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mypoisonedvine · 1 year

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𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 || dark!jonathan crane x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 || since you're the only one of his coworkers at arkham who doesn't seem to be intimidated by his intelligence, jonathan decides it's time he finds out what does scare you... and how he can embody it. unfortunately for you, turning into your greatest nightmare doesn't prove very difficult for him.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 || 5.5k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 || EXTREME AND EXPLICIT NONCON (18+ only and please proceed with caution), drugging and kidnapping, paralysis, traumatized reader, forced orgasms/overstimulation, degradation, humiliation, choking, slapping, unprotected sex/breeding, misogyny, jonathan is very much in character which means he is incredibly evil and has incel vibes (I know y'all are not about to get mad at me for writing a villain being a villain and not uwu babifying him...)

When you interrupted and corrected your colleague, Dr. Crane, about the correct combination of pharmaceuticals for a certain schizophrenic patient in the asylum who happened to have diabetes, you thought nothing of it. After all, the whole point of staff meetings was to discuss and debate these things, and you weren’t about to let him damn-near poison a patient by giving him something that would interfere with his insulin. You weren’t trying to be snarky about it, but you did sort of make a joke about how dangerous his suggestion was— and you didn’t notice the way Jonathan’s nostrils flared and jaw tightened when some others chuckled at what you said.

When you received an email from your therapist’s office informing you that there was evidence of a break-in in her building, but that the police were unable to officially determine if confidential client files were compromised, you thought nothing of it. It was a big complex, these things happen, and you knew from being a clinician yourself how tricky the laws could be surrounding that stuff: she had to email you, legally, if there was any chance your file could’ve been accessed, and that didn’t mean you had any reason to fear your private therapy session notes had been read. Besides, who would want to read about you and your boring life, diving into your mundane hopes and fears and daily stresses?

And when Crane came into the office with tea for you, you thought nothing of it. Sure, you seemed surprised when he popped into your office with cups in hand— you asked him why he had two cups of tea, assuming they were both for himself, and he laughed. Just that was out of character, he wasn’t much of a chucklehead or anything. “Green tea, right? With lime and honey?” he asked, setting one cup down for you. You were still taken aback, but you had to admit defeat.

“Yeah,” you said, taking the cup as he sat down across the desk from you. “Yeah, that’s my order— I didn’t know you drank tea.”

“Sometimes,” he informed you, hoping his poker face was holding up as he watched you take a sip. He couldn’t help but stare at your lips wrapping around the little hole in the lid, the print of berry-red your lipstick left behind. His heart was racing already, more than he expected.

When you finished the first sip, you smiled at him and let out a small, nervous laugh. “Thank you,” you finally said. So, yes, even though you clearly noticed this was slightly odd behavior, you thought nothing of drinking the tea. That was one thing he hated about you: the thoughtlessness. You didn’t seem to second-guess yourself much, if anything you were a little on the cocky side. He found it so irritating— that confidence. Sure, you were smart and you deserved to take yourself somewhat seriously, but the way you walked around this place— the way you ignored him so easily, or spoke over him if you wanted to, or ignored his suggestions when he gave them… you were a bitch, basically. You clearly thought you were better than him— better than everybody else— for no reason at all. Just because you were pretty and had a good job you thought you could get away with anything, surely; pretty girls always think that way.

He made casual conversation with you as you sipped the tea, asking questions he already knew the answer to, hoping to catch you in a lie. For the most part, your stories matched up with what he’d learned from that file. But, you left out the gory details— you left out the best parts, really.

You mentioned where you went to medical school and that you transferred mid-way through due to ‘stress’, but you didn’t elaborate on what really happened to you. You mentioned having your own therapist— something you said passionately that every client-facing mental health professional should have— but left out what you were actually being treated for, not to mention the PTSD diagnosis.

He had to hide his smirk behind the paper cup every time you seemed to lose your train of thought— it wasn’t like you, so focused and determined all the time. No, it was the drugs finally kicking in. You went for bigger gulps of tea each time your eyes looked heavier, hoping the caffeine would work— but the trace caffeine in your green tea was nothing compared to what he’d added.

You tried to warn him that you were suddenly not feel up to par— that he needed to leave, and you might try to wake yourself up— but he just sat and waited. He watched you try to get up, and lose your balance. He watched you stumble, trip, and ultimately fall onto the floor limply. He watched your eyes flutter shut and the final ounce of energy to fight it fade; he quietly took a final sip of his tea.

You woke up on the floor. You could barely feel it beneath you, but you knew it was the floor— it was cold, and hard. And you were looking up at the dark ceiling, at the fan spinning at the lowest speed; so you were definitely on the floor.

Jonathan was standing above you, not too far off, flipping through papers. You couldn’t move— no matter how hard you fought to, you couldn’t. You barely managed to turn your head, but it felt more like it rolled to the side on its own. You tried to yell for Dr. Crane’s attention, for help, for him to explain what happened to you, but even your mouth couldn’t move. The best you could do was breathe harder— actually, you were pretty sure your body was trying to hyperventilate, but you were too incapacitated to even have a proper panic attack.

He heard you, though; he looked away from the papers and grinned down at you. “Comfortable down there?”

You started to put together a few things. One, that the last thing you remembered was being in your office, and now you were in your apartment. Two, that those papers were photoscans of chart notes— obviously you couldn’t make out the words from here, but the format gave away that it must have to do with a patient.

And three, that Crane was neither surprised that you were paralyzed on the floor, nor interested in helping you.

He half-rolled the papers in one hand and playfully hit the other hand’s palm with them. “These have been quite interesting… revealing, to say the least,” he informed you, like it was a compliment— something you should be proud to hear. “You’re quite the enigma, Doc!”

He sat down beside you on the floor, leaning on his hand first to find his balance with a little sigh; he seemed amused, actually, and your heart began to race.

As he started to read aloud from the page in front of him, you felt nauseous. He was reading patient data, describing a client who was receiving individual counseling— or that’s what the CPT code indicated, at least. As he listed the client’s demographic data— age, race, gender, height, weight— it became eerily obvious what he was doing. You refused to believe it until he went on: “Client was recommended to Dr. Min Zhang for individual therapy concerning PTSD following sexual trauma.”

Your therapist. This was a file he’d copied, which belonged to your therapist. And it was obvious whose file it was.

As you tried with all your might to scream, Jonathan flipped a few pages ahead.

“Session fourteen, eleventh of June,” he continued. “Client expressed frustration with an increased recurrence of nightmares and flashbacks to her assault. Up until now, she has struggled to explain what triggers her anxiety without having to actually elaborate on the circumstances of the event.”

He stopped, but you weren’t exactly relieved. In fact, you were horrified. He had a little grin on his face when he looked at you, but you could finally see the rage in his eyes. Suddenly, you realized how long it had been there. You had sort of picked up on it before, the resentment he had towards you— and it didn’t take a Freudian expert to figure out that he was threatened by you, especially as a man. He didn’t respond well to feeling upstaged and he clearly had an issue with women. Maybe not that issue— he was good-looking and well-off, he didn’t need to have any issues with women if he didn’t want to— but an issue nonetheless.

“Now,” he added, smiling wider than you’d ever seen him smile before, “client states she is ready to describe the incident in full detail.”

He set the papers aside for a second, leaning over you and almost looking… giddy, really.

“I won’t read you the rest, I’ve already pretty much memorized what goes on from there. It was fascinating— seeing how what happened that night connected to the fears you still have today… the nightmares. You said that you still feel sick at the smell of alcohol, you still don’t like to wear pinstripe skirts, and even just the wrong few words can make you feel like you’re right back there where it happened— on the floor of your apartment.”

All you could do was look up at him, and you felt your eyes get hot as they welled with tears.

“Not this apartment, obviously— the one by your old school,” Jonathan sighed, “but this will have to do. And the smell of alcohol, well, I wouldn’t want to let anything cloud my experience— but I dabbed a little gin on my wrists, what do you think?”

He held his hand up by your face, caressing your cheek for a second, and you imagined yourself pulling away— turning your head and shrugging his touch off of you with a grimace. But nothing happened, of course, and you were entirely helpless as the acidic stench of liquor became apparent. You couldn’t give your typical outward reaction of a frown, but inside, you felt just the same as always: your stomach twisted, your heart pounded, your head swirled.

“Smell is such a… primal trigger of memory, isn’t it?” he mused, watching your face reverently. “I can see it in your eyes, it’s affecting you even more than I expected. You act so fearless at work— but I knew you must have been overcompensating. God, you’re terrified— I would say you’re paralyzed, but, well… it would be too literal, I think.”

You knew that Crane studied fear and phobias, even trauma occasionally, as a personal interest within the field. It was normal to have a favorite subtopic, and to conduct related research on it— but obviously, this was far from normal, this was absolutely deranged. You knew that part of this was vengeance, in his own mind at least, but you didn't feel like you'd done anything actually wrong to him. And the rest of it, well, it seemed like some twisted experiment, but if you were able to speak you would've tried to remind him that this 'research' wasn't going to get him published or advance his career— but of course, that wasn't what he wanted. He just wanted to humiliate you.

“I was worried I didn’t have enough to work with, you know,” he added. “I knew I couldn’t get you to where it happened, if I could even figure it out since you never filed that police report… and the skirt, well, I considered it. It sounded pretty exciting to dress you up like the night it happened— what I would give to know everything you were wearing that night, but I don’t have a ton to work with. Obviously, you don’t own any pinstripe skirts anymore, so I would’ve had to buy one… and I wasn’t quite ready for the looks I’d get shopping at Macy’s, so…”

Carefully, he reached up to take off his glasses, folding them and setting them down on your coffee table.

“You know how detail-oriented I am— I mean, I went to all this, didn’t I?” He continued, reaching down and brushing his fingers for a moment over your leg. It was so instinctive to pull away that it took you a moment to realize you hadn’t… because of course, you couldn’t. “But it’s impossible to recreate it all perfectly. Clearly, I don’t need to— if only you could see it, Doc, you look… you look so weak. Pathetic.”

Since the only thing you could do was look around, you tried to look away— to not give him the satisfaction of seeing the terror in your eyes. He grabbed your face and turned it until you looked up at him.

“Did you think you’d be able to face your greatest fear? Perhaps with a bit more dignity?” he mused. He looked different without the glasses on; and, ironically, you felt like he could see you even better now.

It was obvious that he enjoyed lording complete power over you, but a quick glance down to his suit trousers made it clear just how much he enjoyed it. You quickly darted your gaze away, but it was too late; he started to climb on top of you, staring at your face uncomfortably close, and worked on opening his belt and fly.

“Fear rules us all, doesn’t it? Everything you did, it was guided by your fear that it would— well, why paraphrase? Let me find exactly how you put it…”

He picked up the papers again quickly, licking his thumb and flipping around until he found the right entry.

“Yes,” he said, “here it is: client states she lives in almost constant fear that it will happen again.”

So that's what this was: his disturbed take on exposure therapy.

As he tossed the copied charts away for the last time and reached up under your skirt, he leaned down and whispered in your ear— and you couldn’t even flinch from the harsh sounds of his words. “It took you over fifty sessions to admit it,” he recalled, “to tell her the whole truth. Not just what he did to you… what you did.”

With a small growl, he yanked your panties down your legs and rubbed your thighs with far too much aggression, such that you expected bruises from his hands— just like the ones you’d had before.

“You said he made you do it,” he continued, “you couldn’t help it, right? But you said nothing’s ever felt like that— that you’d never had such a powerful orgasm.”

You would’ve vomited, except that that, too, requires your muscles to not be paralyzed. Rolling your skirt up and spreading your legs, he positioned himself right between them, rubbing his cock's leaking head around your hole.

“Your greatest fear isn’t really that it’ll happen again, is it?” Jonathan taunted. “You’re afraid someone’s going to find out how much you liked it.”

With that, he punched his hips forward and speared you on his cock.

It had been years since you'd had anything inside you, even your own fingers. You couldn't even remember if being penetrated hurt like this during your assault, and you would've sworn before that you remembered every detail perfectly. But this was so real, not a memory or a nightmare. You couldn't cry out from the sting.

"God, it's tight," he groaned, "I bet you weren't this tight when it happened— you'd been whoring around, hadn't you? Letting all kinds of guys use you… just ran into the wrong one and got your drink spiked. But now…"

He hissed through his teeth, tightening his grip on your hip.

"Now it's all mine, isn't it?"

Inside, you were screaming and kicking and pleading for mercy. You imagined you would be angry and violent, beat him to death with your heel or something, but you wondered if you'd be forced to bargain with him— apologize for whatever you did to upset him, promise you wouldn't tell a soul about this as long as he left you alone. But either way, it didn't matter… on the outside, you were useless, laying there and letting him use you.

"What made you come so much before? Did he have a big cock, is that it?” he asked with a snarl. “Did he know exactly how to touch you? Or was it just that you’d been craving it, needed it really rough to get off properly? Is that why you came while he raped you?”

It was a biological response, you told yourself like you had over and over, I couldn't help it, it wasn't my fault, it was a biological response— it wasn't my fault, I didn't like it, it was a biological response.

“I think I know what it is,” he mused, looking down at you with heavy eyes and almost purring as he watched your limp form bounce on the floor. “I think you wanted to be put in your place. You act so liberated, so empowered— but you’re a creature of instinct, like anything else. You need someone to remind you how weak you are, I know, fuck, I know you do…”

He fucked you just a bit faster, grunting and tightening his fist on the floor by your head.

“You haven’t been able to have an orgasm at all, since then,” he stated— almost making it like a question, with the way he said it, but he obviously already knew it was true. He sounded shockingly sympathetic— not even pitying, not condescending, for once. “I’m sure for a while you didn’t even try, afraid it would remind you— but that’s the thing, you can’t finish unless you’re reminded.”

You almost surprised yourself when you heard a whine come from your throat; he smiled proudly.

"It's wearing off, I think," he noticed. "I only gave you a small dose. Can you move at all? Can you beg me to stop?"

You opened your mouth to try to say everything you'd wanted to since you awoke, but all that came out was a moan. You hated yourself for that, and he laughed happily.

"You don't want me to stop," he decided. "Feels too good?"

I fucking hate you, you wanted to scream, you sick son of a bitch, I fucking hate you—

"You didn't say it outright, but he must have said something to you— during, maybe after," Jonathan theorized. "You didn't say what it was, but you told your therapist about having a vivid flashback after being accosted by a delusional homeless man on the street. He called you a bitch, seemingly for no reason… is that what your rapist said to you? Did he say you were a stuck-up little bitch?"

As burning hot tears striped your temples, you curled your fingers over and over— maybe you could move your arms if you really tried…

"He was fucking right about you. You think you're so much fucking better than everyone else," he growled. "You think you're so fucking smart, and special. But you're no fucking different, you're nothing—"

You whined and reached up, weakly trying to push him off of you, but all you could do was limply grasp at his shoulders.

"Nothing but a stupid—" he grunted the word as he slammed himself into you— "fucking—" he did it again— "bitch."

"No!" you finally heard yourself sob, clutching a weak fistful of his white shirt, but he grabbed your hands and shoved them back down to the floor.

“God,” he choked, holding your wrists tightly until you whined, “it’s so much better when you can fight— fuck, it’s so much better. Keep struggling if you want, Doc, you’re still too weak for me…”

Your legs moved a little, but they felt heavy. Sensation was only just beginning to return to them, like pins and needles, and it stung; you winced as you managed to squirm a bit beneath him.

"That's it," he praised, "this is probably just how you did it before. Too drunk and too desperate for cock to really do much, but trying so hard to look like you hate it— I understand, you don't want anyone to know that you need this. They'd never look at you the same again: the smart, accomplished psychiatrist who likes getting treated like fuckmeat. What would they think of you if they knew?"

"No…" you said again, too weak and traumatized to say much else— but it wasn't what he said that made you say no, it was the pulse of pleasure inside your cunt. He must have felt it, and if he didn't, he surely felt the next; yes, he did, because he smiled down at you excitedly.

"It's happening, isn't it? You're gonna come."

He held on tight to one of your legs, gripping your thigh and staring uncomfortably into your eyes as he kept going— faster and rougher with each thrust. You choked on your throat, trying to stop any part of this, but the pleasure was undeniable; it still hurt, yes, and you still felt so angry and sick and numb, but something familiar and desperate was tightening in your gut. It’d been so long since anyone touched you… you’d forgotten how natural it could feel, even when it was so horrible.

"I read it in your file, but I still couldn't really believe it,” he laughed quietly, “I couldn't believe you came over and over while being raped— but here you are, wow, look at you… you’re so beautiful when you’re scared.”

A long, heavy sigh fell from your lips; your eyes got heavier, and your whole body seemed to relax— in a way totally different from the medication-induced paralysis.

He cooed at you, seeming oddly proud, and you were oddly compliant as he picked you up and pulled you into his lap.

Tears streamed across your cheeks as he held you close, one hand around your back while the other moved your hips against his. “There you go— come for me, I wanna feel it— another one, baby, for me…”

It wasn’t much longer before another one came— from what you remembered, it was a lot like the first time, this terribly wonderful way your body protected itself from the trauma by immersing you in pleasure. Of course, Jonathan helped you along by rubbing your clit with his thumb, excited to watch you surrender to ecstasy even when you begged him to just stop and leave you alone.

Of course, your protests were less and less believable as more of your strength and mobility returned— you could’ve tried harder to get away, but instead you found your hips rocking with his, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. No, you didn’t want this— you never wanted this— but you found the way he spoke to you impossibly comforting even while it was still deeply upsetting. “Tell me about the nightmares, darling,” he whispered— some impossible mix of pleading and ordering.

“A-almost every night,” you whimpered. “I… I got used to it, but I used to… I used to wake up and think I was still…”

"They felt so real, hm?" he presumed, and you nodded. “It’s real now… you don’t have to be afraid of the dreams anymore, it’s all real— I’m right here.”

You couldn’t tell if he was trying to scare or comfort you; he pet your hair, clinging to you tightly, kissing your face and neck along the lines of the tears soaking your skin.

You felt his grin against your cheek when another wavering moan echoed in your chest, and he laid you back on the floor to hover over you again. “Was that your third one, already?” he noticed. “This is so much easier than I thought… you needed this so badly, you poor girl.”

A quick wave of panic settled over you when his hand wrapped around your neck. “W-wait,” you pleaded instantly, as if you really feared he would just strangle you to death right then and there. Your hands, still weak and tingly, reached up to his arm, and you felt his cock throb inside you— of course that was what he wanted, to see you react in fear again. So many other emotions were at play right now, even some you didn’t know existed (like whatever the word would be for longing for the worst thing that’s ever happened to you, or feeling like the only person you can trust is the person hurting you the most), but fear was still going to rule it all as long as he had any say.

"How many times did you come before?" he demanded to know, nostrils flaring as he fucked you harder. "Tell me how many times you came when he raped you."

"I— I don't—" you stammered.

"Say it," he ordered.

"I— I don't know!" you yelped, whimpers falling to silence as he tightened his grip on your neck.

"You don't fucking know?" he snarled at you, watching you fight for air. You clawed at his shirt, his wrist, tried to pry his fingers away, but he just sneered as he stared at your numbing face. "You don't know how many times you creamed on your rapist's cock? Bullshit."

"I—" you gasped when he let go of your throat, "I lost count…"

He went from livid to ecstatic in a second, laughing proudly and dipping down to kiss your neck passionately. "Good girl," he mumbled against your skin, fucking you even faster. "That's what you need to do for me now— come for me until you lose count."

“I— I can’t,” you choked, grabbing at his shoulders as he seemed to overwhelm you just by pressing his weight down on top of you. “I’m sorry— you… you proved your point, I— I just need a break—”

Even though the drug he’d injected you with was wearing off, you realized you were just as limp and helpless as before… after all, some of the most powerful chemicals come inside the body. You didn’t even fight it when he put his hand over your mouth, spitting out a quiet but hateful shut up and continuing with his quick and forceful thrusts into you.

He kept you conscious and lucid by occasionally hitting or choking you, talking to you, once or twice even ordering you to kiss him. Like you mean it, he’d said, slapping you as punishment for doing it wrong. Truth be told, you hadn’t kissed anyone in so long that you’d really been trying your best the first time. Sometimes he told you to beg him for more— or to beg him to get off of you— and yet he would usually punish you for speaking at all. He was completely unpredictable, and you figured that was part of the plan: take away any shred of control you might try to get by making it impossible to follow his rules. Keep you confused and crying, keep you fearful, keep you obedient.

But, he did seem to enjoy when you could only just choke out a broken please. He laughed at you, pinching your sore clit in response until you sobbed and tried to jerk your hips away. “‘Please’ what, honey? You mean, ‘please keep fucking me, Doctor Crane, you’ll make me come again?’” he taunted. “Something like that?”

“Please… please,” you swallowed around your whines, “please just… finish, and go…”

“Oh,” he purred, “you want me to come?”

You’d specifically not phrased it that way, but, yes, that was what you were asking for. You weren’t sure what else he wanted from you now, it felt like he’d drained you of everything.

“You can just say that, baby— you wanna make me come?” he grinned, moving in closer for a kiss, but you turned your head away. He grabbed your jaw again and stared at you with an angry glare. “This isn’t about me. This is what you wanted. This is what you fucking wanted!”

As he screamed in your face, you sobbed and tried to look away again, but he hit you hard on the face and covered your mouth before the cry of agony could come out.

“This is what you wanted, right?” he insisted again, forcing your head to nod with his clammy, iron-tight grip. “Uh huh— and you wanna make me come, don’t you? You understand now that’s all you’re good for.”

As sick as it was, you felt yourself fall into another orgasm when he said that; your eyes rolled back a bit, and for a moment you felt even hotter between your legs.

“I think, if you beg me to come, maybe I will,” he offered— bargaining with you, probably another way to trick you into clamoring for some control only to yank it away. Unfortunately, you were in no position to turn down a deal.

“Please,” you blurted out the second he released your mouth from under his hand; when you blinked the tears from your eyes, you saw him clearly again and realized how completely different he looked from the arrogant-but-generally-unassuming man you knew from work. His hair was fallen beside his face, and he was close enough that the ends were tickling your forehead. His eyes were bloodshot, crazed, and dark. His lips, always full and plush but usually in a tight frown or neutral look of condescending boredom, were curled around the teeth he bared at you. He looked animalistic, for a man typically so measured. Only he could do something so animalistic in a way that required such intellect, foresight, and contemplation— using his superhuman skills to treat you in a subhuman manner. You realized that you were really seeing him for the first time— the person you’d known before was the mask. This was something horribly freeing for him; and you were having a much easier time analyzing and thinking about him to distract from how sickly freeing this experience was becoming for you. “Please, Jonathan—”

“Doctor Crane,” he corrected. Apparently this wasn’t enough to put you on a first name basis…

“Doctor Crane,” you repeated, “please… come. I want… I want you to come.”

“Hmm,” he considered, and you worried he’d decide he was unimpressed with your effort and hurt you again— but, he did maybe the only thing worse. “Okay,” he agreed, “if it’s so important to you.”

Just when you shut your eyes tight and hoped you could just get through this— just hold on for a few more minutes at most and then this would be over and done with— he whispered in your ear that he needed you to keep your eyes open if he was going to finish.

Though, when you obeyed, he purred at you and let his own eyes flutter shut for just a moment. For once, he actually seemed affected by all this physically and not just psychosexually. “I think I’ll come inside, like he did before,” Crane decided with a groan when he opened his eyes, biting his lip for a moment as he stared down at you. “I didn’t see any birth control in your listed medications on chart… I guess we’ll find out if you have a fear of getting pregnant.”

"Jonathan— don't," you whimpered. "Please, don't do that—"

"Shh," he soothed, petting the top of your head and laying his weight over you. "Shh, it's alright. I think you need to be filled with come… I think that might be the one thing that’ll get you to settle down, now just hold still.”

“I— please… please…” you began to beg again, but your words faded away as another wave of sensation washed over you— they started to blend together, like before, and you realized you were doing what he’d asked: you were losing count.

“Good girl,” he praised under his breath, “like that— fuck, I’m close. Fuck!”

He held onto you tight— one hand on your thigh and the other on your neck as his thrusts sped to a desperately, impossibly fast pace. You moaned— or cried, or yelled, or something— as he pushed just a little too deep and your toes curled in your heels.

“Uh huh,” he encouraged, “just one more while I come inside you— I think you can manage that, just one more good squeeze on my cock— oh, fuck, that’s it, yes, just like that…”

You stopped being able to understand what he was saying, but you heard the wavering groan that came a few moments later when his movements suddenly stopped. He gasped and kept himself as far inside you as possible; you shuddered, blinking fresh tears out of your eyes, and felt paralyzed in an entirely new way as you laid under him, staring up at your ceiling, seeing how far the sun had set since it began— actually, it had started to rain, making it even more impossible to tell how much time had really passed. Eventually, though, he took his head out from the crook of your neck and propped himself up enough to look down at you.

Reaching to your coffee table, he fumbled his hand around until he found his glasses, and shakily put them back on. “Well,” he grinned, still panting but seeming to be mostly back to himself (whoever that was). “I never thought I’d meet someone who loves fear as much as I do.”

#jonathan crane x reader #scarecrow x reader #cillian murphy x reader #jonathan crane smut #cillian murphy smut #IM SO SORRY TO THIS MAN #not to crane he's garbage

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cripple-woe · 1 year

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Back to post again. Please reblog this if you’re like. Disabled and do, might, are planning to ever have sex. Or just for educational reasons reblog it.

It’s time for:

DISABLED SEX EDUCATION.

So! Let’s get right into it.

We all know that we have a right to know and understand our bodies and how we can have safe, consenting, and pleasant sex. Most schools don’t teach disabled inclusive sex education!

Part One: Sex Toys

By and large, a bafflingly inaccessible market. But still, here’s what you can do.

For limited mobility and dexterity with hands and the like, larger controllers and wireless controllers for toys are good to look into.

If you have movement disorders, a toy that doesn’t need to be moved to stimulate can be helpful.

Also, a pretty universal one is a nice sexy vibrating pillow that you hump. It’s not talked about often because most abled people don’t want that toy when there are more penetrative or intense toys out there, but for cripples like us, it can be very helpful to know it exists, and it’s a good toy.

Part Two: Partner Communication

Whether this partner is your lifetime lover or just a one-night-stand, you need to be communicating properly about your needs and limits, just like abled people, but MORE. Communicate a safe word for if you feel in too much pain, communicate how your disabilities may affect sex with this partner if they aren’t aware, and communicate on the type and level of aftercare you may need. I know for a fact that I would need my partner to take me into the bathroom to pee after sex because I can’t do it of my own accord after that (also, speaking of, PEE AFTER SEX.)

No matter how small it is, communicate. “I’d be more comfortable if I had some pillows under my stomach/back/hips in this position.” “Can we switch positions, this is slightly painful on my hips/back/shoulders.” “I don’t like being pinned like this, because it’s a position I can’t escape from when I want to/it’s causing pressure on my joints/whatever else.”

Partner communication is a big deal with disabled sex and requires a decent level of trust. I also highly recommend that if you have access, being frank with your carers and occupational therapists for instance, will help you a lot with asking for advice in a safe way.

Part Three: Positioning

Ooh, sexy pose time!

From what I can find, these seem to be the most widely accessible poses for sex.

Modified Missionary.

The limited mobility partner sits on the edge of the bed, the other partner stands facing them, and then can lift their partners legs up so their ankles are on their shoulders. If the standing partner is too tall for this to be comfortable, you can place a chair behind them and have the sitting partner put their ankles there (add a blanket over the back of the chair for comfort on their ankles!)

This position is best used when only one person has a mobility issue. It’s also good for if one or both partners are obese, or if a partner is pregnant.

Facing position.

Aka: face to face. Person one sits in a chair, on the edge of the bed, or even in their wheelchair with arm rests removed if your chair can do that and you want to bang in your chair. Their partner sits on their lap and straddles them. Partner on top braces their feet on a solid surface to be able to move their hips and thrust, and the bottom partner can help by grabbing their partner by the backside and lifting/bouncing.

This position is good for two partners with limited mobility, and people who suffer with fatigue.

Intimate Sitting.

Basically the same as above but both partners are fully on the bed. The partner near the headboard can benefit from being held up with pillows, and then they stretch out their legs. The other partner straddles them, feet on the bed, and bends their knees to lower them down.

This is another position for a limited mobility and unlimited mobility couple, especially those looking for face to face intimacy.

Sexy Spooning.

Get into a spooning cuddle position and get freaky.

This is great for people with lower back pain, chronic pain, and arthritis.

Modified Doggystyle Chair.

Limited mobility person sits in a chair or wheelchair near the edge of the bed, their partner sits in their lap and leans forward to brace themselves on the edge of the bed with their upper body and arms.

Great for hip pain sufferers and of course those with mobility issues, though be aware that the person on the edge of the bed is taking more physical exertion.

Modified Doggystyle Bed.

Or the floor, if that’s more comfortable. Put some pillows on the bed/floor to support the bottom partner, and then the top partner drapes over them chest to back.

If you require more stability as the bottom partner this is for you.

69 Flipped.

One person laid on their side in the spooning position, and the other lays facing them in the same way, but with their head at the opposite end.

This is good for arthritis, or people who have weak hips or hips prone to muscle spasms. Also, unlike media might have you believe, 69 doesn’t have to be oral-oral. You can use toys, your hands, whatever, as long as you and your partner are having fun.

Final notes.

Don’t be afraid to explore each others bodies. Touch, massage, stroke each other and see how you feel. Places like necks, inner thighs, ears and sides can all be turn-on zones due to their extra sensitivity. Just… explore. Don’t try to take it too seriously either, sex is sexy, sure, but it’s also funny and sometimes you make a weird noise (verbally or otherwise!) and you can’t keep fucking for all the giggles you’re having.

Have fun, do it safely, remember that sex is cleaner with a packaged wiener, and PEE AFTER SEX FOR GODS SAKE.

#cripplepunk #cripple #cripple punk #physically disabled #disabled #actually disabled #disabled sex #disabled sex Ed #sex ed #sex education #disabled sex education

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dfortrafalgar · 5 months

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Distraction

Portgas D. Ace x Fem!Reader

You and Ace intended to spend the day at the beach, but he can’t seem to be able to relax.

Warnings: modern au, so much smut. like so much smut. wet, sticky smut. 69-ing briefly. reader is also written to be on the chubbier side (im projecting <3) ace fucks you in the back of his car, basically. MINORS DNI. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED.

I woke up thinking about Ace today so I cranked this out in, like, an hour. It was a nice change of pace while I've been finishing up IMLY and the Luffy fic from my poll, which is almost done! (speaking of which, thank you for 200 followers <3)

Ace hadn’t seen your swimsuit yet. All he knew about it was that you purchased it recently on a shopping trip with a group of your friends, but it was currently concealed under a light t-shirt and denim shorts. Throughout the drive to the shoreline, he was anxiously eyeing your bare thighs, his grip on the steering wheel of his station wagon turning his knuckles white.

“What’s got you so nervous over there?” Your airly voice shook the freckled man out of his daze. “Eyes on the road, hotshot.”

“It’s nothing,” he blurted, pouting and turning his attention back to the road. Maybe he should have you sit in the backseat when your skin was exposed.

His own friends often joked that he was no better than a dog. It wasn’t his fault that his sex drive was higher than cruising altitude… or maybe it was. But he couldn’t help his wandering eyes when the soft skin of your plush thighs was exposed, or the way your deft hands fiddled with your cuticles as you stared out the window, sparkling eyes taking in the cloudless summer day as the backroads passed by on the drive to the beach. Most of your evenings together were spent with either his head between your legs, your head between his legs, or your face smushed into a soft pillow while Ace desperately railed you from behind.

It was a good life, that’s for sure.

“It’s been so long since I’ve been to the beach,” you suddenly stated, turning your head to look at your flustered boyfriend. “I’ve only ever been swimming in pools recently!”

“Yeah, me too,” he replied, his voice shaky.

Your eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Ace, are you really alright? Your face is kind of red.” You reached your hand over to press your palm to his forehead. “You don’t feel like you have a fever, do you?”

“Nah, I feel fine. Honestly. Just… thinking.” One of his hands left the steering wheel to rub his sweating palm against the fabric of his swim trunks. All he had on, other than the baggy trunks, was a white tank top that had a very unfortunate oil stain around the chest area. He was sure his entire upper body was flushing red with the debauched thoughts that plagued his weary brain. He hadn’t even seen your bathing suit yet and his mind was running in circles. (He started to debate calling up that therapist that Sabo recommended.)

“Well, tell me if you really don’t feel good. I don’t want you to force yourself to be out today just because of me,” you cooed, your voice soft and comforting.

He needed to tell you to stop talking. Even the sound of your voice made butterflies swarm in his gut.

He might as well have been ovulating.

After what felt like an eternity, the trees surrounding the backroad route he had taken began to dissipate, replaced with the beautiful sight of the shoreline. The ocean spanned outward as far as you could see, disappearing along the horizon and blending in with the bright blue sky. A few small beach houses dotted the shore.

“You said this was a public beach, right?” you asked curiously.

Ace nodded, swallowing a thick glob of spit. “Public, but very minimal. There’s some private properties surrounding it so a lot of people assume the entire place is off-limits to locals, but there’s a small parking lot set back from the beach near a tiny bathroom shack-lookin’ thing.”

You grinned. “Nice.”

“Do you not like public beaches?” he inquired, tossing you a side eye as he pulled further down the road, approaching the aforementioned parking lot.

“I don’t mind them,” you replied. “But sometimes really busy beaches make me nervous. Sometimes I don’t feel comfortable swimming when there’s too many people around… I get self-conscious in my bathing suits!” Your statement was punctuated with a fluttering, nervous laugh as you involuntarily squeezed the skin of your thighs.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that when I’m here,” Ace replied, flashing you a cheeky grin.

The parking lot seemed sparse. It was entirely gravel with a few decrepit wooden fences separating where cars could park, some overgrown weeds poking through the impacted dirt here and there. Sure enough, there was a brown, run-down bathroom shack between the beach and the parking lot. During high tide, it almost seemed like the entire area would get flooded, but the gravel was drier than bone thanks to the beating sunlight.

You dug through your bag, removing a tube of sunblock.

“I thought you already put on sunscreen before we left,” Ace said, pulling into a spot and putting his beat-up station wagon in park.

“I did, I’m just putting some extra on my face,” you responded, uncapping the tube and squeezing some of the white gel onto your fingers. You deftly rubbed the lotion onto your skin, across your cheeks and brow, down your nose, and down your neck.

Ace needed to look away from you as your hands trailed down your neck and across your collarbones, ridding your hands of the excess lotion. You weren’t provoking him on purpose, he knew that, but clearly his dick was taking charge of the day.

Little prick.

The two of you excitedly exited the car, grabbing your small umbrella and towels to find a nice spot to set up camp on the sand. You were quick to lay down your towel when you found a spot, Ace digging a deep hole into the ground to mount the umbrella and provide a shelter from the beating sunlight. Only a few other people were dotted around the beach, mostly older folk who were most certainly retired and enjoying their elderly days basking in the sunlight. The thought made you smile. You watched with glittering eyes as Ace pulled his tank top over his lean body, his muscular chest rippling with his movements, letting the cloth fall into his bag in a wrinkled heap.

“Oh, shit, forgot the cooler,” Ace mumbled suddenly. “I’ll be right back.” He swiftly turned tail and hiked through the sand back to his car.

You smiled, crawling under the umbrella and feeling the sand beneath the fabric shift below your knees. You slid your denim shorts down your legs, shifting your weight to pull them off before folding them neatly and tucking them into your beach bag. Your shirt followed, your hands hooking under the bottom hem and pulling it up over your head, repeating the process of folding it and storing it away. Weirdly enough, you felt more comfortable on this beach than any other. While some old folk liked to gab, the sparse population on this beach seemed more than willing to keep to themselves. And there was no risk of creepy men your age or obnoxious teenagers to toss rogue comments about your body or shitty pick-up lines.

And you had Ace, of course, who would kiss the ground you walked on if you asked. The thought made your stomach flutter with glee.

Back in the parking lot, Ace was quick to haul open his trunk and grab the small cooler they had packed with water, some sodas, and some light snacks, slinging it over his bare shoulder and slamming the door closed. The hinges made a terrible squealing noise as the door moved. He really needed to get that fixed. He quickly jogged back to the shoreline with the cooler bag in his possession, his sandals making scuff marks in the gravel.

He almost died and came back to life when he saw you from behind.

Your clothes were off, your body hugged in a bikini that looked sculpted for you and only you. The strawberry-print bodice was tied around your neck and below your shoulder blades with thin straps, the front of the suit being held together in the front with a metal ring between the bust. Your plump breasts peeked over the seams slightly, making blood rush to Ace’s face. The solid-colored bottoms squeezed your hips and ass perfectly, with one side open and held together with strings in an intricate criss-cross pattern.

Ace’s feet were moving on their own, his soul ascending from his body as he floated toward you.

You heard the rustle of his swim trunks from behind you as you approached, turning to look at him over your shoulder. “Hey! All set with the cooler?”

He plopped to his knees on his own towel, the cooler hitting the ground with a thud. “Yeah, all set…” His voice trailed off as if he wanted to say something else.

You gazed at him with confusion painting your features.

“You… you look…” Ace could barely look at you. “You look so fucking hot… oh my god.”

Suddenly, his demeanor in the car made much more sense. The constant red flush painting his adorable freckled cheeks, his mouth in a perpetual tongue-tie, his lips pursing together tightly as he struggled to keep his composure. Your lips pulled into a bright smile, relishing in the flustered behavior of your boyfriend.

“Aww, thank you, baby!” you cooed, moving closer to him. Your hands trailed down his arm, ghosting over the tattoo on his bicep before teasingly falling to the cooler and unzipping the top, pulling an orange soda out of the bag.

“Please don’t tease me, I think I might explode,” Ace huffed.

You popped open the can with a satisfying click, taking a quick sip from the opening. “You know… I don’t think anyone’s going to mess with our stuff if you want to go back to the car…”

Ace’s dark eyes darted toward you, assessing the mischievous expression on your face as you kept the cold soda can pressed against your mouth. The metal was rapidly developing condensation thanks to the heat in the air, droplets of water dripping down the orange can and onto your fingers, plopping against your folded knees.

He carefully removed the soda from your hands, tucking it back into the cooler to make sure it didn’t spill, before standing up and hauling you to your feet, dragging you by your hand across the hot sand and back to the parking lot for a third time. He ripped his car keys from the pocket of his swim trunks, shoving the metal key into the door lock to open the vehicle before leading you to the trunk and popping open the door. You quickly clamored inside, him following behind you and closing the trunk from the inside. He chucked his keys somewhere towards the front of the car.

He wasted absolutely no time in smashing his lips against yours, making you wince slightly at the feeling of his teeth hitting your own, but the way his long fingers expertly groped the skin of your breasts below your bikini top made you forget about the momentary discomfort.

After a few stifling moments, Ace pulled away and heaved into the skin of your neck, holding you down by your shoulders.

The best part about him owning an old, refurbished station wagon was the ample amount of room in the back, as well as the lack of center console between the two front seats. It was a car built for fucking.

“Is this what you were thinking of on the ride over here?” you asked, a coy tone on your tongue. “About what my new swimsuit would look like?”

Ace grumbled, a childish pout on his lips as one of his hot hands continued to rub patterns up and down your side. Up to your breasts, his thumb ghosting over your concealed nipple, trailing down your waist and groping the plush flesh of your belly, down your thigh to squeeze your ass. The way the strings on the exposed side of your bottom piece fit into your skin made his cock throb.

“You’re insatiable,” you giggled, your own hands leaving scorching patterns over his shoulders and arms. “Are you ovulating? You’re acting like me before my period.”

“Shush,” he grumbled, followed by another sweltering kiss, all tongue. You felt a dribble of spit leave the corner of your mouth, sticking to the skin of your cheek. His lips moved against yours, exchanging a blistering heat. Ace always seemed to radiate warmth even on the coldest days, and his presence in this moment filled your body with a heated, lustful buzz. Goosebumps rose on your skin when he pulled away from you leaving your front exposed, gently biting your puffy lower lip with his teeth.

“How worried are you about someone messing with our things on the beach?” he asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

You adjusted yourself slightly below him, his knees beside your hips caging you onto the floor of his trunk. “Hmm… not too worried.”

“Perfect,” Ace replied swiftly, tugging his swim trunks down.

He had such a nice cock, perfectly shaped with a cut tip that flushed a beautiful rosy hue. A slight upward curve, lean and not too long, perfect. He was either hard for the entire time you were setting up your small spot on the sand and you hadn’t noticed, or he was fighting with every fiber in his body to keep the erection at bay. Whatever the circumstance, the fantasy of spontaneously fucking you in the trunk of his car in that sexy bikini of yours that he daydreamed about on the drive down was finally coming true.

Your hands made a move down to your hips to pull on the fabric of your bottoms before his fingers wrapped around your wrists, halting your movement.

“Sorry,” he uttered, his voice a soft whisper filled with a desperation you rarely saw from him. “Your suit stays on.”

Your mouth morphed into a grin as he released you, leaning back up on his knees and idly stroking his cock with his right hand. You parted your legs for him, making a show of smushing your breasts together under your tight top. God, your suit could have been molded onto your body, it looked so good.

“Are you going to stay there and jerk off over me, or are you going to share some of the fun?” you asked deviously, one of your hands crawling below your bottoms and teasing your clit with the slick that had built up. A pleasant, tingling flutter resonated in your belly and floated down your thighs, but nothing was better than the feeling of his fingers and cock doing the work for you.

“I want to do everything to you,” he muttered, releasing his dick from his slow ministrations. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

You watched as it bobbed in the air, so hard it held itself out away from Ace’s toned stomach. You involuntarily licked your lips at the sight. “You’re so pretty…” you muttered. You took it upon yourself to sit up, gently pushing against Ace’s shoulders to get him to sit on the trunk floor on his ass, leaning against him further to get the hint to lay down in the position you had just been in.

Neither of you had a strictly dominating or strictly submissive attitude. Rather, you mutually shared the moment, taking charge when you wanted and snatching the lead away whenever you pleased. This was one of those moments as you rotated your body on top of his, moving your ass closer to his face as one of your hands ghosted along his hip bone, your other arm supporting you and keeping you upright.

Ace got the hint almost immediately, his greedy hands groping and squeezing your ass as he pulled you downward to rest your clothed cunt against his mouth. The hotness of his breath and the feeling of his lips against your weeping pussy concealed by the polyester made your breath hitch as your lips traveled closer and closer to the tip of his dick, watching hungrily as it seemed to pulse in the air, desperate for attention.

Your boyfriend made the first move, pulling you down by your hips and resting your cunt over his mouth, his tongue forcing its way between your folds through the suit and quickly finding your clit. You gasped, your arm shaking somewhat as you quickly followed his lead, wasting no time in taking his cock into your hot, ready mouth.

And goodness, did he taste good. A familiar slightly salty musk partnered with the residual scent of his daily body spray, a vanilla and cedar flavor that always made your heart flutter in your chest. His cock might as well have been burning as you hollowed out your lips and took him further down your mouth, loving the way the organ pulsed against your tongue.

On the other end, Ace’s fingers had found their way into the fabric of your bathing suit, holding the barrier aside as two of his digits spread your natural slick over your cunt and lubricated his skin before he pressed them into your pussy, addicted to the way your muscles constricted around him. Your entrance was always on the tighter side no matter how many times you fucked, and it was absolute heaven for him. He turned the pads of his two fingers forward, pushing gently against the roof of your vagina where he knew you were acutely sensitive, and smirked to himself when your thighs clenched around his head. Your movements over his cock momentarily stuttered at the feeling of his thumb connecting with your clit to simultaneously stroke the needy bud while passionately fingering your pussy.

He knew you too well. He knew what you needed. Ace wasn’t a selfish lover, he had learned your quirks and needs very early on in your relationship. You loved your clit rubbed in somewhat slow circles, alternating between various pressures. You responded to his fingers against your g-spot, and you loved when his dick curled upward into the same area. Not too deep so as to hit your cervix, which hurt you quite a bit, but deep enough to reach those sensitive areas that had your legs shaking.

You learned quickly too, however. Ace’s tip was the most sensitive part of him, his breaths growing shallow when you delicately sucked your lips around it and trailed your tongue along the slit, collecting the small amount of salty precum that emerged from the tip. He loved it when you gently fondled his balls, rubbing the wrinkled skin between the pads of your fingers. He adored the inside of his thighs being caressed, and you tried your best to do both with one hand as the other trembling appendage fought to support your weight as you continued to blow him.

You popped off of his cock momentarily, stroking the base with your hand. “Did you have fruit recently?” you asked, turning your head somewhat to look over your shoulder. Not like you could see much.

Ace paused his motions against your pussy. “... Maybe.”

You grinned, the usually salty, bitter taste of his essence now replaced with something slightly sweeter. You wanted to egg him on, to ask him if he had planned for this to happen and eaten some pineapple or citrus with his breakfast in preparation, but you decided to keep your inquiries to yourself and return to your task of sucking him off.

Ace was content to keep fingering you, his current position in between your thighs a bit too difficult to involve his tongue, but he knew he could please you regardless. The circular movements of his calloused thumb against your throbbing clit had you sucking in sharp, lustful breaths through your nose, small whimpers leaving your throat and vibrating down his shaft making him bite his lip and stifle a wheeze. Your thighs were quivering as he continued to curl his fingers into your g-spot, following the rhythm of your lips around his cock.

After some moments, however, you quickly scrambled off of him, your hand clutching around your stomach as you pivoted above him, capturing his lips in yours. You ground your clothed cunt over his pulsing cock, keeping it locked between your pussy and his toned abdomen.

“Now who’s the desperate one?” he asked, teasingly, his signature boyish smirk traveling right back to your clit.

“I can’t help it, you’re contagious,” you huffed against the skin of his cheek.

Usually, the two of you used lube. It didn’t matter how wet you got thanks to foreplay, the sensations were always heightened when there was no risk of chafing. But clearly, you didn’t have that luxury today. Nor did you have any condoms. Instead, you bit down your thoughts, reserved yourself to spending 70 beri on the morning-after pill later that day, and hovered over his cock. You pulled your swimsuit to the side and took his dick in your hands, wasting no time in slipping it through your folds that were thoroughly drenched thanks to Ace’s expert fingers.

The first insertion always hurt somewhat. A slight, red-hot throbbing pain that radiated through your pelvis, followed by a pleasant pressure as his cock slowly intruded into your tight muscle. The groan that radiated from Ace’s throat made your pussy flutter.

That was another thing you loved about him. He was loud.

Maybe on a normal day you’d be worried about someone hearing you, or seeing the way his car shook with the force of your collective moments, but both of you had succumbed to desperation and couldn’t care less. Traumatize the elderly beach goers who might happen to walk through the gravel parking lot to their own cars.

You sunk fully down onto Ace’s hips, his dick perfectly nestled inside your wet and willing pussy as his hands tightly gripped your hips through your suit bottoms. You slowly rocked your hips, desperate for some extra friction against your clit. It was much harder with the fabric covering you, but eventually you found a movement that felt just right. Edging your hips slightly forward, you rolled your pelvis against his, dragging your clothed slit over the taught skin of his lower abdomen, moaning at the feeling of his dick pulsing within you.

Maybe you really didn’t have to worry about lube today. Every motion against the walls of your vagina had you biting your lip and arching your back over him.

Ace’s hands assisted with bouncing you on his cock, his voice slowly increasing in volume as he watched you through half-lidded as your breasts jiggled with each movement, how the fat of your belly and thighs rippled so deliciously as you gyrated above him. His voice was delectable, gruff and whiny, higher-pitched than usual with stuttering breaths and hitches in his throat that had your heart beating a mile a minute.

Your legs were growing tired, and Ace could tell. He wordlessly beckoned you off of him, being quick to lean you over the back seats and move your suit to the side again, slipping his cock back in between your folds. This angle always fit the both of you. As much as Ace loved it when you rode him, taking you from behind came with many more benefits. His free hand could travel down to dip beneath the cloth of your swimsuit and rub those delicious circles against your clit while simultaneously thrusting his desperate hips against your ass. His chest pressed into your shoulder blades, his free hand supporting him against the back of the seats as you held onto the leather for dear life, whining with each motion of his cock against your inner walls and his calloused fingers against your clit.

It didn’t take long for you to unravel, the feeling of his rough finger pads against your desperate nub too much to bear. Your orgasm approached slowly at first, filling your stomach with warmth, the insides of your eyelids flashing purple and indigo, before your body snapped and you were shuddering against Ace, moaning out loud as your pussy involuntarily clenched around his cock, your cunt feeling feather light as it fluttered. The force of your orgasm caused you to gyrate your hips back against his, weak, airy moans escaping your tongue as the red-hot pleasure radiated through your entire body leaving your pussy buzzing with the aftershocks.

Ace was barely holding it together. The force of your orgasm causing your pussy to clench around his cock had his arms weakening against the seat, his hips frantically rutting into you as sultry moans left his lips at the feeling of his cock burning inside you, begging for satisfaction. His fingers never stopped rubbing your clit, caught up in what had essentially become second nature for him. The overstimulation had you twitching around him, shallow breaths heaving from your lungs. Ace’s pace increased as did the stuttering of his hips, his thrusts growing more shallow as his own orgasm approached.

“A-Ace… fuck, baby…” you whined, dropping your forehead against the back of the seat. “You’re gonna make me cum again…”

The man was too caught up in the throes of pleasure. Calling him desperate earlier was clearly an understatement. A loud, throaty groan reverberated from his lips as his hips rapidly drilled into you, forcing you against the back of the seat. His shallow breaths only helped to fuel your second orgasm that rocked you with a sudden wash of white light behind your eyes and you were shuddering against him again, your own moans filling the stifling air of the car.

Ace barely had time to call out your name before he was thrusting disjointedly into you, crackled, weary moans leaving his lips as he came into your sore cunt, his hands pressing down onto your lower back to keep you still as he buried his cock into you, soaking you more than you already were. You felt him pull out of you, your cunt fluttering around nothing as the sound of him falling backwards against the closed door of his trunk filled your ears.

Your own spent body dropped to the side, sitting on your hip and barely holding yourself up with one hand. You slowly picked your head up, gazing at your boyfriend and assessing his condition.

Black hair mussed beyond belief, his freckled cheeks and shoulders flushed with a delicate red hue, his lips wet and swollen parted with the force of his labored breathing. His eyes were closed, jaw slack as his pelvis continued to twitch from the force of his orgasm. A few last drops of cum were bubbling from his tip, slowly dripping down his drenched dick that almost glistened, covered in your own fluids. You felt wet between your legs. It would have been a nice feeling if you weren’t already so stifling, your entire body feeling sticky. You finally noticed the way the windows had fogged up. You didn’t have time to think about carbon dioxide toxicity before Ace’s weary hand traveled up to the back window of his trunk door, blindly popping the window open a crack to let some fresh air flow into the car. The summer heat felt oddly cool against your sweaty skin.

You slowly crawled closer to Ace, ignoring the way your drenched cunt sat uncomfortably inside your bathing suit. You combed a damp strand of black hair off of his forehead before delicately pressing your lips against his cheek, encouraging him to finally open his eyes.

“You alright?” you asked, your voice low and quiet.

He finally smiled, his narrow, dark eyes filling your chest with warmth. “I think my heart almost stopped.”

You giggled, running your sweaty hand up and down his skin. “Should I wear bathing suits around you more often? I don’t think you’ve ever fucked me like that.”

Your boyfriend’s humble laughter made you grin. “For the sake of my health, you probably shouldn’t.” He finally leaned forward to press a tender kiss against your wet lips. “Though, if I were to die fucking you in a bikini, I’d die a very, very happy man.”

#x reader #reader insert #fem reader #one piece x reader #op x reader #ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d ace #portgas ace x reader #portgas ace smut #ace x reader smut #portgas d ace x reader smut #smut #op smut #one piece smut #ace oneshot

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pnwsextherapycollectivepllc · 7 months

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PNW Sex Therapy Collective PLLC shares a collective vision of sexual health and holistic wellness. We commit ourselves to helping clients foster positive change from the individual to the systematic level. Our clinicians are holistically oriented and extensively trained. They teach classes at universities, train medical practices, and provide mentorship and supervision for therapists aiming to get their own sex therapy certification. We believe that self-awareness and growth can come from passion, pleasure, and intimacy. Call us at (425) 243–4723 for more information about Best Couples Counselor in Seattle or visit our website.

PNW Sex Therapy Collective PLLC 1200 Westlake Ave. N. #407, Seattle, WA 98109 (425) 243–4723

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seanorpenmslmftinc · 11 days

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Sean Orpen MS LMFT Inc. specializes in providing professional Sex Therapy Seattle services to those who wish to overcome sexual challenges and improve their emotional well-being. As a seasoned therapist with over a decade of experience, Sean understands that sexual health is an essential part of overall well-being. We work with individuals and couples dealing with various issues like low libido, sexual trauma, erectile dysfunction, and more.

Sean Orpen MS LMFT Inc. 1200 Westlake Ave. N. #407, Seattle, WA 98109 (360) 529–0862

My Official Website : https://www.orpentherapy.com/ Google Plus Listing : https://www.google.com/maps?cid=12727529731991012456

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abbyromanoff · 1 year

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Hi 👋🏻 could u write gpWanda x reader x gpNatasha where Wanda is r gf and she doesn't know how to fuck reader properly so she ask Nat for help and N fuck r while W is watching?

I'm sorry if there are mistakes, english isn't my first language

ACQUAINTED

PAIRINGS: Wanda x reader, Wanda x Nat, Nat x reader

WORD COUNT: 3,697

WARNINGS: therapist/patient relationship, perv!Nat, nat and Wanda have dicks, subby!Wanda, Miss (N), threesome, exhibition, voyerisum, degrading, praising, breeding, therapist!Natasha, pet names, smut (obvi), pining, cunnilingus, dry-humping (kinda), bottom!R, top!Nat, Nat treating R like an object,

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

Wanda sat on the couch with Natasha in front of her, sitting at her desk with a notebook in hand. The walls were painted a soothing gray, only adorning a few pieces of artwork. She had been seeing Ms. Romanoff for close to a year now after you suggested the idea of therapy, already having one of your own.

“I don’t know, it’s just hard I guess. I mean, I love them so much and I see myself having a future with them, but-” She paused, rubbing the back of her neck and adjusting her potion. Nat hummed, waiting for a response but speaking up when receiving none.

“But, what?”

“I- I want to- well, we don’t really-” She didn’t know why she was so nervous all of the sudden, she had been able to tell Nat almost everything but this seemed to be different.

“Trust me, I’ve most likely heard much worse here, whatever you say is confidential and free of judgment. Just take your time.” Wanda sighed and nodded, trying to figure out the words in her mind before speaking.

“I guess I just want to spice things up, you know? And don’t get me wrong, the sex is great but- but they were the first person I’ve ever done it with. I’m just scared they’re not satisfied and it worries me to think that I’m nowhere near as good as their past boyfriends or girlfriends.” She shrugged as if it wasn’t anything serious, but it was to her. She was a giving person, all she wanted was for you to be happy and well-pleasured, she wanted to impress you. But there was nothing to show off with, she had no skills in that aspect, that’s what she thought at least.

“Okay, that’s understandable.” Nat started. “Have you ever tried, say, having a conversation with them about this? I know you’re not great with communication but maybe just asking them what are some of the things they like or maybe even expressing your worries, I’m sure they’d listen.” She knew you would, but the idea of bringing such a thing up felt uncomfortable. She didn’t hate the thought of sex, but she hated the thought of talking about it. It felt like watching a sex scene on the television with your parents right next to you.

“I know they’d listen, I just don’t know how to, like, bring it up.” Wanda watched as Natasha moved her pen gently against the piece of paper, writing something down that she wished she could see.

“Alright, well, what if you invited them to a session, possibly our next one? We can bring up our discussion and your worries and maybe it could help ease them.” She spoke with such gentleness that it always made Wanda even more nervous. You had picked up on the way she’d always come home with a blush and a small smile after her appointments, but you just assumed she was happy to see you. And she was, but that wasn’t the full reason for her expressions.

“So it would be like couple’s therapy?”

“Yes, pretty much. I’ll have you two both share your sides and your feelings and we go from there.” Wanda could do that, she hoped so.

The one hour ended in what seemed like a few minutes as Nat said her goodbye’s to the woman, watching her leave as her eyes trailed down to her ass. The jeans fit her ass perfectly, it was impossible to stop the biting of her lip and the long sigh.

Truth be told, she had been planning this moment for too long. She remembered when she first ever saw you, Wanda showed her the picture she kept in her wallet of the two of you holding hands that were pointed to the camera with your lips attached in a sweet kiss. Before, she had been slightly upset when finding out that her client had a partner, even with the knowledge that it would ruin her career if she did anything. But then there was you, she didn’t expect you to be so beautiful.

The moment her last client left she went searching through your accounts, using your name to find anything on you. She was embarrassed to say she had stroked herself to multiple orgasms while scrolling through both you and your girlfriend’s photos. She was beyond ecstatic about next week’s visit, she could only hope you’d agree to go.

Luckily, you did. It took a little bit of convincing, when Wanda brought the idea up to you, you were frightened that you did something to upset her, but she quickly rushed that thought out of your mind. She didn’t tell you what exactly it was for, although you assumed it would be nice. You knew Natasha was an amazing therapist, she helped Wanda with all the things you struggled to help with. You were only human, and you didn’t have a degree like Nat, but your moral support meant just as much to your girlfriend.

“Wanda?” Her head shot up at the sound of Natasha’s voice, she quickly grabbed your hand and the two of you walked into her office. She closed the door behind you, her eyes catching a quick glimpse of your body. You were even better than the photos, she couldn’t wait.

“And you must be Y/N if I’m correct.” You nodded and shook her hand, giving her a warm smile as you removed your coat. Wanda did the same, grabbing yours and placing it on the coat rack in the corner of the room.

“So, I’m assuming Wanda has told you why you’re here?” When she looked down at her knees where her fingers rested, nervously picking the skin off of them, she knew her answer.

“Uh, not really. I was a little bit hesitant about this, but she told me there was nothing to worry about, so I’m hoping it’s nothing bad.” You shied away from Nat’s eyes, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks at the woman’s clear attractiveness. You didn’t exactly know what her therapist looked like, but now you wished you had done your research beforehand. She was stunning, breathtaking.

“Well, I can assure you that you have done nothing wrong, honey, there are just some topics we’d like to approach if that’s alright with you.” You nodded and interlaced your hand with Wanda’s, giving a small squeeze to assure her you weren’t upset. She had been planning what to bring up since the moment she left last week, but it seemingly all vanished by now.

“Do you have a therapist or a counselor of your own, Y/N?” It started off with simple questions, ones that you’d expect. That was until she started asking about your relationship and prior ones too. You shifted in your seat as she continued, feeling the immense pressure with both of their eyes on you.

“Now, tell me, Y/N, do you feel satisfied with Wanda?”

“Of course, I do. She’s such a great woman and I can really feel her love, I haven’t ever had someone like her.” You could see Wanda smiling next to you and you joined her. You truly loved this woman more than anything, you wanted to marry her someday and you hoped she thought the same.

“And sexually? Do you feel sexually satisfied with Wanda?” You nearly choked on your spit from her words, nervously chuckling in hopes to redeem yourself. She noticed your expressions and tried reassuring you, holding back as best she could when she patted your knee.

“It’s nothing I haven’t heard before, trust me. It’s normal to feel a sense of discomfort in these situations, but I promise that everything here stays confidential.” Her voice was able to soothe you and calm your nerves.

“Uhm, I’d say so, yeah. Obviously, there are some…things I’d like to try, but we haven’t approached that.” She nodded, as if she wanted you to go on. You didn’t know what to say, your words were stuck in your throat. You were experienced with the topic, but it wasn’t one you openly shared or talked about with others.

“Would you say your sex life is more vanilla than you want it to be?” You loved Wanda, you really did, but she wasn’t the greatest when it came to your intimate moments. You could feel her love through it, but you wanted to see her rougher side, you knew she was holding back on you.

“To be honest, yeah. I kind of like things to be a bit more..kinky, you know?” You could see the redness on Wanda’s cheeks and the tip of her ears as she shuffled her feet around. You felt sorry for making her embarrassed, but that’s why she brought you here in the first place.

“What would you consider kinky, darling?” Her pet name had your lips quivering ever-so-slightly before you came up with a response.

“I guess I just wish she was a bit more rough with me. And don’t get me wrong, I love that I can really feel her care for me but sometimes I just want her to, like, use me.” Nat scooted her desk chair closer to you two, placing her hand on your thigh softly. Wanda was still silent, she was probably too scared to speak up.

“You want to be used, Y/N?” You nodded slowly, feeling your eyes drift to her lips. You felt so dirty looking at her the way you did your girlfriend, but you also knew she was doing the same.

“Hm, who knew such a sweet little thing could be so dirty?” You could feel her hand rubbing small circles on your covered skin, her eyes staring deeply into yours. She trailed them over your body, taking all of you in.

“Does this turn you on, honey?” You nodded once again. “Yeah? Me touching you while your girlfriend watches, that makes you wet?” You gulped down your arousal as you felt her thumb teasing your clit through the fabric, your legs instinctively opening for more.

“Kiss them for me, Wanda; act like I’m not even here.” You looked in the brunette's direction, watching as she snuck glances between the two of you. She placed one hand on your cheek and the other on your lower back as you leaned in for her lips to meet yours. You moaned into the kiss as Nat rid you of your pants, dragging her fingers across your panties and smiling at the wet patch adorning them. The noise allowed Wanda’s tongue to slip into your mouth, the intrusion causing you to groan in pleasure.

Your fingers ran through Nat’s hair, pleading her to come closer. You could feel her hot breath teasing your slit as she slid your panties to the side, small kisses being pressed against your clit.

“Please, Ms. Romanoff.” You pulled away from Wanda to catch your breath, your head resting on her shoulder. Your eyes landed on her crotch as you noticed her palming herself, her hips bucking into her hand.

“You’re such a good girl. Say, why don’t we give Wanda a little lesson, okay?” She smiled when you complied without a thought in your mind. She stood up, guiding you to join her as she removed your shirt, grinning when she took notice of your lacey bra.

“It’s Wanda’s favorite, I was going to surprise her tonight.” She huffed out a chuckle and reached around behind you to unclasp it, shuddering as it fell and you were left in nothing but your panties.

“I’ve been wanting to fuck you for so long, baby. Now I can finally get my hands on you.” She had been so desperate to be alone in her office with the both of you, she wanted nothing more than to mark you both as hers.

She led you to her desk, her kisses trailing from your neck to your chest where her lips wrapped around your hardened bud. Your back was met with the wooden table as she lifted you to sit on it, her palms lingering on your soft thighs after she guided your last piece of clothing off of you. She parted them, dropping to her knees in front of you and staring up at you with lust in her eyes.

“Watch closely, Wanda.” You looked over to the woman at the mention of her name, biting your lip with hunger as you noticed her unbuttoned pants and her hand hidden inside of her boxers. She shuddered when you cupped your breast, using Nat’s saliva to help create a small rhythm.

Nat blew a teasing breath onto your pulsing clit before leaning in, taking the bud into her mouth. She sucked delicately, soaking in your moans and twitches. She was too engrossed in your taste to take notice of her growing erection in her pants.

“Oh, you look so pretty on your knees for me, Miss.” It was clear that she was still the one in charge, but her need for you was so great, she couldn’t care if she seemed weak. Wanda, while feeling a pang of jealousy, couldn’t deny the heat that was growing in her stomach. She felt as though she would burst any second, but she was trying to hold back. Her thumb would occasionally brush over her tip, causing her eyes to squeeze shut.

“Look at me, Wands; watch me.” She pried her eyelids open willingly, nearly whining when she saw you wrap your legs around her therapist’s head. You grinded into her face as her tongue tortured your hole, diving in and out repeatedly. She groped your ass in order to push you closer into her, her nose poking at your clit.

“Fuck! Fuck- right there, yes!” You covered your mouth with your hand in order to silence yourself, becoming ashamed of how loud you were. Neither of them were complaining though, they thrived off of your noises; it brought satisfaction knowing that they were the reason you were in such a deep state of pleasure.

“I’m- I’m gonna cum.” Nat smirked into your cunt as you were brought over the edge, your head falling back and your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Your silent screams filled the room as Nat continued to lap up your juices, Wanda watching with the wish that she was the one tasting you. You were addicting, a drug that she couldn’t get enough of. Every sway of your hips, every lick of your lips, every noise, and every word that left that sweet mouth was so alluring.

You were suddenly pushed to lie down, feeling the lumber underneath you bruise your back. You leaned up on your elbows to admire the woman as she undressed herself, running her hand through her short hair once as to fix what you tugged.

“Tell me, love, have you ever heard of breeding?” You nodded, receiving a slap to your cheek. Wanda widened her eyes at both the words and the rough contact, is this what you meant? Is this how you wanted her to treat you, like you were some no-good slut?

“Yes, Miss, I have.” She hummed, guiding her tip through your slit and gathering the wetness as a replacement for lube.

“When was the last time you ever pleaded to milk Wanda dry, hm? Beg her to slap you ‘till your skin turned black and blue? Or, better yet, when was the last time you got on your knees and asked her in that sweet little tone of yours to treat you like the dirty whore you are?” Your chest rose and fell with every breath you took, each one not feeling like it was enough.

“Never.” You shook your head as you answered, your eyes not being able to meet hers. She gripped your chin roughly, pulling you in close so her nose was practically touching yours.

“What was that?” She asked again, even if she had already heard you well enough.

“Never.” You repeated, this time louder. She clicked her tongue and shot you a disapproving glance.

“Mm, there’s always two sides to the matter. Here Wanda was not knowing what to do because you couldn’t communicate, do you think that’s fair on her?” The way she spoke, the light rasp to her voice was what caused the wetness already coating your thighs to increase.

“N-no, Miss.” She turned your head to face Wanda and she blushed in the moment you caught her. You could notice the stains now coating her boxers and the shameful look on her face; she had peaked with you. You didn’t know how you didn’t hear her, she was usually the louder one of you both. But you guessed that you were too far into your orgasm to care for anything else.

“Apologize to your girlfriend, Y/N, and tell her how sorry you are.”

“I’m sorry, Wanda, I’m sorry for not- not talking about my needs and wants when I should’ve. I’m sorry.” You stuttered over your words as you felt Nat’s cock prodding at your hole, her tip breaking way and creating a small stretch.

“It’s okay, I’m sorry too.” She spoke up, and for the first time this entire session, you were able to hear her voice. It was coated thickly with her Sokovian accent seeing as she had just moved here nearly eight months ago. You hoped it would never go away, no matter how long she lived in this country.

“See? You’re both already doing such a good job.” You both smiled at the praises, seeming to fish for them from the woman at bay. You sent a small ‘I love you’ to Wanda from across the room, although it was only mouthed out. Nat grabbed hold of your waist, pulling you towards her and causing her length to fill you up almost entirely. You gasped at the intrusion, crying out in pain as you clawed at the desk.

She continued to slowly lead you further, moaning to herself as your warmth clamped around her. Your tears only brought more delight to her heart, she could only grin when seeing them.

“You’ve been begging for Wanda to use you yet you can barely even take me? Aren’t you just a pathetic fucking slut.” Her fingertips ran along your face, her thumb rubbing gentle circles as a faux sense of comfort. She then brought them down to your neck, wrapping her palm around it and cutting off your airways. The only thing you could manage to get out were choked sobs and moans. The burning discomfort slowly eased into one of satisfaction as Nat slowly thrusted her hips into you, the sounds of skin clapping together ringing through all three of you guys’ ears.

“Did you know your girl likes to be choked, Wanda?”

“N-no, ma’am.” She chuckled at the title given to her. Her breasts bounced with every movement of her hips, her cock hitting your womb. There was a small yet noticeable bulge carved out on your stomach making her groan, she was so big compared to you.

“Hm, maybe in our next session we can teach Y/N a lesson too, what do you say?” She didn’t need another opinion to decide her answer, it was final. It wasn’t just the brunette at fault, you were required to voice your wants too, even if she’d have to force it out of you.

“Please-” You managed to get out when her hand removed itself from your bruising neck and found a spot on your waist, pressing down harder than before. She was practically resting her weight on top of you, causing the bone to struggle in holding her up.

“Shut your dirty fucking mouth, I don’t want to hear another word from you.” You were close, so close, and so was she. She was forcing her body to hold back, ensuring that you were to finish first.

Wanda’s erection only grew after her orgasm, her greed making her yearn for another. You were the only one who had ever been able to make her cum, she assumed there was no better. Shyly, she walked forward, her soiled clothing still masking her bottom half. She gave Nat a look, asking for permission to which she was granted.

“Don’t ask, sweetheart, force it.” She was so used to constantly asking if it was okay to do something to your body, after all, it wasn’t her choice. Every time you’d say yes, but there was always a nagging fear that you’d not want it and she had forgotten to ask. The thought made her sick, who would ever think to do such a thing?

“They want it, Wanda. Just rub yourself against them- perfect, just like that.” She praised when Wanda held you by the back of your neck and rutted her bulge against your face, the fabric rubbing against her hard length. She whimpered when your hand came up to rub her balls, your mouth peppering kisses over her cock.

“You close, baby?” You didn’t know who she was asking, but you both agreed. You continued to gently suckle while wishing you were able to truly feel her instead of the wrinkles in her trousers.

“Ah! S-shit, cum with me.” You followed her orders and let the coil in your stomach snap as you soaked her cock, feeling her release shoot deep inside of you.

You nuzzled against Wanda as you felt her twitching, only to notice a wet patch forming on her pants. She had leaked through her underwear while itching for more, the knowledge only fueled your pride.

You mewled as Nat pulled out of you, watching as the cum dripped down your cunt, some landing on the desk while other droplets fell to the floor. She didn’t bother looking for her clothes, instead pulling the younger girl in for a kiss before doing the same with you. It was passionate, both kisses were. You could sense the longing and the emotions in it that she tried to mask, only making you chase after her lips for more once she leaned back.

“Shall we plan your next appointment then?”

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bratphilia · 11 months

Text

exposure (w. afton x reader)

note: as promised, it's here. also fun fact i have ocd and exposure therapy is one way used in my treatment. so i turned it into porn. enjoy! i will most definitely write a second chapter

pairing: steve raglan / william afton x reader

tags: corrupt therapist!william, innocent virgin!reader, manipulation, oral sex (f receiving)

your thoughts are interrupted as you hear a voice call your name. "hi," your therapist says, smiling kindly at you.

"hi steve." you return the smile and follow him to his office.

he opens the door for you and closes it behind him. you take a seat on the couch while he situates himself in the chair across from you. "so tell me, how are you doing? how are the meds working out?"

"well, um," you start apprehensively. "that's kinda why i'm here to see you so soon. it's been a month and i don't think they're working."

steve gives you a faux look of concern, as if to say "oh no" and clicks his tongue. of course the meds aren't working. he handed you a low dosage of tylenol, a pain medicine, in an orange bottle without a label. any smart person would've found that suspicious — even more suspicious considering the fact that he's a therapist, not a psychiatrist.

there's nothing wrong with you, either. you're just an innocent — rather dumb, in his opinion — girl with repressed sexual thoughts. thoughts he's been working his way up to helping you through them.

"and the ache in your stomach is still there?" steve asks, just to make sure.

you mumble an "mhm" embarrassed to look at him. he bites back a grin. "well, i have an idea."

you perk up at that. "ever heard of exposure therapy?" you shake your head 'no.' "it's a kind of therapeutic exercise that stresses the importance of facing the things that are giving you anxiety."

you stare at him blankly. of course you don't understand what he's saying. you're his dumb little girl, after all.

"tell me, what are the symptoms you're having?" he asks. he wants you to say it — say that the root of your problems stem from overwhelming horniness, just as you've danced around saying in every session you've had with him.

you look down at your shoes. "well, uhm, there's this... tingle in my stomach. and the thoughts i'm having are... concerning to me. it's like i'm obsessed with..."

you trail off and he raises an eyebrow. "...i guess what i'm trying to say is... i'm having really dirty thoughts. sometimes... they're about you.. or some men i see staring at me."

steve tries his hardest to keep up the facade of a concerned therapist, but he can't deny how your words are going straight to his dick. "i see."

"can you help me, steve?" you look at him with the most innocent, doe eyes he's ever seen.

he cocks his head and smiles at you. "of course i can." he refrains from calling you 'sweet girl' — too unprofessional.

steve takes his spot on the couch next to you. he helps you situate your self so that you're leaning back. "can you spread your legs for me? you might want to take off your shoes for the sake of your own comfort."

your brows furrow and you do what he says hesitantly. you're wearing a cute, pastel blue sundress. when you bring your knees to your chest, spread just like he asked, he reaches to fold your dress over and reveals your white cotton panties. he could come in his pants from the sight alone.

you make a resistant noise when he reaches for your panties. "no one's ever touched me there..."

he already knows that. he can tell. but still, something about being the first one to break open that sweet cunt of yours fills him with even more desire. "i'll be gentle, okay?" he promises.

you nod your head and allow him to slide your panties down your legs, leaving them stretched near the bottom of your calves purposefully. it provides as a small restraint to you in case you squirm away from his touch. just as he expected, your pussy is red, swollen, and shiny with your slick. poor thing, he thinks.

steve brings a hand to run up and down your cunt, wanting to collect the slick gathered there. you moan and he feels you shiver. "th-that feels funny..."

"yeah?" he says before thumbing your clit. you let out a high pitched whine. his eyes move towards your face, fascinated with the way your eyes are fluttering.

"does that feel good?" he inquires, earning a "mhm" from you.

he picks up the tempo, rubbing the sensitive nub in circles with the rough pad of his thumb. you try to buck against his hand he brings his free arm to sling over your waist, halting your movements. "this won't work if you're moving like that. just let it happen, okay?"

"okay..." you murmur. it's easier said than done.

he stops rubbing at you. he has an even better idea. he leans down on his knees and kisses the spot his finger was just on. you let out a shocked "ah!" much to his dismay.

"gonna have to keep quiet or i'll stop," he says sternly. you promptly bring a hand to cover your mouth.

steve licks long, slow stripes up your cunt, flattening his tongue to cover as much as he can, gaging your reaction. your legs squirm but you can't move them much from the restraint the placement of your panties provide. he takes your bud into his mouth and suck at your clit, humming a little and shaking his head. you squeal against your palm and he pulls away, slapping your cunt.

"i told you to fucking stay quiet! you'll get us both in trouble," he scolds. it's a side of him you've never seen before. usually he's just so sweet to you. however, despite that, his tone sends a tingle in your tummy. you nod in obedience and allow him to continue.

he sticks his tongue inside you and it takes everything within you not to scream. he knows what he's doing too. the best part for him is watching you struggle. you wriggle around, desperately grasping at the firm fabric of the couch. he pulls his tongue out and kisses your clit once more.

"s-steve, i feel.. weird," you tell him, moving your hand for a moment.

"'s okay, just let it go. you'll feel better," he promises gently. his mouth encloses around your clit again and he slurps, flicking it rapidly with his tongue.

"ah, ah." you throw your head back and do what he says: release.

"mmm," he hums, lapping up what you give him.

"that was nice," you say once you catch your breath. "i really liked that. what kind of therapy is that called again?'

"exposure therapy," he lies. "how are the thoughts? are they still there?'

"no," you say in astonishment as you notice. "it's like my mind is all foggy right now? will it stay like that?"

"temporarily, we'll have to explore this some more at your next appointment. i'll make sure to bring something you can take home with you whenever those thoughts are disturbing you, alright?"

"alright."

next appointment. your heart soars. and the thoughts are back once more.

#fnaf #fnaf smut #fnaf x reader #five nights at freddy's #william afton #steve raglan #william afton x reader #william afton smut

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angelwings-crossbowstrings · 10 months

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Carol: We should all visit Ocean Side more often. Being at the beach was—

Daryl, Y/N, and Michonne: No!

Aaron: Okay, that’s it, you guys. What happened out there?

Daryl, sweating: Went fer a walk. Nothin’ happened. Came back with nothin’ all over me.

Y/N: Smooth, Dixon.

Aaron: What does that even mean?

Carol: Come on, what happened? Y/N?

Y/N: Alright.

Daryl: Don’ ya dare, Y/N.

Y/N: Daryl and I had hardcore sex in the woods near the beach, but bugs kept biting us.

Michonne: And I walked by and saw it, it was horrifying. They were covered in bug bites, but it just didn't stop them. How can two people be so horny, that they don't even stop while being eaten alive by bugs?

Daryl: …

Y/N: Wait, you saw us?!

Michonne: Yep and this is a good time to remind everyone that finding a therapist in the apocalypse is next to impossible.

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marycorcaroli · 11 months

Text

RELATIONSHIP HEADCANON.

characters: kenshi takahashi x reader x johnny cage.

words count: 1808.

warning: fem!reader in nsfw, but kinda gn!reader in sfw, fluff, pussy drunk kenshi, reader is blushing, threesome ♡, johnny lives for your boobs, kenshi loves kissing, big dick evergy for my boys, anal sex, crempie, vaginal sex, soft sex, kinda hard sex.

mary ♡: hi! i've been gone a long time, haven't i? i put quite a lot into this work and i started liking it from the beginning <3 i had a request for sex with johnny and kenshi but i decided to do it differently, hope you like it! english is not my first language, i apologize for the mistakes 💗💗💗

rules ; masterlist.

SFW.

you three > world ! the most beautiful couple in the world ♡ funny johnny, supportive kenshi and wonderful you 💘

let's imagine a situation where johnny already liked kenshi but didn't know how to say it so he preferred to keep quiet. considering that they interact quite a lot johnny's liking started to increase and he didn't know how to keep it to himself anymore and bam ❗ there you were ❗ you ❗

you were so beautiful in their eyes and got along with everyone, which pleased them constantly. you often joked with johnny and often took care of kenshi by putting your hand on his lower back and guiding him to the right place, yes he could see perfectly well himself thanks to sento, but he felt better with you as his eyes.

kenshi started to feel the warmest feelings for you, considering how much you did for him and how kind you were around him, but at the same time johnny felt a little jealous, you were always together everywhere, and he followed you around, wanting to be closer.

if you were in a relationship with johnny and kenshi, it would be something between two paradise places, since they are both such passionate lovers for you alone. i think you won the lottery when they first expressed a desire to spend time with you, the three of you, in a motel.

imagine raiden's reaction when he sees the three of you and the way you go everywhere together— you broke the boy.

it makes no difference to johnny where to hug you and kiss you and all that, but as far as i'm concerned, kenshi prefers privacy more :( he wants all your angels and demons to be alone with you.

they want to keep you safe from all worlds and liu kang- that bitch will smirk as soon as he sees you.

kenshi is the least jealous type ! ! he knows how much you love and cherish him and wouldn't go for one-on-one fun with someone else, when johnny will tease anyone who comes near you or kenshi, he's like "yeah, that's my boyfriend/girlfriend, now disappear 🤗" SORRY.

they will support you wherever you are and however long it is, you don't have to be afraid to be active with them or have physical contact all the time, these boys are so in love with you that they won't let you think about anything bad for a second ;( they will do anything to make you feel better (find a therapist ✋).

none of them want to hurt you mentally or physically, because they wanted to tell you that they are in love for so long, but every time something prevented them, but now everything is fine ! ! 'cause you three are so cute 😩 😩

you are literally protected by two big demons in the guise of cute little angels who will cover you with their backs in case of any danger so that no one can see you.

kenshi is so loving, he comes up to you and gently hugs you from the back while kissing you on the shoulders and whispering about how happy he is to be with you in this peaceful environment, but then johnny shows up and literally sweeps you off your feet and onto the floor and you're like wtf?

johnny always wants you and kenshi to sit on his lap while you just look pretty and he looks at you with the most loving eyes while running his fingers over your cheeks.

they both cook fine for me, only johnny likes to experiment in the kitchen and i'm afraid he might burn down the kitchen, umm, teach him how to cook please.

kenshi's kisses are too sweet and cute, his kisses are like taking you to heaven and johnny's kisses are very playful when he pulls your lip away and smirks fiercely, either way they just want to kiss you as long as possible.

kenshi likes to sing gentle melodies for you and johnny that are so beautifully soothing after a hard day ! !

the thing that johnny wants the most after a hard day is for kenshi to hug him and kiss him on the temple ! you should totally get this 😩 !

i already said johnny is so playful, he will literally mock you by saying overly wimpy phrases, making you both blush and want to throw him in the gutter at the same time.

omg ! i can't imagine how good it would be to go to concerts with them ! it would literally be a blast, because these guys know no boundaries when it comes to fun, even the silent kenshi will be the funniest person in the world when you're around them.

i know for a fact that kenshi carries around a picture of you kissing his cheeks 🥺 my boy is too sweet, i can't stand it.

amm, bathing with them is so relaxing, you lay together and relax while your hands travel over each other's bodies.

johnny in your relationship will be in charge of movie days ! ! he will prepare everything in advance and make the place to watch as comfortable as possible.

kenshi is such a clean baby 💔 will help you always with the cleaning so it won't be so hard for you.

despite johnny's personality, he's gonna be take a very long time to create your first album together with all your photos and descriptions 💔 it will be your first anniversary gift !

if you want to spend the night doing something the boys will support you in everything ! ! as long as you don't get hurt in any way.

they will never fight with you or bring something to the point of a fight, why would they do that? they will explain everything in a calm voice and just as calmly listen to you, stability is to their liking.

NSFW.

they both work as a team and just want you to feel as good as you've ever felt before !

everyone already knows this, but these boys will get on their knees when you ask them to.

i think their favorite position is when you just look pretty and spread your legs for them, they don't need much 🤭

both johnny and kenshi are not the hardest dominants, they can be soft or they can obey you if you ask 😋

kenshi just loves to lick you in all kinds of ways, his tongue will rub your clit non stop until he is saturated with you = you won't escape. his inner demons awaken when your bedroom door closes and he gives in to his feelings completely without paying attention to anything else.

kenshi will spread your legs wider and wider to reach all the points you want, i can see new feelings playing in him and too much sweat dripping off his forehead from trying so hard to please you 💘

and johnny will be stroking kenshi's head and telling you how wonderful he is, because he's trying so hard to help you reach a euphoric orgasm, while johnny's fingers are tangled in kenshi's hair, his lips quickly find yours and he starts to literally suck you in, without giving you time to even breathe, then he will slowly descend and leave wet kisses on your shoulders, on your neck he will leave the most beautiful hickeys of all his love and he will definitely bite your ear ♡ ♡

johnny doesn't have the most favorite kinks, if he and you and kenshi like something, he will gladly make it a reality and diversify your sex, i think johnny is in charge of that, heheh.

kenshi will definitely kiss the two of you after licking you and oh god it will be soooo hot, his hands will caress your bodies while his lips are trying to kiss as much and as hard as possible.

ah, how much kenshi wants you to praise him during sex ! ! this little angel does his best for you and wants you to see it ! !

i think kenshi and johnny have pretty big dicks, but not the longest ones (otherwise they would break you) so they were not surprised at your startled look when you saw them but my princesses quickly reassured you that everything will be ok and they will be gentle ! !

their pace depends on their mood but I think they are always a bit fast because they can't get enough of you, but when they play the role of the sweetest lovers, the pace becomes gentle and smooth 💗

will never force you to do anything, they are still the sweetest boys in your life ! !

none of the boys will mind if you get on your knees for them and make them feel good, they will rather lose their head and any thoughts if you initiate 🦋 the butterflies in their stomachs will get hotter and hotter seeing you trying to take all of johnny's cock in your mouth and at the same time working your hand on kenshi's cock - they fall in love with you all over again.

they're so loud ! ! they will moan for you all the time and make all kinds of sobs so you know how good they feel around you and that they love what you do for them 🤭

the truest truth is that johnny literally cum when kenshi just kisses him, he just does it too wonderfully 🤧

they most likely have a few favorite positions.

first: when you're lying on jonny's chest and his fingers don't leave your mouth and his other hand is squeezing your breast and constantly touching your nipple while kenshi is thrusting into you and holding you tightly by the waist, trying to beat the hell out of you and make you see the brightest stars.

second pose: when you're on kenshi's chest and he's fucking your ass while johnny towers over you and makes your cunnie more and more swollen. their hands don't leave your body in an attempt to grab all the places, your moans get louder and your bodies bounce against each other more and more wetly. your head falls on kenshi's shoulder and he manages to finally kiss you after all this time.

and the third: when you're bouncing on their cocks one by one and your breasts are shaking so nicely, you're tired and your thighs are sore, but you don't expect it when kenshi gently pushes you onto johnny's chest and starts licking your ass (his favorite thing to do).

and johnny on the other hand loves sucking your tits more than anything and listening to the pathetic moans coming out of your mouth while your eyelids can't even lift from the pleasure and you just hope he lets you cum.

they both go crazy just thinking about cumming in you-the way their cum will come out of you and the way you'll look with it 🦋

after sex they will just collapse next to you (or on you) and try to catch their breath while kissing you on the forehead for a good job 💗 you will always be their best girl no matter what anyone says ! !

bringing you water or something to eat so they can go and swim together, showering you with the sweetest words and making you smile more and more.

but they also want you to tell them how much you love them and what good boys they are to you 💔 they will CHEER !

#mary ♡#mk1 kenshi #kenshi takahashi x reader #kenshi takahashi #kenshi takahashi smut #mk1 smut #mk1 x reader #mortal kombat x reader #johnny cage #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage smut #johnny x kenshi #johnny cage x kenshi takahashi #johnny x reader x kenshi

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jamjaemin · 1 year

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𝘿𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙄 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮'𝙧𝙚 𝙨𝙤 𝙖𝙘𝙘𝙪𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙚 pt2

Pairing:bf!dreamies × gf!reader

Genre:+18 obviously nsfw mdi, , I see you

Summary:here we go again since y'all loved the pt1, dreamies thoughts I think they're accurate bc I'm a sex therapist and whenever I see their faces I know exactly what's going on trust me (this is not a summary anymore XD)

Author’s note: I'll turn some of these thoughts into smuts when I find time bc my college won't let me now.

Now playing: wine pon you slowed | doja cat

- one day, he'll surprise you with a date on a private yatch, after a drink and in the middle of the day, you made your way to the couch and before you knew it, he had his head between your legs. it wasn’t long before you were coming on his face, whimpering his name like a prayer.

Chenle, chenle,ZHONG CHENLE (the amount of times I think about this scenario is insane, in a white sundress looking so gorgeous for him..he want nothing but to eat you out)

- you were staying the night at a motel when you asked him to spank you. at first, he completely refused but after a lot of puppy eyes and pouty lips, then he enjoyed it as much as you did or maybe more.

Mark, Jeno (when they're super turned on they'll make you cry "im giving you what you asked for" is their motto, spank you harder if you don't answer them) Jaemin, Jisung (the exact opposite, they're the type to check on you with every spank, light spanking but if you asked for more they'll do it harder, still check on you tho)

- record you both getting at it to watch at a later date. A lot of hissing, humming and moaning, especially when he’s close.

Heavy on Haechan (he's not the main vocalist for nothing, so vocal in bed istg. when watching them again, The probability of having sex after is 100%)

- he would love to fuck you near a large mirror and tell you how pretty you look taking all of his cock, squeezing every inche of him and cum over and over again until you're can't take it anymore.

Super heavy on Jaemin (praising you all the time, hands touching all of your body with some shoulder kisses, when you get shy he will force you to look at the mirror by holding your jaw and make you see how you're falling apart against him)

- Likes to watch you masturbate, putting his head close and observing intently. Loses his shit if you moan his name while doing so.

Heavy on Renjun, chenle (moaning his name is the green light to help you out, toys, teasing, fingering...all of them while speaking chinese, make you cum hard but not harder than how his cock fills your pussy after) mark, haechan (will masturbate while watching you) jeno, jisung, jaemin (helping each other's masturbate, his fingers playing with your clit and your hand wrapped around his length)

- Very good at memorising how you like things done. What makes you pur and what makes you feral.

Renjun ( the details of your body, kinks, limits, never left his mind)

- When he's drunk the wild side in him shows. Not innocent. Not as gentle as you thought. He love making you stutter, holds your neck steadily, choking you. “You like this, don’t you?! Don’t look away!” It was obvious. He was going to fuck your brains out. He’ll make sure the only word you know is "more".

Jisung (he's a freak and good at hiding it, don't argue with me) Haechan (i added him just bc he have a thing for choking and being choked, he will give you a teasing smile if you do it to him then make you learn your place)

- Maybe you ignored him for fun. You didn’t want to take it far, but his reactions of “not caring” were so hilarious to you. Once he found out you were pranking him, He will ignore your orgasms just like you ignored him.

Heavy on Mark ( ain't the leader for nothing, i can imagine how hot and dominant he gets when he's mad, you would need a wheelchair for a good 2 weeks)

- He would play games, head between your thighs and die to end the game and eat you out, if he won he’ll eat your pussy gently and take his time with it but if he loses he’ll devour it and won't stop even when you beg him.

Haechan (blaming you and saying its all your thighs fault), Jeno, jisung (the special way of celebrating their victory or taking out the anger of defeat)

- The air always hung heavy when he's working out. it's the way his brows furrow in intense concentration or the groans he make as his muscles flex. either way, it’s a big turn on for you and he knows it. “c’mon, I know you want it sweetheart, open up for me,” “princess… you can give me one more, right?” “that’s my girl.”

Na fucking Jaemin, jeno (no explanation needed, i know..you know...we know)

Have a great day/night and ty for reading♡

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transhuman-priestess · 9 months

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Sometimes the struggles we go through to be ourselves can be as rewarding as the end result.

A pretty breezy one here. Only content notes are surgery mention and needle mention. No gore to be found, no sex neither. Just good ol' fashioned yearning.

This is definitely a bit of a right angle to my usual stuff. There's no horror, it's light on dialogue, but its in a very similar space to a lot of the other stuff, just a different way of going at it.

Daughter of Elysium

I scheduled the surgery without telling my parents. They wouldn’t understand.

When I came out as trans they were supportive, in perhaps the slightly awkward way that cis people tend to be when they want to be accepting of things they don’t understand. This was different though.

I sat in the waiting room of the clinic in Montevideo, lined with faux wood paneling and sleek glass. Peak 2010s architecture. An older building, but the clinic’s reputation spoke for itself. There was no way I was going to get this procedure done in North America. Too expensive, too niche.

Too many hoops to jump through, too. Go see this doctor, talk to this therapist. Walk with these crutches. Practice with this fake charger for a year. Bullshit, all of it. I just wanted to be me.

So I saved money where I could. I slept in the heat of the Californian summers, kept the lights off early in the winter, rode the train to work, ate cheap meals, canceled all my subscriptions, lived in a 300 sq foot apartment in Watsonville.

3 years and $100,000 Californian Dollars later, I got on a train in Santa Cruz for a 3-day journey to Uruguay.

It was late June, a few days before the solstice. This far south of the equator that meant the sun rose late and set early. It was early morning, a quarter to 7, and 5 hours ahead of California time. I was used to being awake at night, but that only made the early sunrise more disorienting.

“Lewis, Kara,” a thrill of adrenaline rushed through me as the receptionist called my name. After reciting my birthday to confirm my identity, I was taken back to preop. I changed into a surgical gown and then lay down on a gurney while a nurse ran an IV to my arm and started saline. I thought about asking what happened once the arm was removed, but I figured it wasn’t worth the explanation.

For the next 10 minutes I stared at the clock. I hadn’t brought anyone with me. This was something to do for me, by myself. No partner, no friends. I had brought a bag with one change of clothes, my passport, and my phone. I thought about calling my friend Cory, but decided against it. No sense in getting anyone worried. As far as the outside world was concerned, I was on vacation.

I guess that wasn’t too far from the truth.

At 7 sharp, a couple of orderlies came in, checked my name and date of birth, and released the brakes on the gurney. They wheeled me out into the chilled hallway, and through the double doors into the operating room.

Inside the surgeon, the anesthesiologist, and several techs were waiting. A nurse placed a mask on my face and told me to count backwards from ten. A sweet, chemical smell filled my nostrils, and the world faded out.

* * *

It wasn’t the first time I’d had surgery, so the novelty of coming up from the anesthesia surprised me. Rather than the slow, heavy feeling I’d expected, it was like waking up from a nap. Disorienting, but in a cozy way. Nothing hurt. I hadn’t expected that. Probably the painkillers were still feeding in.

I tried to open my eyes, but my lids only twitched slightly. I heard one of the nurses say “You’re awake! The doctor will be in to see you soon. Everything went well, congratulations.”

I tried to reply, but my jaw moved jerkily and I had trouble forming words. The result was a disjointed grunt emerging from my mouth. But I could tell that I had a mouth, which was good.

The nurse left. I could hear his shoes squeaking off into the distance. As they faded, the thrum of the HVAC replaced it, and an occasional mechanical whirring near me. My eyes were still closed, and for the first time I noticed the green letters in the corner of my vision. Instinctively, I tried to look at them, but they moved with my eyes. After a time I was able to make them stay put long enough to look at them.

ARLINGTON ROBOTICS SYSTEMS

BANGOR, WASHINGTON, CASCADE REPUBLIC

I managed to open my eyes after a few minutes. At first it was all much too bright, everything blown to white, but after a few seconds my vision dimmed to a comfortable level. I focused on a tiny hole in the floating ceiling above. After a moment, I managed to zoom my vision in.

I marveled for a time at the detail in the ceiling. This mass-produced object, fiberglass and paper, contained so much beauty. How many times had I stared a ceiling like this without noticing?

The doctor came in and reaffirmed that everything had gone well. She told me that rehab would start in a few days, once my new body’s systems stabilized and adjusted to neural commands. I tried to smile but couldn’t manage to get my face to move right.

The doctor chuckled and plugged a display into a port on the back of my new neck. She held it up to me, and I watched as the words “What is this for?” appeared on it. She explained that until my vocal rehab started to kick in, this display would help me communicate.

She told me to raise my arms out to my sides. I struggled with this task for a moment before finally managing to do so. For the first time I got a look at the body I’d picked out from the inside.

Gray plating, seams that slid over each other, an unapologetically mechanical body. I’d wanted that. They’re getting good at synthetic skin these days, but I wanted to distance myself from humanity. There was nothing wrong with humanity, but it never spoke to me. I’d always been somewhat apart.

* * *

I slept most of that first day. The next day they let me eat. The bioprocessor seemed to be working, the staff said, but I should keep it light, and stick to carbs rather than fat and protein until the new tract could build up a sufficient biome to support those.

Odd as it sounds, it was 36 hours post-op before I realized I hadn’t peed. The charging station that I hooked into took care of filtration and detox of what little biomass I had left. I felt suddenly elated. I actually tried to get up out of bed, and promptly tripped over my own foot, smashing my face against a wall.

The nurses rushed in, worry on their faces, but I couldn’t stop laughing, and that’s when I heard my voice.

It wasn’t like my old voice. It wasn’t cold and computerized, but warm, and rich, like an old Roland Jupiter, full of dense harmonics, singing highs, and comforting, enveloping lows.

Soon I was sitting on the floor, sobbing. My eyes didn’t water anymore, but I still went through the motions. I held my gray plastic hands to my face, and touched them to my cheeks. I felt the subtle vibrations as motors moved my eyes around. I had never felt so happy, so myself. So real.

* * *

After a week I was able to clumsily walk around the hospital room, and they moved me to the recovery house. I met a few other converts there. There was a girl named Morgan from Seattle, a guy named Case from Kansas City, a few others. I mostly kept to myself.

I started speech therapy shortly after the move. Lots of reading convoluted sentences, but also singing, reading poetry, even some play-acting. I grew to love my voice. It was obviously synthetic, but that only made it feel more like a part of me.

Motor therapy was interesting. They asked me if I played any instruments. I told them I played bass. The therapist walked to a closet and returned with a bass made entirely out of carbon fiber. I asked why they made it from that, the therapist told me I’d see shortly, and handed me the Bass.

I immediately gripped the neck with far more force than I’d intended, denting the frets and the strings. I said I understood now.

Time flew. The solstice came and went, and by August I could speak clearly, play “Highway Star,” and wash my own chassis without damaging it. I could dress myself. I could walk without tripping over my feet.

On an evening in early August, I bade farewell to my fellow converts at the recovery house, and made my way to the train station. I could have taken a cab, or the bus, but I opted to walk. It was 8 miles and took all night, but I enjoyed every moment of it. Never tiring, stopping for food to recharge myself here and there at convenience stores and night markets.

I settled into my roomette for the trip back to Santa Cruz, looking out at Montevideo Bay. I saw my reflection in the window of my train, and for the first time, really took it in, with eyes that were my own.

#ivy michaels writing #robot girl #cyborg girl #cyborg #transhumanism #cyborg conversion

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 1 day

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I know you’re not a medical professional at all but I was hoping you might have some advice around being less anxious about people seeing me naked? Im ace and never plan to have sex but I’m at the age where I need to have cervical screening and I straight up have panic attacks when I think about having it done and I’ve already put it off way longer than I probably should. I just completely freak out the idea of anyone seeing or going anywhere near my crotch, let alone with a speculum so that they can scrape cells. Sorry if this is out of your purview

hi anon,

I'm sorry you're dealing with this anxiety; that's a difficult thing to overcome.

you may find this pelvic exam guide by @hellyeahscarleteen to be helpful. it provides a great explanation of what to expect from an exam, as well as some simple adjustments that you can work with your healthcare provider to make for a more comfortable experience.

as someone for whom vaginal penetration is perpetually less than comfy, I always always always tell people that my #1 tip is to just tell your examiner what you're feeling and let them know that you're nervous and not having a good time.

at my first pap smear, I let the examiner know that I was set on getting through the exam for the sake of preventative healthcare but also nervous about the penetration, and she was a dream about it. she talked through the entire process to let me know exactly what she was doing and how long it would take, so I would know exactly how much longer we had to go, and she encouraged me to swear as much as I needed to through the process. at my most recent exam, the examiner had no problem pausing halfway through to take out the speculum and let me take a moment to get my bearings, and she even complimented me on my breath control.

the point being, simply articulating what you need to your healthcare providers so that they can work with you and help tailor the appointment to your needs is the #1 most important thing you can do. they want you to be able to receive care, and most are more than willing to meet you where you're at to make that happen!

#sex edventures 2024

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lambtotheslaughterr · 7 months

Text

I Burn : Part One

A Rafe Cameron Mini Series

[THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN THEMES OF NON-CON/DUB-CON, MENTAL-EMOTIONAL-PHYSICAL ABUSE, ETC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 18+. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

WC: 3.6k

Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics

MASTERLIST | PART TWO

Summary: Reader is reluctantly placed into a rehabilitation faciity for individuals who struggle with their various addictions. She has low expectations of the facility & even lower expectations of herself to improve, especially when she catches the attention of fellow patient Rafe Cameron… her addiction to sex just became that much harder.

The last two weeks had been hell. Literally.

Your parents, disturbed & distraught with you after your latest tryst, were desperate to get you help. But you were convinced they just wanted you out of their sight & the public’s eye. So, two weeks ago, your parents took to driving you two hours into the Virginian woods to leave you in the care of doctors & nurses who would help you with your…problem.

Of course, you were in denial. You were nineteen years old, it was normal for you to enjoy sex & the like. But after the first week of group & one-on-one therapy, you learned to admit that perhaps you did have an issue. But admitting to having an addiction didn’t give you hope that you would get better, or change. Two weeks in & you masturbated daily, starving for a man’s hands, lips, & cock. Any man’s.

You often fantasized about your therapist. His name was Dr. Mooney. You didn’t discriminate. He was in his 40’s, handsome with graying hair & a salt & pepper beard. The glasses he wore only influenced your fantasies. The wedding band on his left ring finger didn’t bother you, he wouldn’t be the first married man you’d been with. But he was also the one who told you that your dismissive nature was problematic, opened your eyes to your addiction.

Currently, you were on your daily mindfulness walk in the woods with the other addicts in your group. Most everyone kept to themselves, yourself included. The topic you were to reflect on had to do with this morning’s group discussion: functioning with your addiction. Dr. Mooney released you four of you with a few questions to ask yourself on your walk.

How did addiction affect your work, school, personal lives? What does overcoming your addiction look like? How does it change your life? The lives of those who have been affected by you? Is it a life you want?

It was your least favorite aspect about being admitted to rehab—not that you had a favorite aspect. But you loathed that all questions you were asked since your admittance required thoughtful answers. You couldn’t just answer yes or no. You were forced to reflect, to give a shit.

Instead, you found yourself having come across a creek near to the facility. You made the small & quick descent to the water, removing your socks & shoes to dip your feet in. It was cold, but not enough to deter you. You sat there, your toes wriggling just beneath the surface. The sensation sent a tingling sensation up your spine. You bit your lip, sighing.

Dr. Mooney would be displeased that instead of asking yourself the discussion questions, you were growing as wet as the creek before you. Frustratingly so. The others were not nearby. You would be quick.

Reaching into the band of your sweat shorts, you grazed your fingers over your throbbing pussy. A low mewl escaped you, full of want. You were already soaking. You lied on your back, the loose rocks digging into your skin, but they only added to the images running rampant in your head.

You pictured Dr. Mooney across the creek, watching you, the reflection of you pleasing yourself in his glasses. His lips were moving, the light breeze of the trees carrying his voice over to you.

Lick your fingers, _____. Suck on them for me.

You did, moaning as you tasted yourself before placing your fingers back over your tender bundle of nerves.

Show me how you want me to fuck you.

A gasp parted your lips as you gingerly stuck two fingers inside yourself, immediately encased in the wet, warmth of your center.

Let me see those tits. I want to see what I’m missing out.

Your other hand was quick to pull down the front of your tank top, your nipples hardening due to the sudden exposure. You rubbed your thumb over your nipple as you fucked yourself with your fingers. The squelching sounds of your desire battled with that of the trickling creek. Then you heard it.

Dr. Mooney’s moans. You often imagined what he sounded like when he fucked his wife, how he would sound better fucking you. His breathy moans were in your ear, decidedly pleased with the feel of you clinging to his cock. The scratchiness of his beard bristled against your neck, causing your body to shudder.

“I want to fuck this cunt.” He wrapped his hand around the wrist in between your legs, making your hand move faster.

“Please.” You begged, a strangled cry caught in your throat.

“What do you want?” There was a hint of a smile in his voice.

“You.”

“But you can’t have me.” He cooed. A wet sensation covered your nipple, you dug the fingers of your free hand into the loose rocks, pushing your chest into the mouth of your therapist.

“I need you.” You huffed, “I need you to make me cum.”

“Tch, tch, tch.” He nuzzled into your neck, his grip on your wrist growing firmer as he sped up. “You’re a naughty girl.”

You whined, clinging to your own fingers as they stroked the flames of your building orgasm.

“You’re close.” He whispered, observant as always. “Show me what I could have.”

You flicked your thumb across your clit & the wave of pleasure crashed over you. A muffled scream sounded as you pressed your lips together to hide your shameful lust. Your cum coated your fingers as you came down. Finally you opened your eyes.

Your chest was heaving as you caught your breath. You glanced around your surroundings. Alone. No Dr. Mooney. You exhaled, annoyed. Getting to your knees, you readjusted your clothing & washed off the evidence of your misdeed in the water. Dr. Mooney would be disappointed if you told him how you spent your mindfulness hour. Perhaps you would say nothing. But the thought of him knowing you were getting off in the woods to the thought of him would give him something to get off to himself. A coy smirk tugged on the corner of your lips.

Putting your socks & shoes back on, you began ascending the small hill before coming back to the trail that led to the facility. You were about to head back towards the building when a figure hidden among the trees just off the trail surprised you. You immediately rolled your eyes.

Renee stood there, her arms crossed over her chest, “You’re filthy.”

“Good thing we have showers in our room.” You countered, uncaring that she saw.

“Dr. Mooney is going to be disappointed.” Those words forced you to scowl.

“Shut up, Renee.” You bit, prepared to stomp away from her, “At least I don’t look disgusting.”

Renee was a cocaine addict. Her ashen skin & the bags under her eyes were only a few physical signs of her withdrawal. She sneered at you.

“Nympho.” She insulted as you passed by her.

“Coke-whore.” You threw back.

Leaving her behind in the woods, you fast walked through the woods. You wanted to shower before yoga, Renee’s words embedding themselves into your skin.

Yoga was futile. Especially with Renee on a mat behind you. You felt her eyes boring into your back the whole session.

Dinner was better, to say the least. You took your plate of grilled cheese & bowl of tomato soup to a table in the corner of the room by the windows. Other patients in the room sat & ate by themselves. There were at least fifteen patients, only three of them in your group. At a table opposite of you, Renee picked at her food, grumbling to another patient sitting near her. You rolled your eyes, focusing on your food.

After dinner it was time for another group session. You wished you could hide away in your room, but Dr. Mooney would only send Nurse Carney to come find you. Group time was a requirement. You didn’t have to talk if you didn’t want to, if you had a difficult day that day especially, but you were always required to attend & at least listen.

As you left the youth wing—where addicts aged 16 to 22 stayed—you tugged at your chapped & peeling lips, nervous. In the discussion room, a room with high ceilings & large windows that overlooked the lawn behind the building, you paused in the doorway. The normal set-up was there, a circle of cushioned chairs in the center of the room, but one thing—or person—stood out.

Their back was to you, but that didn’t matter. You had never seen them before. The only other guy in your group that wasn’t Dr. Mooney was Albert & he had shoulder length curly hair. This guy had a buzzcut. You narrowed your eyes. Slowly, you approached, taking the side that was furthest from him. When you came into eyesight, his eyes flashed to yours. You resented the feeling of euphoria that came over you as his eyes dragged the length of you. The outfit you wore wasn’t the most flattering, but you weren’t prepared for there to be a new kid. A good-looking one.

Trying to ignore his appraisal, you sat in a chair opposite him & to the right of where Dr. Mooney sat. You lowered your eyes, tucking your legs underneath you as you got comfortable in your chair. You were grateful that this facility wasn’t like the one in the movies with rigid uncomfortable seating. These ones were lush, with arms to drape your legs over if it called for it, & cushioned backs that tempted slumber. It was one of the few times you thanked your wealthy parents—for at least putting you in a luxurious facility.

“It’s Friday.” The voice broke you from your mindless thoughts.

You looked up, staring at the guy across from you, “What?”

He pointed at your chest. You glanced down. You furrowed your brows, “Okay…”

“So your shirt is wrong.”

“Great observation.” You deadpanned. The guy chuckled, his eyes never leaving you. You returned the look, though you doubted your stare was as curious as his. Fortunately, you were good at hiding what you were thinking. Or so you thought.

“You alright?” There was no note of concern in his question, but it still threw you.

“Excuse me?”

He smiled, & you couldn’t deny how cute he looked when he smiled. It made your thighs shake.

“You’re looking at me like I killed your dog.”

“Don’t have a dog.” You returned, your voice flat. He hung his head, apparently amused by your response. He nodded, meeting your eyes once more, “Guess every household really only needs one bitch.”

Your mouth hung open. This guy!

A miffed smile appeared on your face as you prepared to rebuttal, but another figure entered the room. Dr. Mooney. You immediately kicked your legs out from under you, straightening your spine. The guy raised his brows, following your line of sight.

“Good evening.” Dr. Mooney greeted as he noticed you before landing his eyes on the guy. “I see you’ve already met each other. Rafe, we met earlier.” Dr. Mooney offered his hand, to which the guy, now Rafe, took it lazily, not even bothering to stand up.

“_____.” Dr. Mooney smiled at you.

“Doctor.” You responded smoothly.

He looked briefly between the two of you before sitting down beside you. You fluttered your eyes closed, inhaling Dr. Mooney’s familiar scent. It was a minty medicinal smell, but light. Not the nauseating kind. There was nothing nauseating about him. You licked your lips, clapping your hands together & pressing them between your thighs. You weren’t as bold to touch yourself, but you liked knowing that your hands were close.

“Others should be here shortly then we’ll do formal introductions.” Dr. Mooney shared as he kicked a leg out to rest on his other. He placed his clipboard that he took notes on on his lap.

“How are you enjoying it so far, Rafe?” Dr. Mooney asked the new kid as he removed a pen from the inside of his jacket.

“Could be worse.” Rafe leaned back in his seat, his eyes shifting to you.

“Well, I’m sure _____ already introduced herself—”

“Hasn’t, actually.” Rafe quipped, offering a half smile.

“Oh?” Dr. Mooney looked to you. You shrugged.

“Well, Rafe this is _____, _____ this is Rafe.”

“So you said.” You responded low, avoiding Rafe’s eyes.

“Rafe will be joining us for the next 12 weeks.” The information made you feel conflicted. Though you were already had sour feelings towards the dude, especially since he called you a bitch within the first minute of meeting you, you couldn’t deny how nice it would be to have another good-looking guy in your group. Albert was cute, but he was gay. You prided yourself on at least curbing your hypersexual tendencies to respect other sexualities.

“Why are you here?” You questioned, finally looking at Rafe. He looked as if he was about to respond but Dr. Mooney brushed the side of his hand against your thigh, only briefly to interject the conversation. Your lungs stopped working.

“That will be discussed when the others get here, _____.”

“Of course.” You breathed out, pressing a hand against the part of your thigh he lightly touched.

You couldn’t be bothered that Rafe watched your hand as you rubbed your thigh there.

Less than five minutes later & the circle was complete. Renee sat to the left of Rafe, throwing you a pointed look. Siena, an opioid addict, sat between Rafe & Dr. Mooney, & Albert, who struggling with his sobriety from alcohol, sat between you & Renne.

“Now that everyone is here,” Dr. Mooney began, sure to smile & greet everyone in the circle, “Rafe, would you like to tell us why you’re here, let us to get to know you.”

Rafe scoffed lightly, seemingly unimpressed, but adhered to Dr. Mooney’s prompt.

“I got kicked out of school. Dad had enough of my bullshit. Put me in here.” He shared so matter-of-factly.

“And why were you kicked out of school?” Dr. Mooney, you knew, already was aware of the answer, having done your first one-on-one session with him before your first ever group session like everyone else in the group. He only asked so everyone could be aware of each other & what they’re here for.

“Beats me.” Rafe smirked, “I went to all my classes so.”

Dr. Mooney pressed his lips together but was not impatient, “That’s not what your parents & I discussed.”

“Isn’t there confidentiality here?” Rafe asked.

“Absolutely. In our one-on-one sessions. But in group, we are transparent. There’s nothing to be ashamed of here, Rafe.” Dr. Mooney gestured to the circle, “You’re not alone. We all struggle with something. It’s why we’re here.”

The only thing about Dr. Mooney that ever bothered you was his use of ‘we’, as if he was also experiencing what you & the others were experiencing. He wasn’t. He was getting paid to help you through it all.

“I’m not ashamed.” Rafe quipped, “But I did nothing wrong, either.”

Dr. Mooney hummed, scribbling on his clipboard. “Alright, Rafe. I won’t push. Not yet. We’ll go in a circle so you can get to know everyone else then we’ll try again.”

You watched as Rafe shook his head, but he settled into his chair quietly. Siena went first.

“Siena, 18. Pill popper. An accident I was in almost two years ago left me nearly paralyzed. Started on morphine, then got switched to oxy & hydro’s. Got to a point where I needed them to function. Then one night I OD’d. Had my stomach pumped, & now I’ve been here for a little over a month.”

“Thank you, Siena.” Dr. Mooney grinned, turning his attention to Renee.

She rolled her eyes, her legs hanging over the arm of her seat, “Renee, 21. I like coke.”

“Is that all?” Dr. Mooney questioned. Renee rolled her eyes, sighing heavily, “It was either here or jail. Good enough?”

Dr. Mooney cocked his head, but moved on to Albert.

Albert mustered a smile, “Albert—not Al not Bert, Albert.” He shared firmly, “I was sober for a year from alcohol but relapsed so I’m back here, hoping to get back to the world & to my boyfriend in no time.”

“And you will.” Dr. Mooney added. Then he angled himself to look at you.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you looked at the wood floor as you shared, “_____. 19. Apparently I have a sex addiction.”

“_____.” Dr. Mooney said your name with a tone you knew well. You cleared your throat, rewording your words, “I do have a sex addiction. I’m here because I slept with my father’s TA. In his office. Wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t got caught but that’s how the cookie crumbles, I guess. It’s been too long since I’ve had sex. And I feel like I’m drowning.”

“Your fingers don’t do it enough for you?” Renee’s grating voice sounded.

Your eyes flashed to her. She looked so tiny in her chair, being practically swallowed by it.

“Shut it.” You spit.

Renee chuckled darkly, pleased by your reaction.

“Renee, you know not to interrupt or antagonize.” Dr. Mooney reprimanded.

“Oh, but I thought we were supposed to look out for each other here, Dr. Mooney.” Renee responded sarcastically, “And I definitely saw _____ getting it on with her hand in the woods earlier.”

Heat bloomed in your cheeks & rage coursed the rivers of your veins.

“That’s not group discussion appropriate, Renee.”

“But isn’t it?” Renee challenged, “I mean, it was your name on her lips.”

“You fucking bitch!” You snarled, rising from your seat & gearing to attack her where she sat so smugly.

“_____!” Dr. Mooney’s clipboard clattered to the floor as he caught you, his arms around your waist as he held you back, “Albert, get Nurse Carney.”

Albert rushed out of the room in search of the head nurse. Renee bit her lip, smiling up at you as Dr. Mooney pulled you away from the group. Just off the room was another one. It was a smaller one with a couch that faced a pair of windows & soft, melodic music that played quietly during all hours. Dr. Mooney closed the door behind the two of you & moved to sit you down on the couch.

“_____, you need to calm down.”

You struggled against his hold, desperate to tear Renee to pieces for revealing your private moment in the woods to the group, let alone the object of your desire.

“She said that on purpose!” You yelled, “Fucking bitch needs to be hit.”

“Violence is never the answer.” Dr. Mooney had let you go at this point but still kept his hands on your upper arms to keep you in place as you imagined pummeling Renee to a pulp.

“You’re not the violent type, _____.” He reminded you but you didn’t care. Your adrenaline was skyrocketing.

“I can be. Just let me show you.” You argued.

The door opened behind Dr. Mooney & Nurse Carney appeared. Her red hair tied into a familiar knot at the top of her head.

“Dr. Mooney.” She got his attention.

“Nurse, I need you to lead discussion for the time being while I sit with _____.”

“Of course.” She smiled, offering you a concerned look. You liked her enough, but you felt embarrassed as she pitied you.

When she left the room, Dr. Mooney sat with you still, “Close your eyes & breathe.”

You closed your eyes, focusing on your breathing. But it was difficult when all you wanted to do was punch Renee’s lights out. You figured tomorrow you’d go to boxing instead of yoga.

After a few minutes you had calmed down enough for Dr. Mooney to let you go. You already missed the feeling of his hand on your upper back. When you opened your eyes, you saw he was examining you.

“How are you feeling?” He asked.

“Angry.” You replied shortly, “But… calmer.”

“Good, good.” He grinned. He clasped his hands together on his knees as he leaned forward, “What Renee did was inappropriate & I will be discussing that with her, okay?”

You nodded, unable to find your words, fearful that your anger would spike again.

“Stay in here for the remainder of the session.” He stood, tucking his hands into his slack pockets, “Or, if you feel better & more in control, please feel free to rejoin.”

You wouldn’t. But you nodded anyway, “Thank you, Dr. Mooney.”

He gave a closed lip smile, “Of course.”

He turned his back & was about to leave but you stopped him, “Dr. Mooney, about what Renee said…”

“_____, it’s alright.” He faced you, “We’ll discuss it in our one-on-one session in the morning, okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Just relax & if I don’t see you during session then I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Okay.” You mustered a smile, “Thank you.”

Dr. Mooney left you then.

You collapsed into the couch, stretching out atop it as the melodic sounds of an ocean & piano filled the room. Sighing deeply to yourself, your thoughts strayed to the sensation of Dr. Mooney’s arms around your body. You loathed Renee for getting a reaction out of you, but you were elated to feel his body pressed against yours because of it.

Images of him holding you, naked flesh against naked flesh, flooded your every thought. In this room. He would take you in here. On the couch. You’d rake your nails down his back as he held you. Fucked you.

A soft moan parted your lips.

Your eyes opened to linger on the door to the other room. Dr. Mooney said you were okay to stay in here for the remainder of the session. That gave you nearly an hour.

You removed your pants.

part one to my new rafe cameron mini series! idk yet how many parts it will be but i'm loving it so far! so please comment your thoughts, reblog w reviews, or drop an ask to tell me what you think! i'm thirsty.

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