#AM I MAKING YOU FEEL SICKKKKKK

[kaznejis]

Tarnished, but so grand- Erik Lehnsherr x Reader

Part 1 / Masterlist / AO3

You flickered your eyes back to him then, finding him staring back at you; his mouth twisted and eyes forlorn. “You’re leaving?” He could only nod, still staring. You inched forward, shock pulsing upon you in waves, “What! Why?” Pause. “Is it because of-”  “Yes.” He said instantly, his Adam's apple bobbing as he did so, tone breathy but muted. 

Word count: 5.7k

“I couldn’t believe it, Y/N, he kissed me! Scott kissed me!” 

You could only hum in response, staring into the dregs of your cereal bowl; the tepid milk and soggy remains of half-eaten cereal staring back at you. 

“-And it was so romantic, he pulled me away from the bonfire and then he said-” Jean spoke animatedly in the seat across from you, waving her arms and practically squealing with excitement as she recounted her own turn of events from the night before; the hangover gripping at the edges of your conscience and the guilt, oh the guilt, alongside the dread and horror and disgust rendering you useless; allowing you to only manage a small range of primal, ape-like grunts in response. 

Upon stumbling, dragging yourself up to your room the previous night- you had been able to do nothing but collapse into bed, tranquillity washing over the swell of your lips, the bruises upon your back and the tears that wet your cheeks. Waking up the following morning, however, had been a different story. First, you had combatted the grewling ache of your hangover; your head pounding and vision wiry as you squinted at the morning sun that blasted through the open window. It had taken you an embarrassing amount of time to reach your hand forward, intertwine the vines upon your windowsill with the silk of your curtains, and to pull. Once the issue of the sun was eradicated, then the realisation set in; the ball of dread that instantly expanded within your stomach and chest and heart- the shortness of breath that instantly set in, the memories of the previous night flooding back. At first, you chalked it up to a wayward dream, dreams about Erik were nothing new- they had practically facilitated themselves as an integral part of day-to-day life. But, as you woke, as you remembered, the indents upon your back became all too real- the angry, red marks from the press of the tree upon your back as you had- 

No, you had whispered aloud; clawing at the grainy sheets upon you and dragging a trembling hand down your face. No fucking way.  

Despite your resistance, despite your objections- it had happened. Nothing would erase that. The professor that you had grown to respect, to admire- had pressed you against a tree and practically demolished you; intertwined your tongue with his before leaving you cold, alone in the depths of the trees- their swaying, dark silhouettes humouring your tears. Your tears as he had left, stumbling backwards in the grass; his plaid shirt billowing around him like leaves in the wind. 

`’-Y/N? Y/N.” Jean clicked a finger in front of your face, immediately snapping you out of your reverie; leaving you blinking dazedly at your friend as she stared back at you with concern, “Are you okay? You disappeared on me there for a while.” 

You cleared your throat, cringing in disgust at the bowl of gloopy cereal you had practically been drooling into; removing the sodden spoon and pushing the plate to the side; you managed a plain smile at Jean, a shrug of the shoulders, “I’m fine, uh- just tired.” Your words were clumsy, abrasive; sentences slogging together as your tongue struggled to work through your own emotional turmoil. 

“Hungover, I bet.” Jean laughed, throwing her head back and allowing her hair to flow down her back, “You were so wasted.” 

“Says you,” You nudged her knuckle across the table, smirking as she pulled it back with feigned hurt; clutching at her hand as if it had been sliced, “As if you had gotten the courage to talk to Scott sober.” 

“Hey!” It was her turn to swat at you across the table now, “Actually- now that I come to think of it, where did you go last night? I checked your room on my way in and you weren’t there.” 

You stilled for a moment, your inhibitions freezing in horror as you stared at her; body half poised in defence as you had been avoiding her attacks, “Oh! I-” You stuttered, mind going blank for a long moment; this only spurred Jean onwards, exemplified through her sudden change in demeanour; the cock of her head, the furrow of her brow, and the way she leaned fully towards you. You could only shrug; allow an airy laugh as you looked everywhere but her eyes, “When I come to think of it, I can hardly even remember.” Jean leaned backwards then, crossing her arms; unimpressed, “Seriously, Jean! That’s how drunk I was-” 

To your relief, the bell sounded for the end of breakfast; though, it was a Saturday- with no obligations to attend to, Jean was free to follow you as she pleased. You used the dining hall's long benches to your advantage; speed walking down your respective side and disappearing into the swelling crowd of students attempting to leave. Ignoring Jean’s calls as they grew fainter. You couldn’t do it, you couldn’t explain yourself to her; whilst your own guilt, regret was a prevalent, persevering factor- you felt the need to protect Erik, protect him from your wretched self. What would Jean have thought if you had told her of how your professor, the very same professor that answered her questions in class and graded her essays, had held you up against a tree and pressed his lips upon yours. What would she think of the way that you would live and die for the chance to taste him again, feel the cold palm of his hand flit higher upon your thigh, for any aggravating factors to disappear as he would finish what he had started within that iridescent alcove?

The rest of the weekend continued with that form of mindset; the lingering doubt that suffocated your mind. Any attempt, any semblance of completing your assignments remained fruitless. The curtain of nightfall began to close as the hallways bustled with student’s heading to their own rooms for the night. Abruptly you slammed your notebook shut, huffing as you moved to stand before your open window; a few stray groups were scattered upon the grass, namely Jean and Scott- cuddling beside the lake and giggling together. You moved away then, unable to watch any longer. You were happy for her, for them, of course you were; you just wished that your own Friday night endeavours had been as successful. 

Whilst they had been successful, as to say, you weren’t currently curled beneath the moon with Erik himself. 

That thought spurred you away from your room; needing a breath of fresh air, a moment to think. The route you took to the gardens led you directly through the classrooms, before you found yourself standing before Erik’s. The wooden plaque upon the door stated ‘Professor Lehnsherr’, you dragged a finger across the words; feeling the engravings upon your skin. Raising your hand to the handle, you were surprised to find it unlocked, though the room remained empty. 

His classroom was dark; the curtains drawn halfway, casting tepid shadows upon the empty desks covering his room. His own was swept clear of any belongings, any ownership; not a trinket or picture or memorabilia upon the oak surface. It has always been like that, you soothed yourself; not allowing yourself to take the empty desk as the red heron that it would be, had it been owned by anyone else. You knew that Erik lived in solitude, everyone did; when he wasn’t teaching, he was with Xavier- and if he wasn’t with Xavier, it was a token to his lonesome. You would find him, in those darker hours, seated at his desk, that empty desk, writing or planning or thinking. You had found admiration in his ability to condone silence; the comfort he drew from the blow of the wind and the subsequent flutter of his curtains. He had told you so, months before, of the comforts he found in the quiet.

“Years on the run,” He had chuckled, watching you perched upon the edge of his desk, legs swinging idly, “Makes you admire the finer things.” 

As you sat alone later that night, thinking of the unusual dark of his classroom and the absence of his presence within the house; you thought about how maybe, just maybe, you were one of those ‘finer things’. You are always there, he had gasped into the night; into the very air you too exhaled upon. My horrible, wretched thoughts. But how could they be so? Did he see the way he had mouthed upon your neck, curling his fingers into the hem of your skirt, so close to that sweet spot; as wretched? Did he see the way you had succumbed to his every command, every lesson, as wretched? A white rabbit, with the rosy pink belly, walking straight into the jaws of the wolf. The girl who can control nature, bend ivy at her will and grow petals in the palm of her hand, and the big bad Magneto. 

You didn’t see it that way. He was kind; kind even before your lips had connected, even before he had spilled every morsel of his thoughts and dreams. His own reluctance showed that; the disgust he projected towards his very own feelings, the things that sets him apart; makes him human. Abhorrently, dejectedly; his own kindness shone in his supposed rejection of you. In leaving you in that forest, available to the beasts and curling claws of nightfall; he had been saving you from himself. 

You knew in that moment, seated upon your own bed; that you needed to see him. Needed to tell him that you knew, you understood him. You felt the ivy of your touch entangle upon the intricacies of his mind like no one else ever could. So, with that, you marched from the room; mindless to the thin pyjamas that you adorned, mindless of your own lack of lightsource within the dark hallway. The bare skin of your feet peeling from the marble floors as you ran- passed the student dormitories, passed the common area, passed the classroom and finally, into the teacher’s suite. 

You slowed then, lowering your pace to a creep as you curled your fingers upon the edge of the hallway; peering into the darkness of the corridor. Despite your position as one of the older students within the school, you were still entering restricted territory. It had practically been drilled into you on day one by Mystique; never enter the teacher’s suite. To your surprise, it didn’t look much different to that of the very hallway you resided in; the same high ceilings, the same arrangement of doors; in fact, it was entirely identical. The mystification you felt towards the teachers lessened somewhat- this was where they lived, where they slept, a sacrifice made in order to be at the beck and call of the students; young mutants just like they had once been. 

The only problem; you had no idea which room belonged to Erik. 

Though, before you could dwell upon the thought; a strip of light appeared as a door opened down the hallway- you gasped, flattening your chest against the wall as you continued to peer around the corner. 

‘-Please you can’t do this.” A voice, Mystique’s, sounded; she seemed upset, angry. She stepped into the hallway in her mutant form, arms crossed and stance defensive in front of the open door. 

Another voice sounded then, stressed and upset; the sound of it visibly weakening Mystique’s resolve, as her arms unfolded, defeated. “I’m sorry Raven, but I have to.” 

“Please, Erik, why?” You realised with deafening clarity, that the other voice had belonged to Erik, “Did something happen? We can talk through this. All of us, I can call a meeting right-” 

“Raven.” Erik snapped, appearing in the hallway; his back was straight as he stared down at her; fists clenched around a cardboard box as he attempted to pass. Before he could so successfully, she snatched the box from his hold, dropping it onto the floor; its contents spilling upon the hardwood floors, “What-” Then she was gone, storming down the hallway and into a door at the end of it- the slam that followed was violent; jostling the very foundations of the walls you leant upon. You could only watch as Erik sighed, scratching at the base of his skull before kneeling; his working boots facing you as he began to clean up the mess. Once he finished, he lifted the box once again; but instead of taking it where he had initially intended, he turned and returned to his room, allowing the door to close behind him. 

In that moment, curiosity got the better of you; curiosity towards the argument that had commenced, curiosity as to why he had sounded so upset. Before you could think twice, you were in front of his door, fist raised; you allowed yourself a short moment of clarity, a split second of what the hell am I doing? Before you knocked your fist against the wood. Erik’s movements within the room paused; you breathed, suddenly all too aware of how little clothing you were wearing- the chequered pyjama shorts and matching lacy tank top. Crossing your arms, you could only stare wide eyed as the door swung open. 

“Raven, please-” Erik began, though he froze the moment his eyes landed upon you, the moment his eyes caught sight of your exposed legs and pursed lips. He swallowed, the sound loud and grating in the hallway- for a moment, he was speechless; seemingly taking you in as you stared right back at him. Though, the moment ended as quickly as it began; his face dropped as he grabbed you by the shoulders; pulling you into the room before closing the door behind you, ensuring that it was locked. He turned to you then, shoulders rising as he visibly struggled to find the words, eventually; he did, voice hushed, urgent. “What- what are you doing here, Y/N?” 

Gulping, you found yourself unable to answer his question in the rise of his anger and the sight of the strip of bare skin where his tank top and loose pants didn’t quite meet. Using your inability to speak as an excuse to move your eyes away from him, you surveyed the room. The room was beautiful; intricately decorated with deep, royal hues of red and black, long pillars lining each corner of the room and a large master bed placed directly at the centre. But, what truly drew your eyes were the boxes splayed throughout the room; some still in their flattened form, some filled with various belongings. You flickered your eyes back to him then, finding him staring back at you; his mouth twisted and eyes forlorn. “You’re leaving?” He could only nod, still staring. You inched forward, shock pulsing upon you in waves, “What! Why?” Pause. “Is it because of-” 

“Yes.” He said instantly, his Adam's apple bobbing as he did so, tone breathy but muted. 

“I’m sorry,” You shook your head, tears filling your eyes as you collapsed upon his bed; making yourself as small as possible upon the sheets, “I shouldn’t have done that- In fact, I should be the one to leave.” You stood, nodding determinedly at him, “I’ll go and see Charles tomorrow; I was the one that kissed you, I should-” 

“No.” His tone sliced through your train of thought, rendering you silent. His chest was heaving with breaths, bracing up and down beneath the thin linen of his tank top. He had the beginning of dark circles forming beneath his wrinkled eyes; the foundational period of a lack of sleep. Gulping, you waited for him to continue, the urge to reach forward and run a finger through the light stubble upon his jaw ever-prevalent. He began to speak before pausing, his gaze earnest; broken and open for you to feast upon, cast your worst abjections upon him. “What I did was wrong, Y/N-” 

“What you did?” Shaking your head, you paced before him, floods of dread filled your gut; dread at the implications he sported and the fear within his voice, “I don’t know what you think that was Erik, but-” 

“Y/N, I am your professor.” His tone was final, serious; his chest raised and fell rapidly as he visibly tightened his jaw, his teeth grinding within his mouth. “I teach you history three days a week, I grade your papers and I answer any questions you may have; that is my duty.”

“What does duty have to do with-” 

“Everything,” His voice had risen; trembling upon the line of full blown shouting. Shaking his head, he splayed a hand over his mouth; turning away from you slightly- you could only watch, hands shaking, as he visibly filed through his own thoughts, “I was allowed here to protect you, people like you. To protect people like me; not to expose them to my perverted inhibitions-” 

“Perverted?” You cackled, genuinely throwing your head backwards; the residual tension of humour and horror rising within your throat, “Erik, I am a completely willing adult-” 

He shook his head determinedly, “You are my student.” Shrugging, you cast your arms wide, wild eyes entirely unbridled as you stared at him; the fire within your soul could not be snuffed, “Well, I won’t be soon. It’s almost summer and then my training is up; I’m free to do as I please.” You were visibly angered, voice clipped and cheeks blazing with heat, “Don’t leave because of me.” Emotions dimmed, you crossed your arms; swallowing, tongue between your teeth, “If anything, I’m just some silly little girl.” 

Sighing, he walked to his bed and sat upon it. His back was hunched; arms long in his lap as he refused to meet your eyes. So deep in his own state of emotional turmoil, your own internal vitriol cast no objection upon him. He seemed to be waiting; waiting for you to shout, to scream, to curse him for defiling your so-called perpetual innocence. You beat the rise of his voice with your own, “I’m not angry at you, Erik.”

He froze, his form stilling; arms encased within his lap as his eyes widened, his voice was low when he spoke, the syllables long and pained, “What?” 

Shaking your head, you tightened your jaw; willing your eyes to stop filling with tears, emotion overtaking you at his silence, his inability to just understand. You repeat yourself once again, “I’m not angry at you,” 

“Y/N, I don’t understand-” 

“I wanted it,” Swallowing, you faced your feelings; your doubts, head on, “I wanted all of it, just as much as you did.” 

He shook his head, standing and stepping forward; his hands spasmed at his side, desperate to reach out, to touch, “As I do,” You shook your head, confused, “Just as much as I do Y/N.” 

“Erik-” 

“We can’t tell anyone,” He was whispering now, a hand raised to brush the hair from your eyes, tucking it behind your ear, “Not until I’m no longer your professor.” A beat. “Do you understand me?” 

You nodded, immediate and fast, “Of course.” Ever obedient to his every command. 

“Good,” He gave you a closed-lipped smile, his cheeks crinkling, “Good girl.” 

Requiring no further confirmation, you leaped forward; gripping his face as you encased his lips with your own. As they met, he gasped your name like a prayer; the syllables sacred and protected, gasped in tandem with the beat of his heart and the rush of his own blood. The deafening waves of pleasure took power to your conscience as he walked the two of you backwards; kicking stray boxes from his path as the two of you crashed upon his bedsheets- the harsh lines of his body pressing you down, down into the velvet of his bedspread as you clawed at his shoulders. Keeping his lips upon yours, he moved a hand upwards, gripping at the hair at the base of your neck; he pulled then, your head tilting backward as he bit at the skin of your lip; devouring your mouth within his own and licking at the blood that he drew. You bent immediately to his will. 

Allowing your eyes to slip shut, pleasure and shock and desire admonishing any sense of awareness; you felt as he began to move downwards, his lips trailing upon the curve of your neck, the bend of your jaw and the skin beside your ear. His fingers danced at the edge of your shirt; inching it, slowly and carefully, upwards towards your armpits. You took it upon yourself to push him backwards, raising slightly only to reach down and pull the shirt off, over your head and onto his bedroom floor. You could only blink as his eyes caught upon the bare skin of your breasts that had laid beneath the singular layer, could only blink as he trailed their outline with his fingertips before trailing them further downwards, to the waistline of your pyjama pants. He stopped then, eyes raising to your own; past the rapid rise and fall of your burning chest, “Can I?”

Nodding hastily, you dragged a hand through his hair, watching as he manoeuvred both your pants and underwear over your hips and down your legs in one go, “Almost died when I saw these little shorts.” He practically sighed the words out, pressing a kiss to your upper thigh as he pulled the material over your knees. 

There, you laid completely naked beneath his entirely clothed form. The predetermined power dynamic existing between you was ever prevalent; but in that moment, you felt like the powerful one- empowered by the way his throat bobbed and eyes glistened at the expanse of your skin, by the way his hands lifted your thighs and the ghost of his breath warming the mound between them. Whimpering at the sensation, at the feeling of being watched by him; the burn of his gaze- you pleaded, begged with your own eyes, begging him to do something. Nodding, rubbing a soothing hand upon your thigh, he leant forward, testing the waters- planting a kiss upon your clit. You reacted instantly, jolting and tightening the hand within his hair; you felt him grin against the skin of your pussy, his breath releasing in chuffs. Then, he moved; dragging his tongue through your folds, the sensation lighting a fire within you as you collapsed backwards against the sheets; writhing, hand still secured within his hair as you pulled. 

It felt like hours, years, mere minutes as he lapped at you; his tongue making sinful, disgusting noises against you as his hands gripped at your hips; securing you down upon the bed as you attempted to writhe beneath the hold of his pleasure. Panting, your hair stuck to the damp skin of your lips as you threw your head to the side; finding purchase anywhere you could- you felt your orgasm begin to build, the tingling sensation burning within your abdomen, spreading to the hilt like wildfire. This wasn’t like when you would touch yourself to the thought of him, beneath your duvet; head held firmly to your pillow- this was free, unadulterated pleasure; your climax reaching faster than you could anticipate. 

Through the haze within your mind, through the scratch of your fingers upon his scalp; you found purchase to the last string of your own sentient conscience, “Erik, wait-’ He halted instantly, pulling back; his hair pointing in a number of directions and mouth ajar; he looked horrified, terrified at the thought of hurting you. Laughing, you shook your head; reaching forward to run a finger over his swollen red lips; you snorted, instantly spitting out an apology, “Sorry, I’m sorry I just-” Your voice was awash with humour as you spoke, grinning down at him, “I- I was going to cum.” 

“Ah,” He replied slowly; nodding as he scratched at the base of his head; his gaze was shy from beneath his eyelashes. 

You couldn’t wipe the grin from your face as you watched him, reaching forward to pull him upwards until he faced you directly, as the cotton of his tank top brushed against the skin of your breasts; you realised with stark clarity that he was still fully dressed. With a glance downwards, you spoke, “I think you need to match me here.” 

Cocking an eyebrow, he tilted his face; smirking down at you as he moved a hand to dissect the hair from your face and lips, “Do I now?” 

“Yes, I think so.” Nodding, you dragged the strap of his top from his shoulders with your pointer finger; tracing the wiry muscles of his bare arms propped above you as you did so. He rose then, grinning at your dejected moan as he moved to pull the top over his head; exposing the expanse of his chest; small, pink nipples and dusty hair painting a trail down his naval. His form was muscular yet thin; the outlines of muscles existent like ivy wrapped around his biceps, strong yet undefined. You walked two fingers upon his naval, toying with the waistband of his sweatpants as you smiled toothily up at him; he rolled his eyes before pulling down his pants, allowing his cock to spring free. 

You spent a long moment willing your eyes not to widen; fearful of breaking the finely held thread of tension- his dick was, what Jean would describe as, ‘Boyfriend Material’. You hadn’t understood the term when she’d said it during your recent trip to the cinema, shaking your head as she betted that Scott ‘definitely had a boyfriend material dick’. When you had tried to discuss what Erik’s dick might be like; she had simply gagged, waving her hand exasperatedly as she begged you not to discuss such a thing. 

But you definitely understood what she had meant now. 

“Hey,” A voice said in front of your face, Erik, in the midst of your personal vignette- Erik had lowered himself back down; arms braced above your head as he smiled down at you, head quirked to the side. Grinning back, you wrapped your arms around the base of his neck before bringing him down into a soft, slow kiss. It was the slowest kiss the two of you had experienced so far; not fueled by abrupt pleasure or the weight of confession- the two of you simply existed, within his bedroom with the flat-packed boxes; upon his silk sheets. You felt it as he breathed you in, inhaling heavily through his nose as he continued to move his lips upon yours. When he pulled back to allow you to breathe, his mouth was visibly curved downwards with emotion; his thumb traced the skin of your jaw before tracing the skin of your lips, tracing where his own had just been.

His lips quivered; pink and wet with the sheen of your combined saliva, “Have you ever-?” He questioned, his eyes flickering downwards; you shook your head meekly, swallowing heavily as he nodded; a sweet, sincere smile curling the edges of his mouth, “Okay, darling.” He cooed, reaching upwards to tuck your hair behind your ear, smooth a hand over the red of your cheeks. 

You found your voice, watching him through the flutter of your eyelashes; his bare skin and ruffled hair- the parts of him that you had never seen before, that he was allowing you to see, “Never got the chance, having superpowers and all.” 

He laughed, nodding down at you, eyes glistening with adornment, almost as if he were in love. Though his face turned serious then, mouth straightening and eyebrows creasing as he looked upon you, “You can say no, sweetheart. We don’t have to-” 

“I want to,” You cut in, nodding determinedly up at him; reaching up to smooth out the crease of his brow, “More than anything.” 

He kissed you then; his hand instantly moving to cup your jaw, the other moving to caress the skin of your thigh; procuring a sickly, sweet burn that caused you to pant against his lips; his own instantly curling into a smirk as he felt you do so. As his fingers met the hilt of your thigh, sliding between the heat above; he lowered his head until he came face-to-face with the pebbling skin of your nipple before placing his tongue upon it, twirling and flicking the bud as you gasped, back arching against the damp sheets below. You couldn’t help the almost pitiful moan of his name that left your lips, your eyes squeezed closed and head thrown back against his pillow; you felt him grin against the underside of your breast, his ministrations against the juxtaposing cold of your breast and the warmth of your clit causing deafening sensations to ricochet within your stomach. The twists of pleasure allowing only whispers of his name within your mind. 

Unable to do anything but lay there, you grit your teeth as he slid a finger into your heat; the length of it procuring a pinching pain as you winced. Pausing, he stroked the skin of your thigh; pressing a kiss there as he watched your face for any further signs of pain, “Tell me if it hurts too much.” He spoke into the skin of your thigh, you nodded down at him, granting a reassuring smile as he turned back to watch his hand- pushing the finger deeper and swiping at your clit as he did so. Soon, the pinching pain turned to pleasure; your muscles loosening as you realised that this, actually, felt good. Soon you were a moaning mess within his hands; three fingers within you as he bent you to his will with the curve of his dexterous hands. Those hands that weld so much power, able to inflict so much pleasure.

Eventually, you grasped at his shoulders; panting and moaning as your nails pressed crescent moons into the skin there, “Please,” You moaned, eyes watering as you begged him, “Please I need more.”

He rose instantly, cock hard and aloft as he moved to his bedside table; retrieving a condom from the depths of it. He rolled it upon himself, before propping himself above you once again, his cock held at your entrance. He rubbed it between your folds, once, twice; his condom instantly covered in your own juices, before he looked up at you; one step away from the finale. “Sweetheart, are you sure?” 

Nodding, you bared yourself down upon him; lifting your legs to brace his hips. He cocked his head to the side, eyebrows raised and chin lowered as he watched you; visibly demanding verbal confirmation, “Yes, Erik, yes. I’m ready.” 

Letting out a shuddering moan, he needed no further confirmation; inserting himself within the space he had enlarged- eyes instantly rolling back as he did so. He was not forceful as he inched himself inwards; his eyes did not stray from your face, searching for any sign of pain or resignation. You did not show any, mouth ajar and eyes wide as you moaned his name; legs tightening around the bracket of his hips. Upon reaching the hilt, he lowered himself to your chest; burying his face into the curve of your neck, the skin instantly growing wet with the humidity of his moans and your own sweat. “Is this okay?” He whispered, mouthing at your neck as he remained completely still; you nodded before shifting your hips, smiling as you felt the rush of breath against your neck. He instantly began to move; sinking home and immediately abandoning it as he methodically pushed in and out; his abdomen grinding against your clit. 

“Beautiful, so beautiful,” The sounds were more visceral moans than words as his hands steadfastly clutched your hips; procuring sounds that you didn’t believe to be possible to fall from your mouth; garbling mixtures of his name and indiscernible pleading. The sweat congregating between your bodies was slick and hot; the fibres of your beings connected at every last point as you moved together. You knew for a fact that you looked sincerely debauched; but with Erik whispering and moaning into your ear; you could hardly register a second thought as you sunk into the pleasure he allowed you. He too looked a mess when he moved from your neck; hair damp at the ends from sweat and eyes scrunched shut; mouth falling open as he seemed entirely lost to the verisimilitude of pleasure. He had never looked so beautiful, so unruly- the strict, formal clothing a distant memory as he moaned and whimpered and gasped above you. 

You felt your high reaching slowly as his abdomen brushed against your clit; the methodical movements torturous in their sporadicity. However, the moment he moved his thumb to your clit; you knew the end was near. He moved it in time with his thrusts, causing your mind to go blissfully blank as you could think of nothing but your fast approaching orgasm. The noise that left you as you came was barely a sound at all; head thrown back and eyes closed as your breaths crackled. You felt it as Erik came with you, hips stuttering and pulsing as he groaned for a long moment above you. He collapsed upon you then, the both of you panting together as you laid there in the pool of sweat formed upon his sheets. 

A large hand cupped the back of your head as you came back to yourself, a low voice humming praise and compliments into your ear as you came to. The cold air hit you for a moment as Erik pulled himself out of you, disposing of the condom before lifting you into his arms; pulling back the duvet and depositing you into the warmth of his bed. 

Sleep tinged the edges of your vision; though you couldn’t get one thought out of your mind, “Please don’t leave.” The words were barely a whisper, spoken into the darkness of his bedroom. 

Erik shuffled beside you, sighing before wrapping you up in his arms; comforting and secure “I won’t leave you sweetheart, not again.” 

[yeloenk]

I WANNA KNOW MORE ABT UR CROSS CCINO I AM INVESTED PLZ

GRABS YOU AND SHAKES YOU AROUND

where do i even.. start.... oh my goodness

OKAY so,, cross and ccino. first i'll go over how i think they would meet, then i'll go over how their relationship would be like.

i think cross, after the whole x-event is resolved, is now left without purpose. he doesn't know what to do; he tries to fit in with the other omega timeline residents, but he feels wrong and out of place after everything that he did. he feels undeserving of a "real home"—plus, the omega timeline feels too restrictive to him. since he was a multiversal threat not too long ago, he was put under rules & observation. it reminded him way too much of being controlled by X-Gaster, so he takes off to figure out things on his own.

he drifts from au to au for a while, trying to find one that sticks. when he stumbles across fluffytale, the weird friendliness/calmness of it draws him in.

i won't delve into the story i have for them too much after this point (i'm currently writing a fic about it!!!) but long story short, cross begins working with ccino at the cafe.

FROM THERE !!! from there, their relationship is verryyy slow. cross is super hesitant about opening up about anything; at first, he dodges any personal questions from ccino. but over time, he grows more and more comfortable with him and sharing bits about himself. he slowly learns what it's like to be safe and happy again.

now, ccino. since ccino and nightmare are or were canon at some point in fluffytale, i believe ccino would be left with.. quite a bit of trauma from the relationship. he struggles a LOT with his self worth and motivation; he puts on a nonchalant, "happy" front to his customers. i think he would struggle taking care of himself, and would make self deprecating jokes to cope. he often misses meal times, making up excuses for himself. but, cross kinda sees right through his act, and can tell something's up.

cross would get ccino to let his walls down; it takes a while, because ccino is terrified of being vulnerable to another person again. he's afraid he'll be hurt again, he's afraid he isn't and never will be enough for cross. since cross was under nightmare's influence at one point, he has that to emphasize with ccino & make him feel better about himself.

they are a SLOWburn friends to lovers with miscommunication and mutual pining,,, they both think they aren't good enough for the other before one confesses giggle!!!!!

they both help each other see the best in themselves, and learn what it means to have safe love again. AND YEEWAHAHGGSHSGHS THEY MAKE ME SICKKKKKK SOBBING ON THE FLOOR I LOVE THEMEEMMM!!!!! i wanna share more of my thoughts about their story but again i dont wanna spoil the fic im cooking up

ALSO. I HAVE A SPOTIFY PLAYLIST FOR THEM. yoooouu should totes check it out if u wanna,,, hehe

link

im a freak about them. can you tell

[satocidal]

PLEASE ROM i need to hear more from u abt satoru bc OUR THOTS ARE SO SIMILAR ITS SO SICKKKKKK

i am literally writing gojo smut bc that ep evoked something in me

AND I AGREE 100 PERCENT IN SUB GOJO LIKE !!! this man will definitely want u to take care of him some days if not all that man is such a switchhhhh

the fic im writing iendkkde i feel like spoiling bc i want ur opinion BUT AAAA ok so i just know this man will literally love it when you switch up on him like.

imagine him coming home all angry over the higher ups and the curses and like after his fight he needs u to bend over that fucking counter right away. and i just feel like as he's pounding away he'd calm the fuck down like bc its you and you always make him feel better and like u said he is very soft and lenient with you and like once he enters that whiny state its your turn to take care of him - and basically make him and u both come because my mans tired he's sloppy with it after a while hehehhe

Akhsksjak baby I’m here to help in any way and every way ok? And please ask for as many opinions ok?

But like listen I fully, like entirely believe that this man is the kind to message you in midst of a fight “to be ready” for him!!! Like no hesitation and since you’re his pretty dumb little gf, you’re all ready indeed—with his favourite lingerie—bending over the counter, just waiting for him—knowing that this moment of anticipation only provokes your pussy and it’s wetness.

Also though, he loved switches mid-session—like he wants you to fight for it and snatch it from him. Satoru won’t hand it to you easily either (until poor pup came begging to you himself). He’ll make you work for it—bounce on his cock, whoever goes dumb first has to sub obviously. He loves the power play and the ambiguity of it entirely—the fact that you could take control ANY moment and vice versa.

But Gojo does lose it when you’re the one you finishes the session—he loves when you’re being mean to him too, make him cry, please—but then he’s so hard at the thought of you pampering him+degrading him<3 like hold his face between your hands and lay the softest kisses on his face as you ride him—call him your toy and pet and remind him that he’s just a pathetic little fuck toy for you.

[thimbleb3rries]

Miraculous fanfic writers who really take off the kiddy training wheels and make it bloody... I love you guys

I love it when people make hawkmoth actually a villain to be afraid of

I love it when akumatized villains can cause some real damage

I love when it triggers angst AUGHHH

Being scared for the characters, being scared with them, feeling as they do. It's sickening and I can't get enough

Don't let it be misunderstood!! I don't mean horror! I just mean like the feeling of tragedy almost if that makes sense. And like the added sense of realism kinda?? Like magic suits that give you invulnerability is pretty cool but like. The added sense of danger like every battle could be their last is so compelling to me.

When the characters get wounded during battles or end up with scars idk it has me like AUGHFHDWRRRGDFSH!!!!!!

OR WHEN A CHARACTER STRAIGHT UP DIES?!!!??!? SICKKKKKK... SICKENING

But I love it, it's so fun

Am I making sense

[iiheartsai]

AM I MAKING YOU FEEL SICKKKKKK

[acebytaemin]

WHAT IF I CRY (I might) ♥♥

Every time you refollow me feels like a pat on the head, telling me that you still likes me and my blog so it's actually really good for my anxiety LMAO (but fr tho, tumblr sucks whenever they try to be clever)

STOP the fact that you have to say ‘every time you refollow me�� bc it happens so much I HATE ITTTT im so sorry i wish i could scroll through my tag in a way that makes me NOT click the giant Unfollow buttons multiple times a day 😭 the worst thing is the order of the blogs changes so i keep unfollowing my friends at random i am sickkkkkk ANYWAY i appreciate u so much maja ur like a lino celebrity to me i hope you understand i would follow you in any lifetime… 💖 patting you on the head forever

[lowkeychenle]

ever since i’ve read And Then It Was (and re-read a couple times now), this specific phrase has been stuck in mind : “What about me makes this hard for you?”

though short, i feel like it really encapsulates the hurt, doubts and worries an individual could have when they feel like they’re not enough for their partner. it somehow feels so depressing in a way…like am i so hard to love?

maybe i just resonated with it a lot more because it was something i felt in my last relationships but i thought i’d just share this little thought of mine 🥲🥹

WOWWW🥹💜 I totally get what you mean here!! and cl's character in ATIW is someone who trusts and loves freely but is clearly still working on his own self-confidence and becoming his own person (separate from his fam/father)

i also have felt that exact thing and it's the WORST and poor bby cl had to deal with that in this fic i'm SICKKKKKK but it's alr it ended up good for him☠️😂

seriously thank you so much for not just reading it but taking the time to send this analysis/deeper dive and remembering a portion of it because it makes you feel seen 🥹 i love asks like this and i'm so glad you enjoyed ATIW!!!

[leenaur143]

💫 Golden Hour: Part 1 💫

💙 Blind

10/10

- hongjoongs voice strain parts 🫠🫠🫠🫠

- his style has improved so much he's just embracing it now and im so happy for him

- i love this chorus so much this is such a festa song ahhhhhhh SOMEONE LET ME SEE MY BOYS LIVE I NEED TO SCREAM "TAKE MY SOUL TAKE MY HEART EL AMOR ES CEIGO" WITH THEMMMMM 😭😭😭😭🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 LOVE IS SO FLIPPING BLINDDDDD AHHHHHHH

- Someone commented the song sounds like it would belong in the World Cup and THAT IS EXACTLY IT I AM LOVING THIS SO FLIPPING MUCH AHHHHHHH

💛 Work

8.5/10 🔥

- this is such a groovy song like the mv is such a vibe and I like the beat so so much I've been waiting for my summer anthem and i think this and Blind are ITTTTTT 

- the 8.5 is only cause of the mv and me being mildly overwhelmed but the song is a 9 its so sickkkkkk

- criminal not to have a fur coat in the mv but thats fine the ostrich makes up for it 😭🤣

- the money monster scares me. truly. that is what wooyoung was referring to when he called jongho the monster of capitalism 

- seonghwa bouncing more than bouncy in that car (which is so sick btw i remember seeing those lowriders that bounce in like those old school retro american movies ahhhh i wanna in ride one)

- JONGHO'S HIGH NOTES MY SAVIOURSSSSS

- yeosang and chicken are the best duo don't argue im right. 😌✌️

💙 Empty Box

9/10

- I predicted this and Blind would be my faves from this mini album and I'm 2 for 2 right now 🥹😭🩷 

- I want to drive through a countryside at twilight on a summers night, playing this and taking in life - that's the vibe I'm getting and I absolutely love it so much

- joong's rap too 😘 the like you adlibs too its so 🥹🙂‍↕️

- mingi's voice fits it so well too like the calm emotional vibe isnt broken by rap which is easy to do and they just performed it so perfectly 

- i'll always miss you though 🥹😭💖

- 'something more than better' is such a feeling that we've all been chasing 🤧

💛 Shaboom

6/10

- oh my days i fully thought i was listening to bob marley 🫠 its so 3 little birds coded (what a legend by the way rest in power king)

- OH WAIT NAH THE BEAT SWITCH AHHHHHHH 

- shaboooooooom ghost vibes 

- if i was haunted it would be by them i think like god forbid but they are the type to go shabooooooo as a joke and no one laughs 🥲🤣

- whos striking whos body hmm 

- this is so unique i feel like it will grow on me but its so much to take in first time with all the tempo switches and different musical skills that are going over my non-musical self - i'd love to know more about its creation process 

- i'm just not used to it in kpop or other music but that's a me problem 

- the EDM style at the end 🤖

💙 Siren 

7/10 

- omg SEONGHWAAAAAAAAAAA 

- his deep voice is going to be echoing in my ears like a siren 

- omg the whispers 

- is that yeosang with the dynamic drop bit i need to know nOW

- its me and yeosang saying "this is our siren" against the world 

- the whispers to the yells AHHHH this would go off in concerts man AHHHHHHHHHH i really like this i feel this will grow more on me tooo ahhhh

- its the almost cult-ish style of ringing siren for me 💀🤣

💫 Overall: I am really happy that I waited to listen to Work and the rest of Golden Hour: Part 1 until after my Physics exam cause it truly felt like the 'reward' I was searching for. I've already started watching some of the content surrounding the comeback and I'm so happy I liked the EP because it's definitely something new and unlike what Ateez have been showing us these past few years. We got used to their high energy, high power bops and now they've given us a little nudge that hey we can do other genres too (as Atiny we knew this but others could potentially be surprised by the range our boys are capable of) and as a hip-hop lover of course I loved the vibe of our a-side ahhhh shfhsh GOTTA WORK

[mhokday]

BEAUTIFUL PERSON AWARD! Once you are given this award you're supposed to paste it in the asks of 8 people who deserve it. If you break the chain nothing happens, but it's sweet to know someone thinks you're beautiful inside and out💫 (HI NICOLE I MISS YOU SO MUCH I HOPE YOU'RE OKAY ALSO IF YOU HAVE ANY THOUGHTS ABOUT LAST TWILIGHT STARTING FILMING PLEASE SAY THEM INTO THE MIC 🎤)

MONICAAAA!! II HOPE YOU ARE DOING WELL TOOOO IM DOING FINE HAHAHA AND I ALSO MISS YOU SO MUCH ;-;;; SORRY I TOOK SOOOO LONG TO RESPOND I WAS WAITING UNTIL I HAD COHERENT THOUGHTS ABOUT LAST TWILIGHT AND NOW I REALIZE I NEVER WILL . I'M JUST. AAAAAH!!!

anyways im following every single update of the filming and u dont know how happy it makes me to just see jimmysea filming something again and with p'aof nonetheless i still can't believe this is real and happening.

LIKE THE WAY MORK LOOKS AT DAYYY OHHH I'M GONNA BE SICKKKKKK their chemistry is insane at how it can shine through SO MUch in one still. like the fact that mork looks at day like he hung the moon makes me feel very ill . CALM DOWN BUDDY NOBODY IS TAKING HIM AWAY FROM YOUUUU

also it drives me a bit crazy how when i look at them i dont see puentalay at ALL. i love that. like you still have the sweet chemistry between them but their characters feel completely different. and you can see this all in a photo. acting kings. like mork seems so rough around the edges and day seems so jaded and just the dynamic feels so different from puentalay first meet its so crazy i love it.

ALSO DAY LOOKS SO CUTE HERE IM SOOOOO SAD. he seems different than my impression of him from the mock trailer like he looks so much babier but i am not complaining ! anyways if i think too much about this show i will combust. so i will just leave you here. i am so excited i could cry. the day i get jimmysea back on my screen is a day everyone should fear

[nickmpreg]

Says nothing new about Succession literal weeks after it ended anyway

I am SICKKKKKK knowing that for Rome, the push to abandon his father’s company and therefore image (essentially leaving the cage) is finding out that nobody gives a fuck about him in the real world. Both strangers like those protesters and people he’s endorsed like Mencken made fun of him for crying at his father’s funeral. His brother humiliates him for it. It’s a wake up call that he couldn’t of had in sensitivity training because he was always under the assumption he’s above the employees in those sessions. Rome learning that he’s nothing to people in the grand scheme of things makes him the first to run and he’s better for it.

In the same beat, a character like Shiv has always lived her life like that. People have always laughed at her and ridiculed her actions, so she just thinks life is like that. So the choice is easy to stay with Tom and keep life going the same as it always has been.

And the thing about Kendall is that he’s experienced everything Rome saw to the extreme. He’s been through hell having his addiction struggles publicized, his failure to take over the company over and over again, his entire life. But Kendall has been told his entire life that he’s made for more than that, so he’s convinced he’ll rise higher than anyone and make every naysayer eat their words. He can’t accept that he’s nothing because Logan told him he’ll be everything. In contrast, Logan only ever told Rome he was stupid useless, so Rome accepted this faster. Logan never told Shiv anything, and so she let herself be defined by whatever power she could grab onto, even if it’s her husband’s.

Anyway dropping this little essay at 2am and running away

ALL OF THIS !! ive said it already but i don’t think there will ever truly be a show quite like succession again . i was saying a few days ago how i watched the white lotus and couldn’t even finish it because , while the writing of the characters was painfully on the nose and realistic , i just could not root for any of them ( not that they were even doing anything for four whole episodes ? ) . with succession you know EVERYTHING about the characters from the second we meet them which includes all of the side characters . the writing is just so fucking good and the story is so feasible that it just feels like these people could exist in our world . and the way the writers were able to successfully make hoards of people root for scummy rich people who we have actively seen make their country worse for the sake of profits , it’s just not an easy task . im not saying that succession needs a spin-off , but i am saying if they decide to do one ( maybe about iverson , sophie , and shiv’s future baby ? ) i would not be opposed to it . i love you succession

[lacheri]

cher…. you have no idea how fucking giddy i am right now. that chapter has me SMILING EAR TO EAR?:?:?:? ive been crying all morning since i did really poorly on a test i studied really hard for, and then I see that you put out chapter 7, way earlier then a lot of us were expecting & it just lightened my mood completely. like im less sad now. i wish i could be like reader & take a break (not flunk out sorry reader) from college and travel & live somewhere else for a bit. this work makes me long for experiences that can’t be mine…. yet! beautiful as always x

also: it’s gonna be an ISSUE how down bad i will be when levi starts his dirty talk in French, like thinking about it is already making me SICKKKKKK 😭 this chapter gave us a TEASE, I am mentally unprepared for what I know u have in store.

awe it’s okay you’ll crush that next test no problem!!!! I’m so sorry to hear you were upset though ): I hope you feel better now <3

I started mr as a way to escape my own reality, to work on some stuff going on in my own personal life, so it’s really moving to me that you said that. it means a lot actually, like yes let’s escape to this world where we start fresh and our neighbor is hot and interesting!

:/ it’s gonna be an actual miracle if I make it through the dirty talk, Levi is one VOCAL man in my mind, so I’ll probably be screaming about it whenever it comes time to write it

[life-in-the-zones]

Adrenaline Roulette, diary entry #1 I ain't never had to put my feelings on paper. What's the point in that? My emotions deserve to be worshipped in a museum or some shit, not in this worn n' torn diary. But someone told me a long time ago to try this if you're feelin' overwhelmed with it all. And guess what I'm feeling? Yep....overwhelmed with it all. I'm feeling a million things at once, it's like tiny needles pricking at my skin. Not necessarily painful, but annoying. Like a tattoo made of dread, anxiety and love-nausea. So yeah, I've driven all the way out to zone 5 to let my dearest most beloved diary know that I am....feeling. What a concept. I'm feeling paranoid about everything. Maybe that's the weed finally catching up with me..? So edgy I know. I'm also feeling anxious around everyone. My mind is screaming telling me that they ALL want my blood. Trust is worn down like a rusty pipe. And finally, the last feeling of all. I'm love-nauseous. Everybody give Rou a huge round of applause for falling in fucking love whoooo! I won't tell you who they are or what they're like because the words would never end... But I will be sluggin' them in the gut when I next see them, how dare they make me feel sick. Sick sick sickkkkkk....

[so-gay]

I am so SICKKKKKK of this oh my GOD someone make this stop I swear I really don't know how much longer I can't TAKE this without doing something fucking drastic. I'm sick of feeling so god damn down and depressed. I literally go to bed every fucking night praying I wake up and the past two years of my life are erased and I'm a freshman in college again. I want to redo it all. I want to erase you from my fucking life, I want to forget we were ever in love. I want to forget what the fuck I ever thought love was. I'm fucking exhausted. I'm fucking drained, I can't do this.