#excruciatingly long post
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mushyfart · 1 year ago
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very rushed but there was an opportunity and I had to take it
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edit: changed the mirror due to popular demands
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jimimn · 1 year ago
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look at how cute 🥺 also look at the hand size difference look at how tiny jimin's hands are compared to seokjinnie's its making me bawl 😭 (cr. namuspromised)
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lkblackham · 2 months ago
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Me: I'm grey ace/aro, which means that I don't feel attraction except for a few *exceptionally* rare and *extremely* specific examples.
An *Exceptionally* Rare and *Extremely* Specific Example:
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instagram
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(Emmrich gets 2 GIFs because I say so)
*sips tea while petting one of her three cats alone in her home office.*
I never said it was reasonable. It just *is*.
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hyunsooul · 1 year ago
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heLP???? look I know I said I'l be updating you guys after I've watched it but apparently IT'S BEEN MONTHS?????? so yeah
With the news of season 3 coming along I got rlly hyped because THE Lee eunhyuk has returned but here are some things from shs2 that I absolutely LOVED and some aspects that I don't hate bt don't necessarily like
One thing though is this show didn't feel like sweet home at all, it felt like I was watching a drama that tributes sweet home or maybe I was jst too attached to s1 methinks.
Second is why did they have tk kill jisu 😭 they made my homegirl die such a brutal death and for WHAT???? It made me wonder if the story will play off very differently if she was there. Also her death seemed forced(?) at least to me. it was such a useless death but at least she was out out of her miserly. She kept on being jumped since s1 free my girl 😭🙏
I loved how some characters from s1 had comebacks/cameos AND I LOVED EVERY SINGLE SECOND OF THEIR SCREEN TIME!!! The appearance of the mother monster made me audibly GASP so imagine how loud of a sound I made when I saw eunhyuk 😭
I also loved how they wrote ah-yi's character, it was very interesting to watch yikyung's story 😭 plus, we get to see uncle hyunsoo! I live for soft hyunsoo, so that was very endearing to watch.
Lastly, it was refreshing to see the little not-plot-relevant but light side plots that balance the mood. The girl having a crush on that military man and the girl crushing on the priest made it feel sweet home-y because who says that you can't be a little silly even during an apocalypse?
This silly little show still has me in a chokehold and I could yap about it for hours BUTTT for now, that's it
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danceswithdarkspawn · 1 year ago
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writing would be so much easier if I wasnt a permanently exhausted pigeon
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relic-seeker · 1 year ago
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back when my oc yuri was wholesome & cute (i imagine this as a pre-relationship encounter, just before they met duke)
also yes maybe i am using hk ocs to project being mixed race & passing only for one. maybe i am. xP
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namism · 1 month ago
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accomplices (1) | sabo
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➳ categories: canonverse, female afab reader, fake-out make-out trope, pre-dressrosa arc ➳ warnings: nsfw (making out) ➳ word count: 1.3k
➳ summary: The best way out of a dangerous scenario is to fake-pretend a make-out session to disturb the enemy. When you're cornered with the chief of the Revolutionary Army, you put that theory to the test.
➳ cross-posted on ao3
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You don't know how you got yourself into this situation, but it wasn't ideal by any means.
"Chief-of-Staff, Sabo. I'm from the Revolutionary Army."
"You are Sabo? From the Revs?"
A group of voices echo from the end of the hallway. Almost immediately, you and Sabo skitter up a flight of stairs to lose track of them, eventually finding refuge in the first room your eyes land on.
With your back to the door, you heave a sigh of relief. Sabo traces the wall to find the light switch. When the room fills with light, you take a proper look at him.
"I know who you are," you say. "I've always wanted to meet the Revolutionary Army."
Blond hair, round eyes, and a black hat. With clothes fitting him loosely and a visible scar spanning the left side of his face, there's no mistaking it.
You tell him your name.
"I'm from the local guerilla. What brings you here?"
"Perhaps with similar intentions. We're here to interrupt a weapons trade," he explains. Your kingdom is a major transport route for a shady underground business, but no one has ever cracked the root of the problem. Some say the weapons they vend lead to an island in the New World, but you have yet to figure it out—as far as you're concerned, the trade has to end.
Suddenly, the door behind you shakes.
"Who locked the fucking conference room?"
The next thing you hear is the tinkling of metal keys. Eyes wide with fear, you watch the doorknob rattle with bated breath. Sabo looks around hurriedly and points to his left.
"In there!"
You follow him to the far end of the room, where a wooden door stands ajar. Sabo pushes it open and lets you slip inside before sneaking in and locking it with haste.
Pressing your ear to the door, you listen to the voices that filter from the outside.
"God forbid those revolutionaries lay a finger on the Big Boss."
It's an excruciatingly long conversation. You learn many things that you aren't supposed to, leads that you wouldn't have known if you didn't trap yourself in enemy territory. Apparently, the local syndicate had intel on the Revolutionary Army's arrival and were planning an escape route the day prior, but an informant from the Dressrosa Kingdom apprised them to stay still. And because of that, you're here.
"What's that noise?"
And because you're here, you're about to be discovered.
"Somebody else is in this room."
"They've figured us out," Sabo states the obvious in a volume not above a whisper. Your breath catches in your throat. Fuck. Were your thoughts so loud that you gave your hiding spot away? How do you escape?
You have locked yourselves in a small windowless room. There's a chair, a desk, and some file cabinets that line the back wall. Sabo is equally muddled beside you, and you notice him drumming his fingers anxiously on his side. You assume he's figured out the issue—the space is too small to use your powers, too small to hide yourselves.
Breath ragged, an idea crosses your mind.
"How old are you?"
He blinks.
"Twenty-two."
With that, Sabo watches your hands fly up to your hair, tossing your locks all over until they're messy. Strange, he thinks, but it only gets stranger as you finger the top buttons of your blouse, popping the first few open to reveal just enough skin. A little more and it would reveal your cleavage, and it's an observation that drives his perverted little brain mad.
"You got a girlfriend?" you ask soon afterward, and, uh, yeah, Sabo is definitely a pervert, and he's definitely mad. You slip your fingers in between the thin threads of your corset, tugging the top strings loose but not too loose, allowing your chest to breathe within the confinements of the garment. He's speechless. "Sabo. Do you have a girlfriend?"
"I'm single," he answers abruptly, then watches you hitch your skirt past your thighs. He stirs.
Shaking his head, he presses his ear back to the door.
"The file room. Did you lock the file room?"
"We should plan an attack while we still can," he whispers. He peers down at you, but he sees your cleavage peeking past your unbuttoned top, and at that moment, his cheeks burn bright red. "What are you doing?"
"Our options are limited," you hiss. "We're trapped. Undo your buttons and stay still."
"Stay sti— what?" You stand on your tip toes and reach for his hair. Sabo is confused, but he leans forward, presses his body close to yours, and allows you to make a mess of his blond head under his hat. When you pull back, your hands fly to his shirt, unbuttoning the top buttons before encircling his neck with your arms. He stirs again. And just like that, he understands.
"I'm sorry," you whisper, but he doesn't stop you. He gets it. He understands now.
Sabo doesn't read a lot, but from the few books he'd come across in his life—those romance novels that somehow made their way to the RA's library—he'd learned one thing or two about espionage. He'd also learned about sex and how you can use it to get away with just about anything on a spy mission. And even though he can't do that with you here, he knows exactly how you intend on escaping.
And quite honestly, he supports the idea.
"Come closer," he says, but he doesn't give you a chance because he pulls you into him before you can move. As you melt into his body, Sabo dips his head low and kisses you, tilting his head for extra effect while you play with the back of his shirt. He sighs into your lips.
Fuck.
He really supports the idea.
"If we're doing this, I can move you like this."
Sabo repositions you so quickly that it knocks the wind out of you. You're on top of the desk before you know it, your weight supported by his grip as he practically leans into you and situates himself in between your legs. He kisses you with intent, his lips in full control over yours with every breathless moment overflowing with enthusiasm. Even then, you let him. You allow much of the attention on your lips as you straighten your thoughts, plotting the perfect course of action to escape your enclosure once the door is opened and the enemy deeply disturbed.
But Sabo is too good at what he does. His skin burns hot as he maneuvers even closer to get the most out of the pressing situation. He's a good kisser, somehow reminiscent of the best ones you've had, but he outshines all the others by far.
Tracing his collar, your hands find their way to his unbuttoned top, where they slip underneath the fabric to locate his collarbones. But suddenly, the door shakes again. While it startles you, Sabo kisses you harder and needier than need be. You're nearly breathless.
Your hands fly to his biceps. "Sa"—you moan in between a kiss—"Sabo."
His fingers glide across your waist. "Hm?"
"Give me some space to move," you mutter. "I have a plan. For later."
As he shuffles out between your legs, his lips fly to your jaw. He nibbles at your skin and moves his hands farther up your blouse, eventually restraining himself when he's gone far up your corset. The door shakes another time. Hurriedly, you scoot off the edge of the table and wait with bated breath.
When the door opens, light instantly floods the room. You bury your face into Sabo's shoulder, shielding your faces with his hat. Gasps erupt from the conference room as they witness your scandalous display, but you take advantage of their surprise and hop into action.
You jump off the table and launch yourself back into the main room, using your Haki to force yourself past the men that stand before you. Sabo follows suit, but not before he fixes himself bashfully. With hot skin and a flushed face, he races into battle and does what has to be done.
He doesn't take his eyes off you for the rest of the day.
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circus-clangen · 3 months ago
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[ Peanutkit LOUDLY explains why being quiet is super boring ]
The Line Begins Here | Previous | Admit one
TRAPEZETANGLE BRUTALLY AMBUSHED AND ATTACKED NOT CLICKBAIT!!??!!!!??!!! 😨😨😨😨😨😱😱😱😱😱😱‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️
For real though BLESS these parents for having TWO kits with the “noisy” trait. They haven’t slept in a month and they will never sleep again.
Starting off this moon with some silliness and good times… there’s a lot going on this moon, most of it dialogue, so I will be suffering immensely through it. Some interesting stuff happens though, which I am RATHER excited for… a couple frames I have very vividly in mind and can’t wait to draw. I’ll tell you all now though, this is shortest and easiest part to this moon. Everything else is going to take an excruciatingly long time 😔 But I am thoroughly enjoying having new faces to draw!
Also, new header? 👀 I think I’m going to be going back through all the old moons and standardizing the headers… if not to actually change the posts, just for my own peace of mind in my procreate files. MAYBE one day I’ll redraw the silly old Circusclan moons but for now a better header might suffice…
As an aside, Thank you all for your support in my opening commissions! I’m almost done with my first batch and everyone has been very nice and I’ve been having a blast. Definitely am going to keep it up and hopefully add some more options in the future!
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seraphdreams · 1 year ago
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SMILE, YOU'RE ON CAMERA. | YUUTA OKKOTSU.
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𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — synopsis. when taking care of your university finances proves troublesome, the universe grants you your very own savior. but it’s gonna cost you.
𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — cw. smut, college au!yuuta / bimbo reader (obvi), filming, lots of porn references… a lot, virginity loss, praise, oral n fingering, slight obsession, pussydrunk yuuta, unprotected love making, yuuta’s rich and unsettling. mdni <3
𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — word count. 5.3k
𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — dolled up! omg, yuuta? i meant to have this out a few weeks ago but got caught in a little writing slump :( nevertheless, here’s to a new year and a new fic! yuuta’s been slowly creeping his way up my favs list , tehe !! as always, please reblog / comment if you enjoyed this , it’ll fill me with joy. thank u ♡
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you’re a pornstar.
albeit, an amateur one with heaps to learn regarding the ruthless industry, but the weight still stands.
the details in which you came to the jarring conclusion were muddled with the convoluted steps that it took for you to get there, murky in your bubblegum-filled mind. all you knew was that yuuta okkotsu was a force, a gentle one, to be reckoned with.
it must’ve played out once you returned to your campus dorm beyond the dusk of midnight, under an unmitigating fatigue from the twelve hour waitressing shift just prior. through abhorrent patrons and the lack of a spendable paycheck, the excruciatingly long night barely made you enough money to even think about buying those dollish pumps you’ve been yearning for. how cruel.
in between working and haphazardly handing your earnings over to university fees and textbooks, you just couldn’t seem to make ends meet.
you would curse the day you took it upon yourself to branch away financially from your parents under the guise of growing up, since now it’d be a blessing to have even a cellphone bill paid off. whatever the issue seemed to be, lady luck was truly never bothered enough to be on your side.
fortunately for you, though, it was that same arduous night, you had been huddled against your stuffed animals in bed, mindlessly scrolling through the various social media apps on your phone; switching from sites like instagram and twitter to youtube then right back to instagram all over again, only to be met with an offer dusted in pink glitter that caught your eye as if it were made for you.
“stars needed — will pay upfront.”
it was a shoddy story post, one that could be clicked past and forgotten forever — yet, a brisk reminder of your situation in the form of borrowed, used textbooks with pages missing or vandalized, and today’s horoscope that said to take risks; you did exactly that, aiming a swipe up that would ultimately rid you of the worries of yesterday.
there were no reasons as to why you couldn’t be a star. certainly, you had the face for it, and you were told by multiple charmers that you were beyond beguiling to get anything you could ever ask for. what dismay could possibly unfold from contacting .. yuuta okkotsu .. about his offer?
hm, that’s funny. the name rang familiarity as it seeded in your mind.
must be one of yuuji’s friends.
itadori yuuji, your best friend of three years now. out of all the time you’d spent together, you came to realize that he could get along with anyone, despite their true intentions. he spoke highly of his friends as well, which earned him a sacred spot in your heart that couldn’t be replaced by anyone.
itadori had briefly mentioned in a ramen-fueled frenzy that one of his peers were “so insanely talented” and that you’d definitely get on with him. but when you asked for validity on that vague claim, all yuuji seemed to respond with was a mere “just meet him, you’ll see.”
from your recollection, the acquaintance he was boasting about, as if it was his own personal victory, was none other than your yuuta okkotsu. he was meek, stuck to a close-knit friend group consisting of maki and toge from your physics class, and the one time you ever spoke to him was to ask about yuuji’s whereabouts, to which he responded that he went back to his dorm after gojo-sensei’s lecture.
he seemed, normal. average, even. that surely had to be the case since your memory was hazy on his being otherwise.
it was true, though, yuuta was gifted. in a way that transcended words, skillful towards visual aesthetics, and careful with the craft. he would spend most of his freetime fumbling with a camera or recording the works of the mundane. overtly, he’d grown such a strong passion in the field of videography in hopes to capture the reality of humanity, the authenticity within intimacy — what could he possibly need a “star” for?
shadiness aside, you were in a tough spot, willing to do whatever to free yourself from the financial burden that was jujutsu technical university. with a swift swipe in tandem with the soft tapping of the pads of your thumbs on the keyboard, you were taking yuuta up on his offer.
within seconds, he responded back with his address and an appropriate meet-up date to start the project.
if only you were aware of how drastically your life would change from here on out.
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a cluster of days had passed since you last got into contact with yuuta. he had told you to meet him at his place, claiming it would be more efficient than traveling to an unnamed destination with pounds of heavy photography equipment.
where you stood currently, was in front of the bare oak of his front door, hand wrapped in a loose fist as you knocked gently on the wood. a quick moment had passed by before you took initiative to raise your fist and knock once more. before your touch could meet the wood, a muffled “coming!” chimed beyond the door. from what you had heard on the other side; the scuttling behind the door and jingle of the lock, yuuta had opened the door soon after.
with his hand rubbing away the goosebumps that stood at the back of his neck, he beamed. cordially, warmly.
“you’re actually here. hi,”
upon first glance, yuuta had a distinct look. he stood tall, not tall enough to matter or incite intimidation, and although he wore a black button-up (a bit formal for an occasion as casual as today), his lean build shone through under the thin fabric, ripples of veins dancing up his forearms. what you couldn’t miss, however, were the grey eyebags under his emotionless navy orbs, as if he’d forgone weeks of sleep.
yuuta okkotsu was unsettling.
“hi,” your voice sounded as a sweet croon, dulcet enough that you could barely hear it yourself as it escaped in a breathy breeze. his smile grew softer in response, that monotonous gaze in his eyes fizzling away into something of serenity. “come in, please,” yuuta held the door open wider for you to tread past, caught up in observing the bunch of fabric that hugged tightly around your ass, then closed it gently behind you once you stepped completely inside. he silently cursed at himself for ogling — he truly didn’t mean to stare. you’re just a lot prettier up close. “i was just getting set up. you can have a seat if you’d like.”
as you’d expect from any guy your age, his place wasn’t much to gaze at, nor did it have much personality. in a corner to your right was a houseplant, that of the fern variety, and a few steps deeper into the abode was the living room, where yuuta resumed his fumbling with the transfiguration of his tripod.
you decided to sit on the couch across from him, taking in the bleak sight of his home. you would have almost believed it was unlived in had it not been for the scattered midterm review papers decorating his coffee table. it was obvious he had money from the endless rows of space that surrounded the two of you, although a candle or something would be nice.
he peered away from his tripod to look through the viewfinder of his camera, ensuring that the lens was functioning properly. he grew pleased to see the image of you distracted in fiddling with your thumbs reflected back at him. “are you nervous?” his gaze fell upon you through his own eyes, a concerned expression harboring his features.
you were pulled out of your muse of unfamiliarity to direct your attention to the sound of his mild voice, returning a smile to his that eased the worriment trapped behind dull, blue eyes. “n-not really, i don’t think.”
his lips curled up once more at that, in fact there wasn’t a time so far that you hadn’t noticed him without his signature smile. “here, let me help with that,” reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone, tapping away at the screen before ultimately turning it back off and settling it back into its place in his pocket.
your phone vibrated beside you, screen lighting up with a bold alert.
[YUUTA OKKOTSU SENT $1000]
before you had a chance to even process the significance of the notification, he started back up,
“i hope i got the right information, wouldn’t want your hard work to get in the wrong hands.” the tilt of his head in tandem with a chuckle resonated sheepishly, and he returned to watch you through his camera lens.
he was right. the money did soothe your nerves.
“i’ve barely done anything yet.” a ditzy giggle followed soon after your sentence, a sound that yuuta couldn’t possibly ignore. you were already starting to pull at his heartstrings.
“and you’ve done it so perfectly,” his praise left you flustered in that moment and you bit down softly on your lower lip to keep your smile at bay. “thank you, yuuta.”
you would’ve never guessed that your introverted classmate had enough experience in him to be such a flirt, or have your cheeks heating up with fervid affection, no less. but maybe yuuta was just like that; maybe this had been natural.
“no, thank you.” his thumb hovered over the record button just as his eyes met your gaze over the brim of the camera. “would you like to start now?”
he took the nod of your head as confirmation to press the record button, finally getting started with the project.
you blinked blankly at him as he tilted his head and flashed a warmhearted grin. “how old are you?” was his first question. he had asked while rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. as he did so, you took notice of the silver ring donned around his finger.
he couldn’t have been married, no?
keeping your answer as vague as possible for the sake of matching his comforting warmth, you responded, “twenty-something.” he let out a satisfied huff of air as he nodded and moved onto his next query.
“and what’s your major?”
with the question barely having enough time to linger in the suggestively tense air, he added, “you’re very beautiful, by the way. do you mind taking your dress off for me?”
as much as it should’ve alarmed you, you were swayed by his toothachingly inviting timbre, its gentleness pulling compliancy from you in a matter of a few mere words. you only shook your head, forgoing the short piece of fabric that clung to each curve and dip of your body while your nipples hardened under the glacial, artificial breeze of his home. once the silk pooled at your hips, that, along with your panties were dropped onto the floor, leaving you bare and vulnerable under the camera — and yuuta’s watchful eye.
he swallowed thickly at the sight, remaining as respectful as he could despite the monster growing in his pants; his eyes locked right back onto yours as if he’d get striked down for moving them even a millimeter south. “are you a virgin?” he queried, opting to move his hand from awkwardly at his side to fidgeting with the button at his shirt, ultimately undoing it and revealing another inch of skin at his heated chest.
from the nature of what you had signed yourself up for, you were hesitant to answer his question. of course you needed experience to be a star, and with you lacking the preconceived ability, you could kiss your $1000 goodbye..
yet he looked at you with an expectant gaze. no traces of malice in his eyes or frustration from your quick witted silence, but merely, with patience. and in that moment you couldn’t find it within yourself to lie.
“i am,” out of shame, you curled in on yourself, hoping that the sofa would engulf you, and your feelings, crossing your arms over your bare chest as if it’d create a wall of privacy behind your own humiliation. “is that okay?”
yuuta’s being only grew warmer at the response, you figured he’d be hot to the touch by now, from searing pleasure or unshakeable cordiality, you wouldn’t know. “yeah, that’s okay,” it came out breathier than he would’ve liked, a telltale sign of his aching desire. “that’s more than okay.”
truth be told, he had never met anyone as enchanting as you. you looked up at him with such trust in your eyes that it daunted him — fear that the assurance he wielded from you would shatter beneath him, and he’d be drowning. in a sea of his own wistfulness. now that he had you, he couldn’t let you go.
you were on to make a breathtaking star.
now feeling less coy than before, you relaxed your head into the palm of yuuta’s hand. you hadn’t noticed how long he’d been stroking at your cheek, or when he closed the vexing proximity between the two of you, all that mattered in that moment was the roll of his gentle vocables flowing through your ears and the thumb of his that graciously caressed your cheek.
you came to realize that he was much more handsome this way as your eyes toured his own, then down to the sliver of sweat-sheened skin peeking from underneath the black veil of his shirt, then down to his…
he’s so fucking hard.
confined against his slacks was his cock that leaked an ample amount even while it was untouched. you could make out its silhouette, something girthy, perhaps heavy, but nothing like you’d expect from yuuta. uncharacteristically huge.
“yuuta.” you whispered, mainly to yourself, as your mouth began to water at the sight, and his cheeks dusted pink once he realized what you were fixated upon.
“do you wanna,” he started up but faltered soon after when your lidded gaze flitted back up towards his. never had he felt so weak before, it was as if you’d casted a spell on him. “do you maybe want to—” he paused to avert his own gaze and embarrassment. “—put it in your mouth?”
he could’ve sworn he heard the increase of his heartbeat in his ears when you crinkled your brows, pretty face forming into an even prettier pout.
“but i’ve never—”
he stopped you before you could start, interjecting his own voice of reassurance.
“it’s okay. i’ll guide you,” taking his camera off its stand and moving the rest of the configuration elsewhere, he held it in one hand to better capture the scene unfolding before him. “just try your best for me, okay?”
“okay.” when he returned your concern with a small smile, you took it upon yourself to undo the arrangement of his pants, carefully hooking your finger into the elastic waistband of his briefs and pulling down just enough for his length to spring free.
for what felt like minutes, you marveled at his sheer size, wondering how anyone of his nature could possibly be hiding something like that. it curved upwards with a prominent vein or two running up the underside while it continued to leak, so much so, that you had to collect it all at the tip with your finger.
the tip? flushed the prettiest pink you’d ever witnessed and was as bulbous as it was mushroomed, you knew you’d have a bit of difficulty trying to fit into your mouth. it seemed to twitch under the fanning of your breath to which yuuta let out a whine of pure impatience.
“can i..?” your words trailed off when you involuntarily found yourself pressing chaste kisses along the length of his cock until they met with his sticky tip; a recreated scene from the various porn videos you’d seen. the sensation sent a jolt of palpable pleasure through his being, yuuta’s dark hair curtaining over his eyes while he made a damn good attempt at silencing his moans, with his teeth sunken into his bottom lip.
your eyes kept watch at his wavering expression while you wrapped your hand at the base of his length and began to pump slowly, yet another thing you had learned through the fascinating world of porn.
“suck it,” it was clear to you that yuuta had grown desirously impatient from your teasing, looking down at you with a hint of hunger in his beautiful orbs. “please?”
you took his words as an incentive to finally give him what he’s been leaking for, wrapping gloss-sheened lips around the thick inches of his tip, accommodating for the stretch with a dulcet whine that reverberated deeply within him. had you not been caught up in building the gradual bob of your head, he would’ve kissed you, left you with smeared lips and a tongue that ached for only him upon seeing the sinful sight of innocent eyes fixated on his own. you’re beautiful. truly, to die for.
caught all on tape to be watched over and over again.
at the bliss, yuuta’s lip parted open, alotting for a slur of groans turned whimpers to tumble past. “you- you’re already doing, so good.” he praises, the words floating on his breath. his free hand finds itself back at your face, thumbing the warmth of your hallowed cheek while he captured the moment behind his lens. once you came to a comfortable rhythm, you couldn’t stop yourself from dipping your fingers between your thighs to ease the evergrowing ache in your core. in fact, you’d been like this since the moment yuuta spoke a word to you, lightheaded and malleable — what he’s beginning to love most about you.
your digits collected slick at your entrance, the immeasurable amount of essence that you’d pool providing ample leeway for you to sink three fingers inside, pumping at the same rhythm in which you’re sucking yuuta. soft fingertips curling against your gummy walls weren’t enough, though, and when he had caught notice of your weakening resolve, his hips involuntarily bucked into your mouth.
“sorry, ‘m sorry,” he began, with a choked moan. “just- so close, so fucking close. c-can you take me in deeper?”
the hum of assurance that sounded from you sent vibrations coursing through his cock, from tip to base. had you not been preoccupied with chasing your own high, you would’ve missed the pitchy moan he let out just after. with your palm now pressed up against your clit while you worked in tandem to pleasure the nub and your greedy hole, you attempted to swallow another stubborn inch of him.
simultaneous with the bobbing of your head, he matched your pace, abdomen flexing when the white-hot pleasure became too much and he could feel it in his ears. he wanted so badly to throw his head back, completely lose himself in bliss, but he had a job to do. he wouldn’t dare let the sight of your glassy lidded eyes and glossy lips struggling to wrap themselves around the stretch of his dick go unfilmed, unseen.
as his tip continued to prod the back of your throat and your fingers aided you in relieving the discomfort from your cunt, you found yourself just dangling off the dangerous edge of your release, strokes away from making a mess — and yuuta did too.
it wasn’t long until his head started spinning, legs got weaker, and his core coiled tighter; all the signs of a mindblowing orgasm, and blew his mind, you did. “baby- y/n, if you keep doing that- i might cum.” what he was referring to was the way you fondled his balls in the warmth of your soft hands, yet another trick you had learned from porn. “i don’t wanna cum in your mouth but if you—,”
a jumbled slew of curses flowed from his lips as he did the inevitable, shot his load deep down your throat, gently thrusting his cock in shallow strokes to jettison every last remaining drop. the taste on your tongue was nothing like you’d be warned of before. yuuta wasn’t bitter, he went down easy.
hell, you’d use his cum as a condiment for desserts if you could.
in a matter of moments, your own high had washed over you like cold water over a heated body, much needed and refreshing. once he hesitantly pulled out from the heat of your mouth, cock still hard and twitching for more, he gently pushed back strands of loose hair behind your ear.
“can i see?”
you held out your cream-slickened fingers, sopping with your juices as yuuta proceeded to catch how they dripped on camera. he then took your palm, with the cadence of a knight kissing the back of a princess’s hand, and slipped the soiled digits into his mouth. his tongue lavved around your index and middle fingers while he hummed satisfactorily at your taste. “you’re just as sweet as i imagined.” he smiled, finding amusement in your post-orgasmic, dazed state.
“do you do this with a lot of other girls, yuuta?” you queried, taking the time to scan your eyes over his face. it was as if he seemed to get more attractive as your time with him went on. he tilted his head slightly, finding your question endearing. “you’re my first, actually.” yuuta responded softly, as if his normal speaking voice would be too heavy on your delicate ears.
you jumped at the chance to tease him as he did you, placing your thumb back over the slit of his hard-on and lightly rubbing; which resonated within yuuta as a tonal mewl. a little smile pulled at your lips when you got your perfect reaction. “can you be my first?”
“i’d love to be,” he took your request with unadulterated honor as if he’d been tasked by the deities above to serve you. “just- just lay back for me. i promise i’ll take good care of you.”
and that you did; conforming to his call of request with such compliance it made his heart swell. you had positioned your body to rest languidly against the seat of the sofa, shaky legs hesitant to spread fully while your hand roamed up your sternum to find solace in kneading your tits.
he couldn’t deny how beautiful you looked, laid out for him as such. how had he been so lucky to be the only one to have the opportunity to marvel at the scene? with a steady hand, he faintly trails his hand up the expanse of your inner thigh, a silent beckon for you to open your legs wider. involuntarily so, your body had accepted his presence and allowed for the spreading of your thighs.
what you’d come to notice with yuuta was that he was watchful, observant. he seemed to pick up on every detail, even the minuscule bits that were most likely to fly over anyone else’s head, had been taken into account. it’s probably why he’s immensely proficient at what he does. not once had he allowed himself to miss the labored heaving of your chest, or the sheen of sweat thinly coating your body — the twitching of your clit when he stroked featherlight touches at the nub. he couldn’t call himself a true cameraman then.
his fingers had collected remnants of your previous orgasm before they worked in tandem, both middle and ring, to prod at your sensitive hole, slowly sinking themselves in. it was almost embarrassing how quickly your greedy cunt swallowed him in, as if it’d been waiting for his touch for years now. “y-yuuta, ‘m still sensitive.” you crooned in response to his digits exploring your cavern, plush walls gripping him with such tautness that he’d found it difficult to even curl his fingers.
his own mind spun (and cock leaked) at the thought of that same warmth around his length, and when you called his name, all he could think about was how pretty you’d sound moaning it. he wouldn’t mind if you were sonorous, if the neighbors would hear, if inumaki who lived downstairs would come knocking with a mouthful of complaints, if the whole world knew his name; because in that moment, yuuta okkotsu was yours.
yuuta okkotsu was in love.
after some shallow pumping, enough to have your legs attempting to enclose around his arm, yuuta had pulled his digits out and replaced the lost sensation with the fat tip of his cock stroking your slit up and down.
“i’m gonna put it in, okay? if you want me to stop, tell me. if i'm going too fast or slow, let me know.”
he perused your face for a hint of an answer, seemingly nothing going on behind your vacant, large eyes. your initial response was curt, an ode to the simplistic nature of your mind. “mhm.”
how endearing you were to him, just a unadorned reaction weakening his being, causing his heart to figuratively crumble within its confines against his ribcage. he had searched for a heartier answer, something tangible to hold on to, because, lord knows how terrible he’d feel if he took your indication the wrong way. “can you be vocal for me, please?”
you nodded your head. “i’ll let you know, yuuta.”
with a carefulness that only came from the most benign of beings, he had sunken the first inch of himself into your awaiting heat.
he was paused when your hand dashed to his lower abdomen, futilely pressing against the skin.
“wait—” you huffed wantonly. “—‘s too big.”
his eyes wavered with concern, hidden under the veil of pure arousal. in yuuta’s case he had dreamed of a compliment as self fulfilling as yours, for his thoughts of being average were shattered upon first inch. “should i stop?”
you shook your head, reveling in the light of his attentivity towards you and your body. “no,” you moved your hand from his abdomen. “don’t stop.”
one of his arms rested beside your head, helping to prop him up over your body while he dropped his head down to watch the way your bodies connected. gradually, the sight of his length slowly sinking inside, stretching you out further and further until he was in to the hilt flooded his vision. yuuta had caught on to your labored gasps, merely growing harder from your honeyed voice like music to his ears.
he then lifted his head, strands of inky, out-of-place tresses falling over his face and partially covering the depth of lingering eyes, that lingered for a second too long, causing that shuddering sensation you had once felt when you first met him to reappear. he held his camcorder beside his face, an all too cheerful grin masked over his features. “i’m all in!”
creepy.
there was no doubt that you hadn’t felt full. he practically spilled over with how much girth he possessed and throbbed innately within your walls. the swell of your tummy from just how deep he was, was enough to tear away at his composure and drag his length back before driving his hips in at a force unrecognizable to him. the yelp you had let out from his eager thrust dwindled into a blissful moan. “sorry, so sorry.” he whispered, unable to take his eyes off the faultless assortment of breathtaking features that was your face, eyebrows creased together, parted lips and eyes squeezed closed as if you’d been focused solely on the pleasure he was giving you.
his next thrust stroked softer than its predecessor, having no remnants of eagerness but instead, the nuance of a man that’d been simply smitten.
the meticulousness of his ministrations coursed through your body wondrously, each push and pull lathered in lust, savored to be remembered for the rest of his time on earth. it was as if he’d known your body for years, knew every dip and fold, every swell and mast, aware of what exactly it took to leave your body hungry for his touches.
you’d grown comfortable in the pace at which he set, your mind hazing over each time the blunt tip grazed along your gspot. he peppered kisses along your jaw and down your sternum, the fanning of his warm breath against your chest doing the minimum in stiffening the peaks of your breasts. shootable footage forgotten, yuuta took your mound into his mouth, teeth gently rolling against your nipple which caused you to tighten around his cock in response, the sweetest mewl he’s ever heard from you tumbling from your throat.
“at least take me on a date first, yuuta..” the wittiness of your voice had earned a stifled smile from him, finding utmost admiration in the suggestion. he’ll be sure to take you up on your offer, just as you had done for him.
when you felt the familiar coil within you starting to build up once more, you dipped your hand down to rub at your clit in tandem with the increasing vigor of his strokes. the sensation was all too foreign to you, too pleasurable that you couldn’t keep your sounds at bay. “‘m so close, g-gonna cum!” you had warned, yuuta pulled away from your tit with a soft pop. he chose to rest his head at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, mindlessly chanting the words like a mantra.
“i love you, i love you,” his pace faltered, growing sloppier by the second. “love you, love you so much.”
intoxicated by your heat, your scent, just you being you, and being so perfect — yuuta was pussydrunk. incredibly so. never in his life had he ever felt as high as you made him. you were an angel, sent to him from heaven, to defile and mark.
quickly, your release surged through you in torrents of ecstasy, nothing that you’ve experienced before, coating yuuta’s cock in the glorious essence of you. “cumming!” you cry, to no avail particularly since yuuta wasn’t wholeheartedly aware of the situation at hand. his mind was clouded with you, just as you were full of him, wincing in the aftershocks of your fervent orgasm and convulsing around his length with need.
it wasn’t long before his own ununified thrusts came to a sudden close, signifying the warm spurts of cum painting your insides, filling you entirely to the brim and leaking down your ass from riding out his high.
“god, i love you.” he whined, pressing faint kisses to your neck, unable to peel himself away from your fervid body. coming to your senses, his words finally resonated for you. “we only just met.”
he pulled himself up, opting to look down at your flushed face with a vague hint of confusion on his face as he tilted his head. “have we?”
“we have.” you nodded.
to yuuta, he’s known you his whole life. you were the light of his existence, the fire in his heart. had he managed to confuse you with someone else? surely, that wasn’t the case.
once he pulled out of you, he made sure to capture the moment that you leaked his seed on film, but in that time, borrowed jealousy had filled his soul. he couldn’t share the tape as he had planned, no one else deserved to see you in the same way he did. no one.
he tucked himself back into his pants, leaving you bare and oozing for just one second to fetch a warm wet rag to clean you up with. when he came back, you noticed just how chipper he’d gotten, if that were even possible. “you were amazing,” he smiled, gently wiping your folds pristine. “i’m so grateful you came to me.” the smile you returned matched his own, “thank you, you were- really good too.”
he perked up, eyes moving from between your thighs to your face. “really?” and when you nodded to him, you could see the apparent relief flow within his being. “you know,” he started. “i’m very interested in you.”
you tilt your head, jutting your lips in a cute pout. “interested, how?”
the camcorder that now resided on his coffee table, unpresumebly documenting the scene on display was picked up by yuuta, and turned off. he grinned softly, eyes shutting from his ear to ear smile.
“may i take you on a date?”
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mercy-burning · 4 months ago
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Exposure
AKA: a gentle rewrite/edit of Part 1, plus the rest of the story.
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Pairing: therapist!Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: After a year of self-inflicted social isolation, a rather intimate suggestion from your therapist turns your life on its head and opens up a whole new world of cliche, sexy possibilities... Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Themes and discussions of sexual trauma surrounding a painful sexual encounter, power dynamics, masturbation, dubious consent, voyeurism (unbeknownst to reader), Spencer is a perv, fingering, oral sex (fem. receiving), dry humping. Word Count: 9.6k (I had to cut her down, y'all, it was getting ridiculous and I'm sorry flsjdlksdk)
MASTERLIST
It is finally here. I have finally tackled the beast and finished Exposure the way the fanfic gods intended. I initially wanted this story to be what is is now and what you're about to read, but back when I wrote it the first time, I had ZERO self control and decided to just post what I had without finishing the rest, and I split the story into two parts... And then part two never saw the light of day. I have felt so bad ever since for abandoning the story and leaving you without a conclusion. I hope you'll forgive me and that it hasn't been too long for you to still care and read this now. And if you weren't around to read the original first part of Exposure, I hope you enjoy this brand new story that totally didn't exist before just now... ;)
———
ACT I: Homework
"And what about your sexual relationships?"
You freeze like a deer in headlights, unwilling to budge no matter how loudly his horn is blaring. Even as he asks again, your name a gentle coax on the surface of his tongue, you remain perfectly still.
"Did I strike a nerve?" he asks sweetly with a tilt of his head.
"U—Um... I..."
"It's important that you're up-front about these things with me... It's more than acceptable and valid if you don't feel like telling me everything right away. But if there's something wrong, I'd like to know. That way we can at least find somewhere to start. Does that sound alright?"
"Um... Y—Yeah, I guess so..."
He asks again, and you find it extremely difficult to look him in the eye.
Or to look at him in general.
You knew eventually you'd have to talk about your sex life, but in all honesty it had been forced deep into the back of your mind during the other sessions— You know, when you were laser-focused on literally anything else while trying not to think about how attractive you found your therapist and how fucked up that was.
Doctor Reid always makes sure to speak slow and concisely, which, when combined with its smooth tone and the way he looks at you with his pensive, hypnotizing eyes, tends to be absolutely fucking deadly. And his hands— the way they glide beautifully across the notepad he writes in, or how they flex and tap on his knee or on his chin from time to time, his focus trained solely on you...
He'd been dangerously distracting from the get-go, but now, on the topic of your sex life? You can't even entertain looking in his general direction.
So, with your eyes glued on your lap, you mindlessly count the number of tiny flowers printed on your skirt and answer the best you can. "I don't... I don't have frequent sexual relationships."
You wonder if he'll ask you to speak up, but he doesn't. Instead, he asks, "How frequent would you say they are?"
"Um... Well... I've only ever had sex once," you continue quietly, still training your eyes on your skirt.
"Are you... embarrassed about that?"
"No," you offer more firmly. Defensively.
He pauses. "That's good. There's no reason to be." And after you don't say anything in response, counting seven excruciatingly long seconds, you hear him continue. "How long ago was the encounter?"
You hesitate a little longer, but he doesn't push it. Eventually, intimidated by the silence, you sigh and quickly blurt, "About a year ago."
There's another pause, and you would assume he might be writing something down, but the room is too silent. Not even the soft scratch of pen to page dares to interrupt the tension you're feeling.
"And how did you find your experience?" he asks then, your eyes jumping to his face as if to make sure this is actually real and he's actually in front of you right now, asking you what you think you just heard. Your heart speeds up and your hands start to sweat.
"I—I'm sorry?"
He clears his throat, and yours contracts in a gulp. "Did you enjoy yourself?"
"I... I don't... Why is that relevant?"
"You're coming to me once a week for counseling because you said you've found yourself shying away from other people, where a year ago you were a normal adult with normal interests in socializing and being around others. And you're unsure of what steps to take to get back to a normal routine. Correct?"
"Yes..."
"Every session so far, we've gone through your upbringing, your family life, school, friends, your first jobs... All up until now. Everything is perfectly fine, and yet we still can't seem to figure out why you've strayed from your habits. The only topic we haven't discussed is your sexual and romantic relationships."
You remain silent, eyes having dropped back down as he spoke, the flower pattern on your skirt suddenly becoming more like a dizzying optical illusion by the second.
Doctor Reid continues. "And judging your body language, I see that you haven't looked me in the eye once since I brought up sex. My guess is that something happened during your first time that—"
"Look, honestly I don't think that's relevant to my situation, I haven't had sex since then because I don't want to, it has nothing to do with this."
"It's okay if it does," Doctor Reid encourages. He is gentle as always, though if you hadn't known any better, you would think he sounds amused. "That's what I'm here for."
You glance up at him briefly, seeing a soft smile lighting the air between you. It briefly filters some of the embarrassment you're feeling, and with a sigh, you adjust in the chair and look off to the side.
"No. I didn't enjoy myself."
"Do... you want to tell me why you didn't enjoy yourself?"
You blink, feeling your chest tighten and your stomach churn at the memory. "It's stupid."
He calls your name gently, sympathetically... "I promise you it isn't... We don't have to discuss it now if you don't want to, but it's not stupid."
Thankfully he lets you mull it over in the silence for a while, giving you time to gather your emotions and thoughts. And eventually, without looking directly at him, you begin to open up.
"He hurt me... I—It wasn't... bad or anything, like he didn't do anything I didn't want to... I just... I—It hurt. Really bad. Like, I don't think I'd ever felt that kind of pain before."
"Did he, um... Go too hard? Do you think maybe that's why it hurt you?"
You let out the loudest breath of air, embarrassment and exasperation filling your lungs with every breath you take. "Yeah, that was part of it, but like... He was also kind of big, and it didn't feel good going in at all... And I know it's supposed to not feel great at first, and I thought it would get better, but... I—It just got worse, and worse, and I felt like I was getting torn apart from the inside out, I..."
Tears are steadily streaming down your face now, your throat incredibly tight and ears pounding as you try to find the strength to speak.
"I... I never want to do that again."
A box of tissues is dropped into your lap after you take the time to gather yourself a bit, and you mumble a small 'thank you' as you wipe your face. Doctor Reid is more than willing to let you take your time, and you couldn't be more thankful.
It's also great to know that it doesn't seem like he had been embarrassed for you or ready to laugh. In fact, his tone is still as smooth as ever, and incredibly warm as he speaks to you, aiming to help you work through this confidently and logically. It's an effort that comforts you more than you'd ever be able to express.
"Do you think that experience had an effect on the way you socialize somehow?"
"I... Maybe. Sure, I mean... I'm at that age where the people I hang out with all want to hook up, and if we're not trying to go home with someone, then we're not having a good time. It's... It's a lot of pressure, especially when I think about the fact that people like sex... I mean, like... That was awful, and people act like it's the end-all-be-all to enjoyment, I... I don't know..."
"Sure... You had a bad experience, and it's normal to retreat after experiencing that kind of pain... But it was only one time. You never know, maybe your partner just wasn't the right partner for you."
You shake your head intently. "No. No, that's not..."
There's a decent pause before Doctor Reid speaks again. "I want to ask you something... And this might be a bit personal, so I apologize if I push any boundaries..."
He waits for you to object, but you don't, silently giving him the go-ahead and wondering what else he could possibly ask you that hadn't already been beyond the boundaries of a deeply intimate and personal conversation.
"Have you ever masturbated before?"
Dear God, you suddenly feel like you have to throw up. "What?"
"Well, before you had sex... Did you ever... Explore what you like on your own?"
"Um... Y—Yeah, I guess so..."
"You guess so?"
You sigh, trying not to roll your eyes for fear of crying at any sudden movement. "Yes."
"Okay... In your exploration, did you ever try anything penetrative?"
"Do I actually have to answer that?"
"Of course you don't. If you're uncomfortable we can move on, but... I really do think this is going to help..."
You sigh again, then swallow hard as you look at his face once more, only to see him as he always has been— sincere and pensive and understanding. And then, as if that look is designed solely to pull information out of you, you can't help but continue.
"No... I've... only ever done clitoral stimulation."
"And what about after your first time? Have you masturbated since then?"
You pause, throat dry. The word comes out of you with resistance, its fear and indignity rising to the surface of your tongue like sandpaper. "No."
Then he pauses. And as you glance up at the clock to see your time is nearly up, you're pretty sure you know exactly what he's going to tell you, that sinking feeling returning to the pit of your stomach. Each breath feels like a stab to the chest.
Sure enough, he speaks and you close your eyes like shielding yourself from his words will prevent them from taking any meaning. You can hear the sympathy in them anyway, and you feel foolish for even attempting to hide.
"Before I see you next week, I suggest you try masturbating again. Maybe watch some pornography or read some erotica... Whatever you think will get you more comfortable with your body and your sexuality... And we'll see where you end up."
The whole situation is so ridiculous, you can't help but laugh, though there's not an ounce of humor lacing the sound. "Do you really think this is going to help me get over my... fear of sex, or whatever this is?"
He smiles softly at you, and despite the poor relationship you've been having with sex, it brings a low simmer to the pit of your stomach that scares more than excites you. "It's a good start."
It's a good start...
"It's a good start," you whispered when you got home that night, right before getting under the covers and letting your hand wander...
It worked, too.
You'd expected it to take way longer than a week to get back any sliver of libido. And it was definitely hard at first, but by the time your next session with Doctor Reid came around, you'd been masturbating regularly every day.
Though, it seems his instruction may have worked a little too well.
Once you were more comfortable with your own body again, you couldn't stop the images of his face as they danced in beautiful flashes behind your eyelids. Scenarios were acted out in your dreams, his presence melding with yours and replacing those you'd watched and read, and it created a new sense of anxiety once you realized that you'd have to see him again in a few days...
And now that you're here, only seconds away from the moment he'd walk through the door, your stomach twists and your heart leaps.
You almost think maybe running out the door is a good option, but then he's waltzing through it with that seasoned swiftness that only adds to his charm and intimidates you further.
"Good afternoon," he greets with a warm smile, taking the seat in front of you.
"Hi, Doctor."
"How was your week?"
You clear your throat, obviously not very good at hiding anything. "Fine."
"Just fine?"
"Yep."
He only waits for you to continue. You hate when he does that...
Because it works, getting you to talk every damn time. "Still not inclined to do anything out of my normal social routine, but I'm... better."
"How so?"
Feeling his gaze on you makes your heart lurch. "Um... I'm more... comfortable... with my body, I guess..."
"So you took my suggestion, then?"
You can only muster a nod, words dying in the back of your throat and evaporating into nothing. You're still not looking at him—not directly, anyway.
"You still seem... reserved."
"Well, I'm talking to my therapist about my masturbation habits..."
Thankfully he seems to understand, nodding with a small laugh that aims to lighten the mood and make you more comfortable around the whole situation. After all, it is only the start of your session this week, and a whole hour and a half of awkwardness wouldn't suffice.
Even still, what he says next doesn't ease your mind much at all.
"Do you mind elaborating a little?"
"I don't know how much more elaboration you need," you half-scoff, clearly defensive over your privacy— And with every right to be so, considering most of your thoughts had been about him.
"Well, let's start with how frequent you've been with it."
That you could do. "Um... about every day for the past week?" And right before I left the house...
"Good. How many times a day?"
"Once." Twice, sometimes three...
"Okay..." He writes things down, and then pauses before asking his next question. "Have you tried any new techniques?"
"I'm sorry?"
"I mean other than clitoral stimulation."
"No."
He must have sensed the unease in your punctuation, because he leans forward. "Let me be clear. My questions on the topic are thorough and perhaps a bit boundless, but I am not expecting you to be ready to have sex right away. You should always be allowed to go at your own pace, and I will always encourage you to do so, I hope you understand that."
"Right..." There's an awkward pause, but you want things to keep moving, so just to keep him talking, you clear your throat and continue, "So, um... What's the next step then?"
By the look in his eyes, you realize it had probably been the wrong question—and way—to ask. Even after just explaining that you could go at your own pace, the way you spoke to him could have easily been interpreted as a newfound confidence to push forward.
Currently, under his watchful gleaming eye, you find yourself feeling anything but confident. In the past week, unfortunately, that much hasn't changed. Especially after he tells you, "We're going to make sure you've actually been doing your homework. Come with me."
———
There's just something about you that Spencer can't seem to understand. It's something beautiful and alluring, and more than anything it's incredibly wrong. Because he surely shouldn't be taking you to a separate room in the building where they interview mental patients while others watch from behind one-way glass and take notes.
But here he is anyway, leading you into the room and trying desperately not to kiss or touch you in the meantime...
"W—What do you want me to do, exactly?" you ask in that timid way of yours. It's almost innocent, like you truly don't understand why he's brought you here rather than confirming your suspicions. And somehow that only makes him want you more.
"I would like for you to watch yourself masturbate in front of this mirror here." He opens the door and urges you inside as he follows. You survey the space as your hands fumble nervously, and he continues. "It's a form of exposure therapy. My hope is to get you not only to feel your pleasure, but to see it... The act of seeing yourself that way is a good effort to boost confidence and embrace sexuality. The room is soundproof, it's camera-free... Whatever you do in here will be completely private."
"I—Isn't this like... This... I..."
Spencer reaches out and touches your shoulder, and when you look at him like a lost puppy, he nearly caves. "I understand your reservations, and you are more than welcome to decline... But I really do think this will help you. You're completely safe here, it's important for you to know that."
He's speaking to you in that slow, collected way that always gets you to open up to him, and it proves itself useful once again when you finally nod and agree to do his assignment. He smiles tamely, though the images that grace his brain of what might transpire soon are anything but. The pit of his gut is a raging wildfire, and you, though deeply unaware just yet, are the fuel that feeds and flourishes it.
"What do I do when I'm done?" you ask.
He reaches into his pocket and gives you a pager. "You can page me with this. I'll be in my office, so by the time I get to you, you should have enough time to get yourself situated. Is that okay?"
"You're... Leaving me alone?"
The question almost knocks the wind out of him. To play it off though, he offers a small, breathy laugh. "Did you want me to watch?"
"That's not what I meant! I... I just mean... Anyone could..."
"Like I said, this room is completely safe and soundproof. I've booked it for your session today, so no one will be here to use it..." He thinks for a moment, suppressing a grin to the best of his ability when the words come tumbling out. "There is a room right next door if you'd prefer I stay closer though, just in case."
"Y—Yes, please..."
Spencer smiles and hands you the pager, trying not to linger too long when his knuckles brush the inside of your palm. "Okay. Page me when you're done, and I'll give you a few minutes to collect yourself. Okay?"
"Okay," you offer with a nod and a small smile. Your nerves have calmed, and maybe this helps Spencer feel better about what he's about to do, but regardless of his ulterior motives, he truly is glad you're making progress.
He leaves and shuts the door, locking it and making quick work of sliding into the small door next to it. After locking that one as well, he switches on the light and settles in, seeing that you've only just sat down on the small couch in the middle of the room.
You both lean back at about the same time, you into the couch cushions and Spencer in the spinning desk chair. It doesn't take but a single movement of your hand down to the button of your jeans to make him hard, and the sight has him even more determined to make you feel the same way about him that he does you.
It's set in stone the moment you slide the denim down your legs and spread them wide, right in front of him. He watches as you take a deep breath and rub yourself through your panties, little pieces of your hesitation crumbling away by the second, and he just knows he's going to fuck you properly.
When, he doesn't know. But it will happen, that much he's sure of.
In the meantime, he settles for fantasy. Spencer opens up his own pants and just loosens them enough to get his dick out, and all the while his eyes are trained solely on you.
He doesn't start moving his hand until you slide your panties down as well, fluttering your eyes closed the moment your finger makes contact with your bare clit. In that moment, Spencer is glad for the soundproofing, because if you'd actually heard the way he groaned out just then, he would have been doomed. He spits on his hand and starts to glide it softly over himself, matching the speed of your own as it languidly explores your body.
All he can think about is how beautiful you are... He should be thinking about how wrong this is, or how you probably don't feel the same attraction to him that he so obviously feels about you, and doing this is only making his crush worse...
But damn it, you're just so captivating, and he can't stop.
And he doesn't.
No, Spencer doesn't even give a second thought to sighing out your name and imagining you in front of him—closer than you are now—with your head tilted up and your pretty eyes batting up at him while he fucks your throat. He mindlessly whispers praises in between low whines as his speed and pressure increases, and he's so close to coming.
He can hold out, though. He can wait for you. He wants to wait for you. He wants to watch you come undone before he even thinks about getting there himself.
But of course, as they say, you don't always get what you want.
It's not like it's his fault, though. You're the one who's losing yourself in a fantasy, using his name on your lips as a plea to aid you in the most intimate form of pleasure...
"Doctor Reid," he can hear you whine as you squirm and bring yourself closer to bliss.
He can't help it, then. His name desperately falling off your tongue sets off the explosion that ripples through his insides. His hand falters, and he releases the most pathetic sound he's ever made right as he comes all over his hand. You're calling his name again, in broken chants getting higher and higher in pitch until you're incoherent, and he's just a sticky, flustered mess.
He sits there and watches you reach your climax, still gently stroking his cock with a lip between his teeth. Your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth hangs open, and your legs, while still wide, are wavering and tensing. His eyes travel down to your hand as it strokes and circles, and he wishes more than anything that it was his.
In fact, the thought gives him an idea for another session...
ACT II: Awakening
The amount of time you've spent the last month watching porn is extremely embarrassing. It's not even just to get off anymore, either, though the relief is nice. Still, the act itself doesn't embarrass you so much as where your mind goes when you do it. You're purposely watching videos where the men have slim builds and curly hair so you can squint and imagine who you really wish you were watching...
It's wrong and dangerous and probably illegal somehow, and still, it's a better place than you were in months ago... So you can't really complain, can you?
Yes, really, you can; You still have to see your therapist while regularly having sexual fantasies about him. Which would be fine if you didn't have to talk to him about your sexual habits every session...
You almost think about cancelling today, but despite the overwhelming amount of time spent thinking about sex and how much you actually want it, you figure that means this therapy is helping. Yourself a month ago would be absolutely petrified at the idea of watching some girl get railed on screen repeatedly, vivid flashbacks of your first and final experience of sex surely to barge in and render the porn and its purpose useless.
So, despite the potential awkwardness, you end up in his office right on time.
Doctor Reid is already there, standing next to a small fold-out bed in the middle of the room with the rest of the furniture moved out of the way. It almost looks like a completely different place.
"Oh, am... Did I get the wrong time?"
He calls your name brightly, turning to see you. "You're right on time, actually. Come on in. I want to talk about your next step... I assume you've been keeping up with your homework?"
You swear then that you must still be in your bedroom, watching porn on a loop, weary and orgasmed out, because you can instantly feel the setup here; It wouldn't be hard to put the pieces together. The cliche nature of it all makes you think you might just be blurring reality and fantasy, your legs weak as you make your way over to him.
"Yes, I have..." you confirm cautiously, though the back of your mind is already battling over whether or not to be excited or scared, or both, at the prospect of this 'next step'. Is it something you're really willing to do? Is it in the realm of comfortable possibility?
Doctor Reid smiles at you, and, Yes, you think finally, it is.
"Well, you've done really well lately, and I'm proud of you for taking this journey in rediscovering your sexuality. It isn't an easy feat after going through what you did, and your progress is something you should be very proud of."
Admittedly, the praise is nice. It's comforting. Genuine. You really have progressed in embracing your sexual desires, though the thought of trusting someone enough to respect your boundaries and understand your reservations to the act itself is nearly sickening.
Unless, of course, that person is your therapist. Then it's not so hard to imagine.
Your body warms at the implications, and suddenly you're nervous all over again, your eyes trying not to eye the bed in the middle of the room. Through a deep breath, you tell him, "Thank you. What's on the agenda today?"
The small laugh that escapes him has you weak in the knees again. "Eager, are we?"
Oh, there's no way he's not flirting...
Right?
You shrug and offer a smile. "You did renovate your office rather... drastically... Excuse a girl for being curious, Doctor."
"Touché," he replies. His syllables are slow and smooth, and when his eyes bare into yours, reality and fantasy have moved past the point of blurring— they've full-on collided, creating this new atmosphere of thick, palpable debauchery that promises to alter the course of your life forever.
You want to jump his bones now, before something changes your mind, but you can't move. The possibility of misreading the situation is far too humiliating to make any sudden movements or declarations of desire.
"Please, sit," Doctor Reid invites, and you calm a little. Your limbs are still on fire with each muscle that moves, until you're seated on the bed, looking up at him and trying not to give yourself away.
Just in case.
If he can tell what's going on in your brain, he doesn't let on. Still, there's something that lives in his gaze, something knowing and all-consuming that calms your nerves like a weighted blanket as his voice plunges you further into this fantastical reality you've created together.
"Like I said, it seems that you've been succeeding at rediscovering and maintaining a healthy sexual appetite. How does that make you feel?"
"Um... Really good, actually. I think I've come a long way, and it's all because of you."
It hadn't been intentional to phrase it that way, but as soon as the words leave your mouth and his lips quirk into a gentle smirk, you avert your gaze, clutching the edge of the bed. "I mean, your suggestions and your kindness have been extremely helpful..."
"That's what I'm here for," he says, amusement lacing his tone, but disappearing quickly as he continues. "Now, I know it's only been just over a month, and it's still absolutely imperative that you do this at your own pace. So if you find yourself feeling like you're not ready to move forward when I ask you this, you are not obligated to agree. Is that understood?"
Your heart is beating wildly within the confines of your chest, daring to and desperate for escape. "Yes, Doctor."
His tongue darts out over his bottom lip as the honorific trickles sweetly off of yours, and then he clears his throat, taking a step closer to you. "Do you trust me?"
"Yes." There isn't a single ounce of hesitation in the meaning of the word or the speed at which it leaves your mouth. It's not even a second thought.
"My hope for today's session is to get you to a place where you're comfortable with trying different techniques. And if you don't mind, I'd like to assist—to show you some new pleasure points and help you discover what you like. Is that something you're willing to do?"
You nod slowly, words feeling impossible, which brings a small smile to his face.
"Okay, a few rules. This is a very vulnerable thing. So you need to use your words. I'm not comfortable moving forward unless you explicitly say so, so I ask you again; Do you give me permission to help you experiment?"
"Yes."
Firm. Some might even say confident. The word rings sharply in the air for a few moments before Doctor Reid nods and responds quietly, "Good."
He walks over to you, slowly until his knees are barely touching yours. You feel yourself becoming a living current of electricity at the sheer closeness of him, never mind that he hasn't even touched you. You can only imagine what it will feel like when he does, the thought making you fight the urge to clamp your thighs together.
"Do I have your permission to touch you?"
Touch me how? you want to ask, but you realize it wouldn't matter; You'd let him touch you in any way he pleased. So instead, you tell him, "Please."
His eyes rake slowly over your figure then, possibly considering his next move, but then he simply nudges your knee with his leg, the most brief form of touch but still electrifying all the same. "Will you hold your right leg out for me?"
Not quite what you would have expected, but you do as he says, extending your leg as he rests his palm under your ankle.
"Are you familiar with erogenous zones?"
Your heart leaps. "Yes. I know the concept."
He considers this before slightly swiping his thumb along the side of your ankle. "Are you familiar with your erogenous zones?"
"I can't say I've ever thought about it, so... Probably not, no."
"Hmmm."
Honestly, you figure it wouldn't even matter where he touched you; The fact that he's taken an interest in your sexual desires and putting them to the test with an attentive, hands-on approach is more than enough to get you hot and bothered. The sheer presence of him alone makes your whole body pulse with writhing need.
Still, you let him explore, trying not to prove impatient. It's incredibly difficult when the denim of your jeans slowly becomes nothing more than a claustrophobic obstacle to his attention. Everywhere his fingers brush, heat radiates, but you know it could be stronger. You try your hardest to focus on his questions and less on the signals your body is sending you, violently and utterly whorish. You'd never been this way before, not even by yourself, and you're becoming less and less patient by the minute
Doctor Reid seems to notice this as his knuckles brush the inside of your palm, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Are you relaxed?" he asks quietly, keeping his head low but lifting his eyes to meet yours. Something about the sight stirs in your stomach.
"Yes."
"You don't sound very convinced."
You can't help but succumb to the bout of nervous laughter that's been dancing in its cage in the back of your throat the whole session. His fingers halt their gentle discovery of your body but remain rested in your palm, every nerve ending threatening to explode. "Well, I don't know if relaxed is really the right word, but... I'm... Good."
He hums pensively, pausing to tilt his head. "You've been responding rather enthusiastically to just about every touch..." If he's amused by this, you can't tell, but the words feel like a prideful observation regardless. "I suppose that means we can move this along..."
When his eyes meet yours again, you nearly whimper.
"May I kiss you?" he asks.
His knuckles start moving slowly against your palm, and your entire arm lights up with excitement at the contact, as does your heart. Suddenly the room feels cold yet hot at the same time, a deep chill crashing through your body like a tidal wave. Your nipples are painfully hard against the fabric of your bra, and you feel it in your bones.
You've never been so turned on in your life.
You nod, then stop yourself, remembering his rules. The word sounds utterly wanton as it gently squeaks past your lips, but it's the best you can do to give him permission short of reaching up and pulling him down to kiss him yourself.
"Please..."
He surprises you again by stepping forward and lifting your arm to his mouth. Sticky honey eyes trap you in their gaze as his lips replace his knuckles on the inside of your palm, soft and warm in every aspect. He takes his time, grazing his nose along your fingers and then your wrist as he drops the gentle pressure of a kiss along every centimeter of skin he explores. It's thorough and attentive and gentle, and you're mesmerized.
Eventually he's kissed his way up your whole arm, and it feels like you've been in this bed for hours, something slowly awakening inside you at his every touch. The excitement bubbling in your bloodstream starts to boil over when he reaches your collarbone, using his hand to slip under the strap of your tank top so he can kiss you there.
Responding to his touch has become second nature at this point, so your head leans away and gives him room to start kissing your neck, to which he does happily.
Where Doctor Reid's kisses had been kind and curious in their pursuit, they've now grown indulgent. His lips part, lavishing the skin at the side of your neck with a warm, wet caress that makes your toes curl and your fists clench. His hand comes up to drag the pad of his middle finger down your throat as his tongue darts out and laps at your skin, and you moan.
Your hips grind and your thighs clench, a disastrous wave of heat flooding through you, and he sucks gently on your skin for a second before sighing.
"There it is..."
You pout when he pulls away, but he strokes your hairline and doesn't go far. "How are you feeling?"
"Really good," you breathe through a nervous smile.
"Are you turned on?"
Obviously, you want to exclaim, but given his thorough and affirmative nature, it makes sense. You also force yourself to remember that he's your therapist and not a guy you've taken home for the night. He's a professional, despite how unprofessional in nature this particular situation is on paper; He's not going to move the process along based on an assumption, no matter how obvious your reactions might be.
"Very," you tell him confidently, a proud gleam in your eye as you look up at him. The twitch of his grin does more than excite you— it urges you. "You turn me on, Doctor Reid..."
"Is that so?"
"Mhmmm."
He leans and his breath is hot in your ear. His voice comes in low and seductive. Curious. Careful.
"Then I'd like you to show me. Will you touch yourself for me, love?"
The pet name makes you clench around nothing, and you whimper at the way it stings. At this point it's physically painful to keep lying there at his mercy without any sort of stimulation, so despite how embarrassing and desperate it might be, your hand is slipping under the band of your sweatpants with ease as you sigh out. "I'll do anything..."
The back of his knuckles tease your neck as you slowly circle your clit with your middle finger, and you don't have to do much wandering to gather your wetness either. Everything is warm and wet and ready for release, which doesn't go unnoticed by Doctor Reid.
"I can hear how wet you are," he muses brightly, his throat caught in a groan as his lips hover over your neck. "That's good."
"Uh-huh?" you whine out, his praises bringing you closer to nirvana.
"That's really good... Are you close already, baby?"
You can't help but moan at the name, a white-hot pool of pleasure filling up in your gut as his lips attach to your pulse-point. "Yes, Doctor..."
"Mmm," he hums into your skin, continuing to kiss you. His hand strokes your forehead as your own makes quick work of your clit. It won't be but a matter of seconds before you're coming undone. "How long can you go between orgasms? Do you know?"
"I... usually wait... ten minutes at least..."
Doctor Reid licks softly at your neck before he asks, "Have you used a vibrator or a toy?"
You laugh involuntarily, clenching your legs as your orgasm approaches and wishing you had your vibrator right now. You bought it after your third session. "A vibrator. A cheap one... But it works."
"Nothing wrong with that," he mumbles amusedly into your skin, trailing his kisses up to your jaw. It takes everything you have not to turn your head and take his lips with your own, just to taste his warmth as you come undone—to whimper and whine into his mouth with every wave of pleasure that crashes through you, and—
God, that's exactly what's happening...
Your body shudders blissfully as Spencer kisses you, and the moment doesn't even feel real. His mouth is gentle but coaxing, helping you through your orgasm with a sense of accomplishment, like his kisses are a reward. At least, it certainly feels that way. It doesn't help that when you finally come down, slowing your breathing and removing your hand from your pants, he rests his forehead to yours with a final gentle peck on the mouth and an affirming, "Very good, sweetheart."
You can't help but feel like he takes note of the way you flutter your eyes closed at the nickname; there's a pause in his movements before he returns to them, lightly trailing his knuckles over your neck until his touch disappears completely.
Even though you just came moments before, his next sentence nearly gives you a second wind, your eyes snapping open and your cunt throbbing with want.
"Has anyone ever eaten you out before?"
"No," you tell him truthfully, and he studies you with a look in his eyes that tells you he isn't surprised to hear the unfortunate news. Embarrassed suddenly at his pity, you try to shrug it off. "Men seem to be pretty notorious for being bad at it though, so I didn't hold it against him... My ex, I mean..." You huff a nervous laugh, seeing Doctor Reid stare at you blankly. "I figured it would save us both the trouble."
"There's nothing troubling about it," he mumbles, more to himself. But then he straightens and inhales, back to business as his gaze cements into yours once again. "Would you be willing to let me do it?"
Even more embarrassing than the fact that it hasn't been done before is the speed at which you respond, "Yes." The word is sharp and desperate, loud and true, and you swear you see Spencer's eyes glow. "Please..."
It's hard to tell what he's thinking exactly—ever the professional he is—but aside from lack of a smile or any other indicator of eagerness, his eyes give his emotions away on a grander scale. They're practically fucking you already as he saunters around the bed, their intensity settling deep in the pit of your stomach. Suddenly you're convinced you could come just by his stare alone.
"May I?" he questions, gently tugging at the ankle of your leggings.
"Yes."
"Lift your hips for me, sweetheart."
After a sentence like that, you aren't sure how you have the strength to do it, but you manage, hot flashes coursing through your entire body as his nimble fingers grip the waistband of your leggings and slide them over your hips, then your thighs. His skin is hot against yours, even with as little contact as there is; a simple brush of the knuckle over your knee might as well be a branding iron, claiming you as his own.
He doesn't even have to instruct you, your legs falling wide open once they're free from their fabric confines.
At this point you aren't even embarrassed anymore. You might even be proud of it— how badly you want him to touch you and taste you and show you just how good another person could make you feel. In an odd way it makes you feel important. Cared for.
Your cunt throbs at the intensity of all these emotions and feelings.
It doesn't help when Doctor Reid settles between your legs, making himself comfortable and looking up at you through his eyelashes. The sight is just as overwhelming as everything else.
"You're absolutely sure you want this?" he inquires softly, almost like a plea.
Your vocal cords feel like they're made of rope, the words climbing out of you with burning calluses and a determination to see it through to the end. You've never wanted anything so badly, and you tell him precisely that.
The confirmation seems to please him, a beautiful lilted sigh escaping him as his nose comes in contact with your underwear. It rests just above your clit, his breath hot against you.
His hands come up from under you then, gripping your thighs to keep you steady as he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your clothed cunt. The gentle pressure makes you moan and squirm, his fingers gripping your thighs even tighter, and you sigh his name.
He keeps going, taking his sweet time to explore what areas get reactions from you, though he's quick to learn that every touch, every kiss, every gentle probe of the tongue... all of it is slowly undoing you to the point of madness.
With a hooked finger pulling your panties aside, Doctor Reid sighs into your thigh.
"Are you ready for it, pretty girl?"
All you can manage is the most whiny, whorish "Uh-huh," to the air. It echoes brightly and rings in your ears long after the moment, time seeming to stop right as his tongue comes in contact with your dripping heat.
The sensation is hot and sharp, and never ending. After what seems like forever, the tip of his tongue finally comes up and swiftly flicks your clit before he repeats the entire motion, like a wave crashing over the shore, and that's when your body finally releases all its tension.
You hadn't even realized you were so tense. Your fingers release their grip on the thin sheet beneath you and your chest sighs of relief, and that's when you feel yourself finally start to breathe. Head spinning, the sensations happening below you are coming into sharp clarity.
Spencer's tongue is relentless, leaving no crevice untouched by pleasureful curiosity. But you barely even have time to wonder if he might be enjoying himself more than you are, because all thought at all completely disappears the very moment his lips gather around your clit, sucking softly as he groans.
"Ohhhh my god..."
You're unable to keep your hips from grinding into his mouth. Still, he persists, cycling between sucking and licking and kissing, and it takes everything you have not to reach down and thread your fingers through his hair.
"You taste so fucking good," he sighs, coming up for air for a second. Then he kisses you again and repeats himself. "You're so good..."
This time you do reach down for his head, brushing the stray strands away from his forehead as he looks up at you. He pauses his ministrations, and his tongue's absence is sorely missed in feeling but a pleasure to the eyes as he runs it over his bottom lip in a slow, almost predatory nature.
"I'm going to slowly add a finger, is that okay?"
The thought admittedly panics you, flashbacks of pain and disappointment and embarrassment barging in and nearly ruining the moment. But Spencer can tell, his head tilting into your thigh again until it makes contact. His hair tickles and sends a shiver over your limb as he uses his hands to rub gentle, reassuring circles into your skin.
"We don't have to. I can keep doing it just like this if you prefer. Whatever you want, sweetheart."
The words shoot straight to your core, which sparks the realization that your previous encounter with sex was nothing like this at all. Not only in situation, obviously, but in feeling as well. You were excited to do it the first time, sure, but the build-up was pretty much non-existent. And now here you've been, pining away at this man for weeks, reawakening your libido and engaging in the longest game of foreplay known to man.
You have this very moment to show for it, your entire body humming with want and your worries slowly melting away under Doctor Reid's careful yet eager exploration.
Where there had once been an absence of communication and genuine care, now rests a bright and blossoming excess of it, in every touch and every pull of his eyes. It burns through you like a shot of whiskey, growing in sizzling warmth as it reaches every limb.
It's this new, odd and exciting comfort that urges you to tell him, "It's okay. You can do it."
You expect him to sigh in relief, grateful for your permission, but if he feels it he doesn't show it. Gentle hands continue caressing the underside of your thighs and he looks up at you. "You're sure?"
"Yes. I want it. I want your fingers inside of me, please."
Between the desperate emphasis in your nodding and the way your eyes are practically begging him, you've sealed your fate, a soft gasp reaching your throat when his middle finger slides through your opening and sends a rush of excitement over every plane of your body.
He doesn't enter you, but simply glides, up and down, like he's trying to soothe you.
"Tell me if it's too much, okay?"
"O-kay..."
Your breath shakes on the last syllable, his fingertip slowly disappearing inside you. He takes his sweet time, one knuckle, then two, and then he's fully inside you, and it's not nearly as painful as the last time somebody had been there.
"Fuck, you're so warm..." His eyes search yours for a moment before he sighs and lowers his head. "So beautiful..." And then his mouth is on you again, his compliment muffled by the essence of your pleasure, and your head is thrown back in an instant.
As his finger kindly allows you to adjust to its residence, experimentally moving in and out, his tongue continues to lap at your clit, and both sensations together are a bit odd but not unwelcome. You're slowly getting used to the fullness, yet something in you aches for more...
Maybe it's in your sighs, or the way your hands claw at the sheets, or perhaps he simply just knows you that well, but either way, Spencer knows.
He adds another finger, slowly and without an ounce of resistance from your body, and when you sigh out this time, it's of relief. You smile through it, allowing yourself to revel in the feeling of something new and erotic and exciting. Every whimper that falls from your lips is prideful and maybe even a bit exaggerated, but it's entirely worth it if only for the encouragement it seems to give Doctor Reid to keep going.
After a while of letting you get used to the feeling, he pulls back and twists his palm up before he enters you again, slowly as he says, "You're taking them so well... I'm proud of you, love..."
His fingers are in as far as they can go, and then they curve up just right, and you gasp.
"That feel good?"
"Uh-huh..."
"Yeah?" he coos proudly, starting a rhythm with his fingers that has you crying out in unbelievable pleasure. You're quickly reaching a peak again, every sensation from the fullness of his fingers and the way they twist and curl inside you to the sounds he makes as he kisses and sucks at your clit sending you into overdrive.
Dizziness starts to swarm you and your body can't handle it. Rather than fight this tight, new feeling brewing at each stroke of his fingers, you embrace it with deep breaths and cries out into the air, and then it snaps inside you.
Doctor Reid manages to keep your legs open as he works you through it, though you're not sure how you haven't crushed him yet. Everything feels tight and sharp and blindingly good—it feels like something that would take an army to keep from closing in.
Still, he does it, holding you open and groaning his way through your orgasm. Your hands instinctively reach out to keep him there, clutching at his hair and holding on for dear life while you tremble and clench around him.
Galaxies dance vividly behind your eyelids for what feels like eons as the pleasure bursts through you like a display of shooting stars, until eventually it subsides and your body feels extremely tired.
"Mmm, see? No trouble at all." He removes his fingers and continues to lazily make out with your cunt through small aftershocks of overstimulation, and then he's gone.
He gives you a few moments to collect yourself before he asks, "How do you feel?"
"Tired," you sigh with a smile, relaxing back with your eyes closed. You feel like you could take a nap. "But good. Very good."
His momentary silence intrigues you, so you flutter your eyes open and see that the heat in them hasn't subsided. In fact, it burns through him brightly as he prowls up the bed and climbs over your body until you're face-to-face. Something hard and hot and familiar rests firmly against your thigh and you choke on a whimper.
"Have you ever tasted yourself before?" he inquires, his voice barely above a whisper.
You swallow and prepare yourself. "No."
"Would you like to?"
And then without a second thought, your hands bring his face down to yours, and you embrace the subtle tang of your pleasure on his lips. He groans into your mouth, low and warm as his hips rut into your thigh.
The action sends you into overdrive, and suddenly you want to ask if you can return the favor, but Doctor Reid seems to have other ideas.
A finger delicately makes its way past your lips, seamlessly replacing his tongue, and you open your eyes again, nearly falling apart at the sight of him. The man is wild, eyes desperate for release as you suck on his finger, and then he adds another.
You clean him of your essence, sensual and enthusiastic in your maneuvers in a newfound confidence that wouldn't even exist now if not for him. So you treat this act as a reward to him, an act of gratitude, regardless of whether or not this session is technically all about discovering your likes and dislikes. If anything, you've learned that you like pleasing him. And so—if the constant friction between his bulge and your thigh is any indication—you'd have to say that his goal for today's session has been achieved tenfold.
"God, you're perfect," he huffs as his movements stutter and his hips still. You moan around his fingers, gliding your tongue in the space between them, and when he finally comes, he's choking out your name.
His weight gradually comes down on top of you, his fingers sliding out of your mouth and resting on your chest as he finds his composure. And then he's kissing your neck and your jaw, and each hot caress of his mouth at your pulse point feels like a reward of its own, an intimate form of affection made specifically for you.
Your name sighing past his lips and into your skin is proof enough of that; the lust is still there, sure, but it's laced with something else. Something softer.
As the breathing between the two of you slows, you comb through his hair with your fingers and sigh. An odd, pleasant feeling swirls around in your gut.
"Thank you, Doctor Reid."
"Mmm, you're very welcome," he murmurs into your skin, still nestled into the crook of your neck.
"For everything," you clarify. "A month ago, doing something like that would have felt impossible to even imagine, but... You make me feel safe, and cared for. And more importantly, you don't make me feel like I should be ashamed. Like there isn't actually something wrong with me. I don't know how to thank you enough for that."
When he pulls away, you almost think you might have scared him off, but the look in his eyes is anything but fearful. In fact, they practically shine like a glimmering lively lake as they search your own.
"There is absolutely nothing wrong with you. You're beautiful, and bright, and curious... And as long as you remember that, and you hold onto it, you will be just fine—no matter where you go, or... who you go to."
You shake your head, that feeling in your gut growing exponentially and the words flying out before you can stop them. "I don't want to go to anyone else. I only want you."
The look in his eyes deepens, almost a little melancholic in their intensity, close enough to that fear you were worried about earlier to make your heart beat faster.
"You don't mean that," he says, and you want to cry. Hell, you might, if that feeling in your stomach is speaking for something.
"Like hell I don't," you counter, cradling his head in your hands. "You're the first person I've actually wanted to be around in so long, and... Maybe it's twisted, maybe it's not right, but if there is anyone that I need, it's you. I won't even be your patient anymore if that makes up for it, I just want to see you. I trust you. More than I would trust any stranger."
When your name exits his lips, this time it's a gentle warning. Authoritative. But still sweet. Maybe even a little disappointed. "The purpose of these more... interactive sessions was to get you comfortable with trusting people with your body as much as you do... Seeing me and no one else would, in the end, defeat that purpose."
All feeling in your bloodstream curdles and starts to wither away with rejection. Embarrassment fizzles behind your eyelids as you close them, forming into tears that you try and will away until you're out of his sight. "You don't... actually want me..."
He tenses at your exclamation, and sighs. "That is absolutely not what I said. Look at me."
"Then... what?"
Spencer remains professional, but there's something hiding behind his eyes that longs to get out, you can see that. You can feel it too, as prominently as you feel your heart beating in your chest.
"As your therapist, it is in both of our best interests that I recommend you to try a night out. You don't have to sleep with anyone or do anything you're uncomfortable with, obviously, but... Based on what we've accomplished today, it is my professional opinion that you're ready for the next step."
So you're kicking me out, you cry dramatically in your head, even though you know it isn't true. Still, there's something inside you that doesn't want to let go— that can't. This connection you have with him is something strong and beautiful, something valuable. Something profound. You're not going down without a fight, until he is kicking you out of his office.
Your fingers glide down the side of his face and your eyes sharpen, studying his face with lustful reverence.
"And what are your thoughts as a man... and not my therapist?"
While you'd intended it more as a plea, your words seem to challenge him. Gone is the liberal professionalism, replaced with a familiar sly desire that ignites your heart and fills you with hope.
"As a man... it's impossible even trying to deny you..."
The words excite and warm you all over. You hum, nudging your nose to his and thinking aloud. "Mmm. After my hour is up and the day is long over... Maybe I should wander back to the parking lot and let a man take me home... As my therapist, d'you think that would count as a night out?"
You're relentlessly teasing him now, but he seems  alright with it, laughing dryly above you as his hands clutch your shirt and his hips shift firmly into your thigh again. "Haven't you gotten bold," he muses lowly, his mouth inching closer to yours.
"What can I say... You're very good at your job, Doctor."
"Mmm, you make it easy, love."
His lips are on yours soon after that, and with each tick of the clock your kisses grow hungrier.
Nothing escalates, but for the next fifteen-or-so minutes, your body remains buzzing with the ever-present energy of him, the knowledge that his presence has altered the course of your life forever, and the hope that the feeling is mutual.
Though, if the way he holds you and kisses you means anything, there is nothing to worry about in the slightest.
You leave his office that day feeling lighter, and while you're a far cry from where you were when you started seeing Doctor Reid, you're certain that by tomorrow you'll be a completely different woman.
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ladybirdswritings · 6 months ago
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LITTLE WITCH, FIC — xaden riorson x reader.
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DESCRIPTION: you wake— a captive girl with untamed power and no recollection of its origins. before you is a scarred, shadowy figure, whose taunts ignite your abilities—binding your fates in a dangerous encounter. NOTES - fourth wing fic !! leave me all your thoughts and opinions. i love them <33 | next part
two;
“What are you doing?” Your voice trembled, unsteady—a ballerina with mangled feet, poised yet painfully unnatural.
Xaden’s lips twitched, the faintest ghost of a smirk, as his fingers grazed the mahogany brush in his grasp. He didn’t answer, his dark eyes narrowing as he closed the distance between you. He seemed amused by all of this, or perhaps prideful.
You sat there, unchained but weak-hearted—though he had kept his promise. You were unchained.
Unchained and seated on an unfamiliar bed with grand, imposing posts and onyx-silk sheets. After an excruciatingly tense dinner, where every set of eyes at the table had cut into you like blades, Xaden had led you here. The silver-haired girl, in particular, had clutched her dagger tighter each time his gaze drifted toward your slouched figure.
Their whispers had danced around you like a ghostly waltz—sharp, feverish murmurs about your bruised wrists and hollow eyes. But you’d been too exhausted, too hollow yourself, to care. The soup in front of you had demanded all your focus.
You didn’t trust them. You didn’t trust him either—this man of shadows. Yet, inexplicably, he had fed you, given you a bed. And now he was… brushing your hair?
It was matted, straw-like, and stained with memories you couldn’t quite pluck free. The brush snagged against a knot, yanking sharply, and you winced. Xaden tensed, his patience fraying at the edges.
“I’m going to run you a bath,” he decided after a moment.
You didn’t protest.
He left, disappearing into the adjoining room, and when he returned, his outstretched hand was waiting for yours. Calloused, steady, and strangely anchoring. Against your better judgment, you placed your trembling palm in his.
“Come, little witch. If I wanted to bite you, you’d be bitten already.”
But as you rose unsteadily to your feet, his words stirred unease. He intended to join you.
The thought snagged on a sharp edge in your mind, but you were too weary to resist.
“Choose, Y/N,” a voice whispered from the corners of your memory, harsh and grating. “Kill him, and your power will be imminent.”
The agony hit like a tide, crashing over you until you clung to the onyx countertop for support. Xaden’s hands twitched at his sides, but he made no move to steady you.
When you raised your head, the mirror greeted you with a face that was hauntingly familiar: your own, but hollow, bruised, and unrecognizable.
“Y/N.” The name fell from your lips like a prayer, fragile and disbelieving. “My name is Y/N.”
Xaden nodded once, his towering presence unmoving.
“Yes, it is,” he said simply.
A flood of questions threatened to spill from your tongue, but you turned to him instead, accusation lacing your voice. “You know me.”
His expression didn’t falter as he began rolling up the cuffs of his midnight-black shirt, exposing veined forearms.
“No,” he said, his voice like gravel, “not personally.”
The irony wasn’t lost on you, given that he was about to bathe you. He looked at you expectantly, yet you made no effort to move. He needed to answer your question. You needed to know why.
“Strip,” he ordered, his tone firm but not unkind.
You remained still. His jaw twitched.
“If you’re going to sit there rotting in gods-know-how-long a time worth of grime, it’s going to be a great inconvenience for me. So you need to wash yourself— with or without my help. Your choice.”
Heat flushed your face, and the protest died in your throat. “Not. Personally,” you muttered under your breath, mimicking his earlier words. Were you to just sit wide eyed while he ran those awfully mangled hands down your skin? Your breasts, your— well.
For the first time, the corners of his lips lifted in genuine amusement. Slowly, he stepped forward, tucking a stray strand of your tangled hair behind your ear.
“Trust me, little witch. To me, you’re nothing more than a finely honed blade— sharp, useful, and exactly what we need to—” he stopped himself, and though you did not recognize much— you knew it was apprehension flashing in his eyes. “My desire belongs to the silver-haired girl downstairs.”
And your love, your mind supplied.
If that were true, why had they treated each other with such loathing at dinner?
Though Xaden’s words were an attempt at easing your hesitance— you still remained unmoving. Yet your prolonged silence seemed to unnerve him. He shifted on his feet before offering a compromise. “I’ll turn around.”
True to his word, he faced the wall, giving you the privacy to peel away the tattered cloth clinging to your starved body.
“Don’t turn around,” you whispered, tension straining your voice.
“I won’t,” he said softly, his shoulders rigid. “In the tub.”
The water enveloped you like an old lover, soothing every ache and gnawing pain. You curled into yourself, knees to chest, but when he turned back, the shadows didn’t entirely conceal you.
Xaden knelt by the tub, cupping water in his hands and letting it cascade over your hair. His touch was careful, deliberate, as he massaged circles into your temples. The silence between you was fragile but strangely comforting.
“You know of me,” you said at last, rephrasing your earlier accusation.
He hummed in acknowledgment, his hands moving with practiced precision.
“What am I?” The question hung between you, heavier than the steam rising from the bath.
Not who. What.
He paused, his fingers lingering on the sharp angles of your collarbone before he answered. “You’re very special.”
The words were maddeningly vague, but you didn’t have the strength to push. Instead, you murmured, “How did you find me?”
His hands resumed their work, scrubbing soap through your matted locks. This time, he didn’t pause.
“It took a very, very long fucking time.” He sounded exhausted at the idea of it.
“But you found me,” you pressed, desperate now. “Why?”
And then, the madness prickled at your very mind once more. Phantom voices humming… his voice— and his still lips. All within your head.
She doesn’t know her worth yet.
You think you do? This voice belonged to a woman.
She’ll learn soon enough.
Better hope she survives the lesson…
Before you had even a moment to ponder those ominous words, he tipped your chin upward, forcing you to meet his eyes.
“I told you, you’re special, little witch. But don’t make the mistake of thinking you know what that means yet.”
Your breath hitched as his words sank in. But before you could respond, he draped a washcloth over your trembling hand.
“Wash yourself,” he said, his voice dropping an octave.
Your cheeks burned as you obeyed, turning your body away from him to complete the task. When you finished, exhaustion pressed heavily against your fragile frame.
You knew your name, but not your home. Your love, your family or friends. Did you have any? This cage with its high stone walls and scrutinizing creatures, it frightened you.
“Please,” you whispered, tears blurring your vision. “Help me understand. I—I’m afraid.”
His eyes raked over your expression for a long moment— a mixture of admiration and pity flaring within them. He cupped your face in one damp hand, his thumb brushing away the tear that slipped free.
“Stop crying. I’ll help you understand,” he said, his voice soft but unyielding. “And you’ll hate me for it. But make no mistake, little witch: what my rebellion does to you won’t be wasted. You’re a weapon, dormant for too long. It’s time to wake you up. It’s time to win the war.”
🏷️’s: @emryb
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sugarplumkneecaps · 6 months ago
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I may have an absolutely filthy smut request for shadow x reader where Shadow has heats and they’re worse since he’s with the reader (can be human or mobian whichever makes you comfortable) because it makes him wanna breed them and maybe one night they both wake up and realise during the night shadow was moved the reader into a mating press subconsciously and then the reader asks him about it and he admits he wants too but he’s worried he’ll actually get the reader pregnant so the reader suggests some mutual masturbation and he can’t help but bite and nip at the readers neck during it and maybe he accidentally finishes on the reader and he just thinks it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen
A/N: OH. MY. GOD. YES. I love this ooo!! Okay, here you go <3(P.S. So sorry for the long wait! I hope you like it!)
Mutual Satisfaction
Pairing: Shadow x Reader C/W: !!! NSFW !!! MDNI !!! Genre: Smut
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The summer air was hot, even at night, which made sleeping a rather bothersome chore. Normally, you and Shadow would curl up together, enjoying the intermingling of your fur as you drifted off. Sure, you hardly ever woke up in the same position, but his touch brought you a great deal of comfort. Well, normally it did anyway. The past few nights, Shadow kept his distance from you, climbing into bed and reaching over only to plant a kiss on your forehead before returning to the far end of the bed. You had chalked this up to the heat, as you couldn’t really blame him. Cuddling was nice, but sleeping in a puddle of your own sweat? Not so much.
Today had been especially hot, even with the window AC hard at work in the living room. Every year you had taken a mental note to buy another unit for the bedroom once summer was over and every year you had subsequently forgotten. So when it was time to leave your post in front of the AC, shirt pulled up to enjoy the cool air as it made its way to your skin, you debated sleeping on the tile in the kitchen. Surely it would be better than dying in the room, right?
Shadow made his way over to you, placing a gentle hand on your exposed hip. “I’m off to bed. You coming?”
You nodded, as reluctant as you were to enter the inevitable sauna that awaited you both, the idea of you and Shadow sleeping separately was simply unacceptable. Entering the room, Shadow was by the window, prying it open and placing the large box fan along the window sill at full power. You pealed each article of clothing off of you, a last ditch effort to be able to sleep through this heatwave. As Shadow turned to face you, something in him stirred at the sight of your naked body. His eyes met yours, questioning. You looked down at yourself, suddenly feeling a tad self conscious, “is this okay? It’s excruciatingly hot.”
He nodded, breaking eye contact and moving toward the bed, “of course.” His voice was stiff and the amount of time he took to remove his gloves gave you pause.
“Everything okay?”
Shadow nodded silently, climbing into bed onto his side with his back toward you as he had done every night in recent history. “G’night.”
The cold response from him nearly cut through the warm air between you two. Your eyebrows knitted together with concern as you lay down next to your partner. Not wanting to pry too much, your eyes focused on the ceiling above, hoping that sleep would come quickly.
---
Lucid dreams overtook your sleep, indiscernible shapes of color meshing together much like an overactive lava lamp swirling in your mind. You reached your hand out to touch them, the sensation unlike any you had felt before but still soft, still tender. Hints of lavender mixed with something iron. The next time you reached out, a force pushed back, your body being enveloped in the soft cloud you had found yourself upon. The colors shifted to warm hues of red, much like Shadow’s crimson eyes. What was once globs of color turned into sharp points that dug into your biceps, your thighs adding your own shade of red to the mix. You pondered the meaning of life, the world, and what realm you existed in this very moment.
The answer, to your surprise, woke you as you let out a small yelp, the pointed end of color finding a tender spot along your inner thighs. What was once a colorful dreamscape faded away to reveal Shadow staring down at you, shock plastered on his face. His claws were dug into your legs, holding you in place with your knees caressing either side of your face. Even more of a surprise was the realization of the wetness on your stomach as Shadow’s throbbing cock sat between your legs seeping precum into your fur.
As quickly as the realization hit, Shadow retreated, clambering off the bed and moving a hand to cover the tip of his growth. Your legs fell down onto the mattress as you were nearly too stunned to speak. Nearly.
“What- Shadow? What was that all about??” your fingers subconsciously moved to the puddle on your stomach, the wet strands glistening between your fingertips.
Shadow couldn’t face you as he muttered a long string of curses under his breath.
Sitting up, too impatient to wait for whatever the hell this was to be revealed on his time, you prompted once more with a bit more force behind your words, “Shadow!”
His body jerked slightly before he turned to you once more. Even in the dark you could see his cheeks darkened with blush. “I.. woke up like that.” An audible swallow came from him.
You sat in silence, raising your eyebrows as if to inquire more because while he had technically answered you, you felt you deserved more clarification than that. His cold response earlier, the distance between you two, and then suddenly being woken up in a mating press? None of it added up.
After a long period of silence, Shadow relented. “I’ve been feeling a bit... on edge as of recently. Something I could not quite place. But every time I’ve been near you, I’ve felt an almost primal urge to...” he hesitated, the awkwardness endearing even under these circumstances. “You know.”
“No, I don’t know Shadow.”
His eyes pleaded with you to not have to say it. Once again, you raised an eyebrow until he murmured, “breed... you.”
You had heard mention of rutting season for hedgehogs, but were surprised that Shadow was subject to it considering his conception. Although the infrequency of it added up with everything you knew about him.
“You couldn’t have just asked to fuck?” you asked, the nonchalance of your tone surprising even to you.
Shadow’s chuckle cut through the tension as he sat next to you, handing you a washrag for your stomach. “As I said, it has been a very primal feeling. I worry I would not be able to stop until I’m completely sated.” His low tone and the sexual desire dripping from each word stirred your stomach and made your heart race. He reached for your hand, bringing it to his lips. “Plus, I don’t think we are necessarily in a position to have a baby.”
He wasn’t wrong. The apartment you both lived in wasn’t the smallest, but the prospect of a child would mean needing more space in more ways than just living. You both worked incredibly odd hours and either of you could be called away for long missions within a moment’s notice. The idea of having a small child along for the ride was out of the question. You nodded in agreement, loving the feeling of Shadow’s lips on your knuckles. Just then, an idea came to you.
“What if we don’t fuck?”
Shadow looked up at you, his expression one of “no duh, what do you think I’ve been avoiding”. You took his other hand in yours and held them both in front of you.
“We can still cum without fucking. Might take the edge off.”
Your dark counterpart pondered this offer for awhile, the bulge between his legs twitching as it became erect once more.
“Okay... what did you have in mind?”
You released his hands and fell back onto the bed, spreading your legs as you traced circles on your own skin. “We could both get off? On our own? But, like, together.”
A low chuckle came from Shadow, “mutual masturbation?”
With a small nod, you watched as his eyes trained on your digits, mesmerized by their movements as they moved down your figure slowly.
“Ah, what the hell.” His own hand found its way to the base of his cock, gripping his fingers around its girth as he started working it up... and down.
Each movement of his encouraged your own as your hand found your own clit, your fingertips lightly flicking it between circular rubs. A soft moan escaped your lips, encouraging sounds of lust and desire to be released from Shadow’s throat. Both of your movements quickened, curses layered between pants and moans filling the air.
Shadow couldn’t bear it. “You’re so fucking beautiful-“ he gasped out, shifting his body on top of yours. “I need to feel you. Please. Fuck!”
His hot breath tickled your neck, sending shivers throughout your body, the sensation bringing you closer to your climax. You whispered his name in ecstasy as his shaft lay between your wet slit. Slowly, Shadow worked his hips to coat his length in your juices, the friction against your clit and the tip of his cock too much for either of you to bear. A growl worked its way through his body as he opened his mouth around your shoulder, his teeth making contact with your tough skin.
Chasing your orgasm, the sudden pressure on your shoulder and your pussy brought your climax to an explosive conclusion just as Shadow found his. Hot cum poured from him onto your stomach, both of you panting as you were both well spent. Getting his bearings, Shadow lifted himself up, admiring his work before placing a gentle kiss on your lips. You smiled against his, euphoria setting in.
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vanillarosekiss · 7 days ago
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simon riley x teacher!reader
lowk kinda shit but enjoy after 2 months of no posts (which btw i've gone thru a tragic failed talking stage recently that's been making crash out, so i'm thinking writing hella smut may fix that..? we'll see).
content warnings: vanilla (sort of but not really), fingering, praise kink, sliiiight degredation, mean simon but only playful, time skip cuz i'm lazy like that!
word count: 1.4k
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Often, parent-teacher conferences were the bane of your life. Excruciatingly painful hours spent (after an already long day) talking to the children's parents, some of whom were particularly difficult in nature. Still, it had to be done, and it was just another part of your job that needed doing.
However, you did enjoy seeing the parent's faces lighting up when you spoke well of their child, pride becoming one of the most common recurrences in your classroom as most of the kids were perfect. One little girl in particular had a (secret) special place in your heart. The girl in question, Emma Riley, had been an absolute delight to have in class.
She shared her crayons. She said "please" and "thank you". She hugged everyone good morning. That kind of kid made teaching feel like bliss. So naturally, even when you were slightly apprehensive on the night of parent-teacher conference, you were excited almost to meet who had raised such a polite little girl. You expected someone gentle. Maybe a bit shy. Probably the kind of man who read bedtime stories to her every night.
What you weren't expecting was him.
He walked into the tiny classroom with heavy boots and a quiet kind of weight. Broad, muscular shoulders stood out the most on him, and the black hoodie that was layered under his jacket made him seem even bigger. The skull print balaclava peeking out from his pocket wads enough to make you blink twice. Interesting.
"You must be Mr. Riley," you said, standing quickly and offering a smile. "Thank you so much for coming."
His gaze flicked over the cheerful posters on the wall, all hand-made and coloured by the children, before it landed on you. Soft lavender knit sweater, pastel yellow painted nails, and a small dainty necklace resting on your chest. You looked like you belonged in a picture book.
"I try not to make a habit out of it," he said dryly shaking your hand, "But Emma insisted."
That made you laugh. "Well, she's very persuasive. And, honestly? A complete angel. One of the sweetest kids I've ever had."
Simon raised a mock brow. "Emma Riley? My kid?"
You pulled out a folder of drawings. "She helps everyone, always cleans up after herself, she even wrote the cutest story about a unicorn who makes sure everyone is included at lunch. Would you like to see it?"
He stared at the glitter-covered paper you gave him, silent.
"She's such a sweetheart to have in class, really. You must be doing a wonderful job with her. And her mum too, of course. I'd love to meet her one day..?"
A tightness set in around his mouth, something that shifted his expression. "I do my best," he muttered. "Emma's mother hasn't been in the picture since she was a couple years old, so you won't be meeting her."
You paused, unsure how to respond, fingers still brushing over the glittered corner of the drawing you had taken to put back into the folder. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to assume- "
He shook his head gently, the edge of his mouth lifting. "No s'alright. Just... not something I talk about much."
For a moment there was quiet, the kind that lingered. Then his eyes found yours again. A little softer, less guarded.
"She talks a lot about you, y'know. My kid. You've certainly made an impression."
That made you smile, a warmth blooming inside your soft cage of bone. "She's a special one. Honestly, I feel lucky."
There was a brief look he gave you, unreadable, before his mouth twitched into qa small smirk.
"You really are sweet, aren't ya?" His tone dipped. "Almost too sweet."
You blinked at him, like a deer caught in headlights, caught off guard. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Simon leaned in slightly, teasing and curious. "Just noticing. Makes me wonder if you're like that all the time... or just in a classroom full of six-year-olds."
You felt your face go warm, heart skipping a beat, as a warmth spread past your core and downwards to somewhere much more private.
"I- well-"
His eyes dropped to your mouth for a second too long. "Mm. That's what i thought."
The last thing you had ever expected from the conference was to end up back at Simon's house later that evening, tucked underneath him on his sofa as his daughter slept soundly upstairs.
Arching into every touch, gasping at his hands on your skin. You were so utterly sweet about it. No attitude at all, just soft whimpers and wide doe-eyes like this was the first time someone had ever really handled you.
"Let me walk you back in here like a little lamb, didn't you?" he murmurs. "Didn't even ask what I'd do to to you. Just nodded and followed."
"I trust you," you whisper out into the room.
He chuckled softly. "That's the stupidest part, sweeth'art."
"You're clearly so vanilla, it hurts. S'pathetic how turned on you get just from my voice," he says, hand dipping into your panties, disregard to the skirt that he'd slipped off of you earlier (that was now crumpled up on the floor). "You wanna be used a little, don't ya?"
You moaned, nodding helplessly.
"Course you do. You're too soft to ask for it. You want someone to make you dirty instead."
He was kissing you all over, drawn to your lips over everything, hands moving effortlessly atop your pearl making you gasp in an unexpected pleasure.
"You walk around all day giving stickers out and singing songs, actin' like you've got a single thought in that head of yours that isn't being touched like this."
He was being mean in a playful way, and you knew it.
'Si-" you whimpered out, eyes closed and breathless.
He grabbed your jaw with his free hand, gently but firm, tilting your head to make you look him in the eyes.
"No." he said. "Don't get shy on me now. You're the one who let me bring you back home with me. You're the one who begged me with those pretty eyes."
Your lips trembled slightly in the feeling.
"You knew exactly what you were doing. All soft and innocent like some little doll. And now look at ya. Letting me pull you apart string by string like it's the first time anyone's made you feel good."
You let out the tiniest noise as your thighs clenched together with his hand almost trapped in between. You felt another gush leak from your slit, a wave of embarrassment hitting your cheeks in a pinkish blush.
"Fuckin' hell sweeth'art. You're soaked" he teased, curling his fingers back into something reverent.
You were so utterly embarrassed. Laying on the sofa you even resorting to panting now you were that desperate. But he didn't rush. He didn't stop, either.
"God, you're so fuckin' soft. You don't even fight it do ya? Y'just give in." Simon leaned in closer, his free hand now stroking your side, grounding you as he kept you on edge.
"Don't you dare close your eyes."
You looked at him, barely, tears brimming out of pleasure with your pupils expanded wider than ever.
"Good girl," he whispered, breath hot against your lips. "There she is."
He sped his movements up, not much, but enough to just tip you over the edge with enough pressure to make you gasp and try to twist away from him. But his grip held you firm.
'Ya gonna come for me pretty girl, hm?" he asked tauntingly.
"I- I can't-!" you gasped, hips jerking upwards.
"Yes you can," you said, voice firm and reassuring. "You're doing so good, love. So fuckin' good, just let go. I've got ya."
And just then, like his words were the key to your soul, you broke.
Your whole body arched as you called out his name, softly but with an intensity only Simon could cause. You clutched at him blindly, pulling him in as waves of pleasure rolled over your body.
Simon held you through it, murmuring soft filth against your temple.
"That's it lovie."
"Fuckin' perfect."
"Look how pretty you are when you come for me hm?"
As you collapsed back against the sofa, heart racing and legs trembling, Simon kissed your temple again.
"Did so fuckin' well f'me," he murmured. "Messy little thing. Bet you'll be thinking about this next time you're handing out stickers in that classroom."
You let out a breathless laugh, burying your face in his neck.
"Shut up."
"Mm," he hummed, smug. "Didn't seem to mind me runnin' my mouth five minutes ago, love."
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pinkaditty · 7 months ago
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high libido jiro headcanon actually has me doing front flips omlll
this is actually a great time 2 share: im writing a long hc post about the ghouls and what i believe their sexual behaviors would be. this was partially inspired by Obey Me!, due to the sins attributing to certain characters manifesting in different ways. for example, both Solomon and Asmodeus have the sin of Lust, right? however, Asmodeus's sin manifests as physical lust, whereas Solomon's manifests as a lust for knowledge. I was thinking about how the ghouls essentially make pacts with demons, and demons typically are tied to a sin, right? i used the classic Seven Deadly Sins, and attributed a sin to each ghoul. im writing their sexual behaviors based off of those sins and how they manifest.
Sneak peek below (edited to be more concise, will be lengthier when officially posted, posting ONE character per house for this, please note that their blurbs are incomplete and i haven't posted all i have written):
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I KNOW THIS IS LENGTHY BUT IT'S IMPORTANT TO READ TO UNDERSTAND:
becoming a ghoul, as stated in the story, significantly increases your physical ability, battle prowess, and gives you a “stigma”, or a pact-based power. ghouls outrank humans in strength, resilience, and!!! aggression. while some ghouls are better-natured than others, it goes without saying that they all experience an increase in aggressive behaviors. this should be obvious, but when making a pact with a demon (fictionally speaking!!), i imagine that making such pacts with beings that are avatars of “sin” increases the desire to sin and decreases aversion to it. i like to think that indulging in sin becomes not exactly “necessary”, but vital in the sense that they can live without it but it makes human-esque day-to-day living harder. eventually the "sin" cravings get out of control and they have to indulge in some sort of sin, namely the sin they are the most associated with, because they “devoured” the demons they made pacts with. for example, say jin made a pact with a demon that specialized in sloth. when his cravings get out of control, he needs to indulge in sleeping in all day (or doing something similar) at least once. note that, like in Obey Me!, the sins may manifest differently. for example, i believe both jin and ren made pacts with demons that are sloth-based, but jin’s sin manifests in sleeping while ren’s manifests in avoidance.
as far as sexual behavior goes, the sins the ghouls participate in affect their sexual behavior, i think, just as they affect their personality and societal behaviors and interactions. for example, sloth-based ghouls may prefer doing little work during sex or have a preference for low effort positions; whereas glutton-based ghouls may prefer doing as much as possible, in as many positions possible, for as long as possible, regardless of how physically strenuous.
one more hc: it isn’t impossible, but it is excruciatingly tough for a ghoul to avoid (for lack of a better word) a creampie, if you will, when not wearing a condom. they are ghouls after all, and as such, will experience more aggressive and carnal sexual behaviors. contraception drugs with immediate effects are sold at the campus store LMFAOAOAOOA
Tohma Ishibashi (Greed-based):
this guy is power-hungry i fear, and thank goodness his boss is a sloth! he can pick up the leadership role all he wants. 
this guy is greedy bc he wants power for the sake of having it. y’know that trope where it’s really the king’s advisor pulling the strings? yea.
he wants more. he wants more. he wants more. 
without indulging myself too terribly much… if jin, alan, or haku had you, tohma would covet you even more than he already would if you were still single.
haha what? nevermind.
anyways we all already know how he indulges in his greed. how does he do so sexually?
in simple terms he wants more of everything from you
you suck him off? okay do it again. 
you came on his tongue? okay do it again. 
you clench your walls tight around his cock to make him cum faster? okay, after he recovers, do it again.
there can never be too much. if anything, there’s never enough.
Leo Kurosagi (Envy-based):
not gonna lie i kinda flip-flopped between greed and envy for him
but ultimately i think envy suits him best
i think envy is what spurs most, if not all, of his harmful or demeaning actions towards others
he’s jealous! god forbid someone do something better than he does. they’re guaranteed to become his next target. 
and it’s always personal, no matter how hard he tries to convince himself otherwise
because of this, i think he’d be selfish during sex
he wants more pleasure than his partner out of something, and if he’s not being directly stimulated, he wants something beneficial to him out of it
that said, he’s easy (i say this with love)
so it’s never a problem to convince him to do what you want, so long as you pay him back with interest later
its all about the trade! but lowkey he’s happy to do anything you ask, so long as you pay attention to him specifically. keep your eyes on him while he’s giving you head and i promise he’ll cum untouched.
Haru Sagara (Glutton-based):
my gluttony king…<3
can’t explain it i just feel it
he’s not greedy bc greed is wanting something for the sake of having it, while gluttony is wanting something for the pleasure of consuming it
consider him at Rui’s bar. always drinking too much.
consider him in his dorm. always working too much.
but does he enjoy it? yea. absolutely. even when he gripes he never says he’d rather do something else. 
he does it because it gives him pleasure, regardless of what way, which is what makes me believe he’s glutton-based
i think this guy’s a masochist that likes ass im not gonna hold y’all.
he hardly pays his own pain any mind, and if anything, seems to enjoy putting himself in pain for attention (more gluttony hints, he loves consuming attention)
and has not only brought up being smacked on the ass himself, but has smacked someone’s ass in the story. 
he also just repeatedly brings up ass regardless of whether or not the conversation had anything to do with it. 
he’s a horny guy i fear. i dunno. i just feel it. why do you think he likes those rabbit-like animals so much? he’s basically one himself. sex-loving freak (/affectionate!!).
he likes to go more than one round, and probably recovers quicker than most. 
once you’ve gone one round, unless this was a quickie in the kitchen while he’s making dinner or even in his room while Ren watches Peekaboo, you can expect at least one more, and at most four more. 
he likes quickies actually, let me just put that out there
Romeo Lucci (Pride-based):
you would THINK greed, i know, i get it, but i think that greed is just part of his personality. he’s just like that. PRIDE is the sin of the demon he devoured.
he wants you shivering in his presence. it fuels his ego. 
i don’t think he cares for the money as much as he cares about his ego. i think the income the casino makes fuels his ego as the guy running it, so he always wants record profits to fuel his ego.
does that make sense? like, sure, the casino makes money and all, but for romeo, it’s more about ego than monetary gain.
why do you think he wants everybody calling him “fico” and brags about his high end products and complains when even a single thing doesn’t go his way?
its all ego, that’s why.
that said, boy i hope you’re prepared to feed his ego when you finally screw him.
has a major praise kink because of it
tell him how pretty he is, pounding into you! he’ll try not to smile like a drunken freak.
Haku Kusanagi (Lust-based):
MY FAVVVV OUUUUGHGHHGHGHHHHHHH MY FAVVVVVVVVV
haru makes a close 2nd place if u couldn’t tell. but this guy?? nnnmmmmffffghghhhh…
he seems so incredibly normal and im not saying he’s not but im saying he has a much stronger libido than others around him. like, incubus strength.
rather than lust for attention or knowledge or something else, he literally lusts for sex. he’s physical lust-based. 
to him, it kind of sucks. he’s not super fond of it. i mean, what kind of future priest gets boners this frequently? come on man. 
at the same time, though, he can’t say it’s… all bad. its exhilarating in a way, and he kind of likes being horny all the damn time. 
to be clear, it’s not ALL the time… just relatively often. 
he’s a little conflicted and overall has mixed feelings on it. 
anyone complimenting his looks, which happens often (as seen in Hotarubi’s story), can just get him hard randomly.
god forbid you compliment him, even once. he’s rock hard immediately. it’s embarrassing.
thankfully though, he does an excellent job at hiding it. being used to it has it’s perks.
he’s abnormally good at hiding his arousal though, like you wouldn’t be able to tell unless you pressed yourself directly against his crotch. 
when the cravings get bad, however… he can’t hide it anymore. thankfully though, a very long, very self-indulgent jack off session that lasts a day will stave it off. 
once he has you, though… ohohohohoooo boy. 
you end up spending more time at hotarubi than you do in the chapel
you’re always sleeping over. you’re always waking up with hickeys. you’re always doing the walk of shame the following morning.
Rui Mizuki (Glutton-based):
not going to hold you, this one should be obvious
this is rui we’re talking about. the touch-starved, flirty womanizer. what do you think he’s going to constantly want more of for the pleasure of consuming it?
hell, i like to believe that prior to his curse, he was a super touchy guy. he loved to hug people or perform small acts of intimacy, like ruffling someone’s hair or rubbing their arms or holding their hands. he loved that! and he’s been robbed of it.
he is a pure glutton for touch, i know it.
(we are going to act like theoretically you can fuck him)
this said: do not let your hands leave him during sex. don’t!
something about hands in particular. how dearly he has missed and craved the simplest form of contact: via hands
he will be desperate to touch you, all over, with his hands, and he wants you to feel the same
the sex will be bareback. sorry.
Jiro Kirisaki (Sloth-based):
high libido king. low energy king.
the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak!
i theorize it’s not just his illness that tears him apart, it’s also his sin of sloth
since he doesn’t indulge in it much (and isn’t really allowed to), his body oftentimes shuts down involuntarily to preserve itself, yk?
this being said…
i like to think he has an abnormally high libido
but he can’t often contribute time to it, what with him being so busy with research he hardly showers daily AND him being sick AND him needing to indulge in sloth. he barely has the time to jack off, really.
during sex, he’s generally pretty malleable to whatever you want, granted he doesn’t have to work too hard. 
will he blow your back out? sure! will he start out slow thrusting until he’s close and then speed up the pace to blow your back out? yea.
he can only go one round sorry! you’re not getting much out of him. but, surprisingly, he recovers quicker than most. so if, after an hour or so, you wanted to go again…
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this was supposed 2 be a sneak peek but i think i did too much lmfao???
lowkey i was embarrassed 2 post this. this is the rawest stage of my work. straight from the brain and pure headcanon at that.
if u want 2 be tagged when this post is completed, let me know!
questions, comments, or even concerns? let me know!! and, of course, do let me know if you enjoyed the sneak peek at all.
EDIT: why is my brainslop getting likes lol? anyways I edit this 2 tag: @cupcakesmoothie and @aayakashii I put content of ur favs in this post and forgot 2 tag y'all 🫡 shame on me
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loverofoldsadlosers · 2 months ago
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SLOW RIDE
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(inspired by true events; getting turned on by sexy trucks for sale while browsing…. recommend the song “slow ride” by foghat)
Thinking about classic car collector Joel. (smut)
He’s got years on you, clearly, the tattoos inked onto his flesh have seen more birthdays than you: he has lines around his eyes that crinkle when he smiles, skin freckled and bronzed by decades of sun that have brought him the beauty of countless sunsets and sunrises before you even existed. It makes sense, looking so well preserved in his age, that he would seek out a career dedicated to conserving and restoring the cars he does. One’s rusted and faded and simply, old. What he didn’t expect on the dull morning of posting an advertisement for an equally dull, rusted, frankly hopeless ‘1970 Ford’ was you.
Young, shiny, new — a rare commodity amongst the regular buyers of his collection, and certainly a stand-out amongst the venerable antiques in the store; including Joel himself. You stumbled across his yellowing lawn with the grace of a newborn foal. Tripping slightly over your own feet, making him question why on earth you wore those long, seemingly uncomfortable, laced-up boots. Another relic, he supposed. An inkling of your taste before you had even introduced yourself. A reasoning for you, here, at his garage, a girl chasing a past she never belonged to. “Hello!” you smile, offering a hand toward him and slightly faltering when he hesitates. He stares down at your hand. The smooth expanse of your skin, the polished manicure on your fingers, the light weight of it when he finally meets your outstretched palm with his own; soft, gentle, a direct juxtaposition to the grease under his fingernails and the rough callouses that scratch against your silky flesh. “You here for the ad?” he assumes, scanning a quick glance over your frame once before settling back on your face. “Yes, I am.” His eyebrows slightly pinch together. He’s puzzled. Looking at you, and then your satiny chest, and then your equally as velvet-looking legs, and then back at you. Wondering what the hell you would know about a car like that and staring at you without even hiding his confusion. “That Ford?” You nod, and his expression almost sours. He’s squinting at you, shielding his eyes from the burning afternoon sun and giving you a brazen look-over once again; as if he missed something in his previous examination, a physical sign to dismiss his notion that you had no business here at all. Not buying a car older than the both of you, not on an old man’s front lawn, and certainly not dressed like that. In small, honestly tiny denim shorts, leather boots that stopped at your knees, and a blouse scantily covering your collarbones from his view. Was this what the kids were wearing nowadays? Let alone to meet some facebook-marketplace-stranger? You weren’t one to be shy. Usually, you were confident, collected, cool. But with Joel - this stranger - staring you down so intensely and so obviously, you were left skittish. Frozen in place, unable to do anything but fidget with the seams of your shorts with jittering hands and wide eyes. “You know a lot about cars? That’s a tough case back there.” Is all he says. Like there hadn’t been an excruciatingly long pause of him outright scrutinizing you, leaving you close to running tail-in-tow. “Well, I drive one, hah.” You try to quip. Laughing a dry, short heave of a laugh and inhaling a shaky breath when his stoic expression doesn’t change in the slightest, no hint of amusement or playfulness. This is a business deal after all, you guess. A serious purchase garners a serious atmosphere. You suppose you’re slightly more nervous than usual not just because of how out-of-your-depths you were, or because this man in front of you was a complete stranger in a location that took you more than an hour to get to, but because you didn’t expect, well, him. Tall enough to slightly tower over you, thick mustache and greying scruff on a sharp jawline, large biceps that bulge in the crossing of his arms as he frowns at you, plush lips with a lit cigarette between them, dark brooding eyes that glare at you.
He was beautiful. Even more-so in the sunlight. Aquiline nose, furrowed brows, sliver of skin peeking from below his unbuttoned flannel, exposing tufts of chest hair to your pleasure. He was so handsome it was intimidating. “You can take a look at it…” he sighs and places a dirty cloth you hadn’t realized he was holding over his broad shoulder, walking toward his garage and lifting the door.
A delicious trail of hair trailing up the expanse of his stomach from the waistband of his weathered jeans. You follow him inside the garage. You didn’t know a lot about cars. You knew barely enough to drive one. But you knew that rust was not ideal, and that’s what the ute in front of you was entirely soiled by. Hard, corrosive rust, eating away at the beautiful cherry-red exoskeleton. “You haven’t wanted to fix her up a bit?” you ask, trying to carefully not give away that you had done more than just read the ad he had posted (you had read over his entire facebook page, and then his brothers, and then almost the entire Miller family.) You had seen his previous restorations, and they were nothing short of flawless. “No time.” You knew this too. Joel was opening a brother-owned-partnership, Miller Contracting. “Ah.” “So what’d you think?” A deep, southern drawl. Smooth like the purr of an engine, syrupy, husky, manly. “Um…” “You got skill to fix her up?” “Well…” “She ain’t gonna be easy like that Honda you’ve got parked out there.” You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth and pout. Underestimating just how much proficiency you would need to actually entirely restore a car. “Does she start?” “You read the ad at all?” You sigh in slight defeat and his strong, capable hand you had admired earlier comes up to pinch the bridge of his nose, sighing with you in something closer to an annoyed grunt.
“I could… I can fix her up for you—“ your eyes brighten immediately, pivoting your entire body toward him and getting close enough to him he’s sure you are about to hug him; the fifty-five-year-old stranger. “It would have to cost you, obviously.” Oh. Right. “How…how much?” Of course. It would cost a lot. That’s why you had come here in the first place, allured by the affordable price tag only to be shocked when the price matched the product. “Ain’t gonna be cheap.” For the first time since you had greeted him outside, you peer up at him; meeting his scowl with your wide-eyed gaze. Inadvertently, you flutter your lashes and slightly touch the side of his boot with your own, and his eyebrow lifts. Were you…? “And it’s not…bargain-able?” What were you doing? “Christ, what’d you think this is, kid?” You blink. Still looking at him with wide-eyes that went larger in the second. “I-“ “This ain’t how things work around here.” He gives you that same look from earlier, studying you with a downward tilt of his eyes and you were mortified. “Um…I’m sorry, I just—“ He stares at you. At your coquette bite of your lip, at your smooth skin, at your doe eyes and deer-in-headlights expression, and he sighs Low, and disappointed. Cutting you off before you could finish your apology, shaking his head as if he has no other choice, but to say: “Get on your knees.”
What?
“What?” “Well, I ain’t gonna do it for free, now am I?” You stare back at his enigmatic expression and catch a glimpse of something you missed before; the corner of his mouth lifted in a sleazy smirk. You blink.
A deer in the headlights. Now, he’s fully grinning, cigarette long forgotten beneath the crushing sole of his boot. “Well?” You should probably leave. You should probably run into your own perfectly working car and drive off, far from this secluded house and gallery of mouth-watering cars you would never have the chance of owning. Flee from the man in front of you, smirking dangerously and built: broad shoulders and a muscled back you see rippling beneath his worn flannel.
You drop to your knees, and he laughs. “You do this a lot?” you shake your head and quickly work on his large leather belt, fumbling with the clasp and trying to unbuckle it fast as if you didn’t move onto your knees yourself. “Show me how much you want that car and maybe I’ll do somethin’ bout it.” You peer back up at him and his smirk has only widened, staring down at you with what you now recognize as him ogling you; his eyes moving toward your eyes, to your lips, to your chest. And then, he pulls himself out. You gasp. He’s huge. Throbbing, curved just-so, thick in his hand and you gulp. “Well?” You replace his grip with yours, wrapping your shaking hand around him and feeling the weight of it in your palm. Hot, and heavy, and huge. You bring another hand to meet the gap and start moving, waiting for him to say something as he just stares. “You think that’s all I want from you?” You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth and he grunts a low heady sound when your hand grazes his tip. “C’mon,” he says lowly. “Give him a little kiss.” You bring him to your lips, your shaking hands jittering him against you as you suckle slightly, tasting the salty taste of him and he groans, his hands flying to clutch tightly at your hair. “C’mon baby, give daddy a bit more than that.” Shit. You tense your thighs together momentarily and open your mouth further, the stretch burning as you try to fit more of his girth into your mouth. You try to breathe through your nose, but he’s just too big, sending you gagging with barely half of him in your mouth and he just pushes your head down further, until you’re pressed against the salt-and-pepper trail of hair on his abdomen. “Fuck,” he growls, when you swallow. Trying to contain some of the spit that dribbles down your chin as you whine, attempting to tell him that it’s too much. But then you look up. He’s gazing down at you with beads of sweat rolling down the thick of his neck, mouth slightly a-jar and eyebrows pinched. When your eyes meet his, his expression morphs back into that wicked smirk; tugging at your hair to pull you almost off him before thrusting back into your mouth. You gag in surprise, and he laughs again. A deep, sadistic noise, cut off by his own gravelly moan. “You’re fucking nasty.” He thrusts impossibly deeper down your throat, sending you spluttering around him and you swear he just gets harder, gets bigger. When he finally pulls you off, allowing you a gift of air that you gasp loudly, he slaps the length of him against your face; smearing your spit around your cheeks with another low laugh. “This how you always get your way? Get on your knees like a slut?” You go to retaliate - wanting to whine a ‘no’, reiterate to him that you’ve never done something like this, you’d never been depraved enough to get on your knees for a stranger, let alone one old enough to be your father. But then, he just brings himself back to your mouth, grunting an “open up” before shoving his length down your throat once again. But this time, you move down the length of him unprompted, his hand only tangled in your hair to hold you there, but doing it at your own volition. Dragging your tongue down the underside of him and rubbing your thighs together when he moans, loud and raspy. “Fuckin’ eager, huh?” he slaps the side of your face sharply, and you can’t help but moan with him. You can hear the obscenity of it all echoing through his garage. It’s wet, loud, messy, and you grasp at his thighs for leverage until he pulls you off entirely; looking at you with a heaving chest and furrowed brows. You chase him with your mouth again, but he just smirks at you, and then hisses:
“Get on your hands and knees.”
A/N: hello i have never wrote full smut before …. hope it was okay i can’t even proofread it 😣😣
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yamsfrecklvs · 10 months ago
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★ lazy warm sticky
kuroo x reader. smut, unprotected sex, fem!reader, mdni!! post-timeskip obviously, not proofread
as august fades away into september, tetsuro can’t help but mourn summer. he’s all for the warm weather, he thrives between the sand and the waves, and you’d lie if you said that you didn’t absolutely adore seeing your oh-so-handsome boyfriend at the beach, his toned body under the sun, his skin hot under your fingertips. it’s true, he’s a sight for sore eyes. you know you'll miss it all in the fall, but you're okay with that.
but he? he grieves when summer ends.
tetsuro loves you all year long. you know it, he knows it. but there’s just something about you in the summertime that drives him nuts. he loves the way you dress when it's warm outside, with your little shorts and tops and your sundresses, everything oh so tiny, perfect for him to slip his hands under. he's in utter awe of you in your little bikinis, he adores kissing you and feeling your sunscreen and the saltiness of water on your skin against his lips, and of course, he loves to take everything off of you when you get home.
most of all, he is utterly enamoured with the way sex in the summer feels somehow more intimate than usual, when your whimpers and shaky breaths merge with the cricketing of cicadas outside as his warm hands are all over you. every touch feels like fire against your skin, but you love it, especially when you’re riding him like this - slowly, excruciatingly slow. and he feels like he’s going crazy.
he gazes up at you, his eyes half-lidded with pleasure, and it’s unfair how pretty he looks, all disheveled and sweaty under you, and it’s almost like he’s begging you to go faster. you’re flushed, warm, soft - he can’t tell if it’s because of the temperature or if it’s because of him, but he doesn’t care. you make his mouth water - he just can’t wait to taste you. tetsuro leans in to kiss you, your lips meeting slowly, lazily. the kiss is sloppy, and as your tongues meet, he’s moaning into your mouth because you're his, and you’re just so sweet, he can’t help it. not when his cock is buried deep inside you, at least.
there’s a kind of pathetic desperation in the way he sounds that makes you absolutely go feral. you pick up your pace, your movements quicker as you bounce up and down on his cock, but it’s not nearly enough for him - he wants more, you know he does when he grabs you by your ass and thrusts his hips up against you, his movements rough, impatient. you’re gonna have his handprints on you in the morning, but you don’t mind, and neither does he. he can’t wait to see his doing under your bathing suit tomorrow anyway.
it’s filthy, really, because he just can’t wait to see you cum on his cock, and he can’t wait to stuff you full. after all, it’s a lazy warm sticky day, and all he really wants is to have you. and maybe it’s the season. or maybe it’s just you.
but either way, he can’t wait to fuck you like this all year long.
@yamsfrecklvs
ash’s note: i love fall and i’m so glad summer’s basically over but i just know my glorious king tetsuro THRIVES in the summer. he just SCREAMS summer to me.
can’t believe i wrote this
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