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auragasmics · 11 months ago

Note

onlyfans creator!toji meeting fan!reader but getting so drunk off of them that he keeps bringing them back & eventually only makes vids with them… *heh*

CAMERA ROLL LOOKIN’ LIKE ONLY FANS!

synopsis! he knows better than to get involved with fans. But upon meeting you, Toji’s found himself in a world where he can only have you—and you alone.

pairings! fan!fem!reader x onlyfans creator!toji fushiguro

cw!3.5k words, pwp, dubcon(?), consensual filming, pussydrunk!toji, doggy style, mean!toji, cunninlingus

mwuahaha, i loved this thirst sm! i couldn’t stop thinking about it!

have a thirsty thought? read my guidelines and start sending them in!

In truth, Toji knew better. While unspoken and better left assumed, it’s still the number one rule amongst fans and creators alike.

The golden rule of never, ever hooking up with a fan. Toji’s all too aware of this, but he’s no saint to abide by the rules. It didn’t help that it was all his friends were recently raving about, claiming that it would boost views—and sales for those with even the slightest glimmer of naive hope in their eyes.

And when a thought replays like a broken record, it’s only a matter of time before one succumbs to incessant influence—and Toji’s no better. He had it figured out; announce his little plan to all his cock-hungry fans, run their users through an online random generator, and whoever’s name pops up on his screen is his lucky vixen for the night.

But the generator just had to pick you.

He was blind—or better yet, naive, to the possibilities that could arise from his little adventure with danger. It never crosses his mind that maybe he’d regret the choice of taking down a fan—or maybe he’d fall in love with the idea and add it to his usual lineup.

But that didn’t stop him from sending you that message and bringing you into his humble abode of a high-rise apartment. That didn’t stop him from fawning over your pretty face and kind attitude, as if you both had forgotten what was to follow through the night.

He was simply so blind to it all that Toji had written off the slim chance of him getting addicted to you.

Until he was.

Why the memory of Toji slipping just the tip of his cock inside you still lays fresh on his mind and vigorous to his nerves. He remembers how cocky he was, thinking that he’d be the best you ever had, how no one could ever come close to how he imagined fucking you.

But the gummy halo of your cunt enveloped his blushing pink head with a sopping wet kiss, condemning the poor forsaken man down the path of egotistical demise.

Toji, the Toji Fushiguro was victim to a state that he’d never ventured into before; suddenly his mind was shot blank, his eyes threatening to rest into the dark abyss of his skull and the brawny chest he worked so hard for was rigged with shuddering breaths.

Within a matter of minutes, Toji was out of his body, out of control, and without a single means of putting up a fight.

If your pussy claimed his resolve, your body claimed his soul. Every arch, squirm, and jolt gave way to Toji’s heart. He’d even found a serenade within your outpouring moans, every hymn motivating him to his newly found goal. For in that moment, the unmoved Toji was concerned with something he never allowed to faze him—his ability to please.

Toji knew one thing; he utterly had to please you, to bring your mind, body, and spirit to the sheer face of ecstasy. He was always so sure of himself thanks to his past of collaborations, but not a single woman of his past could compare to you. Because, unlike those past collaborations for work purposes, everything that night was genuine.

The way you whimpered whenever he leaned over for a kiss was real, how your hands clung to every inch of his misted skin was bonded behind the truth, down to the orgasm he had no choice but to sit through because of the suffocating clench your walls bestowed around him.

The last thing he remembers from that night is the words he drunkenly allowed to fall from his lips, almost begging you to come back. When waking the next morning and found you gone, Toji realised he had to work to earn both you and your trust.

From that day on, something in Toji has him running ragged on your behalf. All of a sudden, he’s caught up with buying you lingerie he can’t wait to rip off of you, he’s sitting through hours of research to buy the best camera to catch every single moment of filth amidst you two. Why, he’s even gotten into the habit of calling you every morning and every night just to give you a glimpse of the real him.

A month’s swept by since that momentous night, and within those four weeks—Toji’s reserved at least fifteen of those nights just for you and him. Just this week alone, he “needed” you twice, and tonight would make it thrice.

The third time of making you cum off his tongue alone before he had the privilege of fucking you raw beneath the starry sky. And each time he does indulge in you, he can’t silence the raging urge to leave your pussy plump and dribbling with his thick white cum.

But he holds back, it’s already an honor to have you raw and he’d hate for something as minuscule as natural instinct to ruin a good thing.

Though it’s that same natural instinct that had him calling you just under two hours ago—and waiting by the door like a new puppy waiting for its owner to return. His friends call him pussywhipped, so immersed in you these days that it’s all he talks about, his newest tease with a pussy that gets so sloppy for him.

Toji could fight back, but he isn’t one to play delusional. Pussy-whipped, that’s exactly who he is and who he’s become. And somewhere deep, deep down in his subconscious, he’s found satisfaction in that. Just a puppy with a—

“Toji! It’s me!”

The pretty croon of your muffled voice has Toji springing off the black leather couch and onto his feet. He looks down at himself—nothing could be more apparent than opening the door and revealing him to wear nothing but black sweatpants.

It’s too late to apply any effort, Toji thought as he twisted the door handle open, yanking the door to greet you.

“Hey Gorgeous, come in,” he hums, his arm racing to lace around the waist of your black leggings. “Hope you didn’t wait too long~maybe I should give you a key soon…”

Returning his regards, You give in to Toji with a swift embrace, linking around his bare waist. “No, I didn’t wait at all. It was like you were waiting—”

“I see you didn’t bring a bag. Why don’t you stay the night…you never do,” Toji interjects as he leans back to close the door. His eyes fall matched to your own, wide and glimmering but afraid to step any further than what’s been established.

Your shoulders give into a heartless shrug, your chin whipping away from his sight as you utter plainly to Toji.

“Oh, I didn’t think you wanted me to, and I honestly don’t care to sleep over either. But I guess if there’s a next time, I will.”

That’s something you really shouldn’t have said. Toji can’t pinpoint where it hurts, but he knows it does. If there’s a next time? Didn’t his constant calls, random splurge days, and his mere insisting presence give way to his budding sentiments—there’s always going to be a next time.

“C’mon, don’t be like that! I know it takes a lot of effort to leave afterwards. And you don’t even kiss me goodbye…so cold…but I like it.”

You know the strategy by know as his hands work to court your body to his touch. He’s dangerously close to the thick globes of your ass, the tips of his fingers delicately tracing the outline of your thong.

Toji’s smooth, that’s exactly why you followed him in the first place, and it’s what got you laid beneath him that first night all the same. Like the best charades, his suave whims soon grew weary and transparent, but it’s his confidence that keeps you around.

And just how easy it is to tease him.

Taking a finger to Toji’s chest, you decide to spur him on, to paint an image of what lies just beneath your attire. “I’m wearing the set we got last week…in case you’re wondering.”

His once heavy eyelids shoot wide apart, forcing Toji to dumb gawk at you. “The…red one with the…cutouts?”

“Mhm,” you nod coyly, “But the thong is just so thin and so easy to rip too. Guess the quality wasn’t all that good.”

Toji darts his eyes over your face, his sly azure hues taking in your faux act of innocence. He knows it’s all just to tease him, but with the slightest chance that some kind of truth stands behind your words, he can’t forfeit his chances of making an advance.

“Okay, then let’s make a deal. Stay over tonight and tomorrow, we‘ll go out and buy the best lingerie that money can buy. How’s that?”

A sheepish scoff rings from your barred lips as you stroll away from Toji, leaving him to stare at your wading presence. “Let me think about it.”

“Oh, but you won’t have time to think…not after I’m done with you,” he adds with haste behind you.

Your hand settles upon the cold silver door knob of Toji’s bedroom, revealing the sacred altar within a mere glance. Not much has changed since the first night he brought you over—a king size bed that stands in the room’s centre, tall windows with black curtains, a desk in the corner with a computer, and of course, a shelf against the wall that holds Toji’s vast array of sex toys, photos and even a few awards he’s won from the platform.

But as the days passed, the raunchy nature of his bedroom died out when small potted plants replaced the sex toys and trophies. The thick black curtains were traded for white gossamer, and the typical red blanket set was nowhere to be seen in the face of red silk sheets and pillowcases to match.

It’s a heavy claim to say that you’ve played a hand in his transformation, however, considering that you told Toji how nursing plants are a hobby of yours, you prefer more natural light to enter rooms, and that sleeping on silk simply has its benefits—one could safely make that assumption.

All your observations fall short the moment you sit on the edge of the bed, the mattress graciously dipping beneath your curves.

“Yeah, yeah, so what do you have planned for tonight?”

Toji takes his time to reply, setting his heavy hands to brace the waistband of his black sweatpants as he stands before you. “Oh I was thinking maybe some POV shots, I haven’t done those in a long time. Think I should bring them back more often now.”

Musing him, you tilt your head at Toji, a faded smile playing on your lips. “Is that right?

“You know the deal. I’m not gonna start recording until you say so. Why, maybe tonight we don’t even have to get it on film. Can’t we just…fuck around and see where that gets us?”

“That’s a new attitude, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, honest!” Toji flusteredly fumbles out. He didn’t think he’d have to explain it, but some words are better said than just acted upon. And what’s on his chest is heavier than what gravity supplies Mother Earth.

He’s been given the slim window to confess what he wants from you, a question you’ve plagued him with since the second night he called you over.

He sends a hand to the nape of his neck, mindlessly pinching at the sparse hairs as his frazzled brian searches for the best words to explain his story. “ I just…really like having you to myself. A lot, actually. And it has me thinking…would you be open to being my…partner? C-Content wise, of course.”

“Oh…sure, we can do that! I thought you were gonna–oh!”

The brash clash of Toji’s lips steals the very words from your mouth and pins you underneath him. He more than happily donning the lead of setting the rhythm, painting his kiss against your lips as tenderly as he can.

Just like that, Toji’s gotten his burning wish within a matter of seconds—and what’s a better way to celebrate than by making his favorite girl cum all throughout the night?

The excitement has Toji running on salacious fumes, his eager hands surging across your body. First he’s tugging off your brown hoodie, pulling the soft knitted cotton over your head on and off onto the floor.

Your leggings follow swiftly behind that, and before Toji can even breathe, he’s got you pinned under him with the lingerie you’ve hinted at earlier with his sweats and briefs joining the array of discarded clothes.

The very set he plucked out just days before with the lacy red bra that barely leaves anything to imagination. He’s already inclined on tending to your pebbling nipples plowing against the fabric. He’s drawn right back to your lips, using his wandering hands to trek across your physique.

Upon his travels, Toji brushes against the panties you mentioned before, so frail that he could tug on them right now and free you from their rein. Rather, he relies on a mere pinch to inch the seam of your panties to sit within the plushy crease of your thigh.

“Mm, Toji?” you huff out between a kiss, “Let’s start, okay?”

Frantically shaking his head, Toji aimlessly reaches out to prowl along the top of his bedside dresser until he’s met with the familiar structure of his camera.

Slotting himself between your thighs, Toji points the keen lens to capture the timeless scene of him between your legs with a single hand. Clicking the camera on, Toji’s granted a clear sight of your bare pussy caught within the camera’s eye.

“ ‘Kay, camera’s on. Don’t you dare change a thing!

He isn't hesitant to begin, leaving you with a final request to hold your legs back before he’s pressing lazy kisses to the supple mounds of your cunt.

It’s that first breathless gasp of yours that throws Toji down a spiral of his own arousal. He’s already a throbbing mess, dripping all that precum into the silk sheets, but he doesn’t care. Not when his tongue is tasked with the honor of tracing along the pulsing canal of your glossy folds, just for his greedy ambitions pitting him to suck at the swollen pulse.

“Such a pretty pussy, Gorgeous,” he’s mumbling to himself as blown eyes scale up and down the sinful display.

He wants the camera to catch everything—from the way your fat lips split around his worked tongue to the very twitch that rattles your clit. He carefully shadows the camera over your cunt, his thick digits spreading you apart.

“Fuck, look at that, so soft ‘nd smooth…so wet for me too.”

His thumb rests against the cute pink bulb of your clit, the sullied pad sketching slow, tight circles over the bundle of nerves.

“Mmm-oh shit!…Toj—fuck, that’s so good!”

“That’s it, say my name Baby, c’mon!” He cheers along your twitching bulb. His name’s just sitting on the tip of your weak tongue, so desperate to break through the air. As its bearer, Toji’s waiting to hear it, the magic word set to pull him underneath your spell.

His hand’s encroach along your supple sides, softly squeezing at whatever fits within his grip. “I know that look, gonna cum on my tongue just how I like it, right?”

“Mhm,” you frantically affirm with nods, “…it’s right…it’s right there, Toji!”

You don’t have to pay him a teary-eyed glance to know that Toji’s hiding that sinister grin amongst the fat plush of your folds. That same smile that blossoms into a pout as he guides your poor clit to dance with his tongue.

Every which way, he’s swiveling your spry mound, All those lazy flicks, pedaling that soft curve of his slicked muscle around your stiffening bud. He’s even placed his hand right beneath your navel, using a soft grip to pull the stubborn hood of your clit back, leaving you open and raw for his selfish amusement.

Your hands race to tug at the noir crown of Toji’s head, keeping his head still while your trembling hips rock against his lush pout. “Fuh– yesyesyes! Toji please! Please make me cum, ‘m so close!”

Toji’s too far gone to keep up with you, his trained hand trembling to find a steady frame of the homemade film. Your nectar’s seeping into his senses, blinding Toji from the surrounding world.

All he can think about is you, all he can taste is that sweet essence spilling from his lips and down his chin. It’s all just a mess he's made out of both you and himself, but when he finally catches wind of your crashing orgasm, Toji’s beaming with the glow of achievement.

Your thighs snap around his head as the weight of your high wrecks through your body in perilous tremors. Your hips drive up against Toji’s gape, stuffing his mouth full with your cunt once more. His greedy forte settles over you again, suckling the chubby swell of your clit against his hollowed cheeks.

Breaking away from your cunt, Toji pans the camera down to your folds, his fingers gently tapping along your pillowy lips. “That’s my girl! Look so pretty like that, c’mon, we gotta keep you going now. Turn around and give me a nice arch, okay?”

You’re more than willing to comply with Toji’s request, slamming your weak legs shut as he rests on his knees. It takes all the energy ebbing from your body to secure a strong arch, one that has your hips tilted and your ass parading about in the air.

“How’s that, Toji?”

“Just beautiful. Stay still and let me do all that hard work, yeah?” he hums softly.

Toji watches as the lens focuses on the sight between your bodies. His hand braces around his shaft, giving his aching cock one firm squeeze before tapping the head of his cock along your slit.

“I know you can take it, but what do you think?” Toji hints as he gently nudges himself against you.

You look back at Toji with a proud smile, “I can take it!”

“That’s my girl! Just relax and let me…oh..fuck, that’s the good shit!”

By the rushed dip of his hips, Toji’s subdued by the velvety warmth of your walls, the slickened heat coddling his cock with wet kisses. It’s just like he remembers, tight, warm, and carved out to home all the ridges, the veins and the throbbing underside of his length.

“Look at the mess we’re making,” Toji gloats as he shifts the camera around your sputtering pussy, “And I’ve barely even give you those deep strokes you love so much!”

Those very deep strokes that he’s so fond of too. It grants him the very bliss he can’t get with anyone but you. He’s learning all about how sensitive you are, the pace you, how many times you can cum before you’re fucked dumb, all these things Toji’s taken account for.

As for tonight, he just wants you feel good, his precious girl. That’s why he’s so kind to feed your walls short drives of his cock as you adjust to his size. You’re taking him better these days, your pussy greedily nursing all nine inches of Toji’s length.

He’s got such a fat girth too, so thick that you’re left to squirm beneath the burning stretch. It’s pain that gives way to pleasure all too quickly as Toji reels his hips barely a few inches away from you.

“Aww, tell me, baby…You like this dick, don’t you? Like how it stretches this cunt to my size, how I’m always hitting that spot, go on, tell me.”

“Mmm…it’s alright,” you attempt to tease, but the stillness in the air carries about a warning with no way of guaranteeing caution.

Toji fists the fragile trims of your thong in his hand, yanking the fabric taunt in his grasp. “Oh…that’s how we’re gonna play?”

In one harsh tug, he’s dragging you against his burly thighs with nowhere else to run from the brutal onslaught of his crashing hips. All the kindness he had for you runs out, leaving Toji on a hellbent venture of proving his words true. His unruly drive has you thrashing straight into the pillow headfirst, pitting your limp body to rock along to all his ministrations without prevail.

It’s a rolling barrage, one hard drive after the other. The lewd orchestra Toji’s conducting has the clash of skin breaking about the room, using the meld of your voices charred by vengeful bliss as vocals.

But he isn’t lying; even through his rage, Toji’s still tending to you. By sending the thick bulb of his cock to smother your sweet spot in kisses, each one messier than the last, the coil deep within your core bubbles with another budding orgasm. How could something so mean, so harsh, feel so good? So much that your eyes drift back into your head, your and the veil of pleasure dresses your body like the finest silk.

All just because you jokingly bruised Toji’s ego. Either way, the fact remains that he’s thoroughly aggravated, and his angered spiel falls on deaf ears.

“Stop lying to me!” He grunts out with a smirk, “ W-We both know you do! Why else would your pussy get so messy fr’ me? M-Making such a mess on the bed. ‘M splitting her open and you say you–”

“T-Toji wait! O-Okay, okay, I do! “ Your whimpering admittance of defeat breaks into the air, earning nothing more than the chime of Toji kissing his teeth.

“C’mere,” he huffs out, pulling your limp body up against his own. His chest carves out your arch like a sculpture, leaving no crevice nor crease hidden from his frame. The grip he has upon you shifts above to the slacked curve of your jaw, leaving Toji’s thumb to strum along your bottom lip.

His hazy stare catches wind of your misty doe eyes, coaxing a lump to build within Toji’s throat.

As an act of sympathy, litters of kisses melt against your skin, his unruly trail leading him straight to your dribbling lips.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Toji whispers against your lips, “Y’know I like you, baby. Don’t go being too mean to me or else someone isn’t cumming tonight.”

“O…okay! I’m sorry Toji, ‘m really sorry!” you sob, your hand racing to brace the thick of his forearm.

Your apology chants in his ear like a mantra, coaxing a crooked grin to shine inside the dark room.

“Now…” Toji giggles, his hazy eyes flickering towards the fixed lens of the camera. “‘m taking a picture for the thumbnail…smile for the camera!”

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cinnamorollcrybaby · 8 months ago

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CAN WE HAVE SOME SMUT FROM YEWWWW PLEASEUHHH WHENEVER YOU HAVE THE TIME AND MOTIVATION AND IDEAS PLEASEUH I'M DYING

Provoked

Tags: obsessed!Toji x fem!Reader, yandere elements if you squint, smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink, daddy kink, somnophilia at the end, nsfw, mdni,

Synopsis: Making Toji jealous probably wasn’t the smartest idea. Now, was it?

An: Following in suit with my theme of jealousy this week lol. You didn’t really give me any other guidelines other than smut soooo I took some creative liberties 😅

“Yeeaahh.. not makin’ doe eyes at him now, are ya?” Toji taunted as his large hand gripped ahold of your chin, forcing your languid gaze to focus on him.

The room was filled with pornographic sounds of Toji’s cock effortlessly sliding in and out of your wet heat. Your voice is high-pitched and whiny — a telltale sign that he’s already made you cum a few times.

“T-toji.. I can’t… ah~ please, I’m sorry.” You’re barely able to form your own thoughts as he mercilessly pounds himself into your weeping cunt.

You should’ve been wiser than to make Toji jealous on purpose, and you should’ve never even thought about making him jealous with his own handler, Shiu Kong.

Toji’s anger had been building all day long. He was barely holding himself together when your hand brushed against Shiu’s shoulder. You looked up at his handler with bedroom eyes that should only be reserved for him.

Toji’s hand slides down, and he grips the sides of your throat adding a bit of pressure as he continues his harsh thrusts. The entire bed was creaking and moving from the furiousness he was fucking you with.

“Nah… not good enough.” Toji laughs, and he leans in closer to your face. He’s always been a man who prefers bending you over to fuck you from behind, but today, he needs to see those pretty tears in your eyes. He needs to see you looking at him like he was the only man on this earth. Hence why he has you in a full mating press.

"I should kill him for looking at you like he did. Gouge his eyes out for looking at my woman. My. Woman."

“Fuck.. fuck.. ah~” You’re a complete babbling mess underneath him. “Too much, T-toji… mmph~ it’s too much!!”

“You always say that, and you always end up taking more anyways.” Toji casually laughs. He loves bringing you to the brink of breaking just to nurse you back to health afterwards. You need him — not a man like Shiu. Shiu wouldn't take care of you like this. He couldn't cherish and fuck your cunt like Toji could.

“So just shut up.. and take this dick like a good girl, yeah?” His hand wraps tightly around your hip, forcing you back into the mattress while his hips start to snap forward harder, nearly knocking the breath out of you with each thrust.

"Oh fuck-! Tojii~.. mmmph.." You can't hold back your noises. His dick feels like it's trying to touch you womb with how he has your body folded like a pretzel.

"Maybe I should breed this cute cunt, huh? Make your tummy all... ngh... nice and round with my baby. No man will be able to look at ya without... mmf-... knowin' I've been deep in your guts." Toji knows you're getting overstimulated as fat tears slips down your cheeks. His tongue darts out, and he savors the taste of your complete submission to him.

"G-gonna cum..." You whimper quietly. Your hands are fisting and pulling at the bedsheets, trying to cope with the immense pressure building up from his cock bumping into all the right places.

"Cum on my cock, baby. Cum on daddy's fat cock. I've got you." He coos so lovingly as if he isn't rudely shoving his full length in and out of you. Your sopping wet folds accept him in each and every time.

Toji feels his head start to spin as he feels your gummy walls squeeze around him so deliciously. "Gonna give you my baby.. you want that?"

"P-please Toji!" Your back arches up off the bed, and you hold your breath until your orgasm finally crashes over you.

"Aw, did you just cum again? Must really want me to breed ya." Toji's thrusts start to become sloppier, and his brain is so fixated on the idea of cumming inside you. He can't even think straight. He needs to see your tummy bulging with his cum.

"Gonna make you a pretty mommy. Ngh~" His cock twitches violently inside you as cum erupts from his tip, filling you up to the brim. His breath is shaky as he looks down at your poor exhausted expression.

"You alright there, mama?" He asks tenderly, as he slowly allows for your legs to slide off his shoulders.

"Mhmm.. just tired." You murmur back to him, barely able to keep your eyelids open.

"Get some rest, ma. I'm just gonna give you a bit more of my cum... to make sure it takes, yeah?" He presses a wet kiss to your temple, and in your drowsy state, you can already feel him start to slowly pump himself in and out of you. He's careful not to wake you. After all, you're going to need all your energy to carry his baby <3

#jjk fanfic #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #fanfic #drabble #jjk suggestive #jjk smut #jjk toji #toji zenin #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji smut #toji x you #jujutsu toji #fushiguro toji #jjk men

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ellesthots · 28 days ago

Text

code of ethics

v. “coffee”

read on AO3 🤎

parts: previous / next

plot: you finally get answers from your professor.

pairing: professor!bruce wayne x student!reader

cw: 18+, smut !

words: 6.1k

a/n: this chapter was a (lovely) beast to write !! the next one will be the last in this miniseries !! it'll have Bruce's POV ✨ i wanted to include some other elements, but i'm saving those for fateful 🤭 enjoy <3 feel freeeee to let me know what you think!

Shaking hands held either side of the sink in the closest bathroom. A sopping clump of paper towel sat at the edge of it from trying to take some of the puffiness out of your eyes; its lukewarm form mocked you as it dripped down the porcelain’s edge.

If you didn’t come back to class, it would be strange. The loser in the back would assume you didn’t know what you were doing, that Professor Wayne had drilled into you, and that would be that. Being reduced to the memory of ‘TA Who Got Told Off By Professor Wayne and Never Showed Again’ sounded like a miserable existence.

You checked in the mirror once more to see your tear troughs bloated from crying, but you didn’t have time to care. Every passing second was another moment lost to the abyss, a sacred spilling of opportunity knowing the talking-to that would inevitably result in your removal from the course after this first day.

Walking down the empty hallway to class had your steps echo, filling you to the brim with dread. If he had to get the administration involved, did you have to worry about more than being kicked from class? Would you be able to walk these halls again? You weren’t particularly attached to the Humanities building, but you didn’t want to be ripped from it, either.

Professor Wayne’s voice boomed from outside the classroom door. “Ensure your papers are submitted in PDF format before midnight EST, and follow current APA guidelines.” Just in time. “If any of these requirements are not met, your grade will reflect it.” Oh, brother. You gritted your teeth and walked in.

“The references must—”

Your eyes flicked to his, and he immediately looked back to the board. “They, uh, the references must be published within the past five years.”

You’d never heard him stutter during a lecture. Was he that pissed at you? Dear god.

The seat creaked when you sat, and you cringed as eyes wandered to you and the whiteboard. Your skirt rode up in the back, and you tried as delicately as possible to tuck it back under you, but it wouldn’t go. You glanced nervously at Professor Wayne, grateful he was paying full attention to the students.

Though you’d only taken two courses from him, syllabus day was never just syllabus day. He sped through the document, then lectured like the class had already read the bajillion required books. You remembered the panic that tormented you in September when he’d done that, slinging about terms you’d only barely heard, or not at all, then hardly elaborating. ‘The answer’s in the reading,’ he’d say when a brave student raised their hand to clarify. No one ever had the heart to tell him his expectations were so high they were practically crushing.

He grabbed a dry erase marker and began writing something you couldn’t parse while you fought off a panic attack. What was he about to tell you? Your thoughts spiraled unproductively, and you began to regret ever leaving the bathroom and its proximity to toilets with the nausea ravaging your system.

Professor Wayne continued his lecture, skirting past the syllabus as if it hardly existed. His white button-up was smartly tucked into tailored black slacks, and you could make out the slightest hue of his skin beneath the fabric. The turn of his hips and the flex of his back as he drew timelines across the whiteboard made you jam your teeth into your tongue. Power play. That’s all this is.

He turned to address the entire class, and his sweeping eye contact landed on you in what felt like an accident. His gaze stuttered alongside his words for the second time this evening, and you cocked your head. Huh.

While he guided the class in an exercise, your focus trained on a new tic; one of your first observations of him last year was how smooth and steady he was, expression unwavering to a disturbing degree—but now saw the bobbing of an Adam’s apple and the rolling of his bottom lip under his teeth. Huh!

Your hands began to tingle as you sat back, zooming out from the classroom for a moment. The lines he drew were shakier. His lines had been too straight before, so these newbies wouldn’t notice. But you did. What terrible, awful, no good thing had you done that warranted this?

“Adriana.”

His icy blues speared right through you, weighing more than the entire classroom’s attention and bringing you to alertness faster than your borrowed name. “Yes?”

“Can you hand out the activity I asked you to bring?”

You squinted. Nowhere in any email had there been an activity listed.

The students were rigidly silent, a norm for his classes; Professor Wayne commanded perfect attention, and people picked up on it from the second he entered the room. It felt electric, alive, intimidating.

Sweat gathered on the back of your neck. You must’ve forgotten it in the anticipation of your scheme. It would be listed in a line somewhere your eyes skipped over in the bustle, and class would be fucked for your mistake. Absolutely fucked, all because you had it out for the man. “I, um,”

Inhaling the first words of your apology, you stalled. Power play. You’d been singularly set on your goal for today, yes, but you weren’t completely distracted. Definitely not incompetent enough to forget one of two printables.

“Professor.” You forced your trembling hands to fold gently in your lap. His stare could’ve pinned you to the wall. “You didn’t send me an activity.”

Professor Wayne’s jaw ticked. “Are you cer—”

“I’m sure, yes,” you interrupted. Your smile was sickly sweet, and his gaze tore from yours. That same thoughtful double-blink surfaced as when you’d called him out about the reference page. You hadn’t thought it meant anything then, but now you wondered.

“Alright everyone, let’s pivot.”

Thankful he wasn’t making an example out of you, you finally relaxed into your chair and let the grin slip. While he faced the board, you took advantage of your position behind his desk and checked your phone, swirling with nerves.

SYLLABUS - PDF was the only email attachment.

Thank fucking god.

Time passed surprisingly easily with this win draped over you. How embarrassing for him to forget and call attention to it. And how fucking great did it feel not accepting the fall for his mistake. His handwriting got a bit wobblier. Victory on day one.

The high of throwing off Professor Wayne made the remaining time pass tolerably. An inch of traction had been won, and even if it was naive, you felt more secure going into the conversation. So when students began filing out and others began the quintessential line of post-lecture questions, you felt smug—not afraid.

Who was to say you couldn’t just throw whatever accusations he was about to make back in his face again?

A few students who weren’t Bruce Wayne superfans found themselves disgruntled with the lengthy line, and moved to you to answer questions. Some regarded APA formatting, to which you gave the obligatory Purdue OWL site link, and a smattering of other questions were easily answered by gently pointing to the section in the syllabus. The student who walked with you to class was the last in your line, and looked nervously at Professor Wayne before walking up.

“Hey, you took this class, right? You said in the fall?” He hiked his book bag up on his shoulder where it just slipped down again. His elbow had a red spot from where its weight tugged.

You nodded, fighting a smirk. He looked precisely as you’d felt sidling up to the professor’s desk at the midterm.

“Can you give any pointers on how to get a good grade? I didn’t expect him to be so…”

“Intense?”

He looked to the ground and mumbled, fiddling with the leather strap. “I thought the ratings might’ve been spammers or something.”

A quick glance at Professor Wayne showed he only had two students left to talk to. You leaned forward and lowered your voice, elaborating on what you’d mentioned earlier. “Make sure your formatting is solid. And that you actually do the readings and look over the slides before coming to class, and that your questions aren’t answered in the text. He asks for a lot of reading, and the people who didn’t prioritize it regretted it.”

He nodded like some sort of soldier, bidding a frantic “Thanks!” and promptly speeding off, his bag slapping his leg with each step. You hoped he wouldn’t get eaten alive the rest of the term.

“Y/n?”

Something about how he said your name made your stomach curdle. The professor’s voice wasn’t its usual penetrating timbre; it was hollowed-out and tentative. A scan of the room revealed the last two students must’ve busted their asses to leave, because the room was barren. No one had even left a paper shred.

“I understand you want to know definitively why I can’t let you be my assistant?”

You swallowed a gasp when you saw how intently he was staring. All you managed was a nod, all the air ripped from the room. You walked around to where you could better see him, situating at the edge of his desk. He rolled back in his chair, creating an additional foot of distance between you.

“This conversation could be uncomfortable. Are you confident you don’t want a mediator?”

Professor Wayne looked strung-out—no, tightly wound, about to break. Your stomach launched into your throat. “I’m confident.” Get it over with. Rip the bandaid off.

He held your tense gaze like a promise. “Feel free to leave at any point.”

What the fuck? You shifted your weight to your back leg, grinding your teeth together, body trying to metabolize the suspense in any way it could. What were you supposed to say to that?

“If you’re already uncomfortable,”

“Tell me.” You snapped louder than you meant to, and your ears got hot. You could barely handle a week without knowing, and another minute when he was so close was unthinkable.

He didn’t break eye contact. Like it was an obligation he didn’t so much as blink. Shallow breaths were interrupted by longer, slower ones, like he was intentionally trying to calm himself. Your hands began to tingle. “In the effort of transparency…”

The pressure in the room changed. No idea what he was about to say, but knowing undeniably that whatever it was, the hammer was about to drop, and hard. Tears stung your lashes. For a split second you considered backing out. Telling him it was okay, that you’d accept not knowing, because your heart began to hammer painfully against your ribs.

“As I was prepping our last meeting for 505, and through no fault of your own,” he emphasized those words like his life depended on it. “I realized I had developed an attraction to you.”

It didn’t compute immediately, but your body caught on before anything else. Your shoulders relaxed, vision blurred, but your mind spun like he’d spoken gibberish.

“With only a single session remaining, I considered early termination too disruptive to your education. After our final meeting, I blocked you from registering for any of my courses and sought to limit all future interactions were they to occur despite the registration block.” Professor Wayne stood then, tucking both hands into his pockets. His stare faltered, briefly, then trailed back.

Attracted? To you? Bruce Wayne? Your professor?

“I completely understand if this taints your experience of my courses, and I want to assure you that until the very end of Winter term, I was entirely unaware of my feelings.”

That was why he didn’t walk you out. Holy shit.

“I am taking extra steps to ensure this is never recreated with another student. Booking the classroom rather than the isolated setting of an office, and working with the English department to approve a second student per mentorship hour.”

You placed your hand on the desk to steady yourself, rapidly becoming dizzy. Everything flooded you: the way he looked at you when he sat back in his office, the crinkle in his eyes, and the way he’d looked exasperated when you’d wanted him to sign the override.

“I am very sorry. I did not want to leave you in the dark, and I apologize for any grief my distancing has caused. If you would like to file a report, you are welcome to.”

This snapped you out of your reverie. “Why would I report you?”

He looked confused. “If you ever felt or feel uncomfortable, or if you’d like to talk to someone about it. I know this is unexpected and unsettling.”

“You said you didn’t know.”

“I was not cognizant of the disparities in how I treated you versus other students. I rationalized casual conversation in an intimate environment. It is unacceptable, wildly inappropriate, and I am sorry.”

If he thought this was ‘wildly inappropriate’, he’d go to an early grave looking at your daydreams.

You peered at him just as he released a massive breath. A defiant part of you crept in: you’d tried so hard to hide your crush, done everything in your power, held back sighs as his hand gripped his pens, the edge of his desk, not fixing your stare too long at the ripple in his shirt when he moved, ensured you didn’t linger on his lips when this whole time…

You were angry. At him for not just telling you that last day, and at yourself for thinking he was so impossibly out of reach.

“You’re right,” you crooned. “Can you pull up the report form, please?”

“Absolutely.” He stepped to his monitor and typed something onto the screen. “For consent purposes,”

“Consent?” You placed your hand on the edge of his desk, leaning just a tad closer.

“Yes,” he continued, pausing only a split second. “The dean receives all reports of misconduct; if they deem the transgression severe enough, they will contact the local branch of the department of education to discuss further action.” He clicked the mouse around, eyes poring over the screen. “Those are the individuals who will have access to your report, but they are bound to confidentiality outside of the chain of command. I will not be able to read what you write.”

“You seem familiar with this process.”

“It’s important to know all resources to ensure student success.” He tilted the screen to you.

“Could’ve sworn I read that line in the student handbook.” So clinical, and why? Moving and speaking like a robot. Efficient, streamlined, tight. What might get him to unravel?

“Do you want me to email you a copy?”

“It’s quite virtuous of you to confess those feelings, Professor. Could cause trouble.”

“With how it’s affected you, you have a right to know.” Matter-of-fact. Plain. Heavily restrained. You gnawed on the inside of your cheek, a thin veil concealing your frustrations. A small tear in the membrane that would forever close if you didn’t pry it open right now.

“Before I go,” like hell you were leaving. “I’m still a little confused about the report. It’s not like we acted on our feelings.”

“Filing a report is available if you’re experiencing discomfort, irrelevant to action.”

When you thought he’d fully skipped over the casual confession, his brow furrowed, then settled. He kept strictly to himself, and you could’ve stomped your feet like a toddler at how professional he was behaving. Clinical! Sterile! Bland! Blah! Push it. Push it!

“It’s not like you fantasize about it, right?” God, even saying the word felt salacious in his presence. And the way you lit up when an edge finally crept into his voice… whew. Who knew frustration could make someone so brave?

“Is there anything else you need?”

You could tell the instant it left his mouth he regretted it. He squeezed his eyes shut and his lips pressed into a thin line. Visibly showing distress? He was cracking. A perfect slot. An opening.

“It just feels unethical.”

He looked at you.

“For a student to be punished for her professor’s feelings.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. Your stomach flipped. “I can’t have you in my class.”

“Because I’m too distracting? Can’t control yourself?”

“Control and distraction aren’t concerns.”

“Then what’s the issue?” Back to square one. Bickering. The only way you could stop from vibrating at the realization that Professor Wayne probably wanted to fuck you. The only way to keep your heart at a halfway decent pace.

“It’s inappropriate and unfair to you.”

“Why do you get to decide what’s fair?”

“You’re my student.”

Could he feel the heat emanating off your cheeks? “I’m your assistant.”

“I’m in a position of power.”

“Wouldn’t you be anyway, Bruce Wayne?”

You made a point to emphasize his full name, drive home the things you weren’t saying. He was smart as a whip, and would undoubtedly pick up on the subtext.

“This is different. You know that.”

Firm. A bit… annoyed? Were you losing him? Pulling him in? You pivoted. “Can I see the form again?”

You set your phone on the desk and walked closer, leaning toward the screen to read. Falsification of Credentials, Plagiarism, Unauthorized Recording, Discrimination, Sexual Misconduct, Other.

His mouse was weighty as it glided across the smooth grain. Click. A drop down menu appeared.

“Inappropriate remarks? Sexual advances? Unwanted touching?” You mused aloud. “None of these fit.”

Buying time or trying to drive home the point, you couldn’t tease out why you were pretending to stare soo intensely at the document. His presence behind you was warm and inviting, and you clenched your ab muscles to keep from spinning on your heel and falling into his chest.

“Inappropriate remarks.”

You pouted, feigning serious thought. “No, doesn’t track.”

“If you don’t want to make a report, you don’t have to. But it’s available if you do.”

“Do you want to be reported, Professor?”

Each time you said it, you swore he looked like he wanted to tell you to stop. Especially now, as you peeked at him over your shoulder.

“I want whatever keeps my students safe and comfortable.”

“You’re really hung up on that.” Fuck the pleasantries. You pushed his setup forward, the mouse accidentally clicking Other in the process, and turned to face him. You gripped the desk behind you, lifting your ass just onto the edge. “The teacher-student thing.”

“As I should be.”

“I am, too.”

“Please get off my desk.”

“So polite.” You pulled yourself further onto his desk until you were fully off the ground. “I imagined you’d be demanding.”

“What are you doing?” he asked, weakly.

“Want me to confess, Professor?” It felt so freeing to act without a care in the goddamn world. Your pulse rocketed, feeling the heavy wood beneath you supporting your newfound bravery. “All the fantasies I’ve had about you?”

“Don’t say that.”

“You don’t want to know?” You tapped his thigh with your shoe, and nearly screamed at how dense he was. This was the perfect height to take all of him in; the shoulders, the arms, the hair that just wouldn’t stay tucked behind his ears, and the—oh.

“Stop calling me that.” His voice was hoarse and whisper-quiet.

“What else should I call you?”

His breath came out in a tight, audible sigh. “This isn’t appropriate.”

“Neither is crushing on a student, but here we are.”

While he’d said it first, you said it blatantly. He looked at the floor, ashamed. A jolt of care cinched your chest, seeing so plainly how affected he was.

“I’m trying to make it right.”

Atonement for his sins, when he hadn’t made any yet. When you wanted this. Wanted him. Needed him. You called him out. “You’re trying to relieve guilt.”

Double-blink, again. You caught another tell like a precious stone and tucked it into your pocket for safekeeping. He had nothing to feel guilty for. Fucking nothing.

“Guilt about wanting to fuck me.”

It might be cruel, but teasing such a considerate and harrowed man was titillating. Maybe it would drive home your point. “Because how despicable is it…” you reached out to grip a fold in his shirt, pulling him closer. He didn’t resist. “For the ethics professor to stare at the short little skirt of his mentee...”

He swallowed thickly, and you noticed how dilated his pupils were. It sent a shot of lightning up your spine. Your fingers caught on a button halfway down his chest. “Y/n…”

You moved his hand under your skirt. “Thinking of laying her across his desk, hiking it up,”

“I can’t…”

Pulled his warm hand between your thighs. “How I might say your name when—”

“Please,”

“Stop?” You paused, removing your hand to hover above his. He didn’t move away, but his face twisted like he was in pain.

A critical point. You suspended the act and let your lust speak for itself. Transparency. “I’ve wanted this for months. So, so badly.” Your hand fell flat to the desk as you shifted your hips. “So if you want me, here I am.”

It took a second to compute it, but he leaned in. Inching closer, slowly, far too slowly, and it hit you like a freight train when his hand began to trail up your thigh. You bit back a sigh, desperate not to scare him off, but yearning to show how much you needed him. He’d never been this close.

The room held a weighted silence. You couldn’t feel yourself breathe as your fingers curled around the waistband of his slacks. The heat of his breath against your lips invoked a warm summer breeze. Your mouth parted, legs spreading incrementally wider as his finger gently pulled back your underwear.

Closer.

Both hands traveled to his button, unfastening it with a held breath. A quarter past the loop. Half. The tension released between your fingers as his brows knit together with need.

Professor Wayne slammed back, spinning the chair out behind him. “I can’t. You’re my student.”

It was dizzying how fast he’d yanked away from you. Through slow, regulating blinks, you caught glimpses of his hands in his hair, his shoulders rolling back, and rebuttoning his pants.

Was Adriana still logged in on your phone?

You reached to the other end of the desk and grabbed it, mistyping your passcode in your fluster. The page loaded swiftly and before you could overthink it, you hit DROP COURSE — SUBMIT.

You flipped it for him to read the confirmation. “Not anymore.”

The phone’s light highlighted a war breaking out in his thoughts. His teeth pressed indents into his lower lip as he hesitated, glancing from the phone back to you. You pulled it back. Pushed it behind you. And let out a small, needy sigh.

Throbbing desire pooled between your legs as he took a step forward. Yes. His eyes lowered to your jaw, your chest, then your legs. His breathing sped up. Yes. You rested back on your elbows, looking up with doe eyes.

Professor Wayne turned away, and you nearly tried to grab him, but he was already out of reach. You didn’t have to watch to see that he was leaving.

Fuck.

You slid off the desk and your shoulders caved in, fighting rejection’s bitter current from pulling you under. Crying could come when you were home in bed; when you could have the real Adriana make you some food, throw some random movie on her phone, and help you forget about this embarrassing attempt at throwing yourself at him.

The whiteboard was cool on your arm as you leaned against it. Your wrist smudged the line he’d drawn. Waves of disappointment were getting increasingly difficult to manage.

Click.

Through bleary eyes you saw him switch the lock on the door. Panels of LEDs drew dimmer.

He looked behind and made direct eye contact, his stormy and deep. He walked long, quick strides. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,”

Before another thought could form, Professor Wayne had your arms pinned above your head. You’d only realized he’d started kissing you when the taste of coffee hit your tongue. Holy fucking shit.

He was so unbelievably dense and all you wanted to do was feel it. You wanted to grab him, wrap yourself around his waist, but you were pinned to the whiteboard with his hands, hips, and kisses. He groaned into your mouth, and you broke a hand free to grasp at his jaw.

You had to make sure this was real; you pressed firmer against him, almost gnashing teeth. He released his grip on your wrist to follow your lead, cupping your face with both hands. The warmth of his fingers made you gasp.

“Please,” you whined, terrified he’d end this before you got what you desperately wanted.

“Please what?” Gone was his hesitance, his questions and rumination. The slight huskiness made your knees weak.

Words failed you as wet kisses found the nape of your neck. You slammed his hand from your cheek and put it up your skirt. His fingers made quick work of shifting your panties out of the way, straightening your spine like a rod as his fingers dragged up, then down.

His fingers teased your entrance, and your eyes snapped open when he didn’t push in. You grabbed fistfuls of his hair while he kissed his way to your ear, the slight skip of stubble across your hot skin giving you goosebumps.

Up, down… he slipped the tip of his finger inside. You bit your cheek at the tease. “Is this what you want?”

You nodded, gripping his shoulder to pull him in.

“Use your words.”

Your heart raced to a fever pitch. It took you a minute to find them, still thrown this was even happening. “I need you.”

“I know, Y/n.” Your breathing hitched like you’d never heard your own name. His breath was hot against your ear. “Where do you need me?”

“Inside,” you gasped, and your nails dug into his shoulder as he stretched you out. “Fuck!”

He swallowed your moans with another kiss. His cologne wrapped you in a tourniquet, making your breathing ragged and vision shake with every plunge of his fingers. As if you weren’t already melting, his teeth snagged your bottom lip, the sting making you tense, amplifying the sensations.

“This skirt…”

“Mmm,”

His fingers curled inside you and you lurched forward, letting out a noise so pathetic you would’ve been embarrassed if you had a single brain cell that wasn’t being fucked silly.

“Your moans,” he made a pleading sound. “You’re so ready for me.”

“I am,” you managed, tension slowly building in your core. Puffy, and slick, and needy, so fucking needy, his fingers felt divine, oh, my god… fuck, god…

“I need to feel you.”

He hooked your legs around his waist and held you mid-air like it was nothing; like he didn’t spend his days lecturing and grading papers behind a desk, like he did this all the time.

Desk. He set you down carefully, but that was the last of his restraint. Sweeping arms knocked the carefully-set papers and pens across the floor with a crash. He caught the back of your head in his hand before it hit the monitor, and pulled you in for a rough kiss.

“Oh my god, please, please.” Desire pulsed throughout your body, lit up like a live wire, watching him undo his zipper. You surged forward and practically tore off his dress shirt, ripping at the buttons with a singular focus. Each inch of skin exposed ratcheted it up a notch until you swore you weren’t breathing.

He pulled his slacks down to his calves, then his boxers, and you paused before the last button to gawk. Better than you imagined…

A sharp inhale accompanied him pulling the shirt over his head, and you saw stars at his mussed hair. “Professor…”

“Lay back for me, baby.”

You followed the orders of his hand splayed out atop your stomach, guiding you back with a gentle press. The nickname rang in your ears.

Professor Wayne’s hand slid from your stomach past your skirt, dipping between your thighs once more. His wrist nudged your legs apart, and you watched his eyes drop to your pussy.

“Perfect.” His thumb skimmed your clit, making you jump. His brow furrowed, and he stalled, the weight of his fingers pressing against you, hesitant to let himself give in.

“It’s okay. I want this, I want you, please, please, please,” you didn’t care about begging; not when he looked like this. Not when he was hard as a rock, his toned skin glistening, his hair hanging just barely over his eyes. “I’m on the pill. Just fuck me.”

His sigh was deep and resigned, like he’d finally accepted this. His breathing sped up. “You want me to fuck you?”

“Yes!”

He slapped his dick against your clit, and your hands clenched to reign yourself in. His head teased your pussy, pushing in just enough to make your head fall back, but never further.

“Right here?”

A little deeper.

“On my desk?”

Not enough. All of it. All of him.

You wrapped your legs around him and pulled him in hard, making him groan and his hands fall to either side of you. His lashes fluttered as you moved your hips up and down, covering your mouth to muffle the high-pitched moans at feeling him fill you so fully.

“Fuck, so fucking wet,” he gasped, effortlessly matching your tempo. His strokes were rhythmic, and he stared in awe at you sliding up and down his shaft with total ease.

“All for you,” it was getting harder and harder to speak. His biceps, triceps, deltoids, shit, he was thick, tight, strong.

“All for your professor?”

“All for my fucking professor, fuck, faster,”

“Christ,”

“Harder, harder, mhm—”

Your back arched as his hips started snapping into you. You’d worship this desk when you finished—the height, the angle, the dull, quivering pleasure of him hitting that soft, perfect spot… You lost yourself in his thrusts.

He moved his hand to your clit and sped up, cursing under his breath. Indents of the side of the desk dug into your palms as you strangled it. Holy shit, shit, shit…! You writhed, clawing at his chest, brain going offline.

“Good job. There you go…”

Your body throbbed, abdomen clenching, head spinning. He grinned, and you descended from the clouds.

He slowed down, and you must’ve shown the disappointment on your face because he picked up the pace. “You want more?”

“I want you to cum in me.”

His eyes flashed with surprise, and fuck, you could’ve orgasmed again. His cheeks bloomed red from blushing, and he slowed to a stop. “Are you sure?”

You were still coming down from the high, but you never thought he’d even kiss you, let alone this. When you said it, you expected him to turn it down immediately; so now it was on the table, you were certain you’d never wanted anything more. After half a year spent under the covers dreaming of him alone, your reward would be this.

Breathy streams of yes, of I mean it, of tugging at his shoulders, of his hands roaming under your shirt. He unclipped your bra, and your nipples pebbled between his deft fingers. The wet noises of his cock driving in and out of you mingled with the echoes of his moans filling the lecture hall. Cries of how good you felt, how close he was, and you memorized every syllable like you’d die otherwise.

Professor Wayne had snags and scars across his torso, but you couldn’t get a good look as he shook your body with the force of his delicious strokes, fuck. Your body never wanted to release him, but you could tell he was closer than he let on; the want etched between his brows, the slight stutter in his hips, how ragged his breathing had become.

His blue eyes zeroed in on yours, intensely focused. You knew the words before they fell out of his beautiful, slacked mouth. “I’m gonna cum,”

The monitor’s glow illuminated his face as he started to peak; his eyes fluttered shut, his staggered thrusts making you whimper. Before you could tell him to fill you up, coax him through it, a pitchy groan fell from his lips. He slammed his hand on the desk for balance as he folded forward, nearly collapsing his heaving body on top of you.

Warm, quick breaths painted your cheeks as you felt his cock twitch inside of you, strong and steady, the polar opposite of the picture in front of you. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and where you touched his body left temporary prints of lightness.

You locked eyes then. Seconds slowed to minutes as you soaked up the moment, blissfully sated, patiently scanning his face for any sign of regret.

Sharp jingles of keys startled you from the other side of the door, catching Professor Wayne’s attention. No. Oh no. You tried to scramble up, preparing for him to be mad at the close call. Hopefully it’d be a close call, and not—

“It’s alright.” He looked away from the door and pressed a tender, reverent kiss to your lips. “Janitor unlocks all the doors in this hallway at the same time. Opens mine last for cleaning.”

“Oh,” was all you could muster. He slowly pulled out, your pussy aching at the loss. You already wanted him again.

Still catching his breath, he opened a drawer and got some tissues. “Let me clean you up.”

His aftercare was so sweet it felt like foreplay. Gentle swipes on your inner thigh, attentive eyes roaming for misses. Now that he was more or less static, you got a better look at his torso; it kept you from looking at the arc of his hands moving along your legs and his ‘just fucked’ face. The marks looked menacing and violent. A bruise was in the final stages of healing just above his navel.

“Where are those from?”

He disposed of a tissue wrapped inside another, then pulled up his slacks. He answered as he pulled up their zipper. “Motorcycle accident.”

You sat up, straightening your shirt to look put together, and smoothed the skirt down your thighs. He shrugged on his shirt, making quick work of the buttons. You knew what his fingers felt like. What he felt like. What he sounded like. Your face heated. Adriana might give you an earful when you got back, but you’d have this memory no matter what. No matter if this was the last time. No matter if it happened over and over again.

Keys jingled closer. You didn’t trust it.

Without anything left on the desk besides, you pointed at a random part of his computer screen, pretending to have a question like it wasn’t the report form. He stood beside you with his hands on his hips, feigning interest.

“Sorry Bruce. Lock stuck.”

A short man with sandy blonde hair accidentally pushed the door open, the end of his mop poking into the classroom. Could he tell you’d just fucked? Could he hear any of it?

“No worries, Henry.”

Henry went to leave, and you released the breath you were holding.

“Actually, I’ll start here if you don’t mind. Marshall didn’t have class today.”

Professor Wayne glanced at you. It felt like checking in, asking permission, and you nodded. His voice was more than back to its usual refinement. “Sure.”

You gathered your folio, its innocence intoxicating. In no universe had you thought the plan would work. Now the evidence of him was sticky on your skin and panties.

Henry began by emptying the trash at the front door, forcing you coy.

“Thanks for the help, Professor Wayne.”

“My pleasure.”

His eyes sparkled, and you commended yourself for stringing together words in their wake. “Are you available to meet later in the term?”

He bit the inside of his cheek, and took a full breath. “Just let me know when you need my help.”

You smiled at the ground and walked out the far door, bidding him goodnight. Henry said something to him about a vacuum, and you pressed out into the hallway, cutting to a back exit.

Fresh evening air cooled your lungs and the rain soothed your scorching skin. Professor Wayne. You traced your sore lips with the tip of your finger, and laughed as you waited at the crosswalk.

The taste of coffee held you all the way home.

taglist: @noisylime @serynstorylover @crayzmarvelfan800 @dreamer7black @sad-ghouls @smellingbats @eddiew-k @kha0sblossom @omithemonki @badbishsblog

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edwisefoundation · 9 months ago

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How to Write an SOP for Australia: Tips for a Successful Application

Writing an effective Statement of Purpose (SOP) for Australia is crucial to your study visa application. The SOP helps universities assess your background, motivations, and academic qualifications. It should clearly explain why you are interested in a specific program and how it aligns with your career goals.

Key tips include:

Research the university and tailor your SOP accordingly.

Structure your SOP with clear sections, such as an introduction, academic background, work experience, and career goals.

Use concise and formal language, avoiding complex sentence structures.

Proofread multiple times to ensure clarity and professionalism.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 22 days ago

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As I wind down the pines 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, grief, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Left alone after the death of your grandparents, you must survive the remote backwoods.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You wake in silence. Your eyes flick open and cling to the slats above. You examine the large knot in the board directly above you. The link between body and mind slowly reforges as your finger twitches, then another.

Your stomach constricts painfully. You groan and close your eyes against the pounding in your skull. Mingled with the physical agony is your confusion. Where are you?

This is not your grandparent's house. It does not smell like it and the wooden planks are the wrong colour. Your head lolls to the side as your back wracks from laying flat.

The gate, the garden, the tomatoes in the dirt. A flicker of memory plays in your mind. There's a low creak in the floor. Your open your eyes and look at the man as he nears.

Now it comes back. The knife, the grizzly threats, the empty basket. You try to sit up but your arms shake and give out. You whimper.

"Please, mister...." your voice comes out hoarse as it chafes in your dry throat.

"Thief, but not a liar," he puts a metal mug on the table behind the arm of the couch, just above your head. "As close to starving as you can get."

You blink and lay helplessly on the cushions. You watch him in dread, waiting. He reaches for you and you flinch.

He grabs your shoulder and forces you up. "Sit."

You struggle to get your legs over the edge and turn to lean on the back of the couch. You're breathless from the effort. He lets go and grabs the cup.

"Drink. Slow." He grits.

You nod but barely get your chin up. You lift a trembling arm and wrap your fingers around the cup. He lets go and it slips through your grasp. It spills down your pant legs. You whine.

"S-sorry," you rasp. "Sor... trying."

He doesn't say anything. He bends to retrieve the cup and quickly disappears. He returns with a mop and sops up the mess on the floor. He leaves again, a cloth in hand as he comes back.

He dabs at your pants. You watch him. Your stomach clenches.

"Mister... I live north.... east. Take me back. I'll leave you be." You slump as your energy drains. "S-sor-sorry. I... didn't want... to steal. I didn't..."

You sniffle but no tears rise. You have nothing left in you. If he takes you home, you'll be happy to die there.

He doesn't respond as he continues to blot at your pants. He growls and gives up. He stands again and marches out. He brings another cup of water. This time he puts it to your lips himself and tilts.

"Slow," he girds as you open your mouth.

He keeps it to a trickle. You swallow, little by little, and he stops you after only a few mouthfuls. He puts the cup on the table.

"Sorry..." you murmur again and let your head hang.

He harrumphs but adds no comment. He reaches over you and drags down the woven throw slung over the back. He spreads it over you and retreats.

You stay as you are. It isn't your choice. You don't want to do anything. Just thinking is hard enough.

You hear him in another room. Metallic noises, wood, the groan of the floorboards.

You stare at your knees. You shouldn't have come back. You shouldn't have stolen. You deserve the worst. Your grandpa would be disappointed if he knew you sank so low.

The man returns with a bowl in one hand and a stool in the other. He plants the wooden stool and sits in front of you. He holds out the dish. There are small chunks of veggie and some sort of poultry.

"Small bites. Slow."

You flutter your lashes as your nose and cheeks sting. "Thank you, mister. I... I'm--"

"Sorry. Got it," he finishes bluntly. "I don't like dead things in my garden."

You reach for a piece of meat. You chew on it tediously. You could gobble it all down at once but that might be too much.

You look around and swallow.

"Fixed it up...." you say.

"Mhm." He rumbles.

You quiet. He doesn't seem the talking type. Fair enough, you don't mind silence.

You eat. As he says, slowly. You focus on chewing, on tasting. It's a delightful sensation after so long.

You lower your hand and twist your fist around your index.

"I can't eat more."

He nods and gets up. He takes the bowl out to the other room. You look around. The couch is draped with a cover; dark grey. The cushions are newer than the noisy frame. The floor is worn but clean, the tables are freshly finished but likely as aged as everything else.

There's a framed map on the wall across from you, above the long side table and past the twin arm chairs. It's a vintage sort of brown outlining all the boroughs in New York. You've never been. Not there or anywhere.

He startles you as he moves the stool. He's gone again and you rub your palms together nervously. You inch forward, testing the strength in your legs.

"Won't get far." He stands in the door frame.

You wince as you look at him. You shrug. He sighs.

"Offer stands. Earn what you take."

"I... yeah. Sorry. I... I took that stuff."

"It's said and done. Get back on your feet and you can make it up." He says.

"Sure. I will. Promise, mister."

He hums.

"You need sleep. You can use that blanket. Whichever pillow." He gestures vaguely to you.

"Thank you." You twiddle your thumbs around each other. "You sure are nice, mister.

He grumbles as if to disagree. You grab the pillow and fluff it up before you stretch out again. He's right. Not much else you can do but sleep.

🌳

You wake up and the windows are dark. The man keeps the curtains drawn so the sunlight stays out. It does keep it cool in the height of summer.

Your headache has receded but it close enough to the surface that anymore sleep will bring it out. You sit up. You're more steady but no less hollow.

You don't dare move from the couch. You don't want to stoke any suspicion or disturb his existence any more than you have. You pick at the hem of your shirt as you wait.

You don't hear him. He just appears. For a man his size, he's agile and quiet. He brings you another cup of water. You thank him again.

"You good to walk?" He asks.

"I'll try," you accept the cup. He clings to it until he's sure you have a good hold on it.

You sip slowly. It's soothing. You let it coat your stomach and close your eyes. You bask in that feeling.

You open your eyes. You reach to set the cup on the table. Then you grip the armrest. You push yourself up with a grunt. He stays near. You shift and get your balance.

"Stiff," you explain.

He dips his chin and turns away. "Come on."

You can't move until he's at the other door. The one that looks to lead outside. You hobble after him, your knees stubborn and your shoulders sore.

He steps outside and holds the door as he waits. You pass him onto the porch and descend the steps. He's straight to the point. Hopefully you don't faint again.

"Right." He commands as he follows.

You obey and go right, away from the garden where he found you. Around that side, there's a wash tub and a laundry line. Behind that, there's a shed.

"You can stay in there." He points over your shoulder. "Got a lock, a cot, and there's an outhouse about twenty feet back."

You nod. "Thank you, mister."

"Might be some mice."

"That's okay, then," you agree.

He grunts.

"Alright then," he says. "You can check it out. Then eat."

"If you say so, mister."

He sniffs. He puts his hand on his hip as you face him. "Bucky." You tilt your head.

"Oh. Okay," you reply, then give your name.

He hums flatly and spins away. You watch him for a moment then retreat. He sure is rigid. Your grandfather could be the same way.

You turn to the shed and approach the door. You lean on it before you go through. Your knees are aching. You enter and the window at the back lets on natural light.

The shelves against one wall are packed with old buckets of paint and tarnish, some tools, and a few empty flower pots. Opposite, a cot, a blanket, and a single pillow. There's a sideways crate next to it with a single book on it. A chest is tucked inside the crate too.

You shuffle inside and sit on the cot. Not bad. He could have left you to the floor.

He enters with another bowl in hand. Inside, hard-boiled egg, fruit, and some veggies. He sets it on the crate, next to the copy of a book called The Hobbit.

"Thanks," you murmur as he hands you the food.

"Stay off your feet. Eat. Read. You need time." He says.

"Okay," you look down. "You... you got a good harvest. Not like me."

"Long winter coming," he sniffs.

"Grandfather always said..." you begin then let it fade. "Thanks again. I'm keeping ya."

He stares at you a moment. "I'll be around."

He leaves you once more. You take a berry and admire it. You put it in your mouth and feel the juice explode, taste it deeply, it's sweeter than you ever had. Your stomach roars.

You could devour ten times as much as is in the bowl.

🌳

Bucky brings you a second meal. He finds the door still open as you sit restlessly on the cot. He replaces the empty bowl with the new one but doesn't say a word. You thank him anyway.

Alone, you eat slower. You have to remind yourself not to lose control. You feel like an animal.

It's strange. That sort of gnawing hunger looms like a shadow. There's a fear deep down. Now that you've known it, you never want to feel it again.

You put the bowl aside. You pick up the book instead. You turn it over once, twice, and again. The book is tattered around the edges.

You open the loose cover and flip through the title page. The font is tight and small, the ink slightly faded. There's a finger print stamped in dirt on the first page.

You read through the first three pages. Interesting.

The air inside is stagnant. You get up and glance around. Too stuffy. You go to the door and sit inside the frame. The sunlight helps illuminate the words. You put your mind back to another world.

Your adventure is interrupted by a rustle. You look over at the garden, just along the other side of the property. Bucky walks through the rows, bending to check the growth. He has a basket hanging from a strap on his shoulder. He plucks loose the ripe fruits and vegetables and drops them inside.

He doesn't seem to notice you. He likely tries to forget you're there. You've intruded on his life. A thief, now an invader.

You put your head down and go back to reading. You finish the chapter then get up. You recline on the cot and close your eyes without sleeping.

You languish like that as you listen to the soft breeze. There's a sudden clatter that spikes your heartbeat. You sit up and watch the shadow pass by the doorway. You stare for a moment before you get up.

You go out to see what it is. You know who but not why. Bucky's gone but there's something waiting for you. A lawn chair with crisscross straps woven around the wooden frame.

He must have seen you. That's kind of him. You'll be sure to thank him when you see him.

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #marvel #mcu #avengers #captain america #winter soldier #as i wind down the pines

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valentine-cafe · 3 months ago

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˖⁺. “ my sweetest girl ! ” :

﹙ rich yandere mad doctor x hyperfem reader. ﹚.𖹭 ݁

. . . verse 209 jingyi x female reader !! 🍓 : ﹙ yandere ˖ mad doctor ˖ snake monster character ﹚

your boyfriend is more than capable of spoiling your pretty little self rotten. he cant help but indulge you a little more each and every time too.

﹙ cws ﹚: explicit content ˖ handjob ˖ fitting room sex ˖ clothed sex ˖ rough sex ˖ creampie ˖ office sex ˖ yandere behaviour | wc : 0.9k

﹙ receipts ﹚: this man makes me wayyyy too weak . . . ough

꒰ other treats : guidelines ˖ m.list ˖ characters ˖ our lore ꒱

Never lets your pretty little hands touch a speck of work, why should he? In fact, those beautiful hands of yours are getting pampered and painted. Your phone's crooked against your ear and shoulder, a small smile on your lips as you ramble to your lover whose busy with paperwork. "What colour are you thinking?" He hums. When the answer is his favourite - red - his deep chuckle has you flushing.

"Does that mean I'm in for for a surprise later, darling?"

How are you ever to deny a man who treats you right? Spoils you rotten? You smile to the shimmer of gel polish on your coffin-shaped nails and coyly croon back.

"Who knows gege, maybe? You sent me here for a reason, didn't you?" Code for, wouldn't you like your dick wrapped up in your favourite colour?

Speaking about spoiling, his card? It might as well have your name engraved on it instead. It's placed in your hand the second you enter a store. His favourite thing after a long week is to whisk you away to the nearest boutique and have you try on whatever your heart desires. Your cute little dresses as you twirl before the mirror have him painfully hard in the fitting room. Good thing you're such a sweetheart and straddle his lap with your tight-fitted, pink velvet dress on, right? He'll grind on your wet cunt with his evident tent, groaning into your shoulder so deeply.

"No panties, sweetheart? My, aren't you bold?"

Large hands squeeze on your thighs as you so eagerly rock on his hard-on. You bite your plush lip, whine and slot your drippy slit right over his throbbing cock.

"Another little gift for you. Am I so wrong?" His fingers trail to the back of your neck, holding you there as his hips buck in tune. If you wanted it so bad, who was he to deny his dearest anything?

"Pretty little slut." The murmur to your neck is heated, his free hand works on his buckle. "Then get to it, won't you?"

His dick always feels better in public. The squeeze of your sopping pussy around his base is all the more sweeter when you're trying to keep your voice down. He intentionally rams up into you sweetspot and clamps a palm over your mouth. Fucks into you roughly, shallowly. Creams your pretty cunt so full of him, since you're such an eager girl.

His deep groan rumbles through your ear. "There you go sweetheart. All for this greedy pussy, hmm?"

His girl gets whatever she possibly wants. Of course he is going to help you with your hair in the morning. You'll be sat on the dresser in your white fluffy towel, chatting away about your week while he's stood behind you. Leaves rolled to his elbows, the hairdryer's in one hand and your favourite brush in the other. Three pins held by his lips as he so diligently styles and combs however you require.

Keeps a picture of you in his wallet. If anyone asks his cold, slitted eyes cast a blank glance over, before his ever-handsome smile curls to his lips. "Why, that's my darling girl. Pretty, isn't she?" The person better hope they agree in an appropriate way. Otherwise. . . Well. He can't have anyone taking you away from him, now can he?

Loves when your lipstick stains his neck. He'll be sure to wear them with pride as he ventures into his clinic. You have nurses watching in envy, patients all the more confused. Who cares for professionalism?

Especially when you wander into his office to surprise him for lunch. The second he sets his sights on you, your thighs are bundled up in his strong hands and you're plopped on his desk. Kisses dizzy you until you can barely breathe. He's messed up your makeup and you're all whiney when he pulls away to saliva connecting your swollen lips.

"Oh, poor thing. I simply can't help myself around such a pretty sweetheart. . . "

Worry not! Jingyi keeps extra makeup products for you in his top drawer. All you have to do is sit pretty while he snatches the small back, wipes away his mess and sets to work on dolling you up again.

The pucker of your lips under the lipstick has him biting onto his. You notice and giggle. The little jitter halts when he grasps your chin with his free hand and croons lowly.

"Stay still now. Lest you want me to mess it up all over again?"

There you go, batting those thick lashes at him? How is he not supposed to drop the lipstick and press you back into his desk? You brought it on yourself missy. Besides, you love when he shoves your underwear to the side and presses his cock in so eagerly. Love when he humps you against his desk so you squirt all over his paperwork. Leave the both of you panting and bundled up in his office chair at the end of it all.

Carries all of your shopping bags because he is here to spoil you, which really means he's here to worship you. Jingyi will have it no other way. Whether it's buying you an outfit every week, keeping up to date with your make-up, helping you out with your skin care in the middle of the night — who cares? As long as his pretty girl is happy. And as long as people keep their eyes off of her . . .

﹙ taglist. ﹚: | get tagged for specific posts

﹙ tip jar. ﹚: like our work? consider suporting us 𖹭

#﹙ cupcake rush. ﹚: jingyi 209 𖹭 ݁#teratophillia #monster boyfriend #terato #monster fucker #yandere x reader #monster x reader #oc x reader #monster oc #x reader #reader insert #original character x reader #mad doctor x reader #naga x reader #snake monster x reader #jingyi 209 #fem reader #asterism

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headmate-polls · 2 months ago

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Hello! This is poll-based blog for fun kinds of polls about headmates! We will make ones about ourselves, and you can also submit your own.

You can call us SOA, it/its and hy/hym [auxillary he/him], NO they/them or it&/you& type pronouns, non-human and masculine terms only. We also run several other blogs.

We are pro-endo, naturally so is the blog, but it is not enforced that anti-endos DNI. We just ask everyone to be respectful and keep syscourse out of the blog content.

Submission guidelines and tagging system under the cut!

Anonymity will be the default! If you want to be tagged [@ and #] let us know which blog/s.

Some examples of poll types this blog will host:

Smash or pass / hot or not

Kiss, Marry, Kill / Wed, Bed, Behead

Bracket wars! with any topic of what they're fighting for.

It does not need to be a game! Those are just what I currently want and can think of.

Suggestive/NSFW topics are fine, NSFW media is not.

Some kind of picture of the headmate is strongly encouraged but not required. Can be canon media, fanart [with credit if possible], Picrew, particularly for the SoP and KMK.

Include some kind of blurb about the headmate. Up to you what to include or not. Name and pronouns and something about personality I would say is 'minimum' personally but up to you! Plus it depends on the poll type. If you want SoP to be just looks-based for example.

Tagging system!

Poll type will be tagged

'anonymous' will not be tagged but if requested, the blog [or anon signoff] will be

If ever applicable, TW tags will be in 'trigger tw' format.

'nsfw' but not 'nsft'

'submission'

We will also sign the headmate processing the post with '-- Name || pro/nouns' as well as the date it was was processed with '-- XX Month 202X'

Tagging for boosts! -- @plural-polls @plurr-polls @fictive-culture @headspace-polls @plural-questioning @fictionfolk-safehaven @funnier-as-a-system @funnier-as-a-fictive

-- Lucas (it/hy/ask)

#pluralgang #plural #plurality #plural system #pro endo #endo safe #endos please interact #plural community #pluralblr #plural things #plural polls #intro post #-- Lucas || it/hy/ask #-- 18 April 2025 #last updated: 21 June 2025 by Luke (he/it)

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jean-paul-azrael · 15 days ago

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I'm Jean-Paul Valley, I work in IT in Gotham. He/him, Catholic ✝️ please don't ask about my sexuality.

I also used to be Batman, but please don't ask about that, either.

Trying to turn over a new leaf, trying to NOT do the Azrael thing much but he's kinda stuck here and comes out a lot. Don't be alarmed but he's pretty intense.

Hello I have made an RP blog for everyone's favorite sopping wet cat of the 90s. I'm the mun of @alfred-worth-every-penny

You can specify if you're talking to JP or Az, otherwise I'll use my best judgment on who's answering.

Azrael speaks in red.

DMs, comments, and asks always welcomed and encouraged.

---

Who the heck is this character?

You may have heard of the comic storyline where Bane breaks Batman's back. While Bruce is out of commission, this is the guy who takes up the mantle for him. ((If you have three hours, you can listen to the BBC Knightfall audio drama!))

BACKSTORY

He's like a Talon if the Court of Owls were Catholic.

---

The Order of St Dumas was a secret organization and splinter group of the Knights Templar. Incredibly wealthy, and pulling strings around the world.

The Order created a loyal assassin called Azrael to destroy enemies of the the order. The process involved subjecting the fetus child of the current Azrael to electroshocks and DNA modification in a growing tube. This process, called "The System" results in a sort of split personality.

Azrael believes himself to be a Holy Avenging Angel of Death, and his enemies to be sinners in need of divine punishment.

After becoming the Batman, his struggles with the System, the stress, and his own inexperienced all eventually culminate into a complete mental breakdown in which Bruce has to forcibly remove him from the role.

Jean-Paul Valley is the latest in the line of Azraels. After his father, Ludovic, died in his arms, he got entangled with the Order and Batman, resulting in him saving and learning the identity of the latter.

RULES AND GUIDELINES

His relationship to the Batfamily has been shaky ever since. Jean-Paul tried for years to earn Batman's respect.

---

I am fine with RPs of any rating

Anyone can follow my blog. Because of this, content not suitable for everyone must be discussed in DMs

Things like magic anons are okay within reason. If I personally find it too zany to work with I just won't respond

---

PLOT HOOKS

The Batfam can be weird about him. Bruce might consider him as much of his own failure as Jason. Dick might be very distrustful and even a tad jealous? Tim might not have forgiven the crap he dealt with from AzBats. Or maybe he wasn't even in your universe!

Wanted people:

- A Bruce, Tim, or Dick who went through the whole Knightfall deal with JP

- Michael Lane Azrael

---

THE MUN

I'm 25+ and use they/them pronouns. I like pets and tea. I've been RPing for around 10 years, and I made these DC blogs because my usual RP buddies didn't care about comics

#jean paul valley #dc rp #batfam #dc rp blog #dc roleplay #batfam rp #batfam roleplay

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starry-sophrosyne · 3 months ago

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FINAL COMMUNITY UPDATE! :

I'm SO sorry for this long awaited update, I truly cannot believe that you all put up with me and my WEEKS of worth of delay and lying about publication, it's so incredibly ridiculous but I can only thank you all over and over again for your dedicated patience ( ´ ᗣ ` )՞

I have finally have big news about the community, which is that the community is finally ready to be joined! If you desire to join, please send a dm to one of the moderators (@crashingstar69 @sopping-wet-cat-wizard @second-best-daisy @the-tcclique @sussybaka42069 or me, maybe not @vernnationembassador as they aren't available on the weekdays), and they will get back to you with an invite as soon as they can. Please be patient while waiting for your invitation however, as we are still busy ppl irl with personal lives and work or school of some sorts. ( ´﹀` ) /lh

General rules will be provided through the guidelines, but I'm putting them here as initial reminders for those who want to join, and also to be more in-depth/explicit about them. Please let me or any of the other moderators know if you have any other questions! Otherwise, thank you so much! ٩(ˊᗜˋ)و

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

1. Do NOT send the invite link to anyone else, invites are sent by moderators only. Doing so will result in a temporary ban. Feel free to tell a mod about somebody who wants to join the community, as blogs without any rpf interaction will need some sort of voucher in order to join.

2. Please note that you will have to join the community as your main blog, as communities do not allow side blogs to join. We hope this feature will be added in the future, but as of now, we cannot do anything to change that. If you do not wish to join the community for this reason, that's a completely acceptable decision, we will not take that personally at all. ( ´ ˘ ` ) /gen

3. Please read the pinned rules posted in the community before you go off posting anything. After that, you're free to go! And again, me alongside all the other moderators of the community thank you guys so much for all your patience!

#pc rpf #rpf #pc rpf community #im also incredibly burnt out rn so please forgive me ( ´﹀` )'#impossibly tired i feel this weariness in my bones and its dogshit

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minminyoonjii · 1 year ago

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(lol imagine you writing a fic where bin is fuckin Jiji with a tentacle dildo and then the tentacle monster shows up and fucks them both properly. Or chan being a wolf hybrid and goes into heat without telling the others then just randomly goes around humping their legs)

-🖤🐺 wolfy

❤️Ultimate Masterlist

💜Rules and Guidelines

🕯Summary: All Jisung had in mind was to get railed by Changbin using a tentacle dildo he purchased online. How would he know that our tentacle fried would get turned on by the humans using a silicon tendril like it's to pleasure themselves?

🌹CW

💌 This is a work of fiction, I by all means don't force ship anyone. They have the right to love whomever they want.

🍄Wordcount: 1.4K

"Hyung, I may have bought something," Jisung said, bouncing on the heels of his feet. Changbin raised an eyebrow, " Oh? What is it?" he asked curiously. Jisung gulped, "I'll show you on one condition," he said, ears burning up. Changbin stood up, walking towards Jisung, "Don't hesitate, doll. Tell me," he said, subtly pinning Jisung to the wall. "You can't laugh!" Jisung exclaimed, hearing his heart beat out of his chest.

"Aww, of course," Changbin reassured, trailing his hand to Jisung's cheek. A shiver ran down Jisung's spine, "Okay then, I'll go get it," he said, slipping into his room to get a box. Changbin cooed at Jisung's flustered expression, "Do you need me to open it, doll?" he asked, taking the box from Jisung's hands. Jisung nodded furiously, "I'll be in the room, hyung," he said, closing the door behind him.

"Hyung will come in after, okay?" Changbin chuckled. After Jisung replied with a muffled 'Yes', Changbin opened the box. His eyes widened, a smirk etched on his lips, " Filthy," he groaned, taking out a girthy ribbed dildo. Jisung stripped off his clothes in the meantime, leaving on his precum-stained panties. His heart pounded as his eyes zoned onto the shaking doorknob.

Changbin cracked the joints in his neck, walking into the room, " On your back, " he instructed, locking the door behind him. Jisung did as told, cock twitching beneath the fabric, "Did you see it, hyung?" he whispered, running his fingers through the sheets. Changbin hummed, taking out the dildo, "More than just saw, doll. Hyung felt it, imagined it stretching your pretty little hole," he rasped, trailing his hand up Jisung's calves.

" Fu-uck," Jisung whined, bucking his hips. Changbin chuckled, holding the tip of the dildo, "Can you imagine it yourself, doll? Imagine this ribbed dildo rubbing exactly where you need it," he said, tracing Jisung's clothed bulge with the dildo. A desperate moan slipped past Jisung's plump lips, " Please, please, please, " he pleaded, digging his nails into the sheets beneath.

Changbin sighed, feeling his cock harden at the sight, "Don't worry, doll. Hyung's got you," he said, tugging down the skimpy panties hiding Jisung's drippy cock. " Mhm," Jisung moaned, his body trembling from the chill air engulfing his length. " So messy already," Changbin cooed, wrapping his hand around Jisung's wet cockhead. "Maybe we should try sounding for your pretty cock, doll. Can't have you leaking when we're in public," he chastised, swiping his thumb between Jisung's slit.

" Hyung," Jisung whimpered, embarrassment burning under his skin. Changbin chuckled, "Is my little doll embarrassed? You shouldn't be embarrassed about something true," he hummed, using the tip of the dildo to tease Jisung's sopping slit. " Oh, ah, ah, ah," Jisung gasped, pleasure coiling within his abdomen. A smirk remained etched on Changbin's lips, "Look doll, look at how your wet cock slick up this gorgeous toy," he said, thrusting the dildo between Jisung's slit, drenching it in his dribbling precum.

Jisung bucked his hips, " Please hyung, need it in. Need it in so bad," he sobbed, craving to feel every inch of the dildo deep within his tummy. Changbin groaned, palming his throbbing cock, " On all fours, " he growled, blinking back the lust coating his mind. Jisung keened, instantly getting into position. " Good boy, " Changbin praised, spreading apart Jisung's thick ass.

A laugh bubbled from Changbin's throat, "You filthy little whore . Hyung knows a prepped hole when he sees one, doll. Did you think hyung wouldn't notice?" he asked easily slipping two fingers past Jisung's rim. " No," Jisung slurred, face buried deep within his pillow. Changbin cooed, pulling his fingers out, "Since you're that desperate, take a deep breath, doll," he said, easing the tentacle dildo in one quick thrust.

Jisung's breath hitched, and pleasure filled his body to the brim. He whined, arms trembling to hold himself, " Holy fuck, " he moaned, squeezing his eyes tight. "Can you feel it, doll? Feel the suckers cling to your inner walls, " Changbin growled, pumping the dildo at a constant pace, making Jisung's mind melt. Drool drenched the pillow Jisung held, tears pooling in his eyes from the sheer arousal.

Dark tendrils from the shadows, slithering their way up the bed frames. They preen from the pleasure surrounding the room. Changbin paused his thrusts and flinched away from the feeling of something cool wrapping around his ankles. Jisung trembled, dildo burying deep against his prostate, barely aware of the monstrous being watching them.

"Hyung needs you to snap out of it, doll. Something is wrong here," Changbin said, trying to coax Jisung out of his headspace. The tendrils sensed the panic, "Do not be afraid," it gargled, slithering itself up Changbin's plump thighs. Jisung furrowed his eyebrows at the gargle, "Hyung?" he questioned, not recognising the voice. The monster emerged, patting Changbin's head, "I don't hurt. Want to help," it gargled. Changbin gulped, "Help how?" he asked, feeling an odd sense of trust.

The tendrils wrapped themselves around the base of the tentacle dildo plunged into Jisung's hole and began thrusting. Changbin felt his cock twitch at the sight, arousal hitting him like a truck, "Fuck," he rasped, feeling the tendrils around his thighs pulsate. The monster purred, using its tentacles to strip off Changbin's clothes, "Relax. I help," it rasped, feeling up Changbin's plush torso. Jisung screamed into the pillow, feeling something slick wrap around his sensitive cock, " Ah, ah, ah! " he sobbed, body quivering.

" Not there," Changbin gasped, melting into the tentacle's hold as they sucked on his hardened nipples. More and more of his clothing spilt onto the floor, leaving him bare. Jisung yelped, head spinning from being manhandled on his back, " Hyungie? " he whimpered, blinking back the tears filling his eyes. Changbin mewled, arching his back into the tentacle stroking his hard cock, " Doll, " he panted, reaching out his trembling hand to pat Jisung's hair.

Jisung preened at the touch, eyebrows furrowing when a tendril decided to slither within Jisung's slit. A broken cry escaped Jisung's lips. The tendril plunged itself deeper and deeper down Jisung's urethra. " Ah, ah, what the fuck! " he cried, overwhelmed by everything pleasuring his body. The tendril wrapped around the base never stopped, proceeding to pound his gaping hole with the toy. Jisung broke into overwhelmed sobs and whimpers.

A girthy tentacle pressed itself against Changbin's hole, wanting to feel his warmth. Changbin moaned, his body on display for the monster to do whatever it needed to. The tentacle nudged his tight rim, slowly pushing itself inch by inch. " Fu-uck, fuck, fuck, " Changbin slurred, drool dripping down the corners of his lips. The tentacle contracted and relaxed, stuffing as much of itself inside Changbin's warm ribbed wall.

Jisung's body spasmed, " Gonna cu-cum," he hiccuped, heat pooling in his lower back. The tendrils quickened their pace, fucking and thrusting into him with an unrelenting tempo. " Fuck! " Jisung screamed, head spinning from the dry orgasm. The tendril buried in his urethra shivered from the warm cum coating it. Jisung sobbed, still feeling utter full, " Please, please, please. Let me cum, pl-please, " he hiccuped, blobs of tears dripping down his cheeks.

The tendrils maintained their merciless rhythm, building up the orgasm that Jisung craved. The tendril nudged against his prostate, instantly breaking Jisung into wails as his orgasm forced the tendril out of his urethra. Cum splattered onto his stomach, hitting the bottom of his chin. "There's more," he sniffled, squirting clear liquid, eventually drenching the sheets. Changbin choked on a sob, his cock aching to cum, "I- so close," he mewled, tossing his head back when the tentacle filling him up bulged under his skin. The tendril wrapped around his cock and stroked him intending to make him gush.

Changbin yelped, " There, there, there," he cried, weakly fucking back his hips for the tentacle to press against his swollen prostate. The sounds of smacking flesh echoed within the room when a loud groan masked it. " Shit, fuck, fuck, fuck, " Changbin slurred, cumming onto the floor beneath. The tendril stroked his cock until his testicles emptied dry. The monster laid Changbin next to Jisung. The both of them panted to catch their breaths. Jisung mewled when the tendrils eased the dildo out from his swollen rim.

Minho sighed, walking into the room with supplies ready on hand. "I have the sheets ready for you to change. Looks like you fucked them senseless this time," he said, stroking Changbin's cheek. " Sorry," it gargled, feeling guilty for losing control. Minho waved his hand, "It's fine, I know you're not one to let loose for no reason," he said, holding the tentacle dildo.

"Plus I think this was one of Jisung's filthy desires," he snorted, setting the dildo aside. The monster lifted Changbin's plaint body, holding him close. Changbin subconsciously nuzzled himself against the monster. Minho smiled, "Come on Hannie baby. Let's get you all cleaned up as well," he said, following behind the monster before closing the slick-stained room behind him.

The End

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