#'is like the only one willing to talk to him' dynamic which is... very much not the case anymore | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

prettyboykatsuki · 1 year ago

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TEXTBOOK CITATIONS ON IMMORAL SEX | S. GETOU ft. F. TOJI

✮ tags ; porn no plot, afab + fem!reader (good girl, little girl once sarcastically by toji, pretty), mild degradation (dirty girl, a bitch in heat), professor!getou + security guard!toji, dubcon, imbalanced power dynamics, age gaps(10+ years), mild coercion / blackmail, spit play, wet ‘n messy sex, face-fucking, oral (f +m!recieving), spanking, restraints, dirty talk, creampie / unprotected sex, 18+

✮ wc ; 10.6k

✮ synopsis ; You’re willing to do anything to pass your intro course. Whatever it takes. No cost is too high.

✮ a /n ; a comm for the beloved @fushironi !!! thank you for commissioning me and letting me post your work. if anyone is interested in a commission i will be reopening them at some point this month hopefully

A SIDE NOTE: THIS IS VERY CONSENSUAL!! but the relationship is inherently unethical so the dubcon tag is there. and this is. just smut. no plot no brain. just porn.

You're failing ethics.

You're failing ethics and failing it badly.

You refuse to take all of the blame for your failures. Some of it is your fault, but most of it is the fault of your good-for-nothing academic advisor. You're not sure what they get paid for, since it seems like there's an elaborate prank going on between staff and you're the only one not in on the joke. In what universe is it possible, plausible - that an individual could get paid for doing everything but their job?

Apparently this one. But whatever.

In your last semester of university, on the edge of graduating and totally on the right track - you're informed that you're not going to be able to graduate in the expected time frame because you are missing a single course. You learn this information about two days before registrations close, which means all the meaningful classes contributing to your major are booked and busy. Everything is full, and everything that isn't doesn't contribute to your degree. As in, even if you took it - it wouldn't give you what you need to graduate.

After a full-blown mental break, a long night crying yourself to sleep in your dorm, and an egregious amount of begging - you managed to snag yourself a class. It wasn't ideal by any stretch of the imagination, and it did put quite the strain on your schedule. Straight out of your 8am lab - you had to speed walk to the other end of campus and make sure you made it to lecture. The lecture time itself was an hour and twenty minutes, attendance mandatory, twice a week - which meant you had to delay lunch again till afterwards and learn on empty fumes till 1 pm.

Still, better than not graduating at all.

You'd hoped (expected?) that the course itself would be about average in coursework. For one, it's an intro class. Intro to Ethics or PHIL-2467, with Professor Getou Suguru. Secondly, the actual listed coursework seems simple enough. Discussion boards, reading analysis, and a few papers made up for most of the grade. The expectations were outlined as clearly as they could be.

You didn't really know anything about Professor Getou at the time, only that his ratemyprofessor described him as somewhat strict but mostly good.

In any case, you'd consider yourself lucky. And in an effort not to freak out about your circumstances, you'd practically chanted to yourself each night the same mantra. Everything was going to be fine. You've taken nearly 120 hours of coursework, and a little extra time won't kill you. At the start of the semester, you fully believed it too. Bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and utterly naive.

How could a single course torment you like this? You hadn't the faintest clue. At first, it struck you as odd that the course felt as difficult to grasp as it did. The readings were complex and extremely long but always said a lot of nothing. Much of your grade was dependent not only on assigned work but participation and discussion. The paper criteria was only simple on the surface, but proved to be too lengthy to comprehend and too difficult to fulfill.

Long story short, the class was kicking your ass. And the ass-kicking slowly progressed into a failure so bad it was laughable. You're in your final year, and that means taking a lot of difficult and specified courses in relation to your major. You were at the point where your classmates were starting to thin out, and you were seeing the same group of people you had as a freshman. As far as prioritizing goes, a 3-credit hour course that isn't technically meaningful to you falls to the very bottom of your priorities. You're more concerned with things like job-hunting and finishing your capstone and all the stuff related to your actual career.

So you've been half-assing all the papers and exams, falling asleep in class, and lowkey straight up ignoring the weekly discussion boards.

However, above everything else, the worst part of your class is your professor. Professor Getou Suguru. PhD in Comparative Ethics with a Masters in Cognitive Science.

You didn't really have a chance to speak with any of your friends about Professor Getou, despite it being in your best interest - because you only knew you had the class two days before it started. You'd come to learn only two things about him after attending. First, he's a complete hardass when it comes to grading any assignments, and second most of his merit comes from the fact he is ridiculously good-looking.

He can't be any older than his late thirties or early forties, which means he's young. Young enough to be attractive but old enough for most of your peers to thirst for him in unhealthy ways. He's at least a decade and a half older than you, and by god does he make it clear.

What they don't tell you about college is that there's nothing that can make or break a class more than your professor. Everyone is always too worried about everything else, about getting their schedule right - that they often overlook this basic tenet of college life even though it's so crucial. The worst part is that while various websites rating your professors are helpful, you won't truthfully know how you feel about a professor until you've met them in a classroom. You've had professors with lower ratings be absolute angels, and professors with higher ones being some of the most useless in your entire academic career.

You were hoping that Professor Suguru would be what you expected. That his astounding 4.5/5 would be a meaningful assessment of his character, that he would be tolerable and polite and understanding and that your semester would be smooth sailing because of it.

But of course, of course - that couldn't be further from the truth.

You don't know at what point exactly your relationship to Professor Suguru became as sour as it is right now. There's no real pivotal movement where mild intolerance became full-blown and outright distaste. But part of it, you know, stems from the fact your beloved professor is a snake.

You have no idea how no one else notices it. It genuinely feels like you're the only one who catches the subtleties of his behavior. There's just something about him that's a little…off. The irony isn't lost on you. He's an ethics professor, but something about him makes alarm bells go off in your head. A walking red flag, though a handsome one. He's off in a subtle way, but more than that - he's very openly smug to every single one of his students. It's just that no one else seems to really care. The air of pretension that surrounds him in his every movement is suffocating. Maybe that's part of the charm, if the way girls flock to him after class is anything to go by.

Even so, you just know there's something deliberate about his casual cruelties. He always seems to pick out the quiet kids, and from the beginning of your semester to now - he always, always manages to single you out of the crowd of students. In every class, in every discussion, in every chance he has to make you out to be a troublemaker he will.

Yes, you don't really have any idea how it started. But you've been keeping a long record of every single act of personal terror that damned man has been inflicting on you since the start of the course, and you're not unconvinced that your shit grade is in part because he wants to see you grovel in front of him.

The first time it happened - you figure it was a coincidence. He had called you out in class after you missed a discussion board. You hadn't done the reading, and it wasn't obviously humiliating but it singled you out all the same. When you fumbled coming up with an answer, he gave you a smug smile that so quickly morphed into a fake sincere one, you wondered if you were imagining things.

The second time was when you came in late after a walk of shame, and Professor Suguru greeted you by the door by asking if those were the same clothes you wore yesterday. After being completely mortified by it, the once dark gaze immediately rescinded to his usual fake-calm self. It was suspicious, but not the concrete evidence you needed.

And the third time was after your first project of the semester. Your grade was lower than you deserved, and you knew it - so you went to his office hours to bitch and moan to get it bumped up. But he wouldn't budge, saying that he thought his assessment was accurate. Made a smug face as he told you he just didn't think you thought your points out through. Unfair critiques shielded by flowery words and polite gestures. It was that moment that cemented the dislike, though it wasn't the start.

The beginning of the end, so to speak.

Ever since then, you've harbored nothing but dislike for him. You can see past his pretty face and you don't see anything good. You've had unpleasant professors before, but none have ever targeted you so specifically. None of your previous professors, even at the worst, seemed to hold such an unbelievable personal grudge.

You're all alone, fighting an invisible battle.

The worst of it though, is that you simply couldn't be bothered to give a shit about it for most of the semester. You had way too much going on, so you just had to put up with the inexplicable dread of attending that class until you had to deal with it again eventually.

And after months and months of avoiding the issue head-on, you're at a point where you can no longer do so. Your grade is officially below a C after bombing your last quiz, and there's only 5 weeks left until your semester is over and you're barred from graduation.

And you have no fucking idea what you should do about the situation.

There's a subtle pit of dread in your stomach as you enter your first philosophy lecture of the week.

For the first time since the start of the semester, Professor Getou doesn't antagonize you as soon as you enter the door. In a strange way, this makes you kind of uncomfortable. He gives you his usual fake smile, but the fact he's gone out of his way to leave you alone makes you feel like he's planning something.

You brush your paranoia aside as you take a seat in the back of your class. You don't have any friends in this lecture, at least not ones you do more than greet. You sit closer to the back of the lecture hall, tucked into a corner and up a few steps.

The charms on the end of your book bag zippers click together as you take your seat. You open your laptop - pulling up the lecture slides to pretend to study while opening 2048 to play while Professor Getou goes on about his business. You're hoping he's going to go easy on you today, and that his lack of interference is a sign of mercy.

More people start to trickle in and the classroom is the usual amount of packed it is by this point in the semester. The last day to drop passed last week, so the number of students has decreased despite it being spring semester.

Your professor starts his lecture as soon as the clock hits 11:30am. You look up from your computer, watching him as he sets up his slide deck and waits for all the conversation to settle before he begins talking.

He catches your eyes briefly before he continues, but he holds it for long enough that you know it's intentional. You frown at him, and it almost looks like he laughs - but you can't be sure your mind isn't tricking you into thinking that.

"Good morning everybody," His voice is smooth and pleasant - hair tied up neatly. He's wearing his usual attire. Black slacks, and a loose-fitting white shirt with some kind of canvas shoe. "How's everybody hanging in there? Good? Bad?"

He takes a look around the room, gauging peoples replies before chuckling.

"Not in good shape huh? Stick it out, a few more weeks and you'll be out of here. Today, we're going to continue on into section five of our coursework - the shortest of all of our other sections," He grabs something that clicks the slide into the next one, a few images next to a wall of text "We have a lot to cover in the last few weeks, but I want to start with a refresh of what concepts we've been learning for the last few weeks."

The swiftness in the way his eyes land on you is comical in its predictability. You give him an uncomfortable half-smile as he calls your name and brings the class's attention your way. A few looks of pity don't go unnoticed. You stiffen, straighten your back as he says your name slowly before asking.

"Do you think you can tell me, what are the four core structures that define modern Japanese philosophical thinking?"

There's real, uncomfortable weight to his gaze that makes you choke. You pull back slightly.

"Uhm, well - there's Shintoism, Confucianism, Buddhism and western ideology. Primarily German idealism."

He gives you a smug look, the same one you always see before it fades off to an uncannily brilliant smile. Not a sincere one, because when is it ever - but there all the same.

"Someone's been studying hard huh? But you are correct. We've spent the majority of this class going over the first three. How Shinto tradition, Confucianism, and Buddhism were experienced in Japan - isolated from Anglo-Saxon influence for the first few centuries of its establishment. We've also studied the vague historical timeline of these influences, mostly focusing on modern philosophy. We've covered Edo period philosophy as a precursor for what we know and understand now."

You can say a lot about Professor Getou, but more than anything - he has a certain way of commanding the room's attention that never lets you get completely comfortable. He has an air of charisma you've never seen in your life and being in close proximity to it makes you feel like you're being swept in by waves larger than life.

You fidget almost anxiously as you wait for him to continue his lesson.

"Our last few weeks are going to cover the culmination of your previous lessons, and what dictates both national morality and the hierarchy of modern Japanese social mores - Bushido. The way of the Samurai."

Professor Getou continues with this slide deck as he outlines Bushido conceptually. From its existence as a moral code in late 12th century Japan, to the many misconceptions about the strictness in which it was adhered. He starts the lessons like he starts many others, explaining misconception and myth before touching the surface of the subject at hand.

It's in his nature to advocate for the whole truth. From the start of your classes to now, Professor Getou always places the same emphasis. If only that truth is unable to be understood without opposition. It's like his whole being is constructed by it, opposition that is always radical and jaw-dropping. You've known this about him since he voiced his open critique for certain ideas about social welfare and about the emphasis of national morality.

You can't be certain what he really believes - only that he'll voice his views as critically as possible, if only to stir the room.

"Bushido is the heart and soul of modern and postmodern Japanese ethics, but it remains critically undefined despite its usage and citation functionally. Other philosophical schools of thought have strict definitions - Bushido is evolutionary in nature. Inazo Nitobe is primarily credited with the modern and popular interpretation of Bushido, but has received criticism for its obvious influence from Western ideas, and its comparison to chivalry."

Professor Getou sits back on the edge of his desk with a look on his face.

"The tendency of Japanese philosophy to lean into metaphysics does not align with the many values of infrastructure and military present in the culture now, but I'm not going to critique the philosophy for you," He skips to the next slide, your last project of the semester on the wall "For the sake of brevity, I'm going to have you write a paper on one of the eight outlined ideals in Nitobe's work, and I want you to reflect on that ideal in your paper."

A collective whispering erupts in the class as people stress about the assignment of their final few weeks. Not unexpected given the circumstances. Professor Getou doesn't flinch as he waits for the room to settle down.

"This will be your final project in this classroom, and will count as your final grade. On one hand, doing a good job on it means you have nothing to worry about for the last few weeks. On the other it's make or break," He locks eyes with you again as he says this, startling you as his smile grows coy and inauspicious "So if you're in need of a good grade to pass you, I'd recommend coming to see me during office hours or during one-on-one time so I can get you the grade you need. We'll discuss more at the end of class, but we've gotta get through more lectures so you can get an idea of what you can pick."

He gives you one another look, another pointed and obviously direct look, before he proceeds on with his lecture. It gives you a bad feeling in your stomach, and maybe you're being too self-centered thinking he's focusing too much on you.

But you can't help it, swallowing down your uncertainty as you continue on with the lesson.

You need to pass this class.

___

You meet up with Nobara after the fact.

She's a good sounding board for your problems as usual. Where you're always looking for the most civil solutions, she's good at giving it to you straight on what you should do. She's no bullshit and you like that about her. Whenever you need a kick in the ass or an ounce of courage, she's the person for the job.

So after meeting up for lunch, ranting again about Professor Getou (for the hundredth—no, thousandth time), and whining about his weird behavior, you're expecting some semi-sound, if not mean advice on what you should do.

"Have you thought about just fucking him?" She says instead, her voice full of sincere boredom. It comes out so casually, like she's relaying the news cycle to you - and you can't help but be utterly shocked listening to it. "Not that it was my first suggestion, but I mean…it's getting ridiculous."

"Hello? Where the hell did that come from? What do you mean just fucking him?"

She gives you a sideways glance of disdain as if you were the one saying something unreasonable. She leans forward into her hand mirror, gluing on her eyelashes for her afternoon date with Maki. She scoffs when she realizes your shock is genuine.

"Are you serious? Does this not read as an elaborate scheme for this total jackass to fuck you?"

You're flabbergasted. Surely she's not being serious with you.

"Nobara."

"Haah? Tch. Don't make that face. It's a gross abuse of his power but well, he's not ugly. If he were any younger of a professor, would you like… not assume that was the end game?"

"Nobara, he's a professor of ethics. His whole career is ethics."

"Yeah. Like. The perfect cover for wanting to screw his wide-eyed, desperate students. He's a hot, young professor. Not my type but you get me. Don't you think it's a little naive to assume his personal vendetta against you is shit, I don't know… totally lacking that motive? Think with your brain, not your tender little heart for a minute, okay?"

"It's not that!"

"Really? Just like your relationship with Mr. Fushiguro is totally platonic?"

"I said it was one-sided, not platonic."

"You're my whole heart and soul, you know that right? I didn't freak on you when you said you had a crush on Megumi's deadbeat dad. You're my salvation from the idiots we call guy friends. So I'm saying this with love, and not as the complete bitch you know me as - you're being dumb."

"Nobara, are you seriously saying you think this whole thing is about him wanting to," You can barely even get the words out. You're not that much of a prude but god. "Wanting to have… sex with me?"

"Yeah. What else would it even be? I think an awful man is interested in screwing you - a hot, capable twenty-something. Are you stupid? Is that like, sooo impossible for you to consider?"

"Well it's not the first place I would think to go, that's for sure."

"And that's your whole problem. Don't get me wrong, again, totally gross. Is it like.. a total abuse of his authority? Yeah. But that doesn't have anything to do with you personally. If I'm right, and you fuck him - you get a good lay and to graduate. And you need both."

"Nobara!"

"Don't be mad, I love you, okay? But I'm thinking about your future and your prospects. There's nothing wrong with it on a technical level."

"That is so untrue and you know it—"

"Look. I don't like it. I think it's a weak move and kind of corny and gross. But you've been planning your big graduation for years. And it's not a bad opportunity, and you're not a complete idiot. You said before that he's never inappropriate with the other girls right? You might even be the only one. As far as I'm concerned, there's no reason for you to not get laid and pass."

"Oh, so the student-teacher thing isn't reason enough?"

"Not if you wanna graduate it's not."

The two of you remain at a stand-still as his words trap you into a corner. How the hell do you even deal with this information? And how on Earth is she so sure of herself anyways? You think you're pretty good with signs, at least about things like this.

But it doesn't feel like flirting. He's never flirted with any of the students in class, despite how much they seem to fawn over him. Could this weird, psychological dance you've been doing for the last twelve weeks be some sort of unspoken foreplay ritual?

The more you think about it, the less it seems implausible to you. There's a wave after that, some cross between impending doom and shameful arousal blooming up inside of you as everything hits you all at the same time.

When you return to reality after being trapped in your thoughts, Nobara gives you a mindful (almost pitiful) smile and shakes her head. You frown at her in reply, squeezing the bridge of your nose.

"If it were like literally anyone else, I'd totally tell them it's a bad idea. But it's not like you're going on to date him, and you're what - 24? because of your gap year so you're not a preteen like some of the freshmen in your class. I just don't see any reason not to go for it."

You tamp down the small voice in the back of your head, encouraging you to do - and instead ask her a follow-up question.

"...Do you think I should attend his office hours tomorrow, yes or no? I have to email him by tonight to get the one on one."

"Yeah. Yes. And shave before you go."

You decide, for the sake of your sanity and everyone else's - to ignore Nobara's odd implications about what Professor Getou wants from you and to attend his office hours.

(That's a partial lie, you figure - given the fact you did shave, and shower before attending. You're wearing something kind of nice underneath. But you still don't think he wants to fuck you. It's more of a safety precaution than anything else.)

You made the game plan last night that you would go, present your idea, and then beg him to be kind to you during the grading process. You even developed a list of things to sob and cry about it to generate something of a sob story if everything went awry. You've forsaken your pride. The only thing that you need to get out of this meeting is a passing grade.

And that is, of course, by any means necessary.

Fearing for your life, the state of your mood improves as you approach the building hosting Professor Getou's office. Of all of the people you interact with semi-regularly on campus (all of which you are quite fond of), Nobara wasn't lying about your affection for campus security guard - Toji Fushiguro.

He's an older man. Older than you by double digits, and from what you can tell - older than even your professor. You've been fond of him ever since he brought you back to your dorm after a horrible break-up with your ex as a sophomore. He's got a rough edge, and there's plenty of unverified rumors of his past. You know that he has something of a criminal record too.

But for all of those rumors, and for all the things you hear about him - he's been one of the highlights of your campus experience. You've had a one-sided school-girl crush on him ever since that night, because you were sober enough to catch his body and how it feels. He was strong. Not in an average way. He made it so effortless when he was carrying you home in his arms - and it's not the first time you've seen him lug around things at least over 300 pounds like they were nothing.

But attractiveness aside, he is uncharacteristically good at cheering you up. He's funny and witty, all while maintaining a cool facade. He's endearing in his own way too, and you're a little head over heels for him though you'd never push yourself to make the first move.

Still, when he sees you come towards the building - he greets you with a wide smile. The scar over his busted lip - split open and welcoming as you run up to him for a hug. He's normally patrolling around campus, so it feels lucky to catch him where you least expect.

He wraps you up with a single arm, your feet temporarily lifting from the ground before you get put back down again.

"Mr. Fushiguro, what are you doing here?"

"I got moved over here since there's been some rumor about someone stealing from the labs upstairs. So I'm on lock up duty for this building 'till it gets fixed up and solved," He says, voice as smooth as ice "What about you sweetheart? It's gonna get dark out soon."

"Ah, I have office hours with Professor Getou today. I need to consult with him about a paper."

"That right? Just gonna be you in there, then?"

"Yep. I'm gonna go in there and beg him for a good grade on our next assignment. So for the sake of my sanity, please wish me luck?"

Mr. Fushiguro tilts his head to one side, grinning.

"Wouldn't that mean you graduate sooner instead of later? Can't wish ya luck on that." He says, making you flush and letting the feeling linger before continuing "Just kiddin'. A pretty face like yours should do you just fine. Knock 'em dead."

"I feel a lot better about it with your encouragement." You say honestly. Mr. Fushiguro gives you a laugh.

"Treat me to something if my luck makes any difference. And hurry in. Last thing you'd wanna do is be late."

You nod, wide-eyed and dazed by how charismatic he is before you rush into the building. It's silent, given how late in the school day it is. Most people have already gone home, with the exception of the other poor souls likely chasing down their professors for the same reasons as you.

You feel an overwhelming sensation of dread as you encroach upon Professors Getou's office. There's no one else in the close vicinity, only a few closed classrooms and students who are passing by the small corner where his door resides - most of which are making their way to leave.

You decide to take a deep breath, calming your shaken nerves before knocking politely once on his door and entering the room.

Professor Getou's office looks like how you'd expect it to look. It's clean, and sleek - and lacking almost completely of items of personal effect with the exception of his desk. It's the first time you've ever been inside of the room before, but it smells distinctly of him. He has that same scent surrounding him, like flicks of nicotine and a hint of bergamot. Sweet with the taste of metallic bitterness, like blood and sugar.

You feel the back of your throat bob as you see your Professor sitting at his desk. It's lacking his usual gracefulness. His shirt is unbuttoned down by three entire buttons, and his slacks seem looser. Most notable is his hair - classically long, now in a loose bun with pieces falling all on his shoulders and rolling down his neck.

You think of what Nobara said to you earlier in the day alone, a strange and overwhelming sensation of lust and embarrassment making it difficult for you to open your voice and talk.

It's Professor Getou who greets you first. He looks up from whatever he was reading and looks at you from where you stand awkwardly at his door. His smile widens, though it's just by a little.

"Ah, I was wondering when you'd be here. Looks like you're right on time." He says first, sitting up in his chair but not bothering to gather himself in any way otherwise "Come on in and sit. I assume you're here to talk about your grade."

You sit across from him hesitantly, hands folded in your lap as you put your bag down on the floor.

He studies you quietly. There's a long stretch of silence, where neither of you do anything but sit in each other's company.

He breaks the silence first.

"So, while I have a guess," He says, elbows on his desk "Do you want to talk to me about what you're here for?"

You've practiced the dialogue in your head so many times now. What to do and how to say what you need too, but the words seem to fizzle out completely when it's time to really say them. Leaving nothing but uncertainty, you open your mouth only to close it once again.

"Uhm," Your voice strains trying to make the words out into a coherent sentence. "I came to talk about my paper. And my grade, like you mentioned in class."

"So you decided to heed my advice? Good girl, that was a smart choice," You try not to be taken aback by the pet name - unsure if it's as inappropriate as you think it is "Do you know what virtue you want to cover?"

"I thought I would pick uhm, righteousness - and then pull from some of the Western ethics we learned about. Making uh, connections between deontological ethics and duty and how it relates to the defined idea of righteousness," You explain nervously, an uncomfortable laugh bubbling out of your throat "How practicing duty and righteousness relate to each other."

"Hmm. Sounds like you've had time to think about it a little, then."

"I uhm, haven't finished the reading but I did take a look over my section to see if I could make it work."

"I think you have something to work with. You'll need to straighten out the thesis of your paper into something more tangible. I know that's an ironic ask. But I think it's a good idea," He gives you a brief glance, studies you with eyes. Snake-like. Something coils inside of you, tickles and brushes against your skin and makes the hairs on the back of your neck raise "It seems like you have something more to tell me, though."

Do you? Is there anything more there? The answer lies indifferently on a scale from obviously to no. nothing at all and it haunts you that he's able to pick it out.

"It's just well. Uhm. You know, I don't have the best grade in this class so I was more prepared to go down with my grade. You approved quicker than I thought you would."

"Your grade is pretty abysmal. Did you come in here planning to beg?"

You refrain from an instant yes, even though it's what you feel. Something about the way he says it makes your stomach clench. Your heart quickens. Your tongue feels too heavy in your mouth as you laugh uncomfortably.

"Something like that? Uhm, or at least try to hash things out between us. I know our relationship over the c-course of the semester has been kind of sour so I…"

He cuts you off.

"Has it?"

Your brain stutters to halt.

"Uhm. Yes?"

It's unpredictable, utterly and completely - the way he reflects on your words like you've said something incomprehensible. You aren't sure if that's sincere. You can't be sure if any of the words out of his mouth are. But he doesn't seem like he's lying. Your mind flashes to Nobara, and you find yourself speaking before you can stop it. It comes out like a flood.

"I j-just always assumed you singled me out in class because you didn't like me? I don't mean to be accusatory, though."

"I'm afraid you've got the wrong idea," He says, shaking his head "I don't harbor any negative feelings for you at all."

"Oh," You say, eyes falling down to your lap again "Right, then."

"You must be desperate for that passing grade, hm? If you're meeting with a professor you think hates you."

You glance at him.

"Well, yes. I want—need to pass this class. I've already planned my graduation for this semester."

"And you'd be willing to do anything for that, is what you're implying?"

"Yes," You say, with a sudden rush of unwavering confidence "Anything."

"Let me ask you another question, then." He lets his elbows rest on the edge of his table, a familiar coy smile "Do you think there's any other reason for why I've been paying special attention to you, aside from me disliking you? You're a smart girl, so I'm sure you'll be able to figure it out."

The weight of his words don't go unnoticed. The air feels heavy as it hangs between you. He couldn't be implying it so directly could he? Your mind drifts back to Nobara's warning to you, and your breath hitches. Your eyes widen as you glance up for the first time and give him a look of mild distress.

And he smiles. His grin widens as soon as it dawns on you.

"Seems like you've reached an important conclusion," He says, casually - as he sits up in his chair and leans back. Stretched like nothing could get in his way "Why don't you share with the class?"

"You," Your voice is a nervous tremor. You must be crazy. You must be completely out of your mind "...To sleep with me?"

"See? I told you, you're a smart girl."

The question is a burning one. One you've been wanting to ask since you started thinking about it last night.

"B-but…why? And why me? A-and,"

"You have a tendency for being combative. You know that? An air of defiance. I can tell you're a little older than your peers. A little wiser, and a little more knowing of when to ask for help," Getou outlines, staring you down "And seeing you with that sense of desperation was exciting for me. I'm a man of simple tastes. At my age, I know what I want."

"And I like when tough, combative, clever women turn into babbling, desperate, needy girls. I'm quite fond of it, actually."

He's detrimentally serious. Your stomach flips.

"Do you want to pass this class?" He asks you, an air of confidence surrounding him. You close your eyes, unsure if you can call it coercion when you're feeling so terribly willing about it.

"Yes. I need to pass."

"Then come up here," He gestures, widens his legs and leans back in his chair "And sit."

Your body is burning. You don't know if you're even really in the situation, or if you've daydreamed it into something impossible. Something phantom moves you. Stands you to your feet shakily before walking in short strides. Professor Getou looks at you from where you stand over him.

His hand brushes your outer thigh, patting it.

"Sit."

So you sit. You spread yourself and straddle your professor - and the reality dawns on you the minute you touch what you're doing. You haven't gotten laid in a bit, and he's nothing like anyone you've ever slept with. You feel out of your element. You get the impression he's a man, a grown one. There's a confidence in him that looms and looms and looms, overshadowing any of your doubt.

He's sexier up close. There's the faintest trace of smile lines on his expression as you look down at him. He guides your arms to loop around your neck, and holds your hips with his hands.

Then you feel it, almost instantly - something hard and bulging pressing against the seam of your pants and against your crotch. He's already half-hard and he hasn't even kissed you. He grins at you lazily, like a cat with cream.

"I'll pass you as soon as I put it in," His hands are so big - long, slender fingers gripping your ass "And give you extra credit when you cum for me. How's that sound?"

You feel dirty. It's all happening so fast. Almost vulgar, but it's impossible to feel cheap. To believe in the wrongness of it when Professor Getou is so undeniably sexy. Wrong, on so many levels, to do this for the sake of your grade. Or just in general. Yet you want it, yearn for it, find the culmination of all your annoyances melting as he graces you himself.

"I wanna pass," You say, uncharacteristically nervous about everything. You add the next part a little quieter "...I want it."

"What do you want, exactly?"

"Want you to fuck me." You admit, against your better judgment "Please?"

"Gonna make a real pretty mess out of you," He says, voice smooth and serene. You look down at him. His knuckles brush against your jaw, on your cheek before his thumb holds on your lower mouth. His fingers push past the edge of your lips, sliding against your tongue and gently running along your teeth. He gags you on it, so slightly - enough to startle you but not enough to hurt. You feel spit pour from your lips.

Thick messy strings of drool drip down the sides of your mouth. You want to back away in shame. But there's an air of intention behind the gesture. It's deliberate, the action - the mess and how it runs down your neck. Before you know it, he's kissing you in that same state.

Professor Getou kisses like he's done it before.

His hands grip on your ass as he kisses hot and heavy. Self-assured, he sucks and bites at your mouth - sticking his tongue in and mixing his saliva with yours in a way that feels downright dirty. Yet it makes you throb, white-hot flames licking at the back of your thighs. The sparks of arousal crawl up your skin.

Your nerves tighten as Professor Getou cups your face with one palm, kissing you with fervor. You melt into him, arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

"Been thinking about what you would look like bent over my desk all semester," He says as he pulls away, looking on with admiration at your messy complexion "You wanna go on ahead and show me?"

Another wave of embarrassment washes over you, but you find yourself standing to your feet. Sliding your sweats off down your legs - your lower half is left bare with the exception of your feet. You lay or stomach on his desk, the cold wood sending chills up your whole body and your stomach and tits lay flat and squishy against the hard material. You stand, shoulder width apart, and present yourself in front of him.

"That's what I like to see," His voice is rich and deep as he speaks. You can feel him inch towards you, pulling you apart with his palms before his hand comes down on your ass in one hard motion. The noise echoes against the walls of the room "See, I knew you could listen well when you had to."

You don't say anything in reply, pressing your cheek against the desk.

"W-what do I call you?" You ask, your voice trembling. You feel his fingers against the seam of your panties. He snaps the cotton waistband against your skin before humming thoughtfully, a light tap to your ass.

"Getou is fine. Suguru is too. Sir if that makes you more comfortable."

Getou makes a show of fondling you, though you can't see it - you can feel the way his eyes nearly swallow your naked lower half. How his fingers touch and prod all of your sensitive places, with some kind of keen observation. Everything Getou says is like that, keen and particular.

"Such a pretty pussy on you. Would've been such a waste if you didn't come to me."

You don't bother to ask what he means by that. Behind you, there's a noise. Of a chair rolling back, and the dull thud of knees hitting the ground. Before you know what's happening, there's a face dangerously close to your clothed pussy. The minute you try to squirm, there's a tight grip keeping you in place. He takes a deep breath. Without any real hesitance, you feel his tongue lick across the clothed material.

In one fell swoop, he pulls your panties to one side and kisses your clit without any more real introduction. You're gripping the edge of the table you're bent over as you feel his tongue slide against the wet folds of your pussy, making your voice cry out involuntarily. Normally people would urge you to be quiet, but you got the feeling he didn't care if anyone heard you crying out for him. You get a second wave of intuition telling you he might even like it.

A sensation of bliss washes over you as he sucks hungrily at your cunt. It feels good enough to be holy. There's such immense expertise in it that you can't help but succumb to it completely. The warm, heavy muscle gliding over sticky folds.

You're so lost in the pleasure, your mind completely blocks out the intrusion. The sense that would detect another person in the room disappears completely. You only know because of Getou, the way he stops and scoffs. It forces you to blink your eyes open. He speaks before you get the chance.

"What are you doing here?"

You recognize the voice instantly, and your heart drops through your stomach.

"Thought I heard a ghost howling," Mr. Fushiguro says, his voice is rougher and deeper and older "Turn out it was just a little girl wanderin' into the woods."

"If you can see I'm busy, why're you still here?"

You can't help but feel the second wave of overwhelming shock as you sit there, naked and unafraid. Still, they stand like nothing is wrong. Chat like they know each other somehow, but you have no idea in which way. All you can focus on is the bubbling, nauseating shame.

"Oh god." You voice, but both others ignore. Mr.Fushiguro speaks first.

"This one is off-limits, Suguru. What kinda professor goes around fuckin' their innocent little students?"

"Just the one, Mr. Fushiguro. And I'd like to get back to business."

"Ah, no way I'm letting you off the hook. I could report this y'know? Make headlines. Ethics professor coerces student into sexual activity. It'd be big.

Your heart drops.

"Fuck off, would you? Does she look coerced?"

A beat of silence. "Nah. Not with the way she's twitchin'. But it's not fun if I just let you go. How about you tap me in and I'll keep your little secret hm? She's gotta cute crush on me already."

Your heart flounces around in your chest, a muffled noise of shock escaping your lips as you squirm to move but are held, still, so firmly in place. Your expression and feelings all go through 5 stages of grief before settling at dumbfounded. They don't especially ask for your input, but you hear Professor Getou behind you.

"Fine, if it'll get you to shut up. And I'm fucking her first."

Strange. Nothing about today makes any sense. You don't miss the almost childish sense of competition in Getou's voice that changes your view of him in an instant. Humanizes him in the strangest and most unrecognizable ways. It lacks his usual virtue.

Mr. Fushiguro walks up in front of you, imposing. He's grinning, a well-worn smile on his face that you know. He helps you up, and you keep yourself upright on your arms as he grabs your chin with his palms. You look up at him wide-eyed, unsure of what to do.

"Dirty fucking girl aren't ya?" He says, though he almost sounds like he's impressed with himself

"You into older men or is it a coincidence you're screwing 'im for your grade?"

You're speechless, and you moan a little pathetically as Getou doesn't stop eating you out. This only seems to make Mr. Fushiguro even more excited. You look up at him through wet lashes, unsure of what to do.

"Don't mind either way, just curious. Guess I'm a little sad 'cause I thought your little heart eyes around me made me special," He tells you this looking down at you, eyes locked. You can tell he's just teasing you, and it makes you twitch "But I guess that's not true, is it?"

"You're different. I uhm. Well it's true at least."

"Yeah? You're just letting both of us fuck you 'cause you're like a bitch 'n heat?"

You flush. He gives you a smile and a well-meaning laugh that makes your body feel warm with heat.

"Mind if we're a little rough on you, sweetheart?"

You shake your head.

"Good. Stick your tongue out and open your mouth for me then."

You listen, oblige the instructions almost obediently. Your face is still covered with spit from before. You watch idly, intently - as Mr. Fushiguro pulls his cock out from his black pants. The loose material covers him well, but as soon as they're down past his thighs - the outline of his cock borders on intrusive. Your eyes widen, fluttering and unfocused because it's hard to think about anything while feeling such intense pleasure.

But Mr. Fushiguro is captivating as he pulls himself out for you. His cock is thick and heavy, protruding but too much that it can't stand up on its own. Weighed down by gravity, you stare at it wide-eyed. It's the size of your forearm, so thick you can't possibly imagine what it feels like.

Your heart stammers.

"It won't fit in my mouth." You say, gasping for air as if you're already suffocating on it "You're—you're so huge."

He laughs with an edge of snark. You blink at him in complete seriousness, taken aback. He lets the tip of his cock tap the plushness of your cheek before pressing against your lips. You stare at him, almost afraid.

"Of course it'll fit," He says in confidence "Just gotta make sure you're relaxed. So relax, sweetheart, and open your mouth for me."

Hesitantly, you open your mouth wide. You feel the corners of your lips stretch around the intrusive, thick head of Mr. Fushiguro's cock. The taste of sweat and skin is invasive and heavy, violating your senses. Just the tip and it barely fits in your mouth. You try and concentrate, sticking your tongue out and curling it around the underneath of his cock, focusing on sucking just the tip. He groans above you, a hand on the back of your head. He doesn't force you down, but you can tell by the twitch in his fingers that he wants to.

"Look at you," He says, his voice coarse with restraint and desire "You're drooling on my cock while you're professors busy eatin' your pussy. Thought you were an innocent girl, but now I don't know what to believe."

He says this as he eases more into your mouth, slowly letting you adjust. He rocks his hips back and forth until you relax. You open yourself up, trying to focus on blowing him.

But a hand comes down on your ass, hard and heavy - making you yelp. The noise is muffled but audible. A short squeal, you can't turn your head to look

"Don't you think you two are getting too comfortable upfront without me? I'm the one who decides your grades."

"Maybe you're not doing good enough for her to care."

You can feel a strange sense of competition between them, but you're too occupied to ask about it. How do they know each other, and for what reason do they seem so automatically hostile? It bothers you, but you can't think about it too hard.

"That's not true. Her pussy is soaking fucking wet." He punctuates his words with a harsh smack against your cunt, the force rippling through your as you bend forward and choke "Almost as messy as her face."

He's quick, again, to latch himself to your clit. He flicks it with his tongue, licking it mercilessly as your brain starts to fog up with desire. Like he's trying to prove a point, you moan around Mr. Fushiguro's cock as your pleasure starts to thrum up again. The back of your legs tense, trembling as a knot begins to uncoil in your lower stomach. The cock in your mouth moves too, using the distracted moans to ease himself even deeper into the wet, arm cavern of your mouth.

Your head feels heavy, body weak as the both of them use you to their contents. Your stomach starts to stir as a familiar feeling of euphoria claws at you.

You cum for the first time like that, your body pressed against a wood desk - restrained and under careful watch of two men. Your whole body explodes - white, hot nerves fraying off and ricocheting off your ribs inside of you. Your insides shake as the wave of an orgasm washes over your entire body. You gasp, clenching down hard and gasping as tremors of orgasm pulse and push through your whole body. Something in you ignites as you grip the edge of the desk for your life, trying to keep yourself upright as Getou pushes you through the orgasm.

You've barely recovered when Mr. Fushiguros pulls out of your mouth, pressing his spit-soaked cock against your face and cheeks with a smile. You let it slide against your tongue, eyes fluttering open as your face gets covered in precum and saliva.

"You look so fucking filthy right now, you know that? But it looks good on you. I'm dying to fuck you."

"Mr. Fushiguro," You groan. He clicks his teeth.

"Toji's just fine sweetheart."

You whimper helplessly as you ride out your high. Behind you, your professor pulls away. You peek behind you to see him, flush as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

Toji looks down at your frazzled expression with a grin, teeth showing as he cups your jaw a second time and slides his cock back in one go. This time, he pushes his cock in the base - keeping your throat around him with a hand on the back of your head.

"Just focus on me for now, baby. Focus on sucking me off, yeah? Just like that, easy easy. He's gonna open you up. Stretch you nice and make your pussy all sloppy. That's what you want right?"

Getou leans over you, the weight of his body looming as you feel slender fingers slide through your sticky folds. His middle and index brush against your abused clit, rubbing a few circles into it before pulling away. He grabs your arms and positions them behind your back, gripping them in one hand to keep you restrained. You squirm against the gesture, unable to get any leeway as he holds you down. Then you feel his fingers move, middle finger catching on your wet hole as it trembles and sticks. He opens you up like this without any warning.

His middle finger goes first - delicately intrusive as your pussy widens to accommodate him. They're so much bigger than yours. Just one feels like two of your own. You push back out of instinct but Getou doesn't let you move. He buries himself, pushing in and out until he's able to fuck your pussy all the way down to the knuckle. Once there's no longer any resistance, he pulls back and makes room for another. The sensation is duller, lets you clear your head and think even as Toji rubs his cock on your face and fucks your mouth in short ruts.

Not enough to make you choke, but enough to smear something hot and nasty all over you.

Professor Getou repeats the process with his pointer, pushing and stretching and opening until you can't fight it anymore. With two fingers, he scissors them trying to make your insides soft enough for him to take you.

"You're stretching out for me like it's nothing. You must be turned on, hm? Like getting all your holes used like this? Getting your face-fucked by a man old enough to be your father?"

Toji laughs harshly, smacking your face lightly, enough it doesn't hurt but enough to make you feel it.

"She loves it. She's clenching down on you tight ain't she?"

"Sure is. All this for a grade. Maybe I should've bullied you about it a little more first. Since you're so eager."

"Gonna give her extra credit for this?"

"I should deduct points for the fact you're even near here."

He laughs good-naturedly at this point, and you're still having trouble making sense of their relationship. You manage to speak for the first time in forever, voice barely there as you go to question them. You're not expecting any solid answers.

"How do you two know each other?" You ask, before Toji starts fucking your mouth again

"Goes a long way back. And we're still on bad terms, so congrats on bringing us together, sweetheart. Kind of an expected reunion really."

"He's been working here since Professor Gojo and I were students here and we knew him from before. A long story. Don't worry your pretty little head about it."

The burning question is quick to fade out of your mind as you feel your professor's clothed bulge rest against your cunt. You moan, a clipped needy sound as you nearly beg him to fuck you. Toji bends over you this time, reaching back to spread your pussy open by grabbing your ass. You can feel the grip of his hands, strong and assured.

"She's gettin' impatient. Give it to her."

"Don't need your help with that." Getou spits, irritation sounding in his words.

"Consider it an apology."

The air of tension is there temporarily, before Getou pulls his cock from the confines of his boxers. You can't see it, eyes squeezed tight as you work your mouth and tongue Toji's length. You can feel it though. He makes a show of rubbing his cock against your puffy, sore cunt. You get a feel for its shape as he pushes it between your thighs and lets it cling in between your lips. Professor Getou's cock is longer and more narrow, but it curves upright. It's hard, throbbing between your legs. Whining helplessly you wiggle your ass again. You feel increasingly restless about needing something inside of you. You're still bound though, completely and utterly unable to move. Toji's hand comes down heavy on your ass as you do, clicking his teeth in faux irritation.

"Don't fucking move unless you want my handmark on your ass forever," He says, his voice cool and forgiving "Impatient."

Getou must feel something inside of him merciful enough to keep you waiting. Even with all the stretching and prep, the minute you feel the head of your cock push through - something inside of you snaps. It's still so big, still too much, still reaches a part of you so deep you didn't know it was there. The position itself - still being on your stomach, makes it reach so much farther than other positions. The raw, skin-to-skin contact leaves your tummy fluttering, skin prickling with heat. Your top is pushed up enough to expose your lower back and your skin is pulsing. You feel like your whole body is on fire, suspended between men so much older than that want nothing more than to fuck you.

Every time you try to wiggle away from the sensations, Toji's hand comes down heavy on your backside. It doesn't matter how minuscule the movement. If he gets the idea that you're going to try and pull away, he spanks you hard enough that the room echoes with the sound. Your skin tingles, phantom sensation left before as you're held open and made to take your professor's cock - obedient and wanting.

Inch by miserable inch, it takes forever to take him down to the base. Your toes curl, eyes shut and mouth sloppily trying to keep up with the cock in your mouth and just barely succeeding.

He groans behind you, shuddering

"That's incredible," He praises, and it feels so good to hear him saying something so overtly kind you don't know if you want to laugh or cry "Your pussy is fucking incredible. Shit."

"You hear that? You gotta. Pussy's twitchin' like crazy. Ass is too, how cute."

"Feels sho good," You slur, brain clear of any and all rational thought as a string of saliva drips down your chin "Please fuck me, please,"

"You heard her teach."

Toji lets go of you and returns back to where you are. He pulls his cock away from you, instead holding you up and cupping your mouth open. He kisses you, after everything - with all of his pre-spend in your mouth before spitting into it harshly and kissing it again.

"Such a pretty face you're makin' right now." He says, something of a warm and unprecedented affection to it "So excited to get your pussy filled up."

He leans you on him, lets you wrap around his midriff, and squeeze tight while he pets the back of your hair in a strange streak of affection. You don't know what to make of anything. All you can feel is the long cock pounding into you without any mercy. Razor-sharp thrusts, nudging against your swollen g-spot and pounding into your cunt with immeasurable force. A man so much older than you is fucking you, pounding your pretty little pussy, and turning you into a complete mess. He's meant to be a mentor to you, but he has his cock imprinting itself inside of you over and over and over.

Your stomach feels hot again, but some other feeling takes you over as Toji cradles you - watching you just as intently. He talks you through with confidence you can't entirely understand.

"Yeah, that's it. Tighten up for him, just like that. Feels good doesn't it? I know baby, I know."

You whine out in Toji's arms as he talks you through it. Behind you, you feel Getou's grip hold you tight as he pistons you. The sound of his thighs smacking against your ass is noisy, almost as noisy as your pussy. Slick wet, sounding each time he thrusts.

"I'm not gonna last like this, shit." He pumps into you a few more types before his hips stutter to a halt. He cums with his cock buried deep inside of you, filling you all the way to the brim. You feel his white, hot seed fill your belly, cock twitching as he unloads and makes your legs shake.

A sense of emptiness overwhelms you as Getou pulls out, landing a hit on your ass as he shakes. He kisses your spine.

The two of them switch places without communicating with each other about it. Getou pulls out, and away - coming back in front of you and picking you up in his arms as Toji positions himself behind you. He spreads your cunt out with his fingers, examining the seed left over with a light laugh.

"Gonna fuck into your sloppy little cunt, give you another load where you need it and make you cum." Toji says, not hesitating at all. You feel your breathing start to quicken as he takes the same positions as before.

Toji doesn't neglect touching you as his arm curls around your waist, calloused fingertips brushing against your clit before his cock pushes into you. Your pussy takes him much easier, but even so - Toji is just so thick, you can't help but feel him all over again. This time, Getou has you in his arms, holding and guiding you. Your hands are curled around his bicep and lower spine as you're held up.

Toji's thrusts are slower, but just as rhythmic - focused on bringing you to another orgasm. It's duller this time, the sensation more focused and spread. Toji is so big you feel it in your hips, your entire lower half tingling as he pumps his cock in and out of you. He gives you all of his attention, staving off his own orgasm as Getou encourages you with his own words.

"Gonna cum again, pretty? Take another man's cum in you right after me? You want to, right? Take it all in, every drop. You've earned it."

You feel your insides tighten again, for a second time - in a miraculous span. Every muscle in your body tenses and contracts as both sensations work in tandem to bring you closer to your edge.

Your nerves fire off a second time as you push yourself to the limit. Toji fucks you through another orgasm with ease, thrusting with each tremor until you've ridden out your high. His own orgasm and chase come not long after that fact.

As soon as you've gone totally limp underneath him, he sheaths himself as deep as he can. Bent over you, he cums hard and deep, filling you to the brim a second time.

There's a brief moment of silence as Toji rides out his high, where all three of you sit in silence.

You find yourself limp as you lay there, Toji pulling out and Getou slowly letting you down before you look up with a tired expression.

"...So, did I pass?"

Your professor laughs harder than you've ever seen him laugh.

"With flying colors."

#toji x reader #getou x reader #toji smut #getou smut #writing tag #jjk x reader #dubcon cw #age gaps cw #blackmail cw #coercion cw #lmk if i missed anything

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amomentsescape · 8 months ago

Note

hello! Are you ok?, I hope so ❤️ (by the way, your writing is wonderful)

I would like to make a request for Yandere Slashers with an S/O who is a mermaid, who usually kills people who dare to invade her lakes, and she kills these people by drowning.

(I'm sorry if there are any writing errors, English is not my first language, and I'm writing this using Google translate)

Slashers with Mermaid! Reader

Yandere! Slashers x Reader

Includes: Freddy, Michael, Jason, Thomas, Bubba, Brahms, Norman, Billy, Stu, Vincent, & Bo

A/N: I'm doing good, thank you <3 I hope you enjoy! (Also, I decided I'm going to remove Lester from the Slasher requests. I'm still very much open to writing for him when specified, but I feel like he doesn't quite fit in with all the other Slashers).

Freddy Krueger

Meeting you was quite literally the best thing to ever happen in his undead life

He likes to team up with you, constantly coming up with different ways you both can contribute to someone's death

You pull them under, and they suddenly wake up in Freddy's world

Your dynamic is pretty ideal too

Whenever you sleep, you can visit him

And he has no issues with popping into your waters just to say hi

He does this quite often, in fact

He is very aware you can take care of yourself, but he still gets worried

You're his

He doesn't trust anyone being around you

Even if your only intention is to kill them immediately

He understands that where you are now is your home, but that won't stop him from doing whatever he can to have you live in his world

He can create the perfect environment for you

Miles and miles of nothing but water if your heart desires

Which hopefully it does

Since he isn't willing to wait much longer

Michael Myers

He never thought creatures like you actually existed

But the moment he saw your strength and darkness, he was immediately drawn in against his better judgment

He visits more often then you think

He's always around, watching

You can feel eyes on you almost 90% of the day, but you never really know where it's coming from

He enjoys watching you swim and just relax

But he especially loves seeing you drag poor souls into the tide with you

There's something so twisted and yet magical about watching you kill

But this fascination is also paired with extreme jealousy

He hates seeing you touch other people

And he almost envies the way they get to be so close to you, even if it means their demise

He hopes to find a way to take you home with him for good one of these times

You told him you loved him, so you'd be happy as long as you're by his side

Right?

Jason Voorhees

Out of all places to meet the love of your life, this one seemed especially unfortunate for Jason

But his feelings for you were strong enough to overrule his fear

He'll sit by the shore with you, hearing you talk and sing old tunes he's never heard before

He loves listening to your stories about the world underneath the current

But this always leaves him with such a deep feeling of sadness

He wants a life where you both can live together and share those memories

But he knows that's nearly impossible

He starts spending more time by the water side than the camp, finding that irresponsible teens like to be by the beach even more than the forest

You lure them in with your beauty and your words, and Jason finishes the job

He'll let you kill too if you really wish to, but he doesn't like the idea of those types of people being so close to you

He barely gets to touch you, so why should they get what he so desperately wants instead?

Thomas Hewitt

In this desert like area of Texas, Thomas has to travel quite far to see you

But the one time he accidentally stumbled upon you, he was smitten

And you surprisingly didn't turn him into another victim like all the others

He was kind to you

And now, he brings you food and stops by as often as he possibly can

You've made him little necklaces out of bones and shells

He wears every single one of them

Your bond only gets stronger each time he comes to see you

But Thomas can only take so much

Why can't you be closer?

He knows the family would love you

And he could make you so happy

His bathtub is big enough for you, he's sure of it

He knows that you won't want to leave your own home for his, but he loves you and knows what will be best for you

He's just got to be patient

Bubba Sawyer

His own family had to go on a search for him after he disappeared for a couple days

But he just couldn't help it

You make him so happy, and the more time he spent with you, the more difficult it became to leave your side

He's tried to jump in a few times to be with you, but you always persuade him out of it

He doesn't know how to swim, and you don't want him to end up like everyone else

That's when he decided that the best option would be to create your very own pond in his backyard!

That way, you could be with each other, and he would never have to say goodbye again

He hasn't told you this idea yet, but he's sure you'd be happy with it

This would also keep you from needing to kill anyone else

You're too beautiful to get your hands dirty

And it's unfair that they get to join you in the water when you won't let him do the same

He can make you super happy with his family, he's sure of it

Brahms Heelshire

He hates this dynamic between you two

He wants you at home with him so you can take care of him, and he can keep you away from everyone else

No one should get to touch you or look at you besides him

He's actually tried to drag you out of the water before, but the prospect of accidentally killing you was enough to make him stop

He never knew he could envy a body of water as much as he does

It gets to hold you, touch you, and be with you at all times

He wants that too, so desperately

Because of you, he's gone from house dweller to nature enthusiast in just a matter of days

Even when you think he's at home, he's stalking around, watching you

He insists it's to keep you safe

In fact, you haven't had to drown anyone in quite a while

And you can thank Brahms for that

The moment he sees a single soul in the area, he drags them off and disposes of them before you even have a chance to see them

He wouldn't dare let you touch another being that isn't him

Norman Bates

It honestly took him a really long time to believe that you were even real

He didn't think mermaids or sirens actually existed, so seeing you for the first time made him pinch himself to make sure this wasn't some weird dream

He also took a while to trust you since he didn't want to fall victim to your treacherous waters

But once he realized you were genuine, he dove straight in all at once

He visits you whenever he can for however long he can muster

Someone needs to run the motel, but God he wishes he could be with you 24/7

He's "jokingly" brought up the idea of you staying at the motel in a pool he could install for you

He just wants to keep an eye on you at all times

He constantly dreams of finding a way to make you human so you two can truly be together

Until you have two feet like him, it will never be enough

Billy Loomis

Doesn't tell a single soul about you

Not even Stu

And it's not because he's embarrassed or wants to see other people

He's honestly just scared that others will either think he's insane or try to capture you

Visits you every day and makes sure to pack his swim trunks so he can join you in the water

Constantly admires you and wants to run his hands along your scales

He just thinks you're all around incredible

But he has this hidden level of anger towards the situation

He wants to walk around town with you, show you off

He wants you to join him on his sprees so you can see just how powerful he can be

And he hates the idea of not having eyes on you at all times

He knows you kill anyone who isn't him, but he doesn't want you getting that close to anyone in general

He spends his nights studying ways to get you to live with him

He'll find a way to have you all to himself, even if it ends up being the death of him

Stu Macher

He actually first met you while you were seducing some poor soul to their death

And Stu was immediately enamored

He comes to see you whenever he can

He sometimes spends the weekend camping out along the shore just so he can spend more time with you

He thinks you're beautiful of course, but he can't help but fantasize what it would be like if you were human like him

You two come from very different worlds, but there's nothing that could keep you away from him

He likes to bring up the idea of mermaids and mythical creatures in casual conversations with people

How they react to it will determine whether they make his hit list

He likes to bring you jewelry and pretty objects from his victims, showing you items that you've never seen before

He talks about how one of these days, he's going to have a house built on the shore so he can be with you

And if you argue against it, he will shut down

The pent up frustration of not getting to sleep next to you every night makes his killings more brutal and his fantasies all the more darker

Vincent Sinclair

Every time he comes to see you, he brings a new portrait or wax figure of you that he made

You flood his dreams and his mind 24/7

He honestly thinks he's under some sort of spell

He doesn't mind that you aren't human like him

He's always felt very different from everyone else, so it's nice for him to have someone he relates to

But his jealousy constantly gets the better of him

Anytime you tell him of some poor soul you drowned, he can't help but feel his blood boil

Even if it ends in their death, he hates the idea of you flirting or seducing these people

The only one who should be receiving that attention is him

Barely sleeps at night

He has snuck to the shore countless time without your knowledge, just watching you and making sure your stories line up with what he observes

Is overall obsessed even more than you know

Bo Sinclair

If anyone saw you together, it would be enough to make them blush

The way you two can constantly flirt back and forth without any hesitation is otherworldly

You could have sworn he must have been a creature like you in a past life

He's so touchy when he's with you, not afraid to get his clothes wet in an effort to just be closer to you

He truly makes you feel accepted as you are and with where you live

But little do you know of his darker nature

He stalks the shore and kills off anyone that trespasses before you even have a chance to get to them

He doesn't need you looking at anyone but him

And he's already been renovating an old abandoned pool in Ambrose for you

You're going to finally be living with him like he's always wanted

You don't know this yet, but he's sure you'll be happy with the idea

It will be a great surprise

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bluegiragi · 7 months ago

Note

Hi friend!! I've been following you on a couple platforms when it comes to your amazing art!! I know you've talked about ghostprice, but I saw the Price's hand on the back of Kyle's neck and was wondering if you could talk about the relationship between price and gaz? I loved the ghost price one, but I totally understand if you don't have the same write up for these two lol

!!! thank you so much for this ask, because i love thinking about this dynamic in my free time.

lots of reading under the cut!

so, because I like to cherry-pick influences from canon, in the monster au, Gaz and Price met before Gaz got drafted into the 141. Gaz was the harpy escort to a standard military op that got off-track when doing recon, and ended up wrapped up in a territorial dispute with two griffin hybrids. The whole team got stuck sandwiched between the two with neither side willing to let them move, and when Gaz tried to fly above to do some surveillance he got beaten out of the sky by both of them (they don't take kindly to interlopers interfering with griffin disputes). They had to request emergency assistance from the closest party which, by chance, happened to be Price's team.

This all happened after Price lost his wing, and on this mission he collaborated with Gaz to help get (most of) his team out safely without having to rely on his skill of flight. They both made strong impressions on each other then, with Gaz forming the first seeds of a long-term loyalty to Price. When his contract with his current station ended, he was all too happy to get poached for the 141.

Coming from a more interpersonal perspective - Gaz is a harpy, which means he's fiercely independent and bases a lot of his identity on not being reliant on anyone. Price is a dragon, which comes with a lot of pesky hoard instincts that instruct him to 'provide' for his hoard. It means that Gaz dislikes being taken care of and a strong instinctual part of Price is unhappy about that. When they're more intimate, Gaz insists on giving as much as he is getting (if not more) and is always seeking ways to contribute and prove his value to the group. Even though he might be chill by harpy standards, Gaz is still very proud and he gets flustered when forced to accept things without 'earning' it.

(also he might have a little bit of hero worship for price lingering in the recesses of his mind)

Price only having one wing and being essentially grounded also adds an extra layer to their relationship. Harpies put a lot of stock in their flying prowess, so the loss of a wing is truly a world-ending event in their culture and he's extremely uncomfortable broaching the subject with Price even though he'd be happy to talk about it if pushed. He also feels that it is his role to be Price's 'wings' now, which is a sentiment that he hasn't shared to anyone but puts a lot of pressure on himself to live up to. He doesn't think this way out of any sort of pity for Price - his captain has proved time and time again to be the kind of monster worth following - instead, this mentality is him militantly breaking himself down to how useful/valuable he can be to others.

tldr; gaz is bad at accepting care, price wants to take care of him so bad and is slowly figuring out loopholes

#their relationship together is affectionate but still sort of surface level at this point #not that price isnt trying #gaz is just very proud #askbox #pricegaz

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violetsiren90 · 9 months ago

Text

Make Me

Pairing: dom!Hoseok/sub/brat!f!Reader

Genre: Oneshot; hard smut; platonic(?) fluff; BDSM lifestyle; friends to fwb to?; canon-compliant (idolAU)

Summary: You've been friends with Hobi for years, and he's your comfort zone - but when he gets wind of a dark secret you drunkenly let slip, things between you take a sudden extreme change.

Warnings: 18+ (minors, dni); hardcore BDSM themes/relationships; full consent and safe-words ❤; Hobi is a hard dom (and such a good one); MC is a brat (mostly); dominance and submission; elements of primal play if you squint; mentions of wet dreams and sexual fantasies; sexual degradation (deg-play use of the word "b*tch"); mentions of MC's hair and hair pulling in a domination context; rough physical contact in a sexual context (manhandling); mentions of drinking; kink-outing; Jimin is a menace but also the absolute best; Hobi in the studio 👀; wrestling (sexual context); spanking (sexual context); p*ssy-stepping; p*ssy slapping; sexual frustration; some initial shame and embarrassment (reader needs to work some things out); reader tries to run away from herself a bit; temporary ghosting; working through new desires and feelings; dirty dancing; ALL the communication; establishment of sexual roles/partnership; talk about birth control and protection; Hobi curses a LOT during domination scenes; leash/collar play; oral sex (male receiving); throat fucking; Hobi slaps Reader's tongue with his c*ck; cum swallowing; aftercare; restraint play (sex swing, heehee 😈); manual clitoral stimulation; teasing; unprotected vaginal sex (reader is on birth control & previously consents); female orgasm from vaginal penetration; very brief implication of a possible brush with subspace.

Word Count: ~16,000 (Double its originally intended length, oops 🙈)

Author's note: HOLY HECK IT'S FINALLY HERE. When I say I had the time of my life writing this...like, wow. I was already under Hobi's spell, but now I am OFFICIALLY down in the worst way. This fic and its premise were completely out of my comfort zone, but I couldn't be happier that I ventured into this world, because the research alone has given me so much respect for the BDSM community, and specifically the dom/sub relationship. I hope I did as much justice to that very special dynamic as possible between these two characters (with whom I have deeply fallen in love). If you read this, I hope so very much that you enjoy it!

If no one has told you yet today, you are loved and worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜

Acknowledgements: The biggest of thanks to @orchidyoonkook who not only beta-read this fic multiple times, and is practically the voice of this Jimin, but also gave me so much wonderful insight into the BDSM community from that big sexy brain of hers (which contains an incredible amount of knowledge about so many things, let me tell you!). But most of all, she gave me the encouragement I needed to get this out of my imagination and onto the page, even when I was doubting myself the most. Yoons, I love you! Couldn't have done it without you. 💕

"What?" Hoseok's wide grin stretches further as he regards your flustered face with giddy anticipation.

You groan into your hands, willing the cushions of your friend's leather couch to swallow you like quicksand.

"Fucking Jimin - I'll kill him!" you whine, pressing your fingers to your temples, and keeping your eyes glued to the hardwood of the studio floor.

The rapper laughs as he swivels his baseball cap to sit backwards on his fluffy brown mop of hair.

"Come on! Tell me!" he insists, sprawling back in his rolling chair, the tips of his fingers touching deviously together as he regards you with twinkling eyes.

You sneak a glance at him before sighing defeatedly, which only earns another chortle of laughter from across the room.

Park fucking Jimin. You really were going to kill him. Too many bottles of soju the week prior saw you blacking out at the BTS member's pad, the one he shared with your mutual friend, Jung Hoseok. You woke up the next day, memories of the night before obscure concepts of debauchery merely alluded to by the taste of bile and the dull cranial throb of dehydration. When Jimin rather gleefully handed you, along with an iced americano, one of the booze-fueled revelations you had let slip, you begged and pleaded with him to erase the memory from his brain...or at the very least to take it to his grave. He made no such promises. And now, you are facing the man of the hour - the subject of your divulgement - who had apparently been informed that you harbored certain strong opinions in his regard. Humiliating.

You flick mildly irritated eyes back up to your friend who waggles his brows in a way that makes you want to crack a smile and sock him at the same time.

"Before I say anything, I want to know exactly what he told you," you demand, crossing your arms defensively, no cracked smile to be found.

He rolls his eyes up to the corner of the ceiling in recollection.

"He just said that you had gotten wasted and admitted something kinky...about me."

At the last two words he drops his voice dramatically low and pins you with a grin that is sickeningly predatory. Your pulse begins to hammer and you have to remind yourself that you are, in fact, capable of speech.

Fuck, you think to yourself, it's happening.

You can feel sweat starting to bead at your hairline. Maybe if you get it out there, just say it aloud, it will lose its power. Maybe the spell will be broken. Maybe he will laugh and you will laugh and you'll order lunch and keep irritating him while he's supposed to be working on a track. You're both adults, right? You whoosh out a breath.

Hobi is still looking at you, his bottom lip pushing up and the corners of his mouth tugging down in one of his little inverted smirks while his right leg bounces a little up and down.

It is just Hobi, after all, you tell yourself. Just Hobi. You are roundly aware that it may be a lie, but it seems to allow you just enough courage to jump.

"Okay, okay!" you practically shout, and he giggles and stomps his feet, which admittedly makes revealing this particular chestnut a bit easier.

"I told him…

“What?”

“I said..."

"What?"

"Oh, Christ! Fine!" And the rest comes out like water from a fire hose. "One time I came to drop off Jimin's charger and you were in dance practice and you were watching the guys and you had this look on your face - like you were pissed or something - and it was so unlike you and I got turned on and ended up having a fucking wet dream that you were stepping on my mother-fucking pussy, okay?! Are you satisfied now?!"

You heave a sigh and throw yourself back against the cushions, hands over your face. How you just mustered the courage to form those actual words you haven't even the faintest notion - but it was going to be you or Jimin, and it might as well be you. After your heart has begun to return to its resting rate and you've heaved a few deep breaths you steel yourself against the certain impending onslaught of Hobi's laughter and general mockery...which doesn't come.

You peek through your fingers to see that your friend has shifted in his chair, facing a bit away from you toward the inside of the room, leaning forward, his hands gripping the ends of the chair's armrests. His face looks a little troubled, or pensive, you can't tell which. You sit up and really look at him, suddenly worried.

Did you just fuck things irrevocably up?

That was an incredibly bizarre and intimate thing to admit.

Shit.

"Hobi?" you squeak, barely over a whisper, as you regard him.

He tilts his head suddenly to look at you, quick like a bird, and when those dark eagle-eyes regard you in return, you feel like a small, helpless creature scurrying across the tundra. Nowhere to hide. A bead of sweat escapes its perch and slips down from your temple. As he utters his question of response, the air suddenly becomes as thick as the tropics.

"Is that something that you'd want, Y/n? To be treated like that? To be...put in your place? Put down?"

You don't answer him. You can't.

Your words, your breath, your coherent thoughts are stuck, inert, useless as your chest begins to rapidly rise and fall in heavy swells. Your eyes are locked on his face as if by magnetic force. He stands, his baggy Louis Vuitton tee falling over his gray sweats. He shoves his hands in the pockets and takes a step toward where you sit. His posture is relaxed. His gaze is anything but.

"Is it?"

You want to say you don't know. That you'd never considered it again. Never once recalled the image of it - of him - standing over you as the sole of his shoe punished your throbbing sex.

"Fuck..." you breathe, and when he doesn't take his eyes from your squirming form, you relent. "...y-yeah."

He takes another step toward you, slowly. He's crowding you now, as he looks down, and the proximity is almost more than you can bear.

"You see," he remarks musingly, "I thought you were gonna say something funny - something ridiculous," he tilts his head to one side, the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips, "But that's not funny, Y/n. No, that's not funny at all. Because, as it turns out..."

He leans down, his breath fanning over your face as he speaks. Mint and espresso. You shiver and close your eyes.

"...that's something I can do."

...what? He can...h-he can....

"Hoseok..." you whisper shakily, because it's all you can manage.

You hear him laugh darkly and you don't look at him.

"Hoseok?" he mimics, "Not, Hobi, huh? Hoseok when you're like this, is it?"

"When I'm like...what?" You practically whimper in complaint, eyes still pressed shut as your last line of defense.

But any manner of defense is in vain as he answers your query, the words dripping from his lips slowly like honey, sickly like venom -

"When you're a filthy, pathetic little slut."

A whine escapes you at the complete and utter shock of his words. Suddenly you clamp your thighs together – whether to provide friction or obscurity to your quickly dampening cunt you are unsure. When he takes your jaw between his fingers and roughly jerks your chin upwards, your eyes flutter frantically open.

"Is this what you want?" he hisses, "For me to have my way with you like a needy whore?"

Fuck, is this happening? This is really happening. Your mind reels, but that's alright - it stopped doing the thinking when he got up out of that chair. Something primal in you had taken over, something that's been starving for so long – something that yearns to feed.

You do your best to nod with your chin in his grip. He swallows thickly, his eyes darting to your lips, and then back up to yours. His pupils are blown, his eyes almost wholly black as they trace over your face. Suddenly his hand slips from your chin to the nape of your neck where his hand tangles in your hair and his head drops to the side, his gaze softening.

"I need you to say it, Y/n, are you sure you want to do this?" he asks, his voice so, so low but without the edge that sends ice through your veins.

His voice. He's asking you as someone who cares about you, cares what you want – your friend.

Do you want this? No...you don't want it. You need it.

"Y-yes! Yes, Hobi - I want this," you find yourself stumbling over the words to get them out.

So quickly and so assured. Have you ever been this certain of anything in your life? His fingers dance against the nape of your neck and you sigh as his eyes travel all over your body.

You want to hide. You want to strip down. You want to run and you want him to chase you. You want him to punish you when he catches you. You are sick with want.

"A safe word, baby, we need a safe word," he nudges your racing mind back into the current moment with his saccharine words.

You blink, your mind running up against the sudden pet name – one that he has never uttered in a tone like this before – as it scrambles for something obvious and yet not ridiculous. Something simple maybe...a flower...?

"Foxglove," you say, and he raises his brows with a grin.

"Foxglove it is," he acquiesces. "So if you ever want me to stop, ever – okay? You say that. Foxglove."

You nod.

"Say it for me," he whispers, and you shiver again. Fuck.

"Foxglove." It's slow and thick leaving your mouth.

"Good girl," he purrs. Butterflies erupt in your rib-cage and your eyelids flutter. "How hard do you want it?" He asks, "How rough?"

You scramble to find your voice.

"Pretty rough, I think," you posit, a bit unsure of what that means.

He hums in response, his brows knitting in thought. You were going to have to give him something to go on, you could see that.

"I..." you stammer, "I want you to...to punish me. I want you to...to hurt me a little."

He raises a brow - looks at you, just stares as if considering. Then suddenly you know what to say.

"See...I'm not a good girl," you insist tilting your head back a bit haughtily, a bit defiantly. Being a good girl had gotten you butterflies, but that's not what you wanted right now. That's not what every cell of your body was screaming for.

He's grinning wickedly again - his other hand is slipping out of his pocket and the one in your hair is gripping at the roots.

"Hm. You're not are you?" he asks, his voice as dark and cold as the Pacific once again.

"No, Hobi," you whisper.

And suddenly your world is tilted on its axis as he tightens his fingers against your scalp and yanks your head back, sending a searing pain shooting through your skin as he stoops to hiss in your ear.

"That's Hoseok, you pretty little bitch."

You let out a whimper so needy it's nearly a sob. Your heartbeat is pounding between your legs. He lets go of your hair as roughly as he grabbed it and goes to lock the door and your stomach flips - you are totally and completely at his mercy. It's a little bit terrifying and absolutely exhilarating.

When he comes to loom over you again, you decide just exactly where you stand in all this. You know exactly what you want.

You glare up at him. He narrows his eyes.

"You gonna listen, hm?"

It's not a question, you know it's not - it's a command. But you have one, just one, of your own...

"Make me."

His eyes go wide and wild.

"So that's how it's gonna be?"

The words are heavy and dark, but you think his mouth twitches up at the corner when you arch a recalcitrant brow in response.

He hums and licks his lips, and you're on the verge of saying something about getting on with it when his hand darts out and fists a chunk of your hair, yanking it back with a force that makes your head spin. He's glaring down at you with eyes so hard and menacing that your rebuttal dies on your tongue. The hand at your nape squeezes and the pressure that seers your scalp is exquisite, spilling a moan from your lips as your arousal becomes more than you are capable of repressing.

"Don't you challenge me, brat," he rumbles from low in his chest as his hand twists against your head and lowers your back to press against the black leather.

You whine in protest, and your palms fly up to shove at him, but his reflexes are like lightning as he snatches your wrists away to pin them above you. Your head spins, eyes losing focus as your whole body flushes with warmth in the wake of his domineering aggression.

You wriggle in his hold, relishing in how his grip tightens and the cold steel in his eyes glints as you resist him.

A knee slides between your legs as he leans over you menacingly, close enough for the padlock charm around his neck to lightly tap your raised chin. Good girl, it seems to whisper in Hoseok's voice, stay put.

Yeah, fuck that.

You snatch the necklace up between your teeth and yank it to the side where it bites sharply into the corner of your mouth.

The sudden motion catches him off guard and he falters, crashing down on top of you with a noise of surprise and losing control of your hands.

You scramble against him, rolling both of you to the floor with a thud.

Your heart is hammering in your chest.

You hear him grunt, his strong hands grappling with your thrashing form, and you catch just a glimpse of his shining eyes and white clenched teeth as he flips you over onto your stomach, hands in a vice grip at the small of your back and your cheek pressing into the cold, hard laminate.

You start to move again but he pushes his weight into the slender fingers splayed over your spine with a low rumble in the back of his throat and you still with a groan.

You're pressed so deliciously firmly to the floor. You can feel arousal soaking your panties as your nerves alight everywhere he has wrested control of you. You can hear him pant, proof of his efforts, and the image of his provoked expression from seconds previous flashes through your mind.

He seemed so cool and collected before. So unbothered. To think that his blood is up and because of you? You let out a trembling breath.

"Fuck," he hisses lowly, then bends to bring his lips to the shell of your ear.

They're soft as they drag over your skin there, feather light. Your whole body shakes, and you feel his mouth pause.

"I don't know who the hell you think you are," he whispers cruelly, "But you were right about one thing...you're not a good girl. You're a disobedient little harlot who needs to be taught the rules of this house."

You whimper pathetically as he presses into you even more intensely, restricting the expansion of your lungs.

"Now," he says nosing at your exposed neck as he begins to pull away, "how about we teach you a lesson or two, hm?"

You feel his weight leave your back, and see his figure rock back on his heels out of the corner of your eye. You are just on the verge of retaliating again when you let out a yelp at the sudden shock of your hips being yanked upward by the back belt loop of your denim shorts. Hoseok lets go of your hands and they fly forward to brace yourself as your ass raises into the air and your knees move toward your chest.

And all at once you know what's coming and you feel your pussy clench in the mere anticipation of -

Smack!

You let out a wanton wail as the sharp crack of his hand against your right glute jolts through your body like a lightning strike and ends with a slam at your swollen clit.

Again - harder! Your mind screams. So you press out a whinging moan of complaint.

SMACK!

It has the desired effect.

CRACK!

Your jaw is slack, but no sound escapes as he punishes you. It hurts. Fuck, it hurts. As if he's attempting to brand your ass with the shape of his hand. But holy hell is it making you drip. Every slap jolts your body and brings the tiniest friction to where you're neediest. Where you've never been needier in your life.

Please punish my pussy....

You try to mumble the words but all you can do is drool onto the floor as he deals out pleasure and pain from above.

And then he stops. You feel hands deftly and swiftly rolling you to lie on your back.

You blink up through bleary eyes, drawing a hand across your mouth to wipe the spit away. Your shoulders are sore.

He's leaning over you, a hand still on your hip, eyes scanning your face.

"What? Did you say something? You need to speak up."

His tone is still biting but his eyes seem to hold a genuine question. Concern.

Warmth floods your chest as it registers that he wants to be able to hear you if you need him to. If you want to stop. But the light has never been so goddamned green.

"Want..." you murmur, "...more, Hoseok."

He curses, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he leans forward to take your jaw in his hand again. He rakes his gaze over your soft, swollen features, unfocused eyes, and heaving chest.

"Look at you so fucked out and all I did was smack that gorgeous ass."

He licks his lips, shaking his head in seeming disbelief as he releases your chin with a little shove. He leans back, dragging his hands over your bare thighs.

"More, hm?" he hums.

You nod eagerly.

He purses his lips and considers you through narrowed eyes, and you sense that if you want him to give you what you so desperately desire, you're going to have to show him you can take it - and take orders. You lay still, hands twitching at your sides as you look up at him through wide eyes.

He continues to run his fingertips up and down your legs as he breathes out a long relenting sigh.

"Alright," he relents, "You took your punishment well, so you should be rewarded, I suppose."

You clamp your bottom lip between your teeth, your heart rate rising again at the prospect.

He tilts forward, looming over you again as he asks the question you've been dying to answer since you woke up breathless all those weeks ago.

"What does my little brat want me to do to her? Let's see if she can use her words."

You blink up at him, unsure if you have permission to speak...or how to put your request into words that won't make you want to immediately melt through the floorboards.

"Cat got your tongue?" Hoseok sneers, pretty, heart-shaped lips curling up at one side.

His hat discarded in your tussle, wavy brown tresses hang down over his brow and his eyes sparkle darkly through them. His features are so beautiful - their loveliness thrown into sharp relief by the flinty pitilessness of their expression.

You're tempted to continue simply soaking him in, if not for the pounding ache in your core demanding that you find your voice.

"I...I want..." your lips tremble as you will yourself to tell him what you need.

Perhaps he senses that you require a little encouragement, because his eyes harden and he digs the edges of his nails into the flesh of your knees, causing you to yelp and moan and then...

"I want you to step on my pussy! Please..." You press out your request with the last of the breath in your lungs.

Hoseok's eyes flutter shut at the last word of your plea.

"Say that again," he commands in a husky whisper, and even without further specification, somehow, you know.

"Please..." You groan, letting your legs drop open demurely.

His eyes are still closed, but he can feel the action with his hands, which have now slipped just inside your knees to your inner thighs. He inhales deeply through his nose, before exhaling with a shuddering breath. When his lids languidly raise again the piercing onyx of what they have unveiled is pinning you to the floor with more deadly force than even his hands ever could. Your pulse pounds in your cunt, your head still swimming from your previous position as he pushes himself up to stand.

As you blink up at Hoseok towering over you, standing between your splayed thighs with his midnight gaze boring into the damp denim covering your heat, something inside you long ajar quietly but firmly clicks into place.

"Tell me, brat" he seethes, eyes roving your trembling form stretched out beneath him, "Who makes the rules in this house?"

"Hoseok-ssi," you whimper, so needy the ache is beginning to hurt.

Every cell of your body is awake with a desperate anticipation that only he can satisfy...or deny.

You have never felt more alive.

And then something happens and your brain shuts off entirely.

Everything vanishes: the studio, the traffic outside the western window, the city of Seoul and South Korea and the whole goddamned planet rolling around in the Milky Way. Nothing exists except the tip of Hoseok's Air Jordan ghosting over the swell of your crotch.

Your mouth waters as his foot slowly slides forward, then goes completely dry as you feel it settle with the sole aligned directly with your slit. His eyes flick up to your face, but you can't hold his gaze for more than a millisecond as he begins to apply pressure to your mound.

Your eyes roll back in your skull, head lolling as your neck goes slack, lips parted in a silent scream as the man above you presses down with a low hum over your sex. The seam of your shorts is biting deliciously into the tender flesh of your clit, sending shockwaves through your core like a live wire, and when he rolls his foot in a circular motion you think you see god.

You do scream then, but it's nothing more than a strangled sound in your throat as your fantasies materialize and he leans his weight into his stance, punishing the soft fat of your cunt with the sole of his shoe.

You're going to cum. He's barely touched you and you're going to cum. He seems to see it in the twisted ecstasy of your features as his lids hood his eyes and filth begins to spill from his lips.

"Do you like that, brat?" he taunts, "That's what you get when you're a good little girl for Hoseok - you get your pretty wet cun-"

Click jangle clack - boom boom boom!

Hobi springs away from you, hopping back on one foot with wide eyes as a succession of rapid knocks follow the stilted motions of the locked door handle. You scramble up from the floor, heart pounding and breath coming fast as you toss yourself into the corner of the couch.

Boom, boom, boom!

"Hyung, are you naked or something?" comes a familiar if muffled voice from the other side of the wall.

You fumble for your phone and Hoseok runs a hand through his hair and takes a deep breath before pulling open the door.

The man belonging to the impatient knocks and muffled accusations stumbles headlong into the studio, the locked entrance against which he had pressed his ear and most of his weight having been pulled out from under him.

"Jimi...nie...?" Hobi greets his bandmate and his eyes track the other's toppling form with surprise and a hint of agitation.

Yoongi ambles in casually behind him, sipping a dewy americano through a straw, a beanie sitting atop his ashy locks gnomishly.

Jimin nimbly pushes himself to a stand from where he had crashed against Hobi's desk, not a strand of his coiffed platinum blond hair askew as he spins around face to the dance captain. But before he can get out a greeting or an excuse for his manner of entrance he freezes as he spots you in the corner.

His eyes flick to Hobi's hat on the floor, then to the pink flush on the apples of his friend's cheeks. When Jimin's eyes slide back over to where you are curled into your nook, eyeing him warily over the tiny shield of your phone, his plush lips slowly spread into a sickeningly devious smile.

Hobi scoops his hat up off the floor and tugs in back on before taking a seat, carefully, you notice - thighs pressed together and leaning forward - in his rolling chair. The implication of his posture has you sweating into your shirt.

You need to get it the fuck together.

"If I would have known you were here I'd have brought you a kimbap," Jimin says, wicked grin still plastered on his face as he holds up a plastic convenience store bag.

You blink.

"Oh, uh, that's okay..." you bluster, waving your hand. "I'm not hungry anyway."

It's true. You just lost your appetite for the foreseeable future, stomach a raging sea of nerves as Jimin places the bag on the desk.

Yoongi shuffles over to sit at the other end of the couch, raising his free hand and drawing his mouth into a straight line in greeting. You manage your own tight-lipped grin and flash him a peace sign, hoping you did it quickly enough that the tremor in your hand went unnoticed.

"To what do I owe this visit from my bros?" Hobi asks from where he's turned toward his computer screen to save the neglected file.

His voice is cheerful, but you can hear the strain - how it's pitched just half a tone too high - and Jimin's eyes are still on you.

"I dragged Yoongi hyung out for some fresh air. I took him to lunch and grabbed you a snack on the way back."

"Yah, you took me to lunch? Then why did I pay?" Yoongi grumbles from beside you, his bare features pinched into a grumpy pout that makes him look particularly feline.

"Because you love me," Jimin coos at him and the older musician's mouth quirks up into a smile he can't seem to repress.

"What are you working on, Hoba? Which track?" Yoongi murmurs around the straw between his lips, blinking patiently as Hobi seems to shake himself, pulling his hat off to run a hand through his hair before readjusting it on his head and swiveling back toward his computer screen.

He hits play on the track and Yoongi leaves the couch to join the other two.

This is all so normal, so typical of the guys - the affectionate repartee and chat about ongoing projects. And on an average day, you'd have joined right in.

But today is not an average day.

No.

Five minutes ago, you were spread-eagle on the floor six inches from where Jimin stands, with Hoseok's shoe on your bits.

You have to get out of here.

"I'm, uh, I'm gonna head out, boys," you muster, making a beeline for the door as soon as the inertia of your decision gives you the courage to peel yourself from the corner of the couch.

"You're leaving?" Jimin's voice quips in a saccharine whine, with the slightest edge that makes you avoid his eyes as you slip out with a parting wave.

You do catch Hoseok's expression, whose head snaps up at your parting movements. His brows furrow and his lips part, looking as if he wants to say something, but he doesn't.

And then you're gone.

Your smart watch trills as your heart rate enters cardio territory. Your chest is heaving, breath coming heavy as the pliant cushion of your couch gives way to the crown of your head pressing back into it, eyes pinched shut and hand shoved down your pants.

The bullet vibrator you have pressed to your clit is doing everything it should, and you feel it coming - your orgasm. 6:12pm on a Tuesday and it's already your third self-love session of the day.

You tense your thighs, urging the building pressure in your core to boil over, and quickly. You groan and grit your teeth as your administering hand starts to shake. You writhe and whimper for a moment. And then it's over.

You stare up at the ceiling of your apartment, breathlessly huffing out a despondent sigh as the empty ache in your chest returns. It has become your loathsomely devoted companion in every waking moment over the last ten days, filling you with an unshakable restlessness and sickly discontent.

Nothing can slake it. Not reality TV. Not Cabernet Sauvignon. Not overtime hours. Not ASMR wood-soup videos. Not yoga. Not Ben and Jerry's. Not midnight runs on your NordicTrack. Not fucking yourself to climax on every single goddamned toy you own.

The little monster you roused the weekend before last in Hope World hasn't returned to sleep. No. She is wide awake. And she seems to grow more ravenous with each passing day.

At first you tried to ignore her, but she kept you up into the long, bleak hours of the night. And so, in a fuzzy, staticky haze some time after midnight a number of days ago you typed some words into a search engine that would probably have your assigned FBI agent doing a spit-take.

The thing is, you'd never seen "50 Shades of Grey", you'd never been interested. It wasn't as if you were a prude - hardly! You have always enjoyed sex, both intimate and recreational. In fact, it has always been one of your favored methods of blowing off steam, and you knew quite well how to please yourself and how to guide partners in doing the same.

You have never had problems in taking what you wanted in life, in taking charge and ensuring that things play out your way – it's what makes you so good at your job, and valued by your peers who know that they can rely on you to take the reins and rise to the occasion.

So when you suddenly stumbled unprepared into the world of BDSM, your visceral reaction to the concept of submission left you wondering...why?

Why, why, why?

Why does this do it for you? Why did your very linear, stable existence have to be completely disrupted by this discovery? And most urgently of all, why, for the love of everything sacred, did all the porn in the whole wide world fail to accomplish even a fraction of the effect of Jung Hoseok's size 9 sneaker? It's all too overwhelming to process.

You let out a frustrated whine as you pull your sticky, cramped hand, still clutching the little purple bullet, from the confines of your pants. Your phone buzzes on the coffee table and you can see the notification is from Jimin. You've been ignoring his calls and pleading texts to meet up, or just pick up. You can't face him. Not after ghosting Hobi.

You feel a pang twist in your stomach as you haul yourself toward the shower, hoping the hot water will wash away the guilt you feel for ignoring Hoseok outright. He texted you almost immediately after you left the studio, asking if you were alright. You let him know that you were, with just one word: yeah.

You had typed and retyped that response. "Yeah, thanks" seemed too weird. Like, thanks for what? Almost making you cum with the tip of his shoe? No. "Yeah, sorry" felt pathetic. What were you apologizing for? It seemed to imply...regret? Or fault. Neither of which would have come from a genuine place. And beyond a simple affirmation, you certainly didn't have words. So, "yeah" it was. He tried to call you later that evening, but you didn't pick up. You were already way up in your head by then. It had been radio silence since.

You toss a coconut steamer onto the wet shower tiles and sigh, catching a glimpse of your face in the bathroom mirror as you slide the glass door shut.

"Coward," you mutter as you close your eyes and slip under the cleansing stream.

You're wrapped up in a blanket cocoon and sipping a cup of sleepy-time tea, trying to distract yourself from the messy tangle of emotions waging war across your various chakras with season two of Single's Inferno, when a knock on the door startles you out of your simmering reverie. You heave yourself off the carpeted floor of your living room and scoot toward the door like a fleecy Jabba the Hutt to peek through the peephole.

Your vision is obscured as another eye looks back at you from the other side of the concave glass. You jump back, dropping your blanket shroud in a pile around your feet and let out a yelp of alarm. You slam a hand over the peep hole as giggles erupt on the other side.

"Yah! I know you're in there - so let me in!"

Your entire body sags against the door in relief as you recognize the voice of the would-be intruder. You swing the door open to grant him exasperated entrance.

"Park Jimin, you just took ten years off my life! Creep," you bluster, gathering the blanket up around your body as you retreat back into your apartment.

You plop down again in front of the TV, knowing that Jimin came to either talk you into going out or to just talk, and either way, you are truly not in the mood. Your friend snickers behind you, sauntering into your kitchen. He returns with a beer, bringing the frosty green bottle to his lips before sinking into an armchair and regarding you with an expression that waivers between amusement, pity, and disgust.

"You look awful," he remarks, taking another swig as his gaze roves your unkempt appearance.

Your features twist into a frown, eyes never leaving the television.

"You don't get to barge into my apartment, steal my booze, then insult me, Park," you snip, burrowing further down into the fluffy mass encasing your body.

Jimin raises a brow, a small smile still playing on his lips as he follows your eyes to the television where YouTuber Dex and professional model Lim Minsu flirtatiously splash about in a ridiculously opulent indoor swimming pool.

"Fuck, Dex is hot," Jimin mutters.

"For some reason he reminds me of Jungkook," you smirk, glancing over at him for the first time since he arrived.

He grimaces theatrically.

"I don't see it."

The contestant on the screen flashes his Paradise companion a blinding smile and raises a tattooed arm to cut through the water, content to show off his stroke precision as his date watches on. The resolve on Jimin's face falters .

"Yeah, well...Dex is hotter."

You scoff.

"Yeah, no. Kook-ah is definitely hotter."

"For the love of god, just don't tell him that, okay?" Jimin pleads, "That kid is insufferable enough these days."

"You love him."

He hides a smile behind another sip of Hite.

"Why did you ghost Hobi hyung?"

Jimin blinks innocent eyes at you, as if he hasn't just dumped the last week and a half of silent agony over your head like a bucket of ice water. But the chill is momentary, because the next second your body feels like an oven. You stammer.

"I-I...ghost him? I didn't ghost anyone...I'm busy...I..." you trail off weakly as your friend's unimpressed and knowing gaze bores into your soul.

You sigh and scrub your hands over your face.

"Because I'm a big chicken, okay?" You murmur into your palms.

You don't know why, but you feel like crying. When you pull your hands away from your face, Jimin must see it because suddenly he's on the couch wrapping you in the kind of hug that reminds you why he's your ride-or-die, and in the safety of his embrace the tears begin to fall. Days of being alone with yourself and your conflicted feelings pour from your ducts and onto the front of Jimin's bright yellow flannel. He coos words of reassurance, admonishing your tears, as he strokes your hair.

"Talk to me, you silly goose," he hums with an endeared chuckle.

You sniff and hiccup as you pull away, wiping your puffy eyes.

"I don't even know what to say, Minnie...I don't know what's wrong with me..."

Jimin smiles and grabs a few tissues from the box on the coffee table, dabbing them against your nose.

"Well, first of all, nothing is wrong with you. But second of all, tell me what is bothering you."

You heave a dramatic sigh.

"If I tell you, you have to swear - and I mean swear - that you will not make fun of me or tell anyone else. And I mean not Taehyung, not Yoongi, not anyone, you hear me?"

He smirks, but nods in assent. You narrow your eyes at him.

"Say it. Out loud." You demand warily.

Jimin rolls his eyes and throws up his hands.

"Yah! Okay! I won't tell anyone," he quips mockingly.

You sigh again and draw your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them. If this gets too hard to talk about with eye-contact at least you'll have a place to hide your bashful face.

"I..." you start softly, not sure where to begin except the beginning, "Re-remember that thing I told you when we got plastered a little while back...about...Hobi?"

Jimin's lips quirk at the corners as he nods.

"Well...the thing is...wait!" You cut yourself off, suddenly gripped by a notion that has you prematurely flustered and indignant. "What did he tell you?"

Jimin shakes his head, a small smile still playing on his full lips.

"Nothing," he responds, looking you dead in the eye in a way that has you almost believing he's telling the truth.

"No, really," you press.

Jimin leans back against the arm of the couch from where he faces you, running a hand through his hair and drawing his legs up to criss-cross in front of him.

"Jagi, this is Hobi hyung we're talking about. You think he would do that? He has too much respect for you. He would never. Not to anyone. Not even me."

Your chest floods with relief, affection, and regret. Fuck. Of course he wouldn't. He was too mature of a person for that. Too considerate. Too lovely. And you hadn't even had the gumption to speak to him for the last ten days beyond a mono-syllabic SMS. Jimin watches your expression do emotional acrobatics.

"So..." he offers encouragingly, "something...happened....between you guys, right? That day Yoongi hyung and I showed up? We...uh...interrupted something, didn't we?" He can't help a devilish smile, eyes twinkling as he carefully phrases his query.

You bury your face into your knees and squeak out an affirmation. Jimin lets out a bright laugh and you immediately raise your burning face in a scowl.

"Hey! You said you wouldn't-"

He waves his hands in apology as he attempts to gain his composure.

"Mianhae, mianhae! I'm not laughing at you!" He insists, leaning forward to grab your swatting hands by the wrists.

"Sounds kind of like you are!" You huff, yanking your arms from his grasp.

"So..." Jimin hums, tilting his head to track your gaze as you try again to hide your face, "If he's down, and you're down...what's the problem? Why did you run and hide? Did your feelings change?"

You slowly raise your eyes to his, searching them as you decide just how much you're willing to tell him right now. You chew on your bottom lip as you realize you need to get it out. All of it. You drop your legs to mirror Jimin's posture, lowering your defenses with your millionth-and-first sigh of the evening.

"Okay...well..." you muse, fiddling with the blanket still draped over your lap. "You know how I told you that stuff that I...dreamt...about Hobi?"

Jimin nods.

"Well...something did kind of happen...and well..." you trail off as Jimin raises his brows expectantly.

"Oh, fuck it!" you bluster, exhausted by your own attempts at delicacy. "He dominated me and I liked it. I really really liked it, okay? And it freaked. me. the fuck. out. Like...I've neeeeever felt that way before about fooling around. It wasn't just fun, or, like, pleasurable...it was...almost..." you search for the words as Jimin stares at you raptly. "...Freeing? Like, a relief. Like, a 'where has this shit been all my life' moment."

Jimin hums and nods, interlacing his fingers and leaning his chin against his knuckles.

"Like...I don't know...I'm a very independent person. And capable. And, yeah, things have been crazy stressful at work, and I have a lot on my plate...but I handle it, you know? In fact, I don't just handle it, I kind of...enjoy the pressure of leadership and responsibility? It drives me. I've always been like that, in every area of my life..."

Jimin smiles and lets out a sound of recognition.

"So the one who wears the crown is wondering why it feels so good to be...subjected?" He waggles his brows. You roll your eyes.

"Grow up, dude."

"Am I right, though? I'm right."

You find yourself chewing your bottom lip again.

"Essentially. I like power. I like control. What is this sudden obsession with losing it? It's...scary. And confusing."

Jimin smiles.

"You know, it's actually not that uncommon, from what I understand," he states, reaching for his abandoned beer on the coffee table.

You quirk an eyebrow.

"I mean, everyone is different, and this is a journey you're going to have to take for yourself to get the answers, but from what I know about the BDSM community, it's not unusual for people who are in positions of power to crave a bit of a...reprieve."

"Really?"

"Yeah," he nods, reclining back again against the arm of the couch, "The bedroom is a good place to let your walls down. Maybe the only place, for some people. And with a trusted partner it can even be healing to play a different role than you do in other parts of your life."

It's your turn to smirk.

"You talk as if you know," you prod playfully, shoving your toes into his shin. He smiles that wicked smile of his and you laugh.

"What I'm trying to say is, maybe it's not just about the...dynamics. Maybe it's also that it's Hobi hyung. He knows you. You know him, too. You trust each other. Maybe you could get to know each other in a new way. Be something for each other that you both need." He takes the last sip of his beer and twirls the bottle in his hands, gazing at you with a gentle thoughtfulness.

You nod slowly, digesting his newly offered perspective.

"So," you muse, raising your eyes to him again, "You think he needs it too?"

Jimin shrugs.

"Only he could tell you that for sure. But I do know this, he's awfully good at being bossy, and doesn't get a lot of opportunity to run the show - outside of dance practice, that is."

Chuckling nervously at the thought, you try your best to conceal the spark that has crackled to life from the burning coals inside you at the mention of his natural command of authority.

"Hey," Jimin posits with a grin, "Maybe if he's spanking you he'll go a little easier on us when we screw up the choreo..."

"EXCUSE ME THE FU-WHAT?!" You shriek, snatching up a throw pillow to beat him mercilessly as he falls in raucous laughter to the floor.

Turning to glance over your shoulder at your reflection in the mirror, you smooth your hands over the back of the svelte black bodycon number you've donned for the evening. You're a vision in monochrome, having paired your LBD with sleek stilettos and dark smokey eyes with heavy lashes.

Your phone buzzes, indicating that your ride share is close by. Butterflies flutter in your belly as you reach for the finishing touch to your outfit: a velvety black choker with a sliver o-ring studded in colorless topaz. It's just fashionable enough to still look like a necklace, but it gives you a bit of a thrill to know that it's not. To know what's tucked inside your purse to accompany it. To wonder if, going unnoticed by most, it will catch a certain pair of dark eyes.

The drive across town to reach the Jihope residence never felt so long. You try your best to calm your nerves over the last few blocks of distance - it’s just a party, after all, and kind of a silly one at that.

During Jimin's last visit, he mentioned that he and Hobi would be throwing a Black Day party for all of their single friends the following weekend, and after dodging his attempts at socialization so religiously of late, you felt you owed it to him to attend.

Black Day had never been something your group of friends had ever observed before, but it was incredibly chic to do so this year, for whatever reason. And of course, all the organizing duo of the soiree needed was the slightest excuse for Jimin to party and Hobi to host.

Upon arriving at the building, you can already hear the music pumping from the top floor, and the chatter of guests spilling out onto the terrace. You present your ID to the security guard at the front gate, and are escorted to a private elevator that whisks you up to the penthouse. Being quite successful and comfortable yourself, you still find yourself surprised when reminded of the sheer net worth of your humble, down-to-earth Bangtan pals. Hobi is worth the most, and while he is an excellent investor and a generous philanthropist, he also likes to show out, and in style.

You take a deep breath as you buzz the bell.

The door swings open to reveal a handsome young man in a black t-shirt tucked into baggy dark-wash jeans, his fluffy brown hair parted in the middle and his ears glinting with rows of silver hoops. His round eyes scrunch into little moons and he flashes an adorable toothy grin, endearingly lopsided where it stretches deeper against the little orbital piercing at the right side of his bottom lip.

“Noona!" he growls, pulling you into a bear hug. "Where have you been? The last two times we went to noraebang there was no one to sing Through the Night with me!"

"Ah...hah...", you nervously chuckle, pulling away from his embrace as you search your brain for an excuse other than business.

"I'll sing with you, Googie!"

You turn to see your salvation from further explanation in the form of a giggling young woman bouncing up to clutch Jungkook's arm and steady herself as she sways on her platform heels. She smells like soju and fruity perfume.

You smirk and thank her, patting her hand where it clutches your friend's tattooed forearm before she's dragging him away down the hall.

"Make sure she stays hydrated!" You call after him with a shake of your head, making your way through the throng of guests to the bar area.

The furnishings of the residence are a study in classy postmodern minimalism, punctuated with abstract urban art – though you notice that some of the Kaws pieces are missing, likely stored away for safekeeping from rowdy party-goers.

The sleek chrome and granite full-service bar is stocked with liquor and beer, and a commissioned mixologist is crafting darkly colored cocktails. A buffet-style spread offers the traditional jjajangmyeon and an assortment of other delicious eats.

The spacious dining area is littered with small tables draped in black linens, each bearing centerpieces of hellebore, leather leaf, black carnations, and eucalyptus. The living room has been converted to a dance floor, complete with a glittering disco ball. House music booms through the built-in speaker system as guests in groups and pairs move to the beat.

You glance over a drink menu of themed cocktails as a voice sounds from over your shoulder.

"I recommend the Down With Love."

Turning, you flash the speaker a grin.

"Alright, but is it giving Judy or Barbara?"

Taehyung raises a disparaging brow.

"It's a gimlet. Judy, obviously."

You chuckle, putting in your order for the suggested beverage.

"You look good," he remarks, gesturing at you with the unlit cigarette tucked between his first two fingers, his other hand slipped into his pocket as he leans against the wall.

He doesn't look bad himself, you think, in his black satin top and flared Merlot trousers.

"Thanks," you smile as the bartender hands over an inky concoction garnished with a grapefruit slice twisted into the shape of a heart and run through with a toothpick.

You eye it skeptically.

"How do they make it black?"

"Activated charcoal. C'mon."

Tae links your arm through his and weaves through the bustle to a table of familiar faces. Yoongi raises a whiskey tumbler in greeting and you clink your glass with his, sliding into a chair next to Taehyung and reaching over to give Namjoon's arm an affectionate squeeze. It seems that all the members have turned up, save Seokjin, who's been a taken man three years strong.

You fall into easy conversation with the boys, and just when your difference of opinion with Namjoon over Lee Bul's latest installation piece is developing into a full-blown debate, Jimin slides up to the table and spills onto Taehyung's lap.

"None of you are dancing!" He whines breathlessly, poking Tae's cheek as the other man smiles shyly.

"Jungkook is," Yoongi rebuts, taking another bite of jjajangmyeon.

He's not wrong, though to your amusement, the maknae appears to be getting danced on more than anything else.

"Where's Hobi hyung?" Tae queries, prodding gently at Jimin's full cheek in return.

Jimin's eyes dart to you, a smirk spreading slowly across his lips as his gaze rakes up from your heels to the choker around your neck.

"Good question," he hums, rising to take your hand and pull you up from your seat. "Let's go find him."

Jimin heads for the French doors at the far end of space that lead onto the terrace. They're propped open, and cool evening air floods the apartment, keeping the atmosphere from suffocating under the warmth of body heat and the scent of rich food.

"Jimin!" You hiss, as you approach the rooftop patio, "What are you doing? This is the opposite of subtle!"

He laughs merrily.

"You're so cute when you're flustered!"

You don't have any more time to grumble as you emerge under the darkening sky, just beginning to speckle with stars barely visible against the glow of string lights wrapped around the cozy outdoor enclosure. There's a small electric fire pit surrounded by plush patio furniture, and live greenery all around.

The energy is much more relaxed than within, but even so, you feel your pulse quicken as Jimin guides you toward a small group at the corner of the terrace. You recognize a few of the men and women gathered as industry producers, but none of that really matters because all your brain can register is him.

And holy shit does he look good.

He's arresting sophistication and effortless elegance. A silk charcoal dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbow, ripples along the lines of his torso - save where the top three buttons have been neglected to expose the smooth planes of his toned chest. His lean, athletic legs seem even longer than usual in fitted black slacks, his pretty wrists and fingers sparkling with jewelry where his thumbs are slipped into his pockets. His hair has been slicked back from his face, and his eyes are just barely obscured by a pair of lightly tinted wire-rimmed aviators. That brilliant, warm heart-shaped smile cuts through all the sharp darkness of his garb, and your breath catches in your chest when Jimin calls out to him.

"Hyung!"

As Hoseok's eyes meet yours the grin stretched across his face falters, but he quickly regains composure.

"Eyyy," he greets you, striding forward and wrapping his arm around your shoulders to pull you into a side hug. Of course he smells as incredible as he looks.

"Hi, Hobi," you murmur a bit shyly, returning his embrace.

"Hyung," Jimin pouts cutely, "Save us! She was putting our guests to sleep talking to Namjoon-ah about art theory."

"Hey," Hobi chides in a warning tone, cocking his head to the side to glance down at you. "Don't enable the poor guy – he needs to get laid."

"Well nobody is going to approach him if she's hanging around looking like that." Jimin gestures casually, a mischievous twinkle glinting for a moment his eye.

Hobi's arm slips off your shoulders to grasp your hand as he steps back. He's never been good at keeping his feelings from his face, and the look trained on his features as he appraises you has you thinking you made the right decision when you put on that dress.

"How about we keep you out of trouble and on the dance floor, hm?" Hobi says with a sly smile, raising your hand and tilting forward in a posture of invitation.

You roll your eyes playfully, unable to bite back a smile of your own as you motion for Hobi to lead the way, careful to avoid Jimin's eyes as you let the rapper guide you back into the thrumming pulse of the festivities.

He gently pulls you onto the dance floor and tugs you into him, keeping a hold on your right hand as he slips the other just below the curve of your waist. You settle into an easy step to the lively beat. Hobi's eyes search your face as you tilt it up to him, running a hand up his chest to adjust the collar of his shirt with a sigh. You fiddle with the soft fabric between your fingers.

"I'm sorry, Hobi," you murmur, just loudly enough for him to hear.

When he just smiles a bit sadly you feel your heart squeeze and you drop your head to his chest. You will yourself not to cry as he slows his movements, slipping a knuckle beneath your chin to raise your gaze to his own.

"Hajima," he protests, "Let's talk later. Right now, how about we just have some fun? I missed you."

His expression is sweet and earnest and you feel like your chest might not have room for anything more than your complete and utter affection for this man.

"I missed you too," you admit with a little grin, pressing yourself against him just a bit more firmly and gazing up at him through widened eyes. He blinks for a moment, and then suddenly, there it is again, blooming across his lips - that blinding gorgeous smile, and that heady, infectious laugh.

In one quick motion, he spins you around to face away from him as the music drops to a deep, throbbing EDM number, his fingertips grazing your hips and his lips ghosting the shell of your ear.

"You did, huh?" he purrs. "Alright, then...show me how much."

You suck in a breath because you don't ever think you'll be ready for how quickly he can turn that dark, deep voice in his chest into something that makes you feel like you're astral-projecting. Your first instinct is to push him away, make him take it from you...but this moment isn't for that. After your exit last time around, you’re determined to make him so incredibly certain that you want him. That you need him.

You lean back into him and, whispering a silent prayer of gratitude to the goddess of stilettos, press your ass firmly into his groin. You feel the air leave his lips in a hiss against your neck, and his hands slide to squeeze your hips and tug your body even deeper into his. You grind back against him as your body undulates with the hypnotic rhythm of the beat, but it's not long before he's taken over guiding the motion of your hips to match the rolls of his own.

Your eyelids flutter. You've never been this close to him. Sure, in the studio, things had gotten hot and heavy - but you had only been in his hands. He had only touched you to move you, still you, punish you. Now you are flush against his body, and everywhere you touch as he rocks you in tortuous waves against him tastes like the first sumptuous bite of a forbidden fruit.

You can feel him beginning to swell against the plush of your ass, but even that isn't what has a familiar ache throbbing at the apex of your thighs – it's the effortlessness with which he wrests control of your body, your mind...your very being down to its most primal core.

Hoseok's hand skids up your side and slips over your collarbones.

"I like this necklace," he mumbles into your hair.

You turn in his arms, slipping your fingers around the back of his neck as you raise your lips to his ear.

"I'm disappointed in you, Hoseok," you tut, "It's not a necklace, you know."

He doesn't respond, but focuses on bringing his leg to slot between yours, hiking your dress up enough to tease your mound with brushes over the front of his thigh. You swallow a moan.

He's toying with you, but you won't give in. Not so easily. Not yet.

"I guess you could call it a choker..." you rasp, trying to keep the tremor from your voice as your face presses into the side of his jaw, "That is more descriptive of its actual purpose, I suppose."

For one millisecond in the fabric of time and space you feel his pace falter as the words spill from your lips - then he runs his hand up your back, slipping two fingers under the tight strip of velvet surrounding your throat.

For the first time since you started dancing, you look at him. Crystalline beads of sweat have broken out on his brow, and his mouth is set in a stern line, his eyes hooded and dark as tugs his fingers back to command a view of your gaze.

"Are you telling me," he grits out lowly, digging his fingers into the flesh of your hip so bruisingly you gasp, "...that you showed up to my party wearing a fucking collar?"

You don't answer him - instead you let a wicked smile slip over your lips, refusing defiantly to drop his piercing stare. He has stopped moving you against him, stopped moving entirely. His hands are firm but still where they hold you as his eyes bore down.

"Are you out here trying to finish what we started?"

You tilt your head back, narrowing your eyes seductively.

"What do you think?"

You watch a thousand and one thoughts race through Hoseok's mind as his eyes drop to your neck again and he swallows thickly.

"Oh, fuck it," he hisses, turning and catching your hand to pull you impatiently through the crowd.

You barely have time to wonder what he's thinking or where you're headed when, at the opening to the hall, he spins to grasp your waist and tuck you into a small alcove. He does it so quickly and with such force that you nearly topple the potted plant on the stand beside you.

He pushes himself against you, the tip of his nose brushing yours, and his firm body pressing you to the wall. He holds your wrists in his hands, pinning them to either side of your body. You let out a tiny whimper.

His peppermint breath fans over your cheeks.

"I was going to wait," he whispers loud enough for you to hear him clearly over the music from the room behind you. "I was going to ask you...to stay. After..." he traces his nose along the ridge of your cheekbone as he squeezes your wrists tightly, his nails nipping into your skin. "But you come here with the audacity to tease me like that? Out there, in front of everyone like a desperate little slut?"

His mouth is hovering over your ear as he speaks, sending shivers cascading down your spine.

"I'm not a patient man," he mutters darkly, and you feel your pussy throb.

You struggle slightly against his grasp, and he growls lowly. Turning into him, you press your mouth against his throat, letting your teeth graze his skin as you respond.

"Then don't be."

It's all the permission he needs. He snatches you away from the wall, dragging you down the hall toward the master bedroom at the far end. Your heartbeat hammers in your chest as you gaze at the dark mahogany door growing closer and closer with every stumbled step you take to match his hurried pace.

He turns to glance over his shoulder, and you follow the action as he grips the handle, turns it, and...

"What the..." Hoseok mutters, rattling the handle forcefully before raising his fist to pound against the door. "YAH! UNLOCK THIS DOOR!" He booms.

You hear muted voices and sounds of scurried movement from within. He bangs again and again until the door swishes open to reveal a flushed and flustered Jungkook, still fumbling with the button of his jeans.

"Hyung! S-sorry, hyung, I was just...we were..."

"OUT." Hoseok demands icily, pushing the door inward on its hinges to reveal the peppy, strawberry-scented young woman from before hurrying forward to tuck herself behind Jungkook as she draws a hand across her smeared lipstick.

You bite back a grin as you watch them scuttle down the hall before Hoseok shuts and locks the door behind you.

"That kid...seriously," he grumbles. "He knows my room is off limits."

You chuckle, despite his lack of amusement, and he takes your hand again, drawing you toward a small couch at the far side of the large room. You take in your surroundings as you cross the space - similarly furnished to the rest of the apartment. The furniture is sleek and modern, Kaws sculptures and collectible figurines occupy tables and shelves. There are a few live plants, including one hanging from a large hook in the ceiling near a massive, raised canopy bed.

He draws you to sit beside him, a crease still pinched between his brows, likely from having to evict the irksome intruders. You laugh softly and run a thumb over his forehead.

"They're gone!" you chuckle, "Don't let it bother you so much. You'll get wrinkles." You tease, and his face softens.

He catches your hand in both of his as it lowers. He sighs.

"I needed a bit of water thrown in my face anyway," he smirks, and you glance down bashfully. "Before anything really happens, I think we should have…a conversation."

You nod in agreement.

"Can I start?" you interject and he nods in return.

You huff out a long breath.

"I want to apologize for how I reacted...last time."

He smiles wryly.

"It was all very new and sudden to me, and...I don't know...I freaked out."

Hobi squeezes your hand.

"You have no reason to be sorry about that. I should have never initiated like that somewhere that wasn't really private. I just got caught up..." he shakes his head.

"No! Me too! I'm glad it happened. I..." you trail off, feeling your face heat. "Oh, fuck, I don't know how to say this..."

He claims he's not a patient man, but he waits, watching with tender eyes as you choose your words.

"I haven't been able to stop thinking about it...like..." you take a deep breath as you gather the courage for vulnerable transparency.

You remember what Jimin said. It's Hobi. You are safe with Hobi.

"It was like nothing I've ever felt before. Like a release...more than sexual, you know? Like, freedom. Like, I felt so alive."

He smiles, nodding his head in understanding.

"I..." you continue, still nervous but with mounting confidence as he makes you feel heard, "I would like to...explore this part of myself, this new world," you gesture, "And...well, I would love for you to be the one to guide me."

You raise your gaze to his. His eyes are shimmering. He slowly raises a hand and brushes his fingers over your cheek.

"It would be my honor," he murmurs earnestly.

A smile blooms across your face and your chest fills with warmth. You raise your hand, curling your fingers into his where they rest against your jaw. He drops your hands, still holding on, to his knee.

"Can I ask how much you know about the community?" he queries, tracing his thumb softly over your knuckles.

"A lot more now than I did a couple of weeks ago!" you respond with a laugh. "I know that I'm a sub, but one that likes to...fight back a little bit?"

Hobi smirks, pocketing his tongue in his cheek. His eyes glint.

"A brat," he answers.

"...Yeah."

"Want me to work for it."

Your mouth quirks up in a grin.

"The harder the challenge the bigger the payoff," he hums, glancing thoughtfully down at your joined hands.

"I think," he says after a pause, "Since you're new to all this, we should start slow. I already know some things you enjoy, and vice versa. But part of this kind of thing is about testing your limits. You're going to come across things you don't like, too. I need you to be able to tell me. Without a second thought. Seriously."

He looks at you intently.

You smile.

"I trust you enough to know that you’d stop if that’s what I wanted. I may enjoy being dominated but I do still know what I want. And with you...I..." You tug at his hand, "I know I could say what I...need.”

He huffs out a little breath, his brows drawing together as he regards you in reverence.

"You know you can be that way with me too, right? Needy?" You ask softly. "I want...to take care of you, that way. Maybe we can...take care of each other."

You're not looking at him. You can't. It's all incredibly intimate and strange. When he doesn't respond, you begin to wonder if you said something you shouldn't have. And then your doubts vanish as quickly as they had appeared when you feel his arm slip around your shoulders as he pulls you into his chest, tucking your head beneath his chin.

Your heart sings.

After a long, quiet moment, Hobi pulls back to look at you.

"Should we set some rules for ourselves?" he asks.

You purse your lips and nod. Admittedly, you had come with a few in mind.

"I think...we shouldn't kiss. Well, not on the mouth. It's...I don't know. I think it might make things confusing."

Hobi looks thoughtful, nodding slowly.

"Which brings me to my other thought," you chew your lip. "I think this should just be about sex. We're friends, and I want to keep that aspect of our relationship strong and uncompromised."

He smiles.

"Makes sense to me. But..." he says with a raise of his brows, "If we do start seeing other people, I think we should tell each other. Especially if they're going to be people we're fooling around with."

You give an enthusiastic hum of assent.

“I don’t have a partner at the moment,” you shake your head, glancing up at him.

“Me neither.”

He clears his throat and shifts his stance.

“When we’re…together,” he gestures in the space between you. “What about protection?”

You blink thoughtfully.

“I’m on birth control.”

He nods.

“Okay…would you want me to wear a condom?”

You feel heat creep up your neck as you meet his gaze with a shake of your head.

“Not unless you wanted you.”

He stares at you for a long moment before chuckling and shaking his own head.

“Ay, you’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?”

You smile and pull your bottom lip between your teeth.

"Oh! And we already have a safeword!” you remind him with a grin.

"We do," he acknowledges, his eyes dropping to the glinting metallic ring adorning your throat.

Your smile falters and your heartbeat quickens…and when he looks back up at you it's like whiplash as he sets you reeling again with a dark, hungry gaze.

"If that thing isn't a necklace," he rasps, reaching his fingers up to touch the cold silver, "How about we put it to its proper use, hm?"

You shiver, pressing your thighs together as your heartbeat drops to your clit.

"Yeah..." you whisper, your breath already starting to come quicker as you reach for your bag and fumble with trembling fingers with the clasp.

Hoseok's brow knits as he watches you open the purse, reaching in to produce a length of light chain about three feet long with a velvet strap on one and a claw clasp on the other. You double it up and dangle it from your hand, your heart thrumming in your chest as you raise your eyes to his.

"You can put it on me," you purr, "...But you'll have to take it from me first."

Click.

That ineffable thing, that invisible force he wields that arrests you has slipped back into place. You can feel it, pouring off him in devastating waves...and you're already starting to drown.

It didn't take him long to wrestle the leash from your grasp. Now you're on your knees before him, hands at your sides as he leans forward to affix the chain to the o-ring at your neck. You're breathing hard from your struggle. He stands to his full height, wrapping the links around his hand until the line is taught. He clicks his tongue condescendingly.

"What am I going to do with you now, hm?" he murmurs, tugging at the chain briefly so that you lurch slightly forward. You whine complaintively.

"Quiet," he hisses in warning.

You bite your lip. You need to obey now. Your panties are soaked and you can feel the turgid swell of your clit with every slight motion of your body. If you are good for him, then maybe you will be rewarded. Being a good girl should earn something. Right now, you will take anything.

Hoseok glowers down at you, tilting his head to the side as his eyes trail over your features, coming to rest on your pouted lips. He wets his own.

"You like to run that mouth of yours...how about we see what else it can do?"

Holy fucking shit. You feel saliva begin to pool under your tongue, your eyes flicking down to the bulge at the front of his slacks. You start to raise your hands toward his belt but he yanks sharply upward on the chain, the metal ring biting into the underside of your jaw, ripping a mewl of discomfort and impatience from your lips.

He lets out a long sigh, shaking his head as his lips curve into a cruel smile.

"So eager that she can't even wait for permission?"

You whimper again, biting your lip as he laughs darkly above you.

"My little whore wants something, doesn't she?"

You give a silent nod, letting your tongue slip out to wet your lips and watch his eyes darken as his pupils swallow his deep brown irises.

"Mmm..." He hums in consideration, bringing his free hand to cradle your chin. "I've told you before, sweet thing, if you want something, you have to ask for it."

Your eyes blink languidly as you look up at him. Your head is swimming as you sway on your knees, the dizzy helplessness of being spun between degradation and endearment hanging over you like a heavy trance. His fingers tighten around your jaw.

"Come on..." he coaxes in a chilly whisper, "Use that pretty mouth to ask Hoseok."

You swallow thickly.

"Wan..." you start softly, but his grip on your jaw sharpens.

"Speak up, I can't hear you," he commands reproachfully.

Heat swells up from your neck and sweat begins to tickle your hairline. You know what you want, you've been thinking about little else since he was pressed against you on the dance floor...but the thought of giving your filthy, aching desires shape has every inch of your body trembling.

"Wan...want..." you struggle over his fingers pressing harshly into your cheeks.

He tuts, and the look on his stony features suddenly warns you that if you don't overcome your nerves...

"Wan' your cock!" you choke out desperately.

Hoseok's lids dip slowly and his lips part, as if your words have been injected into his veins, and you think you could fucking cum at the sight. His eyes flutter open again and he gazes down. You fight for patience and composure with each maddening second of silence that passes. You can feel your pussy clench and your hands follow suit. Hoseok catches the motion. A sickening grin spreads over his lips.

"Want this cock, hm?" he hums, releasing your chin from his grasp to palm over the clothed swell inches from your lips.

You whimper pathetically, letting your eyes slip shut. Fuck you want him. You want your mouth around him. You want to choke on him. You want the thick, sticky milk of his release on your tongue.

"So tell me, brat," he hisses, wrapping another loop of chain around his palm so that he holds you on a mere few inches of leash. "How do you want my cock?"

Any shame has been dispelled from your being in the presence of your burning desire, and you raise heavy, lustful eyes to his dark ones.

"Wanna suck it off."

You can see his chest beginning to rise and fall with more effort as he pulls you by the leash, in tortuously slow deliberation, until your lips are ghosting over the zipper of his slacks. He glares down at you, the corner of his mouth curling up in a sneer as he holds you in place.

"BEG."

A violent tremor of arousal jolts through your abdomen and you gasp.

"P-please..." you stammer dumbly against the soft, dark cotton.

"Again."

"Please..."

"Please, what?"

"Please..." you breath shakily, "Will you fuck my mouth?"

You feel him twitch under the vibration of your supplicating words.

"Alright," he relents in a rasp, "But keep those hands at your sides, understand?”

You nod.

“Unless,” he tugs at the chain again,”You need to stop. Then you grab my leg and squeeze.”

“Okay.”

“What are you going to do, baby? If you need me to stop?”

“Squeeze your leg.”

“That’s right,” he hums and the repeated instruction.

You chew on your lip as he pulls off his belt and slips open the button, giving a tug at your collar. As you look up at his hooded eyes, you know exactly what to do.

You nose at the seam, trying for one moment to ignore the throbbing bulge against your cheek as you find the zipper with your teeth and drag it slowly downward, your eyes never breaking his burning gaze.

"Good girl," he hisses, pushing his pants down his hips to reveal a pair of tight, black boxer briefs, a sizable strain pulling at the flexible fabric where he's hard beneath them.

He hooks two thumbs into the elastic and tugs down, his fully erect cock springing free to bob against the side of your face. A sticky streak of precum smears across your cheek as you seek his head with your lips, barely having time to register the smooth tip, or the pretty, pulsating veins as you rush to swallow him whole.

Hoseok lets out a long, deep groan as you suckle greedily around him. Allowing your spit to slick his shaft you pull back, keeping just the crown between your lips as you worry your tongue along his dripping slit.

He's rock hard and heavy on your tongue as you lean in to take him farther down your throat, bunching your hands into your dress at the aching urge to cup and stroke the velvet skin of his scrotum.

"Fuck," he grits out from between clenched teeth, "That's right..."

You bob lower and lower on his shaft, seeking to take as much of him as you are able. When you feel his tip brush the back of your throat, you moan around him. His free hand flies into your hair, and suddenly he's yanking you off of him. You cough and splutter at the sudden motion and he tugs the chain so that you raise watery eyes to him. He releases your hair to absently stroke himself as he lightly pants over you.

"Asked me to fuck that throat. Think you can take it?"

You nod as you attempt to wipe drool pooling on your chin into your shoulder.

"Words," he pushes, snapping the chain around his wrist.

"Yeah," you mock, matching his tone, a spark of defiance reigniting inside you.

Hoseok lets out a hollow laugh.

"So confident. We'll see about that."

He slips two fingers of his free hand into the strap of your collar and tugs you back toward his cock. You open wide, extending your tongue to catch the head and pull him between your lips.

You move to swallow him again, but he halts you.

"Keep still," he mutters coldly, and the fingers at your collar hold you tightly in place as he slowly slides his hips forward in a thrust that has him inching toward your soft palate.

Your eyes water, but you have never been more determined to fight your gag reflex as he pulls back and pushes in again, deeper, his cock tapping again at the back of your throat.

"Goddamn, you really can take it," he groans in a shaky voice. "Such a good little slut for Hoseok. Such a pretty, filthy little mouth."

Your nostrils flare as you draw air through your nose, and you swallow, the muscle of your throat contracting tightly around him. At this he seems to break, suddenly pulling back his hips to snap them forward as he sets a rough, self-indulgent pace.

Your eyes water, spilling over from the brutal stretch and sting, but you dig your fingers into your thighs, determined to take him as long as you possibly can.

You start to feel light-headed, and just when you think you're going to have to tap out for air, Hoseok's pulling you off of him and wrenching your face upwards to run his wild eyes over it.

You gasp for breath a moment, and then you're opening your mouth to him again, blinking up through bleary eyes in a silent, hungry plea. He shakes his head slowly as he gazes down at you, chest heaving.

"Shit, look at you..."

You're a site. Tears and mascara streak your cheeks, saliva and precum slick your chin and neck, your parted lips swollen. Hoseok's fingers twist where they're still hooked into the collar.

"You still want it, don't you? My god..." he smears the tip of his cock along your bottom lip.

Your eager tongue wriggles forward to brush over him again. He swallows, and with a growl he slaps his cock down harshly over it. You let out a little sob as your soaking, aching cunt clenches around nothing.

"Alright," he mutters in a husky whisper, "Gonna fucking ruin that tight little throat. Gonna fill it the fuck up. Blow my load all over that nasty little tongue. And you want that, don't you? Wanna be Hoseok's pretty little cumslut, hm?"

You nod, and then remember the rules.

"Yes," you croak, and open wide for him again.

He grits his teeth and tugs at the collar to pull you slowly over him again with a shudder. You've proven more than capable and it's not long before he's chasing release at a punishing pace. It's sloppy and desperate - the hollow, wet sounds as he fucks your face a pornographic symphony.

Suddenly you think you can feel his cock twitch and jerk as it hammers into your mouth, and when he grows so incredibly hard, you know he's about to reach his peak.

You lock eyes with him through your tears, watching his features strain to maintain their composure. Without warning he grabs the back of your head and slams into you, arching over as he cries out.

And he cums.

Thick ropes spurt down your throat as he quivers and throbs.

The moment he's spent his last drop of release he fists into your hair and roughly pulls you back, letting his softening cock fall free. You gasp for breath, coughing as you choke down the last remnants of his seed. Lips trembling, your eyes search his face for what you so desperately need...and you find it.

His lids are heavy over his eyes, mere glistening slips of midnight visible as they gleam down at you; his beautiful lips are parted as he pants, the honey planes of chest glistening with sweat where his shirt fails to obscure it.

He's breathless and sated and glorious, and you bask under the intensity of his gaze. He releases his hold on your collar and lets the leash clatter to the ground, bringing his hands to your face. He cups your cheeks, brushing his thumbs over the streaks of tears.

"So, fucking good for me," he mutters shakily, his brow drawn, "Such a pretty, perfect little brat."

Your eyes slip shut under his words of praise. You could move mountains if he asked you to, you were certain. In this moment, in this space, anything for this man. Everything.

You feel his hands leave your face as he moves to help you stand, before tugging his briefs back into place.

The heat of the moment past, you become acutely aware of the stinging soreness in your knees as you struggle to your feet – and the sticky ache of persistent hunger throbbing between your thighs. You teeter on your heels as blood rushes to your lower legs.

Smiling, he reaches out and pulls you to him gently by the waist, swiping a thumb over your chin.

"You were a good girl, baby. So, so good," He coos in a husky whisper. "You remember what good girls get, hm?" He's still calling the shots and demanding answers, but his eyes are soft as they regard you.

"A reward?" you answer hopefully.

He hums in assent.

"That's right, baby. That's right," He brushes at the smeared makeup under your eye. "But let's get that messy little face cleaned up first."

After unfastening your collar he sits you down on the bed, bringing makeup wipes to gently dab away the proof of your efforts, and offers you a bottle of cool water. He comes to sit beside you, eyes tracking you attentively as you drink.

"Want Hoseok to take care of that needy little pussy?" he asks, with a smirk.

"Fuck yes," you breath as you lower the bottle from your mouth.

He arches a brow, and you purse your lips in an attempt not to grin.

"Please," you add in correction.

"Mmm," he acknowledges thoughtfully, turning to gaze over his shoulder at the spider plant hanging from the ceiling a few feet past the other side of the bed.

"Does my little girl want to try something new?" he asks, his eyes still on the suspended planter.

You feel your pulse quicken and stomach twist in anticipation.

"Yes, Hoseok, I trust you," you respond without reserve.

He flicks his eyes to your face, brows drawing together. He wets his lips and huffs out a breathy laugh.

"You have no goddamned idea what you do to me when you say shit like that."

You look away, smiling brightly as you preen under the heat and affection of his gaze.

He reaches for your hand and guides you to rise to your feet.

"Alright, ditch the dress," he orders, gesturing with a flick of his chin as he leans back on his hands and spreads his thighs in a posture of recline.

You step back to give yourself space, already weak in the knees at the prospect of stripping for him. You steel your composure, a spark of boldness lighting in your belly. Taking a few steps away and turning from him, you look back over your shoulder to watch his face as you reach behind to slowly drag the zipper down your back. You make a slow, sensual show of peeling the garment from your body to reveal a lacy black balconette bra and matching thong. Stepping out of the dress and tossing it away, in nothing but your lingerie and stilettos, you stride back to stand patiently before him.

He leans forward and runs his hands up the sides of your thighs until they reach your hips where they slide back to squeeze the meat of your ass.

You bring your hands gingerly to his shoulders.

Tugging your body toward him, he draws himself to the edge of the mattress, pulling you between his thighs as he uses his sharp, white teeth to nip along the soft flesh of your belly. He sucks harshly at some places, leaving flushed little souvenirs of claim in his wake. You don't hold back the proof of your pleasure - repaying his ministrations with gasps and low moans as his hands and mouth explore you.

Hoseok raises his face from your skin, his pupils wide as his gaze settles at your breasts.

"Bra off," he commands, squeezing your ass again as you reach back to unfasten the clasp and pull the straps from your arms.

He hisses and grits his teeth, raising greedy hands to knead at your supple flesh, before pulling them away to twist and slap at your nipples.

You groan and throw your head back, relishing in the shocks of sensation – gushing, as if you could ruin your soaked panties any further. As you press your trembling thighs together he glances down at the last remaining vestige of your modesty, lips spreading into a wicked grin.

"You know I can fucking smell it - how wet you are? My god, want you to wear it like a perfume, fuck..." He runs his right hand to rub against the dampness that has the lace clinging to your slit.

The moan you let out is so needy it's practically a sob. Hoseok laughs low in his chest.

Suddenly he’s standing and spinning you around, leading you to the end of the bed. He places your hands on the footboard and instructs you to bend over, sliding your hips back until your ass is on full display. He runs his hands over the bare flesh of your cheeks.

"Now," he growls, "Can't fuck this ass until it's properly marked, can we?"

You swallow and let out a whine. The blood is already rushing to your head in a familiar surge and in the split second of silence before impact, you know what's coming - the anticipation somehow even more intoxicating when you remember how it feels when he...

Smack!

You whimper, your fingers gripping the bed frame as he delivers blow after searing blow. When he has satisfied himself with the flushed tone streaking the globes of your ass, he gives it a final squeeze, commanding you to wait where you are.

You hear him as he moves to the side of the bed to pull an object from beneath it. He seems to be grappling with something - the clink of metal and soft rustle of leather interrupting the sudden heavy hush. He returns to your side, taking your hands from the bed and bringing you to stand. As he leads you to the far side of the bed, you see it: hanging from the large hook in the ceiling that once bore the spider plant there is a large leather contraption. You've never seen one in real life, but you know what it is.

"You have a sex swing?" you murmur in awe, momentarily forgetting yourself as you reach out to brush your fingers over the soft leather. There are buckle straps at different places and a metal bar running across the top. He lightly grips your waist, turning you to face him again. He dips his head forward and you inhale the cool mint of his breath.

"Gonna put you in it," he murmurs, "You remember our word, right?"

"Yes," you breathe.

“Say it.”

“Foxglove.”

He smirks.

"Good girl. Panties off," he instructs.

You couldn't be more eager to pull the sopping fabric down your legs and toss it aside, but when you reach to remove your shoes, he catches your wrist.

"I didn't say you could take those off, did I?" he reprimands, and your pulse begins to hammer in your throat.

He’s gonna fucking strap you to this thing in your goddamned heels.

You comply with him as he helps you into the seat, fastening your wrists together to a strap that has them raised above your head. After securing your hands, he raises your legs, carefully stretching them so that your feet are on the outside of the wide set cables, hooking your heels to catch on the bar across the top to hold your legs, spread wide, in place. With each restriction he checks in, making sure you’re completely comfortable with his choices.

When he finishes he comes to stand before you, heaving out a sigh through his nose as he trails a hand down the back of your thigh.

"Look at you," he groans as his eyes rake over your body.

You can feel your pussy leaking. Your heart pounds. The muscles in your legs strain a bit from the stretch and the bindings nip into your wrists and feet. You are completely exposed to him...and it is utter perfection. Like you were made to be at his mercy. You blink up at him through the fuzzy haze that keeps intensifying as you relinquish yourself deeper and deeper into his control.

His eyes slip shut for a moment and he gives an almost imperceptible shake of his head before bringing his lips to graze against the back of your calf.

"Hoseok..." you whisper, trembling.

His eyes open and lock with yours. You hold each other's gaze in silence.

Nothing needs to be said - you both know. You both understand.

He unbuttons his shirt and slips it off, and after discarding his briefs he is as naked as you are. With one hand he grips your leg, slipping two fingers of the other to slide through the swollen, sticky folds of your cunt. You cry out, your pelvis shuddering - so ripe to be touched that the contact sends a shock like an electric pulse through your being.

"What a pretty fucking pussy...so desperate for me," he mutters.

You watch his beautiful fingers as they slip through your glistening lips and over your throbbing clit before he pulls his hand up. He lets it hover in the air for a moment before bringing it down with a harsh smack against your mound.

A scream strangles in your throat as he repeats the motion again. Your whole body shakes with arousal.

He clenches his jaw as he trails his fingers down to your aching hole, dipping in shallowly to gather your bountiful slick. He raises his fingers to his lips, tasting you as he watches you tremble beneath him. He withdraws them with a pop.

"You know how much you like that? Getting this little cunt slapped?" His eyes trail down. "You're dripping down your fucking ass."

Shuddering violently, you whimper, tugging impatiently at your restraints.

"Yah," he warns, and you still. "Guess you're ready for me, huh? Just like that day..." He smirks condescendingly. "You're always ready, aren't you?" He hisses. "Need me so fucking badly...all of the time."

You sob as your walls contract again and again. He takes his cock into his hand and slides it through your folds, teasing the tip over your clit.

It's euphoric, but it's not enough. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip as you fight your own desperate need until the copper taste of blood seeps across your tongue. Somehow, it doesn't even hurt – you can't feel anything past the need for him to fill you. You feel his tip prod your entrance and you gasp.

“Look at me," he rasps.

Your eyes snap open. Your legs are shaking, vibrating the entire apparatus as he finally, slowly, sinks into your wet heat. The stretch of him is exquisite, and your eyes roll back in your head as he groans, steadily pulling back to push into you again.

“Shiiiiiitttt…” he hisses through his teeth, “Fucking made for me. Does my little brat like that? Hoseok’s cock stuffing that tight little cunt?”

“M-more…p-please…” you mewl, nearly unable to even form the words as his ridges drag deliciously along your taught walls.

You're so incredibly worked up that already you can feel a climax building in your belly, and he's only just started to fuck you. Unable to touch him any other way, you squeeze around him tightly.

He lets out a grunt, picking up his pace as he uses the mobility of the swing to pound you onto his cock.

You cry out, your head rattling against the leather as stroke after stroke sends you hurtling toward your high. Your mouth hangs open, and your vision begins to blur at the edges, the position of your arms making it harder to breathe. It’s going put you over the edge. He catches your glazed stare.

"Don't you fucking cum until I say," he grits out breathlessly, and you let out a wail, head falling back.

You can feel yourself barely holding on as he slams into you, teetering on the edge as you hear his voice.

"Whose little whore are you?"

You try to speak but the words won't rattle out of your chest.

"Whose?" he booms.

"Yours!" you press out in a sob.

"Who do you kneel for?"

"You!"

"Who owns this pussy?"

"Y-you!"

"And who the fuck am I?"

"HOSEOK!"

"Cum, slut." he growls.

...And you free-fall through time and space.

The summer evening air is warm against your skin as you step out under the rose gold twilight. Behind you the chic dining venue is still abustle, and you wave coworkers a fond farewell as they head off to continue the evening with karaoke. It's been a big day for you, and there's someone you've been waiting to talk to.

You press the green call button and wait as the line rings.

"Yeoboseyo?"

The warm voice on the other end has a smile blooming on your lips.

"Hey, Hobi-ssi!" you hum.

"Hey hey!" he chrips, "What's up?"

"Oh, nothing," you respond casually, "Just got done with a company dinner. Someone got a promotion, so we all went out."

There's a pause on the other end.

"Oh," answers slowly, "That one you put in for?"

"Mhm."

You hear him scoff in amusement

"Well, at least you seem to be taking it well."

"I'd say I'm taking it extremely well, which is only natural, considering I got the job."

"Yes, well...wait, YOU WHAT?!"

You pull the phone momentarily away from your ear as his joyful, raucous laughter blasts through the speaker.

"You're gonna make me go deaf!" You chide. Your smile is brighter than the setting sun.

"I'm so proud of you."

"Thanks, Hobi."

"You should celebrate!"

"I did go out with my work friends...but..."

"You should come over," he interjects.

The register of his voice has changed. You recognize the new one.

"Yeah?" you swallow, as your heart rate quickens. "Well...what if I do want to go to karaoke?"

You wait for his response, watching your ride share pull up to the curb.

"Yah - you gonna be a good girl…”

You hold your breath.

“...Or do I have to make you?"

-FIN-

#hoseok fic #oneshot #bts oneshot #hoseok smut #hoseok imagine #hobi x reader #hobi smut #hobi x y/n #jhope smut #jhope fanfic #jhope x reader #jhope x you #jhope x y/n #jhope imagine #bts imagines #bts smut #bts x reader #fic: make me

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inbabylontheywept · 4 months ago

Text

xc lends itself to stories well because it has all the weird overlapping insanities of group dynamics and hypoxia and Male Bonding and definitely a little bit of masochism.

and for my second xc story in like a week, we used to do this run down to the local public pool in the summers of hs because the temp was like, 110-115. fucking bastard heat. and this one girl had The Audacity to wear this extremely normal and fine two piece swimsuit that showed approximately a half inch of waist and a bellybutton. this of course was a mortal insult to one particular group of mormons who were so scandalized that they talked to the coach who in turn talked to the group about how Someone Wore a Two Piece Swimsuit and it made Some People very uncomfortable and that the dress code was now one piece swimsuits. and of course the poor girl was absolutely mortified.

now, the varsity were actually really good people in general, but one of them, who i shall name RJ, was just awesome. that sonofabitch could run like a 14:00 5k, but he still had this big ol potbelly, and he was the only person i knew who didnt get nauseous after running. the absolute brainfuck of running in the 110 degree heat along the canals, just struggling to breathe, and then getting smoked by this potbelled toothpick eating a bag of flaming hot cheetoes is just hard to understate. hed go up into the stands during track and buy hotdogs. just a legend. fuck that guy, but you know, in the way where im really just jealous of him.

anyway, RJ took genuine offense to this girl being called out for her totally normal swimsuit so when the next public pool run came around he showed up in a speedo. and it was the xc hivemind thing, where we all knew if we could just, somehow, keep the coach from noticing this guy until we actually pulled out and started running down the block, we were golden. so me and a bunch of other guys gathered around him like the secret service, and we did our stretches, got ready and left, and then RJ, being the beautiful majestic man muffin that he is, popped his shirt off, ran directly to the front of the mormon group, and proceeded to give himself the most brutal wedgie i can describe. practically stretched the speedo over his shoulders. you couldnt get a clearer vision of this mans ass with the hubble telescope.

so the mormon group tried to pass him, which was like stupid of them - nobody passed RJ unless they were willing to piss blood. they tried, they tried so hard to get around him and avoid the blaring eyewatering burn of this mans ghost white ass, but it didnt work, so they tried slowing down which is also something RJ could do indefinitely so eventaully they just kind of gave up and tried not to notice the extremely noticable hairy white butt camped in front of them for the entire three mile run to the pool.

the coach did notice about halfway through the run, but by then there wasnt much he could do. we argued very eloquently between panting and coughing and generally suffering that a speedo is, in fact, a one piece swimsuit, and thus the letter of the law had been fulfilled. id say, i dunno, maybe a hundred of us argued the case.

surprisingly, there was no follow up conversation banning speedos. RJs disapproval of the ban wouldve been enough, but the speedo underlined it in red a few times and at the next run to the pool, several other girls wore tankinis and nobody said shit.

(RJ told me if they had, the next run to the pool wouldve just been him winnie-the-poohing it, and i almost dont doubt it.)

#Babylon-Lore

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danikamariewrites · 5 months ago

Note

If you're willing to do a more platonic/familial request, could you do some headcanons on being Rhysand's youngest sister?? And then I had an additional idea of being his sister + Azris' mate... but I'll let you decide which aspects you'd like to write about :) (if you want to write about it at all, of course!)

Princess of the Night Court

IC x reader (platonic)

Notes: I went with reader just being the sister I hope you don’t mind, I wanted to explore this dynamic before hopping outside the night court

Warnings: some angst

Being the second born of the former NC High Lord meant you had the freedoms to do some things your brother couldn’t

However much you pushed your brother’s buttons when he became High Lord you still loved each other. And you really stepped up to help him with his royal duties

You were a bit nervous and relieved when your father died. You knew what he expected of you but you were unsure how the power and position would change Rhys

The biggest blessing Rhys gave you was the freedom to marry whoever and whenever. There was no pressure and he would not dare use you as a bargaining tool, ever

Being princess came with the never ending princess treatment

Your people adored you and you them

You frequented shops in Velaris and always made sure to talk with everyone and hear their troubles

It also meant that Azriel and Cassian were your forever body guards

And how fun is it to ditch them?! It’s even more fun when they finally track you down. Their faces all scrunched in anger and that vein popping in Cassian’s forehead that you just want to poke

The two were your brothers, there was no denying Az and Cass treated you like the sister they never had

They were just as protective (maybe more at times) than Rhys is of you and you loved them for it

When you had your first heartbreak one of the first people you went to for comfort was Azriel. He was always your shoulder to cry on and he’s a good listener

The three of them would be up anyone that hurt you

To try and have some semblance of a normal life while Rhys was gone you tried to date. It did not go well. The male you went to dinner with had said some nasty things about your family and came home bawling your eyes out. When you told Cass, Az, and Mor, Cassian was the most angry. He left and came home with bloody knuckles. That night he sat next to your bed reading you stories like when you were little

After Rhys came home from under the mountain you gave him his space and were more serious than usual

Something you hadn’t had in a long time with your brother was a sleepover. You used to crawl into his bed at night when you had nightmares and Rhys would reassure you that everything would be ok

Just as you were planning to go to Rhys for a sleepover to make him feel normal a knock sounded at your door. Opening it you found your brother looking disheveled and on the verge of tears. You pulled him in and you got into your bed. You laid there in silence for a very long time, both wide awake. “I know you can’t and don’t want to talk about everything yet. But we’re all here for you Rhys. I’m here for you big brother. And I won’t think any differently of you for any of it.” Rhys just pulled you into a bone crushing hug and cried and cried until he fell asleep. You hadn’t seen him cry like that since your mother died

Out of everyone of the Inner Circle you were the most overjoyed to have Rhys home

You did everything in your power to make sure he was comfortable and welcome

The sacrifices he made for the court were ones you would never forget

Watching Rhys fall in love with Feyre made your heart swell. You saw a light burn in him that hadn’t been there since he was younger

Becoming friends with Feyre was a journey

She didn’t like you at first since she only knew the stories that Tamlin and Lucien had told her

Fun lil bit of history Tamlin left out was that you and him hooked up but he was kinda mad it was only ever that and not more

But when you and Mor broke through and Feyre trusted you enough her friendship was a beautiful thing

And you had a new buddy to pick on Cassian with

Learning Feyre was pregnant after the war you were so excited to be an aunt! You were going to spoil the shit out of this baby boy

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #acotar fanfic #acotar headcanon #acotar headcanons #rhysand x reader #azriel x reader #cassian x reader #mor acotar x reader #inner circle acotar #inner circle x reader #inner circle x you #inner circle headcanons

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matryosika · 11 months ago

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Mark; Power Dynamic and Other Analysis

Wordcount: 1,065 words Includes: Silly little headcanons Genre: Smut, 18+ Author’s note: This is purely based on my imagination and the vibes I get from him. You may or may not agree with me, and that’s completely okay —this is only me free associating for a thousand words straight. Please enjoy whatever this is, and don't hesitate to share your thoughts with me! Credits: MDNI banner by @/cafekitsune !

First things first, I sense that Mark loves to be in control.

With that being said, I honestly don't picture him as a hard dominant. He might not even care about roles, anyway, but he is naturally leaning towards the dominant side.

He is really playful with the role, though. Mark is such a tease, and really creates an environment in which you can feel comfortable. He takes it upon himself to reassure you in every step of the fucking way —if he feels like you’re shying away from him, he would do anything just to bring you back to him.

For instance, I feel like one of his priorities in bed is to make sure you feel comfortable exposing yourself to him. I can really see him being into body worshiping and might even kneel in front of you and kiss your body from head to toe, whispering sweet nothings while asking all the right questions: "do you like it when I kiss you like this?, "does it feel good?", "do you want me touch you here?", and so on.

Despite the natural dominance I see in him, I do feel like he can get needier and more desperate than you, and he is not really ashamed of expressing it. This man is whiny, might even beg you to let him please you. And it's good that he is very talkative, because I just know his voice gets deeper and raspier in sexual contexts. At the same time, he is not really that loud; it's all whispers and murmurs, half of his words are muffled because he just has to have his lips attached to your skin and flesh.

But when I say he is talkative, I mean it. The type to curse under his breath, and even start rambling about how much he loves you and how good you're making him feel. At one point he stops making any sense, because he is no longer thinking with his head but his dick.

Mark might seem shy and collected at first, but I feel like the most he progresses into a sexual encounter, the less timid and more primal he becomes.

But even then, I don't picture him as someone who might enjoy degrading or humiliating you, and certain practices like impact play might be a big no for him. I feel like he could try if you asked him to, but I don't think he would enjoy it just for the sake of slapping or spanking you. If he does enjoy it, it's probably out of ego —the fact that you're trusting him enough to ask him such things, and that you're enjoying them.

But, willingly, I don't think Mark would ever inflict pain on you like that.

Overstimulation and denial, however, are a whole other topic for him. He doesn't mind hurting you a little if he knows you can take it, and that it can become pleasure in exchange for a little pain —the way he proves your loyalty is through how good you're at following his orders and how willing you're to leave your pleasure aside, or endure a little pain, just because he asked you to.

Mark is a hopeless romantic, and that translates into sex as a somewhat possessive partner. He is only yours, as long as you prove to him that you're only his. He is going to love you passionately if only you can do the same for him; he never hesitates when it comes to you, and he expects you to be the same when it comes to him.

Because of this passion and intensity, I think he is very much the jealous type. Get jealous easily, and might act a little bit impulsive on it. Also, he isn't afraid of bringing said topics with you —if something bothers him, he will tell you without beating around the bush. It may conflict him, and he might get shy when talking to you about whatever it was that upsetted him, but he never keeps such things for himself.

That's kind of relevant because I think the possessive, jealous part of him really makes an appearance in bed —he wants to hear you say how you belong to him, and him only; how your body it's only his to touch and kiss, how you don't want anyone else but him.

Mark wants everything there is of you —your mind, heart and body.

And that's why sex is always so intense; not necessarily rough, but emotionally I feel like he brings a shit ton of vulnerability and he needs you to do the same. Sex with him it's always so fucking intimate, and it can get really filthy because trust is one of the most important things for him —he doesn't care about the mess, as long as it is your mess (with this I mean like certain fluids or things one might find disgusting, but to him they really aren’t).

He might be an experimentalist; he is willing to try everything at least once before deciding if he is into it or not. He’s also pretty good at communicating and putting his thoughts and emotions into words, so that gives me the impression that he is really in touch with himself and his preferences.

So, going back to the power dynamic bit, I don't see Mark willingly and fully submitting to you. Although I said he might not even care about those sorts of roles, I feel like he is the most comfortable with being in charge of your pleasure and his. For some it might be a burden, but not for him —he leans towards dominance naturally, not to assert it but because he likes it.

Mark is always gentle, but in the midst of things I really believe he can manhandle you unintentionally. He might squeeze your hands a bit too harshly, or grip your hips a bit too rough; not to hurt you, but because he loses his mind in between. He gets so drunk on you and your body, that he just forgets the whole world surrounding him but you.

To wrap things up, I must say he is a fucking great kisser. I do see him as someone who kisses sloppily, but in a "I definitely know what I'm doing" kind of way. He bites, and uses tongue, and just makes sure to kiss you deeply until your mouth is full of him. Mark either places his hands on each side of your face or takes you by your waist to press his body against yours.

#nct smut #mark smut #kpop smut #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #mark lee smut

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xxsycamore · 23 days ago

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❝ CRADLE ❞

╰┈➤ Soon after you've had the "baby talk", Shingen already seems to be thinking ahead - but not all his thoughts are so innocent.

Shingen Takeda/f!Reader • rating: E (MDNI) • tags: Breeding; Mentions of Pregnancy; Nipple Play; Dirty Talk; Hand & Finger Kink; Body Worship • wordcount: 595 • masterlist

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ request by @writingwhimsey <3 thank you!

IKEMEN BREEDING SEASON - Prompt 5. Imagining you pregnant

"I'm glad that you liked the cradle. I can already see you gently rocking our child to sleep."

The very moment Shingen gave you a brief pause from kissing you breathless, you knew he had something to say. Another killer line perhaps, something awfully flirty or downright naughty, just anything that will make your heart skip a beat as he knows best.

Instead, he brings up the cradle. And somehow, the result is the same.

It's only been a handful of days since the baby talk. Your relationship with Shingen has been nothing but dynamic from the get-go, and yet still, the butterflies in your belly now can only be compared to the ones from those early days. Suddenly there's so much to be talked about. It's no wonder how the late-night talks have turned into comparisons between what childrearing looks like in your head versus that of Shingen's. The modern ways versus the old-school. The shocking lack of baby cradles in Sengoku times, at least as you know them. The passionate declaration of Shingen that he'll definitely make one for your future baby.

Future baby. Yet there it is, standing in your peripheral vision; the wooden cradle he presented you with tonight, just a couple of days after you first mentioned the peculiar piece of furniture.

"Of course I would." You take Shingen's hands in your own, for a good measure before they get up to no good feeling you up and preventing you from focusing on what you want to say - and then you place a kiss on each one. "You were the one who made it. And you did a great job, too."

You linger on his right hand a little longer, with purpose. You can see Shingen's eyes darken with lust as you take his thumb into your arm just briefly, provoking him.

"I can see that you're already imagining things, Shingen…"

Shingen smirks, but the raised corners of his mouth soon relax into a softer smile, and it stays there, even as he disrobes you. He finds you wet and willing between your legs - which grants you a quick look with those intoxicating ashy eyes, capable of expressing things dirtier than his mouth does - but still prefers to toy with you before sinking his arching cock inside you.

"Oh, I've been imagining things alright. You'd be surprised exactly how much I've been imagining things."

You decide to be bold, as if carried by your instincts which are telling you that you absolutely must have him tonight. Silly thing considering he's got the same plans in store for you. Yet still, you raise one of your legs up his shoulder, beckoning him, seducing him.

"Tell me more…"

Shingen wets his lips and gladly complies.

"I've been imagining you with child. The way I'd wake up to you every morning, slowly becoming aware of all the little changes. Be assured, princess, I will notice. Your body that I came to know better than my own, how could I fail to notice it becoming more beautiful? Your belly swelling up with the life we created. Your bosom filling out."

The last part he whispers against your chest, his voice becoming muffled as he darts out his tongue to wet your perky nipple. Your own mind gets creative, imagining how much Shingen will enjoy your swollen breasts, and your belly, and then you trail off to all the parts of you he worshipped and the ways in which he'll worship them when…

"Please make it true, Shingen. I need it."

And so does he.

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @kimi00twin @g-kleran @thesirenwashere @devonares @galaxyprison @starshards26 @thewitchofbooks @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @lordsister @ikemen-banshou @themysticalbeing @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @ikemenlover24 @mcofthemansion @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-writer @tele86 @lovely-bubb1es @aria-chikage @babyblue0t7 @rhodoliteschaos @shrimpy-kitsune @nightghoul381 @xbalayage @lucyw260 @kittygrimm88 @lokis-laugh @natimiles @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf @groovylita @raeraeks @ethereal-blossom Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen #ikemen sengoku shingen #ikesen shingen #ikemen shingen #shingen takeda #ikemen sengoku fanfic #ikesen fanfic #ikemen fanfic #ikemen series #cw breeding

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wing-ed-thing · 7 months ago

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Enemies to Lovers with Tobirama Senju

Tags: No Reader Pronouns

𓆃 It's actually surprisingly uncomplicated to go from an enemy to a lover with Tobirama, contrary to assumptions. And it's because he's an extremely logical person.

𓆃 Given that you end up proving yourself to be trustworthy, Tobirama is willing to take things of the past at face-value and weigh them against actions of the present.

𓆃 All clans, after all, were warring. And when peace was inevitably negotiated, there wasn't a single soul who had nothing to look past.

𓆃 Things might actually go smoother if you knew Tobirama prior to the foundation of the village. Seeing each other in passing on the field or even engaging on combat together would, at the very least, establish some familiarity between the two of you.

𓆃 Especially for the period, battlefield etiquette was an unspoken rule that almost everyone engaged in. And while you could expect an increase in underhanded tactics when things grew contentious, at the very least, you learned your opponent's name.

𓆃 And while Tobirama isn't one to throw out compliments to you during your altercations, the engagement itself is a testament to your strength and praise to your skill.

𓆃 He'll get oddly silent, his eyes never leaving you as he charges at you over and over with his blade. Although, this isn't to say that he's rash when it comes to you. Rather, it's the opposite.

𓆃 His gaze is dark and calculated, and his intense focus is a compliment in and of itself. It means he's taking you seriously.

𓆃 And once the village eventually comes together, building rapport with Tobirama only becomes easier, especially if your people are on board and cooperating with the effort or if you're an active participant in negotiations and/or leadership.

𓆃 It takes time, genuine interactions, and, of course, some amount of trust to break through Tobirama's hard exterior. He's fairly aloof and abrasive, but demonstrating your seriousness when it comes to the issues can gain you a powerful ally.

𓆃 Tobirama can also smell an act from a mile away, so sincerity is key to building a relationship. And no matter what your dynamic evolves into, it's one built on trust and honesty.

𓆃 It's extremely likely that Tobirama will fall first... and not know it, which leads to you noticing him around quite a bit, always finding an excuse to talk to you while also staying stand-offish and aloof.

𓆃 He tries to stay a logical as he can, but every so often his nerves will get the better of him, resulting in various fumbles or misspoken words.

𓆃 But don't be mistaken, if things start to go south with any agreements between your clans, Tobirama won't shy away from the issues and may speak with less tact than he should. But it's important to understand that his approach is logical.

𓆃 It's not something he necessarily holds against you, and he's not quick to hard assumptions, but he's also not turning a blind eye to anything that might concern him just because of his affection for you.

𓆃 After all, his family comes first.

𓆃 But given enough evidence, Tobirama is readily able to move forward on the grounds of mutual respect and understanding. He doesn't like to talk much about the past in the first place.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: I had to feed my Tobirama stans a little

#Tobirama x reader #Tobirama senju x reader #naruto x reader #naruto headcanons #naruto x y/n #naruto x you #naruto #reader insert #x reader #x you #naruto shippuden #Tobirama headcanons #tobirama #Tobirama senji

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ihavemanyhusbands · 7 months ago

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Revenge is a Dish Best Served Bloody

PART TWO: RABBIT HEARTED

Also on AO3

Part One // Mini-series masterlist

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem!Bounty Hunter!Reader

WC: 3.8k words

Chapter Summary: During your journey, tension rises between you and the ghoul... but not the kind you expected. You'd built a solid enough rapport, but you found that you both wanted so much more than just that. And so, you let him get a taste.

Warnings: MINORS DNI, THIS FIC IS 18+, Dead dove: do not eat, canon typical violence, the ghoul being the ghoul, swearing, drug mentions/use (chems), enemies to lovers, animal hunt at the beginning of chapter, nudity (both sexual and non-sexual), masturbation, oral (fem receiving), fingering, dirty talking, sorta dom/sub dynamics, a little bit of chasing, outdoor shenanigans, a little bit of degradation, not really any aftercare in this one but pls always practice it irl, aaaand for now that’s all i can think of but lmk if another tag is needed.

---------

A flash of brown fur slipping through the underbrush immediately made you still. You kept your eyes peeled for the smallest movement, breathing as quietly as possible… and there it was, a little rabbit. Nose twitching, ears standing at attention, eyes dark and wide.

Slowly, you raised your crossbow – which you had luckily been able to recover along with part of your pack, another little courtesy of the ghoul – and aimed at its throat. A slow breath expanding your lungs as your finger came to rest on the trigger.

A reedy squeak as the makeshift bolt pierced through, and it slumped on its side. You smiled to yourself victoriously, bending down to retrieve the carcass, hooking it next to the other one already hanging from your belt. It wasn’t much, but it’d get you through the next day if you rationed it well.

The ghoul had, of course, made you the one in charge of food. You’d been hunting for yourself for as long as you could remember, so it wasn’t an outlandish order, but that didn’t mean you weren’t huffy about it.

At the very least, it meant he wouldn’t keep you tied to him at all times.

A few days of strenuous trekking had passed, and while you were keenly observant of your surroundings, you had not attempted escape once. In fact, you never strayed too far, knowing he could find and retrieve you with ridiculous ease.

But it wasn’t just that. This was the closest you’d ever been to finding Axl, and even if you knew you couldn’t — shouldn’t — fully believe the ghoul’s word, the fact that he had saved your life had to mean something.

Then again, he probably just wanted someone to keep him fed, but only time would tell. For now, you had to keep pushing forward, taking the days as they came.

Tired, you stalked over to a rock outcropping that overlooked the sandy wasteland below. The silence was only vaguely punctuated by a breeze that made you all too aware of how your tattered clothes clung to your sweaty skin.

It was spring, so the sun wasn’t at its most brutal, but walking, and climbing, and hunting for hours every day still took a toll on you. Not to mention, nearly being brutally killed.

Oh, how you yearned for at least a bucket of clean water to wash yourself off.

The last time you’d been able to do so was when you’d stopped in Filly to restock on some supplies. You were running dangerously low on caps, which prompted the ghoul to offer you a loan.

“We could figure out the interest later,” he’d said with a wink. “I can be a generous fella, believe it or not.”

But you had declined, already knowing well what loans in the wasteland entailed. Perhaps you could take an odd job or two at your next stop, but that depended on how long the ghoul would be willing to linger.

In the meantime, you chose the temporary reprieve of sunning your bare skin and letting the breeze caress it. It wasn’t like you were in a huge rush, anyway, and you desperately needed some time to yourself. You glanced around and kept your ears open to make sure you were alone.

Deftly, you stripped and laid your clothes out so they could also get some sun. You kept your old, wide-brimmed straw hat on to shield your eyes as you looked out at the horizon for a lingering moment.

You closed your eyes, letting yourself forget the world was an unfair shithole… save for small instances like this one, feeling something akin to peace. You weren’t sure how much time passed, briefly entering a meditative state.

Then you heard it, heavy footsteps emerging from the sparse treeline.

“Jus what the hell is takin’ you so lo— Oh, my. Well, lookie here…”

Your entire body froze, every single one of your nerve endings tingling with awareness. Still, you didn’t try to cover yourself — if anything, as an act of defiance, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing how he rattled you. Plus, nudity wasn’t really anything out of the ordinary in today’s society.

“See something interesting?” You asked casually, glancing at him over your shoulder.

You were startled by the hunger in his gaze, a sly, brazen smirk tugging at his lips. His eyes snagged on the sweat dotting the small of your back, the smooth expanse of your legs, and the curvature of your ass.

“Nothin’ I haven’t seen, darlin’,” he drawled. “But, boy, if that ain’t a sweet lookin’ peach…”

You turned to face him, crossing your arms below your chest. He let out a low whistle at the sight, hairless eyebrows raising. You could feel your heart hammering against your ribcage, threatening to break through.

“Can a lady not have some privacy?” You asked, raising an eyebrow in return and trying not to squirm as his eyes continued to roam.

He huffed in amusement. “You out here in your birthday suit like we at a fuckin’ meat market, what’s the difference if I’m watchin’?”

A small, traitorous thought slipped into your head then — the difference is, I don’t know if I mind too much that you’re looking at me like that… but that can’t be right.

Desire was not uncommon in the wasteland. You’d seen it glinting dangerously in the eyes of strangers as you’d passed, leering grins and rapacious hands sometimes following. You’d heard the sounds of it coming from abandoned places, in little nooks and crannies that were just right for a tryst.

It was a marvel, at that moment, that even a monster could be affected by it… while also managing to affect you in return.

You had experienced it only a handful of times, but it had rarely been fulfilled. Somehow, though, the ghoul’s gaze had left a fiery imprint on your skin, clinging like an afterthought. Or perhaps a promise.

Instead of insisting he leave, you began redressing, not too quickly as to seem desperate, but also not too slowly as to make it seem like a seduction. You strapped on your pack and your crossbow last, walking past him without a word, bumping your arm against his.

His chuckle trailed after you as you made your way back towards the small camp you’d set up in an abandoned building. While you’d been off hunting, he’d scoped out the place to make sure there were no fiends or mutants lurking about.

Down in the basement, he built a fire as you skinned the rabbits, only preparing one of them for cooking. You already knew he mostly preferred his meals… raw.

He ate quickly, ravenously even, as you waited for your strips of meat to finish cooking. Then you heard him inhale chem – RadAway, by the looks of it – from a canister, coughing a few times before letting out a long, relaxed sigh.

You watched him sidelong, still trying to figure out the riddle of the man whose name you didn’t even know.

“So… are you ever gonna tell me why you’re looking for Axl?”

“I already told ya, girl, it ain’t none of your goddamn business,” he said slowly, not looking at you as he settled back against the wall.

You scoffed. “Don’t I have the right to know at least a little bit more about who is herding me along?”

“Y’ain’t got the right to much of anythin’ ‘round these parts,” he said. “Ain’t you a surface dweller?”

You nodded, inclined in part to get defensive over your knowledge of things, but at the same time… It had been so long since you’d had the opportunity to confide in someone else. Not that he was ideal for it, but you had to admit that having company was quite nice.

It highlighted your loneliness, too, and you had to believe that he wasn’t all too different from you in that respect. You stared at the licking flames in front of you, your mind wandering further away.

“My father was a courier for one of the vaults. We only had each other, so he didn’t like leaving me anywhere. Not even when the vault’s overseer offered to take me in so they could care for me,” you said with a slight shake of your head. “He taught me everything I know, even how to fight.”

“Sounds like he was a smart man,” the ghoul commented idly. “Not leavin’ you to rot in them underground prisons.”

You smiled ever so slightly, pleased and surprised to hear his small praise for your father. You felt yourself relax, having been prepared for a fight. Finally, you were able to start eating, making sure to do it slowly as you were distracted down memory lane.

“He was, and I’m grateful for it,” you said. “Shitty as it can be out here, I like the open air, the sun, even the damn rad rains that leave me sick the next day.”

He grunted at that. “What ‘bout ghouls? You like us, too?”

You looked back at him, your smile turning cryptic. “Not all of them.”

A flash of teeth, tongue darting between them. “Well, ain’t much a mean motherfucker like me can do to convince ya.”

“I’m sure you’ve got a few tricks up your sleeve.”

“You betcha, I do. Gonna ask me for a demonstration, smoothie?”

At this, silence, coiling tight like a viper readying to strike. You stared at each other, challenging, willing one another to break first. To what end, though? Your stomach flipped at the possibilities.

Before you could think it through — knowing deep down you ought to shut it down completely — you said, “Not tonight.”

You quickly looked away, hands trembling slightly from an influx of adrenaline, your heart racing once more. You painstakingly put away the rest of your rations of rabbit, stomach still feeling hollow. Though you were distracted by the stirring of something unnameable within you, all too similar to curiosity.

He was loose and languid, in a better mood than most of the time. Bantering like this was more fun than you’d thought it would be, only making you want more. It seemed he was full of surprises, which meant you couldn’t be too unguarded, no matter how much he might make you laugh.

Or how he seemed to be drawing you in slowly, like a moth to a flame.

———————————-

Those confusing feelings followed you into sleep, plaguing your dreams with images that had you restless and whimpering. Your body felt hypersensitive and warm all over, but still, you didn’t wake.

The ghoul, who didn’t really need to sleep, was privy to all this. He watched from his spot against the wall, the way you tossed and turned, little noises in your throat. He knew it wasn’t nightmares, not with the way your thighs would rub together. You weren’t exactly a peaceful sleeper, but that was the first time it was due to something else — Something he himself had caused.

All the rest of that day, he’d been stuck thinking of the moment he’d found you. The instant lure of your soft skin, the challenge in your eyes, and your raised chin. Distantly, he remembered the myth of an ancient goddess ordering hunting dogs to tear their own master apart, merely for looking at her naked form.

Wouldn’t that be an interesting fate? he thought to himself, not at all put off by it, especially if the goddess happened to look just like you.

Throughout the darkest hours of the night, he’d tried palming himself to ease the building ache, but to no avail. So, as quietly as he could, he’d relieved himself listening to the sounds you made, his eyes closed. Imagining his face buried in your cunt, head nestled between your trembling legs. It didn’t take long at all for him to finish.

In the morning, by the time you’d woken up, he had returned to his usual self. He made you share your rations, arguing that you’d go hunting later, anyway. Barely gave you any time to reorganize your pack before he was dragging you out of the basement to check the perimeter for anything salvageable.

Neither of you addressed the previous evening, but there were still lingering looks, excuses to be in each other’s space, and twice as much bickering. The fuse between you two was short, you knew it, but it was all a matter of who lit it.

“How many more days north?” you asked as you’d finally set off, a long day of walking ahead of you.

“A week, then we shift west for another week,” he said, walking behind you as usual. “I better not hear you start complainin’. You slow me down, I’ll leave your ass behind, perky as it may be.”

You couldn’t help but feel your face heat up a little at that. “How do you know I won’t drop you first?”

“Oh, I know. You need me, sweetheart,” he drawled confidently. “In more than one way.”

You rolled your eyes but had no retort, since he wasn’t altogether wrong. Then your mind pivoted in a more devious direction, wanting to test another theory. It was a foolish risk to take, one that made adrenaline tense your muscles, rabbit heart jackhammering inside your ribcage. You glanced coquettishly at him over your shoulder, and by your grin, he immediately knew something was up.

“And if I ran?”

“Don’t go actin’ stupid now, I think you know the consequences of that, too,” he said, his tone somehow both a warning and a dare.

You hummed pensively, covertly making sure your pack was securely strapped to you. You let the silence hang until you rounded a corner up the path, and then your legs were pumping as hard as they would go. A broad, exhilarated smile on your face, nervous laughter bubbling up your throat.

You heard his yell, followed by his heavy footfalls, approaching much faster than you would’ve liked. A shot burst against a tree trunk as you passed, but you knew he was just trying to scare you. Wincing, you kept running, winding left and right in a zig-zag pattern.

Not that you were actually planning on going anywhere, but you had always had a thing for pushing the limits. No matter how much trouble it might get you in.

Spurs clinking growing louder, then the swish of something being thrown. The lasso encircled you, tightening around your midsection before yanking backward. The world around you pinwheeled, disorienting you for a moment.

Your pack braced your fall some, but you exhaled sharply as you landed. Chest heaving as you panted raggedly, your vision suddenly filled with the ghoul smirking down at you.

“Well, I guess stupidity can’t be helped, huh?” He drawled, propping his revolver pistol on his shoulder and crouching down. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d wager you were just tryin’ to get me all riled up…”

“Me?” You said innocently, betrayed by a teasing grin.

And oh, if that wasn’t the straw that broke the camel’s back. He grabbed you by the shirt and lifted your torso to meet him halfway, your faces inches apart.

“Think I’m playin’ around, sweetheart?” He husked.

You shook your head and licked your lips, drawing his eyes there. You saw the hunger in them again, flaring to life brighter than before. You felt a pulse deep in your core, the flint striking to start the fire.

You bit your bottom lip, keeping yourself from squirming, and he grunted.

“Hm. No, I don’t think I’ve convinced you well enough, actually.” He tilted his head to one side, eyes returning to yours. “I think I oughta give you more proof.”

His grip on your shirt tightened and you realized too late what he was going to do.

“Wait!” You gasped, but the thin fabric had already given away, messily ripping in half.

You glared up at him. “That was my only backup! Couldn’t you at least let me take it off?”

“Fuck if I care,” he said with a shrug, a low sound in his throat as he pushed the rest of it off of you. “It was in the way.”

He withdrew his hands only to slowly tug his gloves off, dropping them unceremoniously on the ground along with his pistol. His hands were warm and callused as they roamed over the expanse of your abdomen, heading upwards.

“Don’t you dare,” you warned as he reached your bra, but he only tugged it down, revealing your breasts.

The sound he tried to conceal made your spine tingle, shoulders drawing together, pushing your chest out.

“Goddamn, sweetheart. Such a nice pair of tits,” he husked, pulling a shuddery sound from you as his hands cupped them.

A little bolt of electricity shooting down to your pussy as he pinched your nipples, hard. Brows furrowing with the combination of pleasure and pain.

“Take this fuckin’ thing off before I rip it off with my teeth,” he growled, a desperate edge beneath his biting tone. “Matter of fact, take the rest of your clothes off.”

You did quick work of unsnapping your bra and wiggling out of the straps of your pack. He shrugged off his coat and moved back to sit against the base of an old, gnarled tree, watching you closely as you kicked your boots off. The shift of your hips as you pushed down your pants, surely teasing him by keeping your cotton panties on.

“Those too,” he grunted, one hand on his pistol, the other palming the prominent bulge in his pants.

You let them drop with the rest of your things, slowly approaching as he beckoned you, patting his thigh. He pulled you down onto his lap when you were close enough. Raising his hips as you settled, pushing his bulge against your cunt.

“Now look at me,” he said as your mouth slackened, grasping your chin. His thumb swiped over your bottom lip, pushing it down, fighting back the ravenous urge to kiss you. “I ain’t gonna take you today, but I will get myself a taste.”

The tip of your tongue darted over the pad of his thumb. A lazy drag of your hips against him made your breathing hitch, but still there was mischief in your eyes. “Are you sure you’ll be able to resist?”

“Oh, I’m positive, honey. I don’t fuck brats,” he said, grinning roguishly. “Not ‘til I tame ‘em first.”

One of his hands came to rest between your shoulder blades, pushing you forward. The other hand cracked down against your ass, making your body jerk. Then he had his mouth on you, lips closing around the hardened peak of your left nipple.

Your hands gripped his shoulders as you moaned, clenching around nothing as he nipped at the sensitive flesh. He continued sucking and licking at your chest, the hand that had spanked you tracing lower. The tips of his fingers reaching your cunt from behind, teasing the entrance.

“My… you’re soaked already,” he rasped against your skin, moving to give your collarbones some attention. “Y’like the idea of being punished, don’tcha? Filthy girl.”

He felt your walls flutter at that, cunt sucking a little more of his fingers in.

“Please,” you gasped mindlessly, knowing you would beg if it came down to it.

“I don’t wanna hear it,” he gruffed, making you yelp with a bite to your shoulder. “On your back.”

It was said as an order, but he manhandled you onto your back, on top of the coat he’d shrugged off earlier. Rough hands pushed your thighs apart, putting you on display for him. A ragged sound, and his fingers were parting your soaked, glistening folds.

“What a feast,” he rasped. “And it’s all for me, ain’t it, sweet thing?”

“Yes,” you said, nodding quickly. “All yours.”

“Atta girl, that’s what I like to hear.”

With that, his head dipped and you felt the first exploratory drag of his tongue. A puff of warm air against your cunt as he groaned, the tip of his tongue circling around your clit teasingly.

Your hips bucked, gripping the fabric of his duster beneath you for dear life. His tongue dipped into the source of your ache, the taste of you pulling another long groan out of him.

“Fuck, such a sweet little pussy you’ve got. And I think it likes me, too,” he said before smearing his saliva and your fluids all over, making a mess of your inner thighs. “Jus’ keeps getting wetter and wetter for me.”

“Keep going, please,” you panted, looking down at him through fluttering lashes. “Feels s-so good…”

“Oh yeah? Does it now?”

You keened as you felt two of his fingers pushing inside of you. His other hand pressed flat against your navel, keeping you from bucking away from him. He couldn’t help himself, his tongue flicking against your clit as his fingers pumped in and out of you.

He felt you start to tremble, your thighs threatening to shut around his head. He started going faster.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck…” the expletive fell from your wanton mouth like a plea, for mercy or… otherwise. “I-I’m… I’m gonna…”

He grunted his approval, feeling you clamp tight around his fingers. His fingers curled, hitting that textured spot inside you that had stars dancing in your vision. Your eyes rolled back into your skull as you practically cartwheeled over the edge, ripples of ecstasy numbing all other senses.

It was the hardest you’d ever orgasmed, and he helped you ride it all the way through. Languished in the cradle of your thighs for a moment longer as your loud moans tapered out into soft whines. When your soul started to slip back into your body, head still swimming, he pulled away and stood up.

He angled his hips away so you couldn’t see the mess at the front of his pants. Heart pounding in his chest in a way that made him feel alive and whole again, erasing the last two hundred plus years from his mind for a mere moment in time.

But he gave no indication of it. Nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t just entirely shattered you, he walked towards your clothes and tossed you your underwear.

“Clean yourself up and get dressed,” he said, his voice still ragged as he commanded you. “Quickly now, we ain’t got all day. I’ll let ya rest when we get to the next spot.”

Dazed and wobbly-legged, you did as told, wondering how you were supposed to hike for hours after that. He watched you stumble to get your canteen, water dripping down your chin as you drank.

Chuckled to himself with self-satisfaction, the taste of you seared into his mind.

“Maybe you are starting to change my mind ‘bout what I put in my mouth,” he said as you finished dressing. “But who knows? Maybe I’ll need to try again to confirm.”

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