by Mesmer Jr's family, used extensively within Laplace, as well as a key plot point in Chapter 3 "Nouvelles et Textes pour Rien"; Picrasma Candy is a way for the player to continue playing and an actual medicine for arcanists developed by Medicine Pocket that Argus heavily depends on to use her own arcanum. Bluepoch makes a point to further develop their story through these mechanics, thus it is impossible to separate them from the story itself--battle conversations, daily tidbits, loading screens, items and other details can all be considered canon! Afflatus is no different.

Another early instance of Afflatus occurs in the Tutorial Notebook, which disappears forever once completed--so the following screenshot was taken from this video!

The text reads:

Sometimes, our Afflatus is strong or weak against an enemy. We need to follow this principle and select the proper arcane skills based on the enemy. Strong or weak? Like a cat to a rat? The relationship between different Afflatuses is like the ecological cycle. When your Afflatus is strong against the target's, your incantation will deal more damage. ─ On Afflatus, Chapter 1

The sticky note implies the existence of a book or research on the subject ("On Afflatus, Chapter 1") which, in turn, supports Sonetto's dialogue about the Afflatus lessons she received in SPDM ("Remember what the instructor said in class?"). With this we can understand that Afflatus exists within the world to a degree that allows it to be studied, also eliminating one of the earliest theories in GL about how Vertin is the only person who can perceive Afflatus due to her status as the Timekeeper.

To my knowledge, there are no direct explanations nor clues as to why or how one would discern Afflatus in others as of writing this. What is the point of assigning Afflatus types in-universe? How can it be done? Sadly, I don't have answers to these questions in particular!

But let's analyze our current examples so far.

According to Sonetto's knowledge on the subject, Afflatus encompasses "observations of the minerals, plants, stars and beasts as well as our experiences with the spirit and intelligence," that allows people to understand themselves. This serves as a list of both Natural (Mineral, Plant, Star, Beast) and Primal (Spirit, Intellect) Afflatuses, while hinting towards the purpose of Afflatus as a tool of introspection.

With this, one may theorize that Afflatus can apply to every living being, as it tackles observations with the surrounding world (Natural Afflatus) and one's inner world (Primal Afflatus). This is partially true, there is a small yet important distinction to be made!

The 1.5 "Revival! The Uluru Games" patch explored the physiological and social differences between humans and arcanists through Ezra and Spathodea, and a new batch of loading screen tidbits were added, such as this one:

The text reads:

The arcanum's Afflatus categories do not apply to humans. However, factors such as personality and preferred instruments may cause certain individuals to have a closer affinity to a particular type of arcane Afflatus.

This daily tidbit confirms that arcanum's Afflatus categories do not apply to humans. The rest of tidbits emphasize on the contrast between the two groups in different aspects; humans cannot cast arcane skills, they use technology and commands rather than incantations, they're considered rational instead of passionate, reason vs instinct, etc etc.

But I believe there is an important distinction to be made! The first loading screen tidbit mentions "arcanum's Afflatus categories," rather than Afflatus itself. There is an aspect of Afflatus that is directly linked with arcanum, and thus it makes sense that it cannot be applied to humans.

We can see this happening in Greta Hoffman's report from the Special Chapter - "The Star" in which she explains her interactions with 37's mother, 77. Here are a few excerpts.

Writer of the Report: I'm not sure whether she was making fun of me or being serious, but I had this feeling that she was eager to tell me how she was granted the secret through a moment of afflatus. It seemed she just saw through the laws behind all things instead of finding them through logical deduction.

"HER": "The rhombus can't be seen with eyes. You shall close your eyes, hearken to the teaching of the supreme existence, and seize the moment of afflatus!" Writer of the Report: Of course, I didn't see anything, nor did I understand what a moment of afflatus was. Perhaps it's just another privilege enjoyed by arcanists, just like their right to be lunatic. Nevertheless, she reached the correct conclusion in a completely wrong way. Is it really possible?

Writer of the Report: But, if there is a god, why are you playing such a prank on us, after we had suffered from the collapse of all the existing orders and the failure of all the great laws? If this is what she called the glimpse of the supreme existence, the moment of afflatus, do you have to present it in such a cruel way?

Even Matilda brings up afflatus during this chapter, in reference to her job monitoring new members.

Matilda: &$#% ... I know she's a rookie, but even so, she's way too unbelievable! "Guide new members with caution and patience. Trigger their afflatus at the right time." Oh, I have to admit, Vertin is doing it better than me for now.

Note the distinction between capital A "Afflatus" and lowercase "afflatus." In this context, the "moment of afflatus" exists as its namesake implies--as an inspiration, a moment of divine impulse that only arcanists can utilize and, therefore, cannot be explained nor proved through human logic.

That is the basis for the tension between Greta Hoffman (a mixed whose arcane blood has been so diluted she can easily pass off as a pure-blooded human) and 77 (a pure-blooded arcanist from an isolated and ancient arcanist society) as two characters from vastly different groups that cannot reconcile nor find a middle ground in their differences. This is the arcane aspect of Afflatus as the 1.5's tidbit mentions, the part that cannot be applied to mankind. But Afflatus also exists as a tool of introspection as mentioned before, which encompasses aspects that any living being can relate to--therefore, it explains why we have both playable and non-playable humans with Afflatus types.

To further understand how non-arcane living beings can still lean towards different types of Afflatus, let's examine the enemies in the game.

The main story is very consistent with how they portray enemies, if you pay attention to their battle information you can see all the deliberate details Bluepoch has added; every enemy comes with a short description that might evolve and change along the story in future renditions of their fights, there are different card sets for different factions (Manus Vindictae's deep black and blue cards vs the Foundation's white and light blue cards), each attack/incantation is uniquely named, giving context and insight into the enemy you're fighting, some even have uniquely named traits/buffs/debuffs!

And as far as I know, every single enemy in the game, regardless of whether they're arcane in nature or not, has an Afflatus assigned to them. Let's look at arcane beings first.

We see that all three examples match their respective Afflatus; a Mineral Carbuncle with a Mineral Afflatus, a Dryad, commonly associated with nature has the Plant Afflatus, and Druvis III, a playable character, retains her Plant Afflatus even as a mysterious NPC boss fight in which her regular incantations have been switched to Manus Vindictae.

And we can also see continuity in Afflatus in other bosses, such as Matilda and Lilya in later chapters--they both retain their own Afflatus as playable characters, and much like Druvis, Matilda's cards are concealed as the default Foundation set for the sake of keeping their identities concealed. There is a clear intent behind these choices.

In the Surface levels of Artificial Somnambulism, the ones that directly correlate to the main story, also feature many other playable characters with their respective Afflatuses; La Source in "Misty Lake a"; The Fool, Bunny Bunny, Pavia, Satsuki and Tennant in "Floating Park a" ...

And I do want to mention that there are instances in which the game allows us to fight playable characters whose Afflatuses have been changed--but there is still an clear goal behind this.

The beta levels of Artificial Somnambulism feature the same aforementioned characters as the alpha ones, but a few of them have different Afflatus. This can be explained within the main story as the direct result of Vertin's mind being tampered with, as we see her struggle to remember and forget things clearly during her AST induced coma in Chapter 3.

???: Her traumatic segment has been reactivated. Increase the power, stabilize her psychube. Try the next dream. Z: The artificial somnambulism therapy may not work on her, Mesmer.

Mesmer Jr.: It means she had suffered the same traumatic experience repeatedly. Even so, she showed no behavioral or cognitive impairment. Back then, as we held her down and put the helmet on her, she even advised me in an extremely calm manner … “I agree with your judgment, but it’s just for this time.” … She was the bellwether of the “break-away” incident after all. I’ll say she’s been well-behaved this time. Sonetto: … I-I thought … Timekeeper is receiving for her low spirit. But you said you held her down … Mesmer Jr.: Oh, that’s just another description of the method used for the same purpose. The aim was to ensure Vertin was unconscious and taken back. That’s the direct order from the vice president of the committee, Constantine. The order from on high was given on the premise of rational thinking and consideration over pros and cons─you are not questioning the reasoning of mankind, are you?

A similar situation happens during UTTU Week, which features playable characters as different characters within the story that UTTU is attempting to share. For example, in 1.2 "Nightmare at Green Lake," the playable characters you fight in UTTU Week represent various different archetypes and tropes in horror.

These inconsistencies are done on purpose, as they're not meant to reflect the truth 1:1.

Now, let's look at human enemies. Here are the two human children from the beginning of the game who disrupt the suitcase--despite being humans, they both have Afflatus assigned to them, and not only that but different types as well, Star and Mineral respectively.

So, to backtrack again! Afflatus cannot be applied to humans from an arcane point of view, simply because humans cannot cast incantations. Therefore, their affinity for a specific type of Afflatus is based on something else, something that they share with arcane beings--such as personality, experiences and preferred instruments.

I want to propose the interpretation of Afflatus being the totality of one's experiences in life; depending on your experiences, the way they've shaped your thinking patterns, your instincts and your personality, you may have an affinity for one Afflatus or another.

This ties in with a different aspect of Afflatus: the idea that one's Afflatus type can change, as the person goes through big changes in their life that influence them in different ways.

If we acknowledge that these battle details are all deliberate and meant to add to the narrative, there are two outliers whose Afflatuses change. The first one is Kakania herself; her debut in 1.7 "E Lucevan le Stelle" includes a fight against her in Stage 8 "Mirror and Lantern" which clearly states her Afflatus is Intellect.

One could argue that this is not the true Kakania, as the battle involves fighting mirror versions of her--but as a reminder, the true one is, in fact, hidden among them! And furthermore, if the reflections are exact versions of the real Kakania, it makes sense that they would have the same battle information as her.

As we all know, when Kakania becomes playable in 1.9 "Vereinsamt," her Afflatus is not Intellect but Plant--I'd like to explain this change as the development Kakania goes through in this specific arc of the story.

Her idealistic views and activism, both for her city and her patients, are directly challenged as the story progresses. She realizes that none of her friends within The Circle were the people she thought them to be, namely Isolde whose complex life and struggles were both overlooked and impossible to discern in Kakania's eyes due to their close relationship, and she also sees the town she acknowledged as flawed but still worth fighting for, turn into violent patriots. Everything that Kakania stood for is gone in an instant, and we see her fighting spirit turn into a desperate near-suicidal attempt at making up for her perceived wrongs.

Such radical events like this would warrant a change in Afflatus, as Kakania adjusts her views due to her experiences.

And then on the other hand, we have The Guiding One's Harbringer boss fight in 1.9's Stage 21 "A Homage Paid"--one of its core mechanics is to change Afflatus to that of the last attack it received. Here we see that distinction from before, the lowercase afflatus referring to the arcane aspect, rather than the experiences a person goes through.

As far as I know, this section of the game also becomes unplayable (or is currently unplayable, I can't seem to access it anymore) so the following screenshots are taken from this video!

Kakania's Afflatus change is something that seems to be directly linked to her evolution as a character, while the Guiding One's Harbringer's Afflatus change is directly linked to its status as an arcane construct, using it as a "mimic strategy" during battle. The psychological aspect vs the arcane aspect of Afflatus respectively.

Next, I'd like to discuss some assumptions made about the different Afflatus types; we expect that Beast characters must have an affinity with animals or be animals themselves (Darley Clatter, Getian, Medicine Pocket, Nick Bottom ...) and we expect that Star characters are all related to celestial bodies or the skies (37, Lilya, Matilda, Lorelei, Voyager ...) due to the naming conventions of the Afflatus. And yes, there are motifs within the Afflatus types that match their naming conventions, but a quick look through the character list prove there is much more to offer, as a good chunk of characters don't align with this initial read of their themes.

We have Pickles, a literal dog, and Kaalaa Baunaa, an astronomer, both with Mineral Afflatus instead of what one would expect of them. It's similar to how fandom perceives Awakened as the sole category for sentient objects, when we have characters like Door and Darley Clatter who are undoubtedly objects, implied to have been given sentience, and thus fall within the group of pure-blooded Arcanists rather than Awakened.

I would also like to point out that these initial motifs have nothing to do with a character's Arcanum--another theory I've seen around is that Afflatus types influence an arcanist's arcanum, which can't be further from the truth. One could argue that Kaalaa Baunaa's arcanum (the summoning of meteors and planets) is related to her Mineral Afflatus--both relate to rocks, after all--but just like the previous assumptions, this falls apart when you examine other examples. Jiu Niangzi's arcanum has nothing to do with rocks nor minerals, but liquor. Ulu's arcanum revolves around fire, yet she's still Mineral.

As far as we know, arcanum is something that can be inherited through bloodlines or lineage--think of Mesmer Jr's 01 Story in her Cover Profile, which states “Nobody is more talented in this than Mesmer Jr. Her bloodline gives her outstanding ability and keen senses, which makes everything clear and intelligible to her” in the context of performing AST, or Tennant, whose 02 Story hints towards her father performing the same type of arcanum she's known for--but it's also something that can be taught. We see this most clearly within students of SPDM such as Sonetto, as her skill set matches that of the SPDM students fought during Chapter 3, portraying the "standard" arcanum taught to all arcanist children.

But not only that, arcanum can be influenced by other factors, such as a character's situation and interests--Blonney's arcanum revolves around making drawings come to life, which correlates with her love for storytelling and horror as a child. Pavia's shadow arcanum is hinted to have been formed out of necessity or as a result of his childhood in a dark basement. Tooth Fairy utilizes the fairies she traps.

We also know that arcanists from the same family may not inherit the same level of arcane power, as seen in Shamane and Kumar; the latter was cast out of her family due to her weak arcane power. In all of these cases, Afflatus has nothing to do with arcanum.

So what exactly do Afflatus types tackle?

These are the Afflatus as I've analyzed them, as much as I could summarize it for easier digestion!

With this interpretation, we can see that Star relates to celestial objects and the skies, but also trailblazer geniuses and unstoppable forces, that which is out of reach for common people. Mineral relates to solid materials and stability in permanence, but also the rigidness of strict systems or traditions or stagnancy. Beast relates to wild animals and creatures found in the world, but also the survival of the individual, the struggle to find a place for oneself no matter what. And Plant relates to the flora and the natural cycles in the world, but also the safety of a collective, that which is inherent to the world such as community or change.

This is why these belong to the Natural category of Afflatus: they are concepts that already existed on the world or were manifested into it, from the ground we touch, the people we interact with, to the ideals and beliefs that influence and create societies or bring people together.

On the other hand we have Spirit, relating to the soul, the supernatural and the spiritual aspect of things, but also the unknown, to follow one's gut instinct or embrace the inexplicable. "The way I see the world is unconventional, because I feel these different things about why and how things are the way they are." And then Intellect, relating to the mind and the logical aspect of things, but also the different mindsets and patterns of thought one can have to rationalize things. "The way I see the world is unconventional, because I have these different rules about why and how things are the way they are."

This is why they belong to the Primal category of Afflatus: they are, as the name implies, ancient impulses and habits that mostly exist within ourselves, our thoughts and our feelings.

The Tutorial Notebook also mentions an "ecological cycle," there is a relationship between the different categories that explains why some are strong or weak against others. It's rather easy to understand for the Primal Afflatus, as it's the classic fight between hearts and minds, but Natural Afflatus is a little harder to grasp.

We see the relationship between Beast and Mineral; the former is weak against the latter, the latter is strong against the former. You may read the Natural Afflatus wheel clockwise or counter clockwise.

Using the previous explanations, let us examine this cycle!

Beast is strong against Plant, because it's the disruption of a community or the harmony of the world through a single individual desperately fighting to change their current situation. A desperate animal does not think about the consequences its actions has on the environment while it tries to survive. Plant is strong against Star, because it's a tight-knit collective that embraces change and thus, the lone genius cannot shine above the rest. In an environment that welcomes everyone and everything, there is no way to stand out. Star is strong against Mineral, because it's a single individual choosing to disrupt the status quo, the stability of their society, for the sake of a dream or ideal. A single genius can topple over entire societies. And Mineral is strong against Beast, because a rigid set of rules or traditions leave no place for those who don't fit inside of it or who oppose it. A government that advocates for mankind's superiority leaves no room for arcanists and their rights, it forces them to assimilate within their established rules.

And this cycle goes backwards and forwards!

But I would also like to propose a different type of relation: we understand the aspect of having advantage or disadvantage, but what about Afflatuses that directly mirror each other?

Beast and Star are two Afflatus that directly correlate to an individual against a collective, whereas Mineral and Plant are two Afflatus that directly correlate to a collective against the individual. They're foils of each other; Beast is the underdog, Star is the genius, while Mineral is the stagnant and rigid yet stable and secure systems while Plant is the ever-changing and adaptive nature of the world.

We may also see this in a more precise way: the ecological cycle and Afflatus relationships exist because someone of Mineral Afflatus who is stuck in their ways and refuses to change can be easily upset by someone of Star Afflatus whose nature is to radically change traditions and offer different paths. This is why Semmelweis, a Mineral Afflatus who is hellbent on clinging to the human aspect of herself and sticks to her stubborn mindsets, has such a fascination with Lorelei. Or rather, why Lorelei has such an effect on Semmelweis, as she is a Star Afflatus that begins Semmelweis' journey of self-discovery and acceptance within Series of Dusks.

We can also see previous themes discussed within this post here: one would think that such a radical change is enough to cause Semmelweis to change Afflatus, but we see through her gamemode and the different endings presented that this change is still very much in line with her mindsets and behaviour, Semmelweis remains stubbornly adaptive and pragmatic to the very end, and choosing to follow Lorelei has brought her a deeper insight to understand herself without radically changing who she truly is.

Another example would be Forget Me Not and Druvis III; we know that Forget Me Not is Mineral Afflatus due to his boss fight in Chapter 2 - Stage 13 "Documentary" and Druvis III is Plant Afflatus.

We see the foil dynamics of Afflatus that don't directly interact with each other: the reason Forget Me Not and Druvis III seem to have this type of relationship can be explained through their Afflatus, with Forget Me Not insisting that she perpetuates the very same cycle of revenge and pain, to never move on and continue in the same spot of grieving and mourning for her family. While Druvis III's entire development throughout the Chicago arc--and even leading into the next chapters--tackles her desire to grow and move on, to finally let go of the worst night of her life that took her family away and begin healing from it. It's exactly what Vertin notices within her, and why she's able to connect with Druvis III.

Vertin: Once you dispel the arcanum, it would not be what it is now. I think you are clear, Ms. Druvis, that … Every tree lives for tomorrow.

And that's where I'll leave this extremely long introduction to my study on Afflatus! I'm planning on discussing other themes in the future, such as the way a character's Medium serves as a bridge between their Afflatus and Arcanum, and analysis of the cover profule, but also proper in-depth analysis of each individual Afflatus!

There is so much to look at when discussing Afflatus, every single Insight material has its own description, and each stage for each Afflatus tells a story that relates to their themes!

Please don't be afraid to reach out with your own ideas or observations, I look forward to what everyone else thinks! And congratulations for making it this far <3

#reverse 1999 #reverse: 1999 #reverse 1999 afflatus #reverse 1999 headcanons #i dont know how to stress this enough #i LOVEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE afflatus analysis #i LOVEEEEEEEEEEE thinking deeply about things and connecting dots

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calina-alda · 3 months ago

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what are ur leon headcanons…..

Leon S. Kennedy Headcanons

• Falls in love too easily, too hard

Leon doesn’t fall in love in a casual way. He’s just got this aching need to connect. A soft heart in a harsh world.

• Keeps to himself, not because he wants to be alone, but because he’s scared

Leon wants to be close to people, but he's terrified of losing them. He's lost too much already. So he keeps people at a distance, pretends he prefers solitude, but the truth is, he’s lonely.

• Can’t sleep in silence

The quiet gets too loud. His thoughts spiral, what ifs, regrets, things he should’ve said or done differently. So he listens to music, a podcast, the soft hum of city noise, something to fill the silence and anchor him to the now.

• Leon loves being the little spoon

The second someone wraps their arms around him from behind, he goes quiet and soft, like all his tension just disappears. You hold him? He’s not moving. You’re stuck. He will cling back like a sleepy koala. Because no one ever really held him first. And now that someone does? He never wants to let it go.

• Sleeps like a starfish on the bed

He’s lanky and somehow ends up diagonally across the mattress, one leg off the bed, blanket tangled like he fought it. If someone tries to share a bed with him, they’ll wake up clinging to the edge while Leon is dead asleep like a corpse in a crime scene outline.

• Panick attacks

He’s learned to mask them, deep breaths, gripping his own wrist hard enough to ground himself, counting things he can see, pretending he’s fine. But sometimes, when it gets too much, he disappears for a moment. No one really knows. He doesn’t want to be a burden

• Sings to himself when no one’s listening

Especially when he is cooking. He knows he’s corny, but he doesn’t care. There’s something healing about singing.

• Leon is 1000% a girl dad

Learned how to braid hair immediately. Watched tutorials. Practiced on a Barbie. Wears tiny glitter stickers on his face because “she wanted to make me pretty.” Goes to tea parties in full tactical gear. Sits criss-cross applesauce on the floor like a champ. Gives the softest bedtime cuddles, tells stories with voices and sound effects, falls asleep before she does. Lets her paint his nails and struts around showing them off like “check these out. She did them. She’s an artist.”

• Kind of a loser growing up

He was that quiet kid in the back of the class with the scuffed-up shoes and secondhand backpack. Shy, awkward, always hoping someone would talk to him first. No one really bullied him, but no one really saw him either.

• Uses zero products, has the silkiest hair

It’s the universe’s way of saying sorry for everything else. No conditioner, no hair masks, nothing, and yet, his hair looks like it belongs in a shampoo commercial. His coworkers are bitter.

• Still keeps every letter and note Claire ever gave him

He says it’s because she’s like a sister, but really, it’s because those notes reminded him he wasn’t alone. That someone cared. He re-reads them on bad nights. They’re a lifeline.

• Says “ow” even when things don’t hurt

He can get thrown across a room, stabbed, dropkicked through a window, and he’ll just grunt like “hnng.” Not even a flinch. But bangs his elbow lightly? “Ow.” Drops keys on his foot? “Ow.” Bumps into a chair? “Ow.” It’s a reflex.

• Affectionate Drunk Leon (Before the Trauma)

One drink in and he was hugging everyone, calling them his best friend, and complimenting strangers with wide, honest eyes. He’d lean on people and say things like “You’re so cool, you know that?” with a sleepy smile. After everything that happened, he stopped letting himself get that vulnerable. But every now and then, like when he's with Claire, bits of that old Leon come back.

• Talks to inanimate objects constantly

Full-on conversations. “Okay, fridge, what have we got?” or “Don’t betray me, coffee machine. I need you.”

• Kind to strangers in quiet ways

He holds the door open, carries groceries for old ladies, helps a lost tourist without a second thought.

• Teenage Leon danced hip-hop in high school (it canon, idk)

Ever since I had that dream of Leon dancing to NSYNC on Claire's wedding, it’s canon in head. Not like… professional or anything. But he was so into it. Baggy hoodie, sneakers, cropped shirt, headphones in, dancing in empty hallways after class or in front of his cracked bedroom mirror.

(Btw I am still considering turning this into a oneshot, lol)

#resident evil #leon kennedy #leon kennedy headcanons #resident evil headcanons #leon s kennedy

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bizarrelittlemew · 3 months ago

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what people think being a phd student is like: groundbreaking research, cute academia outfits, lively classroom discussions during teaching, inspiring conferences, writing your thesis in film-worthy libraries and cute coffee shops

what being a phd student is actually like: imposter syndrome, forgetting that you even own nice clothes because you never use them, ending up on 3-4 more daily medications than when you started, trying to make your extremely niche research topic sound impactful on funding applications and getting rejected anyway, searching through 5 different calendars for a 25-minute window where all your supervisors can be there (2 of them won't make it anyway), doing multiple other projects before actually getting to the ones your thesis is about (at least you get your name on papers, which leads us to:), the whole soul-crushing publishing process, getting your patience tested by students who don't prepare for classes at all (but expect you to summarize and explain 3-4 lectures of stuff to them in 5 minutes during a hands-on tutorial), writing your thesis and putting together an assessment committee last minute, starting to feel nausea at the word "networking", experiencing levels of burnout you didn't know existed, university bureaucracy slowly but surely draining your will to live

#and this is not even going into all the stuff that comes with doing clinical trials #and dealing with patient data #i could become a gdpr lawyer after this 💀#the burnout is really burning these days and i still have 5 months to go 😔#the last shred of my will to live is held up by knowing i will meet lovely pirate friends and see rhys in june <33333 #also shoutout to my husband for keeping me alive basically. he should get a phd degree too when all this is over tbh #not to say that i haven't had nice teaching experiences or that i don't like my research. i actually do #having time for my actual research would be nice tho #thank god i'm writing my thesis as a synopsis of my published papers and not a monograph #🐭📓

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thefemmefatalexo · 4 months ago

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Gojo SMAU - The Art of Falling Fake

Chapter 5 - Tricks, Treats and Terrible Ideas

Summary: The campus buzzes with life, but you feel like a shadow slipping through the cracks—unnoticed, unimportant. At home, it’s no better. Your parents dote on your step-sister, the star tennis player, while you’re the afterthought they barely acknowledge. She’s here too, her perfect reputation casting an even bigger shadow over your existence. College was supposed to be your escape, but living at home and walking the same halls as her makes it impossible. Then he shows up—Satoru Gojo, the rich, arrogant engineering major everyone seems to worship. His smug grin and effortless charm are the kind of things you can’t stand, but when a ridiculous twist of fate forces your lives together, you find yourself fake dating the most insufferable man you’ve ever met. It’s just a deal, temporary and harmless—or so you try to convince yourself.

an: hehe… SMOOCHES 💋💋💋

{chapter 4} ; {next}

taglist: @hanakotateyama @sleepykittyenergy @inthedarkshadows000 @codeseven @byakuya61085 @minzxec @ivydoesit23 @naughteehee @mysteriaqueen @not-aya @bochichi @emlient

࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

The eyeliner refused to cooperate.

You leaned in closer to the mirror, biting your lip as you dragged the pen across your lid, only for it to smudge—again. Frustration curled in your chest as you reached for a makeup wipe, erasing the mess for what felt like the hundredth time.

“This is ridiculous,” you muttered under your breath, resisting the urge to chuck the whole eyeliner across the room.

You had spent the last hour trying to recreate a Halloween makeup tutorial, and for some reason, it just wasn’t working. Maybe it was your shaky hands, maybe it was the universe conspiring against you—but at this point, you were ready to give up.

And after the day you’d had? This was the last thing you needed to go wrong.

It had started with spilled coffee on your clothes before class, followed by nearly failing a pop quiz. Then, after spending hours at the library, you walked outside to find it pouring rain—without an umbrella. The final insult? Coming home to Brielle gloating about her latest tennis win while your parents showered her with praise.

Now, as you sat in front of your mirror, determined to at least look good for this stupid party, your patience was razor-thin.

You exhaled deeply, steadied your hand, and tried again. This time, miraculously, it turned out perfect. Maybe even great.

Just as you exhaled in relief, your door swung open without warning.

“Wow,” came Brielle’s smug voice. “Didn’t know cops were supposed to look desperate.”

You clenched your jaw and turned in your seat. She was already dressed for the party in—what else—a tennis outfit.

“Can you knock?” you asked flatly.

“Can you not embarrass yourself?” she shot back, arms crossed as she leaned against your doorframe. “Honestly, you’re really going through all this effort? For what? You do know no one’s going to believe that Gojo’s actually into you, right?”

You rolled your eyes. “Leave, Brielle.”

“But I’m curious,” she continued, tilting her head with a fake-sweet smile. “How exactly did you get him to date you? Did you beg him? Threaten to expose some deep, dark secret? Oh! Maybe you paid him.”

You turned back to the mirror, adjusting your police cap. “Shut up.”

Brielle smirked. “You didn’t deny it.”

Before you could fire back, the doorbell rang. Your heart skipped.

Brielle noticed, her smirk widening. “Oh my god, is that him?”

Ignoring her, you pushed past and hurried down the stairs, heart pounding a little too fast. When you swung the door open, you were immediately met with Satoru, looking unfairly attractive.

His inmate jumpsuit was slightly unzipped, revealing a white tank top underneath. Silver handcuffs dangled from one wrist, and his white hair was effortlessly tousled like he’d just rolled out of bed looking perfect.

He grinned. “Well, well. If it isn’t my favorite officer. Are you here to arrest me? Because I’d gladly surrender.”

Behind you, Brielle and your parents watched the exchange with varying levels of curiosity. Brielle, in particular, was staring like she’d just seen a unicorn.

“Oh my god,” she practically purred, stepping forward. “You look so good. You know, if you wanted a matching costume, you could’ve told me. I would’ve made such a good cop.”

He didn’t even glance her way. Instead, he ignored everyone and stepped forward, grabbing your waist and pulling you into a tight hug.

“You look amazing, sweetheart,” he murmured close to your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. Then, before you could process anything, he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead.

Your brain completely short-circuited.

Brielle looked like she might combust.

Before you could even recover, he pulled back and flashed you a grin. “Ready to go?”

You barely managed a nod before he tugged you toward the door, not sparing your family a second glance.

“You ready for our big debut?” he grinned once you were inside his car.

You exhaled sharply, still recovering. “I hate you.”

He laughed, throwing an arm over your shoulders as he pulled out of the driveway.

The house was packed, the music was loud, and Satoru was making sure everyone saw you two together.

It had started with subtle things—his arm lingering around your waist, leaning in closer than necessary whenever someone looked your way, the occasional forehead kiss that left your skin burning.

Then he turned it up a notch.

He pulled you into conversations with people you didn’t know, introduced you as his girlfriend, and sent pointed smirks at the gossip-prone girls who clearly didn’t believe it.

You barely had time to process any of it before he was dragging you toward another group of people, where an enthusiastic voice called out, “Seven Minutes in Heaven, let’s go!”

Satoru’s eyes lit up. “Oh, we have to play.”

You groaned. “Do we?”

“Obviously. What kind of couple doesn’t?” he teased, giving you a look like he was daring you to say no.

You sighed, letting yourself be pulled into the circle forming in the living room. A few people had already gone, disappearing into the closet or a nearby bedroom to the loud whistles and teasing of the crowd.

And then it was Satoru’s turn.

He grabbed the bottle and spun it with an exaggerated flourish, watching it twirl with that signature shit-eating grin.

It slowed, making a few more rotations before finally landing on—

You.

The room erupted into cheers.

Satoru immediately turned to you, his smirk widening. “Looks like we’re up, babe.”

Your eye twitched at the pet name, but before you could react, he was already tugging you to your feet.

As he led you toward the hall, you caught sight of Toji and his girlfriend standing nearby.

Toji regarded Satoru with a displeased stare, as if his mere existence was an offense to him. But it was his girlfriend who caught your attention—she wasn’t smiling, wasn’t laughing, just watching with an unreadable expression.

For some reason, it made your stomach twist.

Without thinking, you hugged Satoru’s arm a little tighter.

He noticed.

And instead of questioning it, he just smirked and gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.

Then, as you passed, he made sure to dramatically pull you into his room, slamming the door shut behind you.

The second the door clicked shut behind you, Satoru spun around, hands in his pockets, smirking like he had already won something.

“So,” he drawled, tilting his head, “what’s the plan, babe?”

You crossed your arms. “Don’t call me that.”

“Babe. Sweetheart. My beloved.” His grin widened at the way your nose scrunched in irritation.

“You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re avoiding the question.” He flopped onto the bed, propping himself up on his elbows. “We need to make it look real.”

You groaned, running a hand down your face. “We could just sit here and talk. Let time run out.”

“Lame.”

“Realistic.”

Satoru scoffed. “You think my friends wanna open this door and find us having a casual conversation about our majors?” He gave you a look like he was daring you to be smarter than that.

You bit your lip. He wasn’t wrong.

“Okay… then what do you suggest?”

A slow smirk crept onto his lips.

“I have a couple ideas.”

“Absolutely not.”

Your bickering went on for a few more minutes, the occasional knock interrupting your conversation. As Time went on the voices behind the door grew louder and more animated.

Another knock on the door made you both freeze.

“Times almost up, lovebirds!”

Panic flickered in Satoru’s eyes, but then his face shifted into something more determined.

You barely had a second to react before he grabbed you, threw you onto the bed, and buried his face into the crook of your neck.

Your breath caught. “Satoru—”

“Shh, relax. Just making it convincing.”

Then you felt it—his lips on your skin.

Your whole body stiffened. The first press of his mouth was warm, but then—a sharp pull. Teeth. A slow, deliberate drag of his lips.

Your fingers dug into the sheets, eyes going wide.

“Satoru—”

He hummed against your skin, the vibration sending a shiver down your spine.

“Mm, you’re reacting a lot for someone who hates me,” he mused, voice low, teasing.

You wanted to throw him off of you, but you couldn’t move. His lips were still there, sucking, biting, soothing over the mark with his tongue. It was too much, too good, too embarrassing.

A sound slipped out of you before you could stop it—soft, breathy, needy.

Satoru stilled.

Then he grinned against your skin.

“Oh?” His voice dripped with amusement. He pulled back just slightly, lips brushing over your ear. “Did you just moan?”

Your entire face burned.

“I—shut up!”

His laughter was low and smug. “Nah, don’t get shy on me now, sweetheart.” He pressed another slow, taunting kiss over the mark. “Was that your first time getting a hickey?”

You shoved at his chest, hard.

“Get off, asshole!”

Before he could tease you more, the door swung open.

Satoru didn’t even flinch. He just shifted slightly so that he was still half on top of you, turning just right so that the mark on your neck would be visible.

“Yo, Gojo, time’s up—”

Satoru sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes.

“Guys. Seriously?” He let out an exaggerated groan. “I wanna spend some time with my girlfriend if you get what I mean.”

A chorus of whoops and knowing laughter followed.

“Alright, alright, we see you.”

“We’ll leave you two alone.”

Satoru smirked.

They shut the door.

Silence.

You shoved him off of you immediately.

“I hate you.”

“You love me.” He stretched out on the bed like he hadn’t just completely ruined your life. “No need to be shy, princess. You were totally into it.”

Your face felt like it was on fire.

“I was NOT!”

He just grinned. “Sure you weren’t.”

You turned away, flustered, only for your eyes to catch your reflection in his mirror.

The deep, dark mark on your neck stood out way too much.

Your stomach dropped.

“Oh my god.” You grabbed at your neck like it would somehow disappear. “You gave me an actual hickey, you psycho!”

Satoru propped his chin up with one hand, looking very pleased with himself.

“Oops.”

“Oops?!”

He chuckled. “Hey, it’s good. Now people will really believe it.”

You stared at him in horror. “I’m going to murder you in your sleep.”

He grinned. “Joke’s on you, I’m a very light sleeper.”

“I hate you.”

“You said that already.”

“I’ll say it again!”

Satoru just smiled, looking entirely too entertained. “You’re cute when you’re mad.”

You hurled a pillow at his head.

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