warnings: cheating (everyone’s cheating in this frat house tonight), drugging (reader thought she was doing coke, actually percs), drug mentions: coke, weed, percs, non-con, gas-lighting, manipulation, iwai and oiks are shitty frat boys what can i say
wc: 1.9k
a/n: my piece for the intoxicated collab hosted by the whore house <3 you can check it out here! i have never written for this pretty rat bastard but I kinda like this version of oikawa that now lives in my brain. he’s a shitty bastard but meh. this is very, very, very, v e r y loosely based on a real experience i had with percs ( i don’t condone the use of percs !! ). also, do not mix drugs if you are doing them, especially percs with alcohol!
you know you’re fucked as the last of the pretty white line vanishes through the end of a cut-up straw and into your nose. that too pretty smile tooru’s wearing almost looks sinister as the feeling of prickles dances across your brain and the feeling of slight numbness snakes up your appendages. it’s cemented further when drowsiness sinks in.
worst of all, you know you’ve lost when tooru’s featherlight touch across your bottom lip has you sucking his thumb like your boyfriend isn’t somewhere else in the same house
leading up to the frat party, you were excited ! time spent with your roommate was always fun, your partner in crime for getting wasted silly before proceeding to call your boyfriends to be picked up and continue the fun from there.
their frat’s parties are always choice, thematic some days and just a reason to drink and make poor choices others. your poison of choice always being egging hajime on throughout the night to be fucked dumb when he’s pushed beyond his limit– the perfect fun for you.
but there’s always tooru.
it’s been too many times to count where you think you’ve finally got hajime right where you need him and then tooru’s there to effectively whisk hajime away– always with a snide reminder that you’re there with your roommate, his girlfriend so ‘why don’t you go find her, she’ll get lonely!’
ironic, considering that if she and you were up to trouble together he’d badger you over being negligent of hajime.
regardless, you fully entitled to enjoy yourself tonight– tooru be damned.
before you could fester longer on the leech that was tooru, your roommate poses a comment about the outfits planned for tonight. it’s enough to steal away your attention, and you find yourselves trying and tossing off clothes interspersed with chatter and gossip of all manner. by the end of it, you look downright sinful– dressed in a silky feeling black bodycon with lace trim.
the intention is to rile hajime up, get him irritated having to be watchful over you to keep his sleazy frat brothers away. except for tooru, he’s always the exception. he couldn’t let any of his other brothers be the exception? you’d take temperamental kyotani over tooru any day. it’s only a minorbonus kyotani is nice to look at.
by the time your roommate is ushering you to the uber you’re quite tipsy, still aware of yourself but relaxed enough to giggle along to the lame jokes your uber throws over his shoulder at you two. idly, you think he’s kinda cute.
the party is in full swing by the time your uber pulls up, people idling out on the lawn in stark contrast to the blaring music coming from the house itself. hajime and tooru are waiting outside for the both of you as you exit the uber. giving the uber a sweet smile before closing the door.
you try to ignore the lingering look tooru fixates you with as you make your way to the boys.
“ tooooruuuu~” your roommate all but throws herself into her boyfriend, giggly and happy to see him. he returns the embrace, peppering her cheery face in kisses before returning her greeting “hi princess, you look ravishing as usual.”
you fight to keep the cringe of your face at the nickname, opting to ignore their sugary-sweet pda in favor of hajime. you link your arms behind his neck before blinking up at him, pressing a chaste kiss to his chin before grinning cheekily “ hi bubs, missed you today”. his own hands settle on your hips, rubbing softly at the material of your dress before smiling down at you. he mumbles his own greeting before pressing a kiss to your temple, beginning to drag you inside.
you don’t miss the familiar stare of someone staring down your neck.
all too quickly, between games of cup pong, kings cup, and random shots; your separated from hajime and squished between hanamaki and matsukawa on a ratty couch in the garage with an odd group of people. you’re vaguely aware of matsukawa’s arm thrown over your shoulders.
you don’t try to move it.
you’re half engaged in the conversation going on, between being drunk and swimming in the heady smell of weed, you’re just kinda sitting there zoning in and out. there’s a sizable bong being passed around, and despite only having met them a handful of times prior, hanamaki and matsukawa seem to know better than to offer you a hit– at least that’s what you tell yourself. across from you, there’s a blond girl cutting lines of coke on a handheld mirror, looking up briefly with a raised eyebrow in question. you’ve met her prior, you’ve literally done lines with her, but her name is escaping you.
you feel stupid.
you’re about to nod along when matsukawa’s arm is thrown off you, two hands coming down on your shoulders in a bruising grip. you wince when you meet tooru’s chocolate eyes.
he looks kinda pissed.
“y/n ! I’ve been looking alllll over for you !” his voice is as princely as ever, but the sneer on his face and the barely there anger under his tone pisses you off. you decide to push him before he starts pushing you.
“where’s 'princess’ at? can’t believe you left my poor roommate all alone in this house” you tsk and pout, shaking your head. tooru’s face momentarily sours before he’s looping around the couch and dragging you to your feet, pulling you to the door without a word. you glance back briefly at hanamaki and matsukawa, but they look just as put off as you.
weird.
you follow, not sure if it’s curiosity or just being drunk for you simpered obedience. you’re led past hajime’s room where you hear noise– notably hajime and someone else but you can’t think too hard about it with tooru’s tightening grip on your wrist. this would be nice if it were hajime pulling you along. you stop in front of a door at the very end of the hall.
it’s tooru’s room.
volleyball trophies and keepsakes line the shelves, along with other commemorative keepsakes. a picture of him and your roommate, him and hajime, a group picture of the four of you as well. you’re about the prod for answers when he beats you to it.
“don’t worry about my 'princess’, she with hajime right now!” he sneers down at you, loving the confusion that crosses your pretty little face before continuing “i figured i’d come check in on you since hajime seems to be doing a shit job of it.” you’re only partially surprised by the drop from his usual cheerful speech and vocabulary, but to hear him come at hajime unabashedly is strange.
it’s actually really fucking weird all things considered.
“what do you mean by that? why’s he with her…” and not me? the sentence practically finishes itself and tooru’s sneer grows as your mind begins to tumble over itself. “ you know, maybe he just can’t handle you anymore? he’s always bitching to me about you” tooru sighs, hand raised to his chin thoughtfully. something in your chest aches at the thought, mind nowhere near sober enough to see past tooru winding you up.
“you know, I tried arguing with hajime about it on your behalf. sure you’re needy as hell and a borderline nympho but you’re soooo cute! if i wasn’t dating my princess, I wouldn’t hesitate to steal you away~” it comes out teasingly, but his words are downright awful. you’re not needy…right? sure you like sex, but hajime never complained about it.
you kinda feel like shit.
turning on your heels, you make for the door before tooru latches onto your wrist again. that same bruising grip back again, you whirl on him ready to lay into him before he shakes an orange pill bottle in your face. eyes narrowed, you glare up at him. what the hell is he up too?
“to make it up to you for bumming your night and causing you to miss out saeko’s cheap shit, why don’t we have a little pick me up?” his sneer is gone now, simmered down to what could be a genuine smile. you weigh your options, dull red flashing lights go off in your mind but safety be damned– you need a pick me up. “fine, fine. i’d rather get something from you than just anybody.” tooru looks a little surprised at your admittance, but you plop yourself on his bed before you can stare up at his pretty face any longer. he turns his back to you in favor of his desk, clearing space and procuring his debit card and a dollar bill before popping the lid on the pills and grabbing one.
you don’t watch him crush the pill, and that’s your fatal mistake.
all too soon, zoned out staring around the room while lost in your pitiful thoughts, tooru calls you over. “you’re a big girl, I’m sure you know how to snort it” his voice is teasing, but you fail to notice just how focused he looks staring down at you. you grab a cut straw, no longer than two inches, and line one end to your nose and the other to the white line.
it feels wrong.
you know you’re fucked as the last of the pretty white line vanishes through the end of a cut-up straw and into your nose. that too pretty smile tooru’s wearing almost looks sinister as the feeling of prickles dances across your brain and the feeling of slight numbness snakes up your appendages. it’s cemented further when drowsiness sinks in.
worst of all, you know you’ve lost when tooru’s featherlight touch across your bottom lip has you sucking his thumb like your boyfriend isn’t somewhere else in the same house.
god this so wrong, but the way tooru ushers you backwards until the back of your knees meet his bed, and you fall on your back feels nice. everything feels nice, his thumb in your mouth, his comforter on your back. the way he’s staring down at you, laser-focused on just you… it’s verynice.
but incredibly wrong.
hajime is in a room nearby, the fact eats at you.
tooru withdraws his hand from your face, thumb briefly pressing along your plush lips before crawling over you. he buries his head in your neck, nibbling and sucking along the length of it like a starved dog. you whimper, it’s wrong but why does it feel so good? a particularly nasty bite forces a moan from your mouth, mind spinning at the pleasure despite the numbness.
you’re terrible for getting off on this, you’re a terrible girlfriend. tooru, evidently, is a terrible boyfriend. he drugged you but who’s gonna believe you? you did agree to do it, you didn’t ask what it was. your thoughts are spiraling.
tooru’s hand leaves a blazing trail up your thigh, sliding up underneath your little dress and squeezing your upper thigh. you don’t like this. weakly, you grab onto tooru’s wrist in an attempt to halt his movements. he shakes it off, kissing along your jaw before mumbling to what you assume is more-so to himself than you.
“knew i was gonna fuck you when you strolled up in this, hajime’s really missing out tonight”
You sit on the couch recounting today’s mission. Itachi is in the shower, leaving you alone to your thoughts.
The mission was easy enough, you and Itachi were sent to find a missing shinobi who had been stealing from people in the village. You both found her in no time, but when she drew a kunei, Itachi ordered you to stay out of the fight. He’s a protective older brother like that. He fought the shinobi in an elegant battle that almost looked like they were dancing if you didn’t know any better. He eventually bested her and you both brought her to the Hokage.
You twiddle your thumbs as you wait for your brother to finish cleaning up, lost in your thoughts.
Premise: You were a semi-successful actress who was dating someone who turned out to be a married man. The wife found out and you were blacklisted. Desperate times call for desperate measure, and you find yourself calling upon a demon to try to get your chance at fame, but it seems it might cost you a fortune.
a/n: admittedly not my finest banner work but i am what the kids would call a touch lazy,, anyways i’ve had this fic done since nov 2021 but here i am,, this was indeed for the damned collab but i’ve fallen off the face of the earth between then and now <3
—18+ dark content minors dni —
warnings: ok noncon, but leans towards dubcon, hinted breakup, feelings of longing/heartbreak (bc ya know it’s not a miki-tobio fic if i don’t make it hurt in some way) sleep paralysis, this is monster fucking lmao, a touch of fear for flavor
Hot.
It’s far too hot.
For a moment you consider kicking off the layers of blankets weighing you down, yet the notion is immediately dismissed when the rigidness of your body becomes clearer to your sleep-ridden mind. At most you can feel your fingers and toes twitch just slightly, stuck laid out on your back buried under blankets with a perfect view of your door cracked open.
The door that begins to creak on its hinges, startling you even further out of your tired trance. The door that you swear you had shut nice and tight just before bed.
Long fingers emerge from the darkness, tracing along the edge of the polished wood, pushing it open little by little.
Tobio?
It couldn’t be, he’s over a thousand miles away and you haven’t spoken in months but the outline of the shadow emerging from behind the door is far too familiar to be anyone else.
His name sits at the tip of your tongue, ready to slip out. Yet you can’t, that invisible force keeping you from uttering the simplest of names. The scorching heat of being smothered by the layers of blankets only fueling the building panic coursing through your veins.
The figure emerges fully from the pitch black, the sliver of moonlight peaking through your curtains barely illuminating the stranger. You want to yell out, so desperately, too many words build in your chest. Yet your body still proves unforgivable, only allowing something akin to a pitiful squeak to escape from you.
Slowly the shadow of a man creeps across the room, the groan of your floorboards under his weight allowing you to have some idea of where he is in your room.
Run, scream, something, anything.
The thought pauses, for just a second, swearing that it really is him, your Tobio.
He hunches over you with jerking motions, it’s wrong, it’s all wrong. The sapphire of his eyes you’ve adored for so long are replaced by a strange mottled ruby, the sharp lines of his face crude, taunting you, it’s him but it’s not.
You can’t move, can’t speak, a prisoner of your bed, of your own body. A shadowy hand reaches towards you, a frigid palm settling against your cheek.
Tears well in your eyes, yet they don’t seem to spill, just as frozen in place like the rest of you.
His —It’s— mouth clicks open, a strangled groan tearing through the stale air.
You swear you hear your name buried in there, or maybe it’s your mind playing tricks on you to keep some semblance of your sanity intact. Frozen fingers drag down your cheek, goosebumps erupting across your flesh.
“Nnn.” It’s all you can manage, a weak protest as those cold digits drag across your jaw, moving down to land on your throat. Replacing well manicured nails are gangly, sharp blackened ones, scraping over the cold sweat breaking out and drenching your body.
There’s a stronger twitch in your fingers, leaving you foolish enough to believe you’re breaking out from this horrific predicament. The hope snuffed the moment the freezing digits clamp down on your shoulder, nails tearing through the old, stolen Adlers practice shirt.
Stop.
Hot tears manage to spill, burn down your cheeks, your mind begging and begging your body to do something, anything, to escape from this horrifying moment. Tobio, Tobio, Tobio, his name becomes a prayer, a beacon of hope that he’ll somehow appear in place of this crude proxy.
Yet the nightmare only furthers as you feel a dip in your bed, a weight pressing against your side pushing you further into the swath of blankets. Only making bile rise in your throat and anxiety muddling your consciousness further.
“I-I’m ‘m ho-hom-e.” The demon croaks into your ear, deep and ragged just like Tobio would after a draining late practice. And for a moment an image of him flashes in your mind, once more taunting you than bringing a feeling of comfort.
No.
“M-Mis-sed you.” This is too cruel, your mind supplies, tears continuing to cloud your vision as you feel your cotton underwear drag down your hips, inching down almost painfully.
Again your brain supplies all the memories of moments like these, your beloved Tobio coming home after you’ve long fallen asleep, sneaking into bed and snaking his arms around you. His wandering hands bring warmth, filling your heart with love and adoration.
None of that is here in this moment, this terrifying caricature bastardizing what was a heartwarming ritual, pumping your veins with dread and most of all, a heart wrenching sadness.
And just like Tobio would, lips, though chapped and cold, skim along your cheek down to your jaw. They move as if whispering the sweet nothings you’d expect, caressing along your jaw lovingly.
Finally you’re able to shut your eyes, yet there is no escaping from this monster, the frigid air surrounding him consumes you. He slots himself between your thighs, forcing them to fall apart and accommodate him. Your chest heaves and stutters with a sob as something blunt and impossibly hot prods at your bare cunt.
“Pretty-tt-tty.” Those cold hands slip under your shirt, one staying planted on your waist as the other crawls up to squeeze at your tits, sharp nails tapping and scraping at your sternum.
No prep, no warning as he impales you with his torrid cock, that same dry heat ripping through your body and practically negating the freezing air surrounding the two of you. It hurts, it should hurt, your mind once again begs your body to listen, to hate this sensation and this monster.
But it feels good, it feels too good as he burns at your inside, brands it’s, his cock against the twitching walls of your cunt, carving his place, his right to be there.
Your eyes flutter open, vision still blurred and ruby turns to sapphire back to ruby, flickering back and forth, but what do you care when you can pretend that it’s him. Without any thought your arms come to life and you throw them around broad, shadowy shoulders.
None of it’s right, not the way your hands splay against awfully cold, rippling muscles, or the feeling of his face nuzzling into your shoulder, ragged breaths and a clicking sound pouring into your ears.
It’s not him, each drag of it’s cock only solidifying that notion.
He’s not coming home, you whine at a particularly rough thrust.
You miss him, as sharp nails pierce your skin.
“L..ove…l-love yo-u.” The monster croaks again and your mind unconsciously supplies the response of love you more. The phrase escapes from your lips as something between a choked moan and a sob.
Somewhere between that final, ruthless, thrust and hot cum pouring into your cunt, your body shakes with a shameful orgasm, his name finally escaping your lips as darkness clouds your vision.
You jolt awake, the sunlight blinding you for a moment as you try to stretch away the stiffness in your joints. There’s a heat in your chest and cheeks as bits of your dream from last night invade your muddled, morning thoughts.
Pointedly you avoid the mirror of your vanity, too ashamed to even look at your own reflection, leaving you blissfully unaware of the bruises scattering your body for just a little longer.
WARNINGS.fem!reader, dark content, restraints, torture, gagging, noncon, fingering (f!receiving), feitan keeps you prisoner and fucks you with his fingers
WORDCOUNT.1.450
NOTE.oop first feitan fic where are the feitan fuckers :o also there may or may not be a part two
THE FIRST TIME feitan porter puts his hands on you, there’s a rhythmic drip of leaky water that echoes through the room, deepening the emptiness in that rattles in your chest as you struggle to breathe. your wrists are bound by cold metal cuffs attached to chains embedded in the stone wall behind you— cuffs that jingle and screech the more you pull for freedom.
from across the room, feitan sits with one leg crossed over the other, and a cold, almost bored expression sits on his face as he watches you struggle against the restraints.
“they not break” he mumbles, though his voice sounds almost taunting behind the collar of his jacket.
logic tells you he’s right— that you stand no match for steel that’s practically cemented into the wall behind you, but instinct wont let you give in, at least until you’ve exhausted your mind, body and spirit to it’s very brink.
the more you struggle, refusing to acknowledge his existence in the room, the more feitan craves your pain. he watches the way sweat dribbles down your neck, and the way your body flinches and shivers every time he moves even half an inch. the power he holds over you is almost pathetic, and he can’t get enough.
“you never learn” he sighs again, standing up from the edge of the stone he had made himself comfortable on, pacing the room with an umbrella in hand as you watch and groan against the fabric gagging your mouth. “why not just be quiet? hmm?”
At a young age you learned a vital lesson: never hesitate. Whether you’re rejecting a confession or staring down the sight of a gun, split second decisions have been ingrained in your blood, so when your best friend is brutally murdered the choice is simple.
You’ll stop at nothing to exact your revenge on the man who took her from you, even if it means facing the three men you’d spent years running away from.
Can you survive a deal with Embertide University’s very own Archdemons, or will your dark history with them bring everything you’re working toward crashing down?
Pairing: Fem!Reader x Step Brother!Suna, Iwaizumi, and Matsukawa
includes:DARK CONTENT // 20+ // minors + under-20s DO NOT INTERACT please // NONCON // f! reader, yandere! sukuna, sloppy makeout, dacryphilia, lots of saliva,biting, hickies, blood, fear kink, mind breaking, extreme sadism, slapping, corruption kink, name-calling, multiple orgasms, oral (f! receiving), heavy fingering, no aftercare
themes:breaking + entering | confessions | the chase | mind-breaking
prompt:This is for the anilysium server’s collab! The theme is confessions and the prompt I got —“that was nothing but a silly childhood promise.” Thank you CATH for hosting/organizing this collab and being so, so welcoming!
summary: Yuuji carries a burden, a burden who listens in on his thoughts. Thoughts of you. So many thoughts, so constant that now that burden’s own interest has peaked. Now that burden watches you when you’re with Yuuji too. And now that burden has a confession to make.
The sound of your key twisting in your door lock is heard over the chatter you make with your neighbors, an older couple on their way out for date night.
“Have fun!” you say, voice echoing into your apartment as you get through the door. You kick it closed behind you, setting down belongings, taking off your coat and shoes, a soft smile on your face as you make your way to your bedroom.
The warm lighting from the lamp you thought you’d turned off shines through the slit in the doorway, illuminating your face as you enter. You freeze, your bare foot stepping back at the sight of a man with a pink head of hair seated on the window sill.
His head is down, shoulders rounded, hands clinging to the edge of the sill at his sides.
HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE ‘EM // corrupt cop! gojo x f! reader
includes:DARK CONTENT // 20+ // minors and under-20s DO NOT INTERACT please // NONCON // bully! cop! g. satoru, fem! sub! reader, blackmail,abuse of power, anti-police rhetoric, gun play,noncon touching, groping, breeding kink,dacryphilia,semi-brat taming, fear kink, stockholm syndrome-y?
themes:Corrupt Cop! AU | Power Dynamics | Strangers to Enemies
prompt:This is for the @novaresquep0rn themed xxxhub collab! I came up with corrupt cop! gojo x barely legal slut. Tysm for letting me join, and big congrats on your milestone!
summary:You and your friend get pulled over after a party. You don’t want to get in trouble, and Officer Gojo doesn’t want you to either. He just wants you to be safe—
You stare at the lights in the side view mirror. Red and blue, blinding. Especially this late at night.
“I’m so fucked,” your best friend says, gripping the steering wheel.
“No you’re not,” you snap, trying to maintain control although you don’t believe it yourself. “Just stay calm, okay?”
She looks at you, eyes wide and mouth open to argue, but the officer who has pulled her over appears at her side, peering down to get a look at you both.
“License and registration.”
“Yes sir,” she says, fishing for her wallet.
“Do you know why I pulled you over?”
“…No?”
He huffs, his wicked grin making your heart pound with nerves.
The officer leans his forearms on the window frame, getting comfortable. “Well I can smell the alcohol on you. That explains the driving.”
You see the ID in her hand, but she hesitates. He opens his hand, forcing her to hand it over. You both watch in stiff silence, holding your breath as he scans the ID. The only sound is that of him smacking his chewing gum. You’re not sure how he can read with that blindfold over his eyes, but he catches it quickly.
“Barely legal and already getting into trouble, huh?” he says, looking up at your friend.
Maiden of Dust Part I | Yan Zhongli x Priestess!Reader
Content warning: Mild Yandere Content.
Summary:You are a Priestess to the late Goddess of Dust Guizhong, and as the sole survivor of your kind, you are devoted to her even after her tragic demise. This is part of the Spoil of War series. You may find its masterpost here. This is part one of the two small drabbles that will comprise “Maiden of Dusk”. Ask box is open!
How different would have things been had he found you first was a thought that often poisoned his mind, sending all over his being a hollowness, a strain that unyieldingly wrung his sanity. His late friend used to claim that mortals were creatures bound to change, yet here you were. Time for you was suspended as if nothing was wanted, needed, or exhausted. All for her.
Even saying her name felt as if he was breathing life back into her, and envy was too much of a vulgar state of mind for a god to be in.
“Many of my sisters were much better at this, I’m afraid” your voice shakes him out of his contemplations “We used to gift these to our people as amulets. Fei Hong was the most skilled, no detail ever escaped her mastery, and people would often fight over her works… Before the war, I had one of my own.”
Some of her people still cling to their own wooden figurines, as Morax could recall. The Maidens of Dust were carved in her likeness and gave them comfort in the absence of their beloved goddess. “Most people place them at the entrance of their homes, to ward off evil. But I used to place mine on the window above my bed. Back when I was an apprentice, I believed that Lady Guizhong protected me from having bad dreams. She was rather amused when I told her that.”
He listens quietly, taking in every sentence that leaves your lips like a drunkard sips wine. But the more he listened, the more bitter each sip got. A strange melancholy weighted over you, he could see a gentle darkness forming in your gaze for quite some time now. Almost as if the idea of drowning in your own sorrow was not completely unwelcomed by you. It was clear to him that your devotion menaced to erode you, and that it would bleed him into darker abysses soon enough.
An internal burning, almost lacerating, pricked him as he realized that your own seclusion had not made him immune to his most irrational of sentiments.
Morax’s gaze directs at the Maiden of Dust with disdain. Although a beautiful piece, it has small errors sprinkled here and there. His late friend enjoyed the arts, and each of her priestesses had mastery over one of them. Painting was not your preferred art form.
You used to sing, and when you did, not one of your sisters could ever hope to match you, just as no candlelight could ever rival the rising sun.
‣tags: dark content, friends-to-lovers, porn one-shot, college au, this is set in Hawkins and the 80’s, knife play but only for cutting panties, dubcon, smoking weed, car sex, teasing, pet names, finger sucking, dirty talking, breast/nipple play, mutual masturbation, spitting, unprotected sex, throat fucking, praising, hair pulling m! receiving, not beta read.
reblogs and comments are appreciated <3
Rain pattered outside as you sat on the window sill in your bedroom looking for the passing of vehicles hoping one was Eddie’s, after school yesterday he told you to be ready Friday night at seven o’clock sharp, nerves ignited along your skin like electric waves causing you to pull at the itchy sweater you wore, over the last few months you grew closer with him despite what everyone said.
The handful of times you went to his trailer when his Uncle was away he would let you sit on his bed that smelled faintly like cologne and a bit of weed with a tiny dash of leather, it made you want to bury your face in his duvet and inhale the scent committing it to memory until he played his guitar, your attention was instantly turned to him.
Eddie stretched out on his bed, his Hellfire Club shirt rose a little showing the dark happy trail that disappeared under the band of his ripped black jeans, his leather jacket was thrown off and onto the floor as soon as you two entered his room.
“Do you only know how to play metal or anything else?” You asked and teased standing up to look around, various posters were hung up haphazardly and clothes were strewn all over.
He chuckled and plucked a few more strings shaking his head, the dark curls moving back and forth as he looked at you with a smirk. “I know plenty, but metal soothes the soul don’t you know?”
It was your turn to laugh rolling your eyes fixing your skirt as you glanced at him, the heat from the furnace wasn’t the only cause for the temperature to rise a few notches, he caught your gaze on his stomach and chuckled sitting up with his guitar in his lap as he held his hand out for you helping you sit down next to him before playing a song that sounded familiar but you couldn’t place what it was.
☆ ー : fingering, professor faust! x student! reader dynamics, impact play, boundaries surpassed, old teaching methods (older than we all together)
★ ー []:@jellymoonbear we did this to ourselves also the cursive parts are a small, paraphrase copy paste of our small dm exchange
★ ー ass professor. he cares about education, but his methods are based on strictness and force the concepts into his students in ways that are far from fun and is guided by the class programm he schedules at the beginning of each semester. No matter if it’s a national holiday or is pouring rain, you will have class. No, suspended class with him is only something you can dream of and if theres still 6 units to go through and theres only 2 weeks of class before the exam, he will speedrun them and you will learn….. unless
★ ー.Remember when smacking the fingertips of students was a studying method back in the day? Yeah, he has the habit of doing so, so be careful to not drift away from what he’s saying or he will call out your name or not even caring to give you any warning before you feel his long ruler against your fingertips followed by a arrogant and overbearing smile and the traditional push up of his glasses, fixating his eyes on you for longer than necessary cause you both know…….
★ ー the ruler against the bare skin of your ass, smiling when he gets to hear your whimpers and sobs of pain as the skin under the ruler gets hotter and more sensitive with each impact of the wood against your flesh. As if that weren’t near enough, he would knead the skin with his hand while the other one fingers you until you become a blabbering mess under him. Cries of ’s too much’ or ‘stop please’ are ignored cause you misbehaved and he needs to keep all his students in line, even if that means resort to methods that are not so conventional and academically accepted.
★ ー. He would embarrass you in front of everyone but he loves it so much and lord he knows you can see once you seated back how he just can’t hold back nor hide the bulge in his pants. You’d catch him touching himself to hide the only growing erection but he would do that countless times if that means he gets to see how warmth travels up your cheeks in pure embarrassment and you have no choice but to obey him and stutter your answer. Bonus points however if you were actually paying attention and bite back at him, showing that two can play his little game if back and forth
★ ー ,he’d kiss your fingertips afterwards, apologising for hurting you but still saying you needed to be taught a lesson. Is not his fault he is shaped the way he is and regrets nothing cause when the classes are over, he can actually see an improvement in your grades and you ca see it too. The fact that you passed his class however is not an impediment to stop seeing you cause you evolve from desk sex to the empty concierge room, Faust going out first and you 3 minutes later. Everyone knows, no need to hide what’s going on there cause knowing isnt enough, they see his disheveled hair and wrinkled tie and shirt and they see you hickies and swollen lips and listen to each one of your moans.
Summary: With no other way to get to practice after Tsukishima’s car breaks down, Kyoutani is forced to take the train every day. And the girl with the garter belt tattoo caught his eye. Pairing:Kentarou Kyoutani x f!Reader TW: public sex, non-consensual touching, pussy job, thigh fucking, angry businessman, it’s not milk. Word Count: 2.1k
