#slewing drive

[moonlight-prose]

i am gonna be real with you guys. the words are not wording like they used to.

[noahtally-famous]

not me popping back on here with a post after months of semi-inactivity (uni is being a bitch) just to reiterate how much i love writing the pahkitew island cast.

aside from sammy and amy (obviously), literally everyone else can be shipped with one another and it'd make sense to some degree, like it takes skill to create a group of people so inherently shippable (platonically and/or romantically) and ofc the writers didn't know it they just shoved a bunch of random ppl together and dusted their hands off on it but fr tho 😭

(yeah im planning out my leonave 'stranger things inspired' au, and the gears are turning, and i forgot just how much i love writing for this dumbass group)

(i swear im working on the next chapter of a guide to surviving the apocalypse too)

[dutybcrne]

Kaeya and Albedo both have a knack for vocal mimicry, though Kaeya is personally far better at mimicking people, animals, and Abyssal creatures, while Albedo can mimic the sound of damn near anything with such startling accuracy, Kaeya sometimes will try and bribe him to come along and terrify the crap out of people-

[zamalie]

the problem with your average su fan is that theyre still under the impression that SpineI had the same problem as PearI in that she physically couldnt disobey Rose's orders which is. Not true

[astronomical-bagel]

hello hello hello do you perchance have a red king pony 👀

(also as my mutual who i believe has the most pony know-how. do u think i am unicorn, pegasus, or normal pony-coded? my gc is in shambles over this lmaooo)

here he is!! i feel like i could have done better somehow? but they don't really allow shirts under capes and their beard selection is awful. Anyways! Definitely a pegasus! its 1. your whole theme, and i feel like their culture matches your personality best! But, if you weren't a pegasus, i'd say you'd be an earth pony!

[pallas-cat]

adhd is the fucking worst because it manages to be both debilitating in so many aspects of your life and yet so fucking mundane

[gilverrwrites]

Batguys when they have for the first time a vibrator put ON THEM (their dicks) by reader during sex ( they never experienced a toy on themselves before, it was always used on their girl if they were using toys).

AND I’m the same person that send the bat guys vibrators suggestion! What if the guys thought the vibrator was only for women and they’re proven other wise 😏😉

AN: I’m not convinced of them not knowing per se, so much as they’ve just never considered it for various reasons. So, in order of understood to least understood; Ft. Bruce, Dick, Jason, and Roy

Batman:

He knows full well the effects, he’s just hates to not be in control. So when you finally pin him down long enough to have your way, it’s because he lets you. When you teasingly glide the tip of your vibe along his length he purposely bucks his hips, urging you to use it on his sensitive tip, enjoying the whole commotion more than he thought he would.

The gloriously thick muscles of his thighs tense under his own self-restraint as you finally give him what wants.

“You’re taking it so well Brucie.” You coo and he glares at you from beneath his brow, trying and failing to maintain dominance but the rest of his body betrays him; his cheeks are tinted a precious shade of red, his broad chest heaving with each shallow breath.

When you praise him again; “You’re such a good boy.” He loses it completely.

Nightwing:

100% understands, but why would he ever want to use them on himself, when he could use them on you?

Then again, you’re so cute with those big puppy dog eyes, that mischievous grin when you ask to try something on him, how could he say no? And my god, he is a sight to behold. Even having seen the effect your bullet has on you, the way it makes you wither and moan uncontrollably, nothing could prepare him for his first experience.

He’s so loud, louder than you and just as unruly. His hands gripping tight to every surface, you, the headboard, the pillows, the mattress nothing satiates him. His long legs stretch, his toes curl, hips rolling and jerking for friction as his whole body shakes. Unable to muster the normal slew of filth he typically showers you with; he pants your name between obscenely breathless moans until he cums all over himself.

Side note: I swear, put this man in a vibrating cock ring, I need it.

Red Hood:

He’s just literally never thought about it before. One night you ask him to grab something from your bedside drawer and you’re surprised when he comes back holding your wand. When you ask if he wants to try it out, this is not what he expects.

Hell, if he’s not complaining though. Jason has never seen this kind of thing in action, so he’s lounging on the bed, legs spread wide as he leans against the headboard, not expecting too much.

When you tease the vibrating head along his shaft, causing it to twitch, he laughs and jokes about it tickling, but the moment you press it to the tip of his cock his whole body trembles.

“Ah, fuck baby.” He bites his lip, trying and failing to keep his eyes from rolling back. “Right there, right there, please don’t stop.”

Arsenal:

And if I may throw a wildcard in the mix;

Roy is exactly the kind of smart but dense kinda guy who could tinker away endlessly, making the perfect toys (out of equipment intended for weaponry might I add) to meet your needs, things meant to fill you in all the right spaces, to vibrate and pulse at the strength and speed that drives you wild, without it ever occurring to him that it could be used on him too.

He’s already hard as a rock and close to the edge after you’ve gone down on him, when you show him what you’re doing he lazily mumbles “Oh come on baby, that’s not gonna do anything.”

He’s proven almost immediately wrong. He’s lovingly cupping your face or holding your hair back but when he feels the vibrating sensation on his already sensitive cock his grip automatically tightened like a vice.

The skin from his cheeks to his belly growing hotter with each pulse until his body is just a few shades lighter than his hair, he’s sweating, eyes watering, begging for release and when you grant it he nearly tumbles over, legs weak and trembling.

[codenamethebird]

God I have so much to say about Melinoe's characterization, and the fasinating implications about her future arc/the overarching plot of hades 2. I want to make a larger think piece with pictures but for the moment I'm just going to focus on this one specific thread.

In the wake of the Prometheus reveal, she has a slew of convos about his motivations for siding with Chronos, and the gods basically all go: this is his vengeance for us punishing him a tad cruelly. And Nemesis is like, yeah the gods 100% deserve it. But Meli's responds that he must have more motivation than just vengeance, it can't just be that. But when Prometheus explicitly goes, 'I'm doing this because the gods are horrible to humanity and I love humans,' she basically goes, no he must be lying. That motivation is both too pure, but also humans kind of suck why would you care about them?

Mel's humanity hot takes deserve it's own essay (Ms I think Humans should have never gotten fire and are better when they are dead), and I just want to focus on the former for now. She can not comprehend that Prometheus is fighting the gods for noble reasons. It just does not make sense to her. Mel's world is so black and white. She doesn't understand the nuance of the situation, and the thought that the gods might be actually in the wrong doesn't even get close to crossing her mind.

It's a fascinating (and horrifying) result of her upbringing. Of the constant state of war and the very convenient big bad that is Chronos, the evil monster who stole her family. If she accepts that his side isn't completely evil, that they might even be right in some (even many) respects, she would have to grapple with her whole life. Everything she believes would be thrown into question, the literal thing she was training her whole life for.

She can't have Prometheus fighting for a noble cause, because he fights for Chronos whose the Bad Guy tm. But he also can't be fighting for something as simple as vengeance, because that would also mean she would need to really think about what he's angry about. If the punishment was truly so unnecessary cruel.

When talking to Odysseus about Prometheus, when Ody's saying how much he respected him for stealing the fire despite knowing the consequences, Mel says that it was the price to be paid for breaking Olympus's decree. To her, Olympus's rules are sacred and ultimately good. Unquestionably. Prometheus broke the rules with intent, so to her, why would he be so angry at the consequences? Especially if he knew because of his power they were going to happen.

So he must have another reason, some secret machiavellian plan that drives him. Except as I already said, it brings her right back to him doing it for humanity, which she also can't accept. Because that would be admiting that the gods did something wrong to humans. She twists herself into knots to justify her worldview, and it's fascinating! She's so messy I adore her.

Please Supergiant please the final surface boss has to be a human pleeeaaasse (preferably a living one). Or at least have one (or more) show up in some other capacity. Mel needs to come face to face with the other side and have it utterly destroy her worldview.

And/or have (Pan)Dora betray her for Prometheus, that would also be very fun haha.

[askdigitalpost]

Kavitsu Bearing is the best Slew Drive supplier, Manufacturer, Exporter, Dealer in ABU DHABI, Algeria, Australia, Bhutan, Canada, Czech Republic, Egypt, Germany, Indonesia, Italy, Netherland, New Jersey, Saudi Arabia, Singapore, Spain, Thailand, Turkey, UAE, UK, USA, Vietnam, Port de Bejaia Algerie, Melbourne, Phuentsholing, Toronto, Ontario, Montreal, Joliette, Port of PRAGUE, Cairo, HAMBURG, Eschweiler, SURABAYA, Milano, Genoa, Amsterdam, Rotterdam, Riyad, Dammam, Barcelona, Bangkok, Istanbul, Heathrow, Cleveland, Oklahoma, Houston, Pittsburgh, NEW York, Hare Apt, Seattle, Minneapolis, HCMC Port

[blasphemousclaw]

btw just to be clear this isn’t about people having fun speculating and making headcanons and making art and fanfic it’s about people who interpret the text in a certain way but talk about it like it’s the only objectively true and correct interpretation of the text. when the game itself leaves plenty of room for different interpretations

ugh the most annoying thing to me among elden ring lore discussions is when people have a theory or a way they interpret the characters or story and they treat it as if it’s indisputable fact when it’s actually not… I think all lore people need to always be prepared to be wrong because it will happen often in a game with so much content that’s still entirely vague

[indulgentdaydream]

Can you write something where the reader is badly injured in some way and jason rushes her to the manor for help and everybody is confused on who she is bc they didnt even know he was in a relationship (despite them being together for awhile) but they see how soft and cute he is with her. (I’ve never made a request so sorry if it got kinda rambley)

anon you’ve got me TEEMING with ideas I LOVE the trope of nobody knowing jason has a girlfriend and they find out but it is NOT by Jason’s choice nor reader’s.

Also omg? Your first ask is to lil ol me?? That means this is a special occassion. And you’re doing great I’ve def sent worse asks.

Out of the Bag

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader || Hurt and Comfort.

Word Count: 1,862

Warnings: Injuries, swearing, near death experience, blood, knife mention, stabbing, canon-typical violence, use of pet names (princess, baby), drug (pain med) use

You were sat in an alleyway, vision going in and out.

“Tell me something, princess. Anything.” Jason’s voice rang out in your ear.

That’s right. In your right hand, you held your phone, to your ear. Your other hand was pressing the fabric of your coat to the side of your stomach. The blood had soaked through, becoming sticking on your palm and fingers.

You should’ve listened to Jason. You shouldn’t have walked home alone, at night. Luckily your phone had been in your pocket and not your purse, which had been stolen from you by the same guy who decided to stab you.

“Princess,” he sounded panicked.

Right. “Wish I had kicked him harder.”

You heard a sigh of relief leave him, “That’s my girl.”

The phone slipped from your grip a little as your head swam. The sight of blood coming from your own abdomen made no help in quelling your nausea.

You fixed the phone. You had called Jason the second the guy ran off, leaving you to bleed out. He was driving, you think. Tracking your phone to try and get to you. “How far?”

He said something you didn’t hear. Your vision was swimming, your side was aching, and you couldn’t help but keep this funny understanding out of your mind that you were dying.

That this is something Jason had come back to your apartment with a few times, claiming it was nothing. It was something.

You heard him call your name, “What’s around you?”

“I’m tired,” you mumbled.

It seemed to happen in a blink of an eye. Jason was trying to tell you to stay awake, to look at the alley around you. To look out towards the street and tell him what you saw. Then he was there, standing in front of you, his helmet hiding his face.

“I’m here. I’m here, baby.” He cupped your face, tapping your cheek to get you to open up your eyes. He crouched down, pulling your hand from your side to assess the damage.

You smiled lazily and leaned forward, resting your forehead against his shoulder.

Jason muttered a slew of swears as he pressed something soft yet hard against your agonizing wound. You let out a yelp before Jason was picking you up, placing you on his bike.

He’s talking fast, “Fuck. Okay, listen to me. We’re going to go somewhere new, okay? There’s nowhere around here except there for me to get you safe.”

You passed out nearly as soon as he started the bike.

Jason’s freaking. He had tried to keep you safe from anything like this. From everything less than this. And here you were, bleeding out in his arms as he carried you through the batcave. He beelined for the cots and the medical supplies off to the side. He knows his motorcycle couldn’t have been the smoothest of rides for someone in your condition, but it’s all he had in such a short time span.

He’ll apologize when you wake up.

When. He repeats. When she wakes up and when we can get the hell out of this place again and when I can remind her I love her.

No one was back from patrol yet. He set you down on the cot before tearing off his helmet. He tossed it aside, pulling out a med bag and ripping it open. He pushed up your shirt, examining your side and where he had placed the military-grade gauze pad. He curses at the amount of blood.

His hands are shaking. Jason’s hands don’t shake, but you’ve proven to him a lot of things you could make him do that he hadn’t known he was capable of in the last year and (almost) a half of your relationship.

Jason nearly drops the suture thread before another hand is reaching out from just behind him. It catches the thread and Jason looks back over his shoulder. Alfred’s there, moving up to you.

“Allow me. You keep checking her vitals.”

Jason hadn’t even heard him come up. He’s nodding, stepping back to let Alfred take over the stitching. He moves to the other side of the bed.

That’s when he catches sight of the dark figure moving closer from behind Alfred. Jason immediately fixes him with a deadly glare, pointing at Bruce, “Do not come closer!”

Bruce stills. He’s in his bat suit, his cowl hanging behind his head, exposing his face. He looks down to your body, “Who is she?”

Jason doesn’t want him here. Rather, he doesn’t want to be here. You should’ve been home by now. Getting ready for bed and sending him a goodnight text. He turns his gaze back to you.

There’s some hair across your face that he hadn’t noticed. He moves it out of your way without a second thought, “My girlfriend.”

“Finally feel some remorse for sending someone to their grave, Todd?” Damian’s voice spoke up, walking up and stopping beside Bruce, “He’s probably trying to just reverse what he did.”

Jason ignores him. He wants to yell, scream, and maybe shoot the little bastard, but he was right. In a way, this was his fault. He didn’t look after you. He should’ve offered you a ride. Called you a taxi. An uber. Anything.

Jason grips your hand into his. It’s a way to count your heartbeat, and another way to ground himself. To reassure that you’ll be okay. His other hand stays on your cheek. His thumb gently moves back and forth, stroking your skin.

He barely registers Bruce telling Damian to go wash up. When the brat is gone, Bruce speaks up again, “What happened?”

Jason doesn’t take his eyes off of you, “She was walking home from her friend’s. A mugger got her purse, she fought back. He stabbed her.” Jason takes a deep breath, “She still had her phone. She called me. I brought her here because it was closest.”

A beat of silence. Still stitching you up, Alfred speaks, “How come we’ve never been introduced?”

Jason shakes his head, “I didn’t want her near any of this. She’s bad off enough sticking with me.”

Once you stabilize, Jason brings you up to his room in the manor. He walks past Dick, Tim, Duke, Cass, and Steph without looking at them. They sit around the batcomputer, watching Jason gently carry you out ot the cave.

He changes you out of your dirty clothes once he makes a run back to your apartment to grab you some of your own spare clothes.

Asides from that, he doesn’t leave your side.

He lets you have the bed to yourself. He pulls up a chair beside it, waiting for you to wake up. He didn’t want you to be alone when you did, in a strange place after a traumatic event. It was a recipe for disaster.

The sun’s been up for a long while and Jason hasn’t budged. He sits there, your hand gripped in both of his, held up and pressed against his mouth. His lips brush over your knuckles whenever he speaks up. Uttering a “I’m sorry.” every now and then.

There’s a light knock at the door before it’s cracking open. Jason turns his head to find Dick poking his head in. Jason glares at him.

Dick steps further in, presenting the tray he was holding. There were two glasses of water, some solid foods, and lighter ones, probably for you. Jason looked back down at you, letting his older brother enter.

“Just… figured since you’ve been cooped up in here all day,” Dick begins, setting the tray down on the beside table beside Jason.

Dick moves back around. He stands at the end of the bed, leaning against the tall bed post that was meant to hold up a canopy. “I heard…” he trails off, before nodding and your body in the bed, still unconscious, “Who is she?”

Jason looks up at his brother, not letting go of your hand, “So you haven’t heard.”

Dick rolls his eyes, “You know what I mean.”

Jason raises his brows a little. He looks back down at you. His hand reaches out to brush along your forehead, moving away imaginary stray hairs, “My girl.”

Dick nods in understanding, “How long you two been together.”

Jason pauses in thought, “Over a year. Our anniversary was in December.”

A small, choked sound comes from outside the door, in the hallway. “A year?”

Jason looks up at Dick, who makes a face that shows he’s knows he’s been caught.

“Are they seriously listening right now?”

Steph poked her head in first, an apologetic smile on her face, “We wanted to know!”

Duke pokes his head in next, just above Steph’s, “And we wanted to meet her.”

Tim’s head in next, above Duke’s, “You can’t carry a random bleeding woman into the cave and expect the family of detectives to not be curious.”

Cass’ head appears below Steph’s. She nods in agreement.

Jason let’s one hand go of yours to wave his hand through the air, “What the fuck? She’s not even awake!”

“Well that’s why we sent Dick as bait.”

“For the record,” Dick held up a finger, “They built off of my original, innocent idea of bringing you snacks.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jason stands up, taking a few steps forward. He points them all back towards the door as they start to filter into the room, “Get—“

“What’s going on…?”

Jason’s whole body whipped back around at the sound of your groggy, rough voice. The others watch as he’s back at your side in a millisecond, his whole demeanour changed. “Hey, you’re okay. Everything’s okay. Remember how I said we were going somewhere new? You thirsty, baby? Here, I got you some water.”

“Oh, you certainly did not get the water,” Dick piped up.

Jason glared back over his shoulder as he held the glass of water for you, keeping the straw Dick had added placed in your mouth.

You stopped drinking, your eyes now on the other people in the room. You turned your head, propped up against pillows Jason had put there for you. You weakly raised your left hand to wave, “Hi… oh?” your gaze turned down to your hand. A heart monitor clip sitting on your finger grabbed your attention. You gave a confused pout at it, “I feel funny.”

Jason set the water aside again. His glare was gone. He leaned in, kissing your forehead, “You’re hopped up on pain meds. That’s why, princess.”

“Damn,” Steph spoke up, “I wish I got the literal princess treatment.”

Jason turned back around, pointing out the door, “Get. Out. Leave my girlfriend alone until she’s better.”

You looked at the strangers, pointing at Jason with your left hand, “I’m his girlfriend.” Your head tilted back against the pillows as you stared up at Jason, pursing your lips, "I’m tired.”

“I know,” Jason said softly. The others began to filter out of the room as he leaned down and gave you a soft kiss, this time on the lips.

From the exit, a collective, “Awwww,” sounded out.

“Out!”

Your drugged up voice came after his, once they were all back in the hall, “Nice to meet you!”

[dowotdashdotdot]

hi i am being normal about computers again

the intimate, bordering-on-sexual bond between a fucked up, emotionally underdeveloped, touch starved, autistic, poorly transitioned tgirl with next to no social skills and a slew of taboos in her sexuality, and an old laptop she bought at goodwill for $6 and disassembled, cleaned, repaired, upgraded, and physically modified, running linux, with a hard drive containing her entire past, before, during and after her discovery of herself

yeah its one of those nights again

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Imagine...Breaking Dean Out of Jail

Pairing: Dean x reader

_____________

Thankfully Dean was a pretty good actor when he needed to be. It was part of his natural charm, talking to anyone and everyone, playing whatever part he needed to survive. Or to get some. But today all he had to do was shut up and looked pissed.

It wasn’t all that hard since you were certain he was mad with you. Dean had gotten caught on a B&E, was in custody and currently in lockup at the local station.

Great thing you had a fake FBI badge and a knack for creating fake documents.

“He’s wanted for a whole slew of offenses, murder at the top of the list,” you said, Dean scowling as he sat on the bench in his cell, hands cuffed behind his back. The chief had already asked if you could handle him by yourself to which you gave him a look that said you were more dangerous than you seemed.

Once you were out and Dean was being led down the hall, he did his part of struggling a little, bumping his shoulder into you so you hit the wall. 

“Do you want assaulting an officer on your record too?” you asked, shoving him back in place. Sam texted you as you popped Dean in your backseat.

Demon taken care of. Got D? -S

Yeah. He’d rather it be you risking your neck to show your face in here though. -Y/N

Me too. But you always were the best fake cop of all of us. -S

“Let us know if you change your mind about the backup,” said the officer as you climbed in the front seat. You thanked him and drove off, in a stolen car no less, Dean staying quiet until you were on the main road.

“Sam should have-”

“Behave or I won’t give you the key to those cuffs,” you said. Seconds later you heard Dean laughing as he asked you to pull over. You did as asked and soon he was in the passenger seat, hands free. “How did you...all your lock picks and stuff are in that baggie.”

“Someone might have had a bobby pin in their hair that I stole when I bumped into her,” said Dean. “I didn’t hurt you, right?”

“Only my ego,” you said, reaching your head up to the back of your head to find the pin missing. You started driving again and you felt Dean’s hands in your hair put it back in place.

“So officer, what should I do to make it up to you for busting me out?” he asked, your lips curling up in a smile. “I’ve got plenty of ideas.”

“Oh, really?” you asked. “I’m sure you do.”

“It might take me a while to show my gratitude, all night in fact,” said Dean, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Next time it’s Sam though.”

“You’re going to show Sam gratitude all night long?” you teased, Dean holding up the handcuffs.

“Behave,” he said, a dark smile on his face.

“Make me,” you said, listening to Dean play with the metal, snapping it back and forth.

“Oh, I most certainly will. Count on it.”

___________

[pseudowho]

The Wrong Tie

18+, MDNI, voyeurism, semi-public sex, hints of a foursome

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

It was a rainy spring day, when the rumour started that Nanami Kento and Higuruma Hiromi were having an affair. It was categorically untrue-- all a misunderstanding; but their wives wouldn't confirm that.

The faculty meeting, an all-day "team building event" was dull, a monotonous slew of games and personality tests, to drive those of a more practical mind to madness. The steady shhhhhh of rain against the windows only made it worse. Higuruma Hiromi was on the verge of sleep. Nanami Kento was lost in his own mind, reading on a tropical beach somewhere.

Kento felt the smooth slide of one small hand across his upper thigh, under the desk, and let out a quiet, involuntary grunt. His wife sat beside him, apparently interested in the presentation, and her hand slid higher, and higher, and higher. Kento felt his pulse quicken, leaning forwards on steepled fingertips, trying not to groan when clever fingers undid his zipper, and slipped through to squeeze his rapidly hardening cock through his boxers. Kento twitched his cock inside her grasp, and was rewarded with her biting her lip, her breath hitching.

Hiromi was already fantasising about his wife, sat opposite him, as sleep began to claim him. He jumped out of his seat, and excused it as a sudden, violent cough, when his wife trailed her bare stockinged toes over his lap. Hiromi grasped her foot under the table, giving a warning tickle to the arch. It did not dissuade her at all, and she rolled the ball of her foot insistently over the thickening bulge beneath Hiromi's zipper. His legs went lax, spreading, as his hooded eyes sat half-open, slack-jawed and humping involuntarily against her foot beneath the desk.

"Alright everyone...a ten minute break, and then we'll meet back in here. There are snacks in the staffroom."

Neither couple could last. Everyone flurried from the room, with all but four hurrying for the best choice of snack.

Kento dragged his wife into the nearest store cupboard, deep, dark and narrow. She giggled at the manhandling, and felt herself lifted into a shelf near the end. "You dirty little minx," he rumbled against her throat, rucking her blouse aside to drag one breast out, pawing at it, kneading and licking. She laughed, happy to be used, and threw his jacket and tie to the ground as he tucked her skirt around her waist, and began to hook out his heavy, pre cum wettened cock.

The door open and closed with a brief snippet of sunlight, and a slam, and Kento heard Hiromi's voice, and his wife's giggling; "Trying to get me to cum on your foot, in the middle of a meeting? You fucking menace. Only one place I'll be cumming, and it's a little bit more discre--"

"Higuruma."

"Oh, Nanami-- shit."

"Shit."

"Shit."

A moment of silence. A quiet shuffle as Hiromi pressed his wife face down, bent over, to the shelf that Kento's wife sat on. Kento scowled, unable to see in the dark. His cock throbbed, stroking between his wife's plush, wet folds; he was desperate. Hearing how Hiromi moaned, cursing as he rolled his wife's skirt up, and slapped her on the arse, he was just as pent-up.

"...we share the cupboard."

"Fuck yes we share the cupboard, Nanami. These two need to be taught a lesson."

Kento couldn't hold back any longer. Listening to Hiromi shred his wife's stockings at the crotch, and shove her panties aside, sent a shiver through him. Kento leaned over his wife, who was still suckling at his throat, and planted both hands on her hips before slamming into her to the hilt, with a husky, ragged moan. She squealed at the sudden, sharp fullness, and Kento clamped a hand over her mouth.

"Want to fuck with me in work hours? Fine. You're the one with my cum dripping down your thighs all day."

Hiromi laughed, landing one more sharp slap to his wife's arse, before dipping his cockhead to her entrance, and sinking inside with agonising tenderness. She whimpered, gasping, clutching at the shelf in front of her. Hiromi doubled over her, his belly to her back, mocking her gently.

"Aren't you two going to be a lovely matching pair? All full of cum with nowhere to go."

While it wasn't definitely a Wife-Fucking-Competition, it hardly seemed coincidental, how each man found his wife's throbbing little bud with devastating accuracy. How, when Kento slammed his wife so hard onto his cock that she sobbed and begged for mercy, Hiromi reached forwards and grabbed his wife by the roots of her hair, growling against the back of her neck like a man possessed. How, when Hiromi made his wife squeal, Kento tried to make his wife squeak louder.

At one point, the wives held onto each others' hands for dear life as their husbands dragged them through their orgasms, over hot coals.

"--that's it-- fffuuuuck, sound so pretty," Hiromi cooed to his wife, two fingers underneath her and rolling over her clit as she tried to scoot away, mewling and overstimulated, "-- ah ah ah, we're done when I-- haaaah, shit-- say we're done, sweetheart-- gonna fuck you-- fuck you stupid-- hold onto something--"

Kento held his wife gently by the throat, squeezing just hard enough, as his thumb and forefinger rolled around her clit, that her peak spread, electric, through every single nerve; "--that's right...beautiful. Can feel you milking me, shit-- gonna cum right in your belly...just where you like it. Won't need-- f-fuck-- so good-- won't need lube later...just fuck this seed right back into you, hmm?"

Kento didn't want to admit that hearing two women become whining messes around him was something of a buzz. When he came, it was with violently competitive satisfaction, as Higuruma had spilled his seed just moments before. Hiromi didn't give a fuck; he was lost in the sound of Kento's cock squelching into his wife's aching pussy. Kento never took Higuruma for such a whimperer. Hiromi never knew Nanami could fall apart like that.

Both men spilled more seed than they ever had, the testosterone thick in the air. Their wives almost regretted their misbehaviour-- almost. Each wife stood on shaky legs, trying to stop drips of cum running past the hems of their skirts, while Hiromi and Kento dressed in a hurry, breathless and trying not to laugh.

They made it back to the meeting room in time, the wives entering first, trying not to stagger into their seats. Kento and Hiromi entered after, mostly straightened out. They were busy trying to look normal. Neither of them noticed how eyes flickered to their flushed faces, Kento still quietly panting, Hiromi with a bead of sweat dripping down his temple. Eyes flicked to their chests, and back up to their faces. The next stage of the meeting was awkward, at best.

Gojo approached Hiromi at the lunch break, and Hiromi almost spat out his coffee when Gojo leaned into him, and whispered; "...why are you wearing Nanami's tie, huh? Anything you two need to tell us?'

Hiromi's horrified, pale face shot down to another man's leopard print tie on his chest, then shot up, searching for Kento. Kento looked across the room, his face impassive, but his eyes screaming...in an unusually muted black tie.

The wives had noticed, earlier. They enjoyed their lunch, chatting and blushing, with cum still cooling between their legs, pretending they knew nothing.

[sethsclearwater]

synopsis: based on this request from @raxwrites where paul imprints on reader but she’s already in a (very shitty) relationship. paul convinces her to spend one night with him and reader realizes just how quickly he’s making her fall for him.

warnings: smut, dom!paul, sub!reader, cheating(?) (on a shitty guy lol)

word count: 5.49k

…

you and leah had been friends since childhood. you two were more or less attached at the hip and it was one of the many reasons why leah had decided to fuck with sam’s head and tell you about the shapeshifters. fortunately for everyone, you had taken the news quite well and actually found the whole thing rather funny considering how annoyed you had the opportunity to watch sam get when he heard she broke the news. 

shortly after the news broke, embry had made an off-handed joke about you being paul’s imprint - yet another thing you were unfamiliar with. despite the death stare embry got from paul after saying that, he stumbled out some half-assed explanation of it which left you more confused about the whole thing than ever. 

after both leah and embry had given you the world’s vaguest explanation of it, you had decided to just drop it and go back to focusing on the fact that leah and her entire “friend group” were a bunch of massive wolves. 

all of this led to today where you and your boyfriend were in a heated argument over his night out with a girl who he had repeatedly told you not to worry about. “for fuck’s sake josh! what part of you two spending the night together was platonic?” you yelled, angry tears streaming down your cheeks as you got up from your spot at the kitchen table to find your keys and phone. 

you two had been going at it for over 2 hours now and were making absolutely no progress so you figured now was as good a time as any to get the hell out of your apartment. 

“we literally didn’t do anything! i don’t get why you have to make such a big deal out of everything! you seriously need to work on your jealousy issues because you sound crazy right now!” your boyfriend yelled back, making sure his voice was louder than yours in some weak attempt to assert his dominance over you.

at the use of the word ‘jealousy’ you decided this was it and grabbed your phone and keys before quickly getting out of the apartment, sprinting down the steps to your car despite the sub-freezing, snowy conditions currently happening all around you.

as you turned the ignition on and began pulling out of your parking spot, you could faintly make out josh at the top of the steps yelling some slew of obscenities at you. you ignored him, using the back of your hand to wipe the tears off your cheeks before you were driving over to emily young’s house where leah supposedly was according to her last text a few hours prior.

after hearing that your boyfriend decided to spend the night with another girl (who he adamantly claimed was just a friend), leah let you know that she’d be over at emily’s for most of the day if you needed her or a place to stay for the night while you cooled off.

the drive over to emily’s was only about 10 minutes but ended up taking nearly double that thanks to the snow-covered roads. as you pulled into her driveway and quickly got out of your car, you neglected to realize that the only car in her driveway was one of the boy’s. 

in your haste, you ran up to the door, knocking rather hard when you finally felt the chill from the 20-degree temperatures outside. it didn’t take more than a few seconds for the door to open and reveal paul lahote.

he looked just as confused as you imagined you must’ve but you couldn’t have really cared less, just desperate to get out of the cold at this point, “where’s leah?” you asked with a sniffle as you pushed past him to get into the warmth of emily’s house.

paul stepped back, quickly shutting the door behind him to keep the heat in, “she’s on patrol- or work, fuck, work-” he stumbled out, watching your crying figure as you kicked your shoes off and tossed your keys and phone onto the entryway bench. 

“are you okay?” he asked after a moment, his voice softening as you slumped down in one of the kitchen chairs with another round of tears rolling down your cheeks. you’d seen paul on occasion, mostly in group settings with the rest of the pack but he did drive you home a few times when it was too rainy or snowy for you to walk back so you weren’t total strangers.

you paused at his question, looking up at him pleadingly with tears rapidly streaming down your cheeks. you imagined you must’ve looked like a hot mess. you’d gotten out of the shower just before your boyfriend arrived home so you hadn’t had time to do anything with your hair and were only wearing a pair of old sweatpants and some oversized t-shirt you’d pulled out of the back of your closet.

“do i look okay?” you asked, letting out a weak laugh as you reached your hands up to palm away the tears that couldn’t seem to stop streaming down your cheeks. paul frowned, watching you carefully as he pulled out the chair next to you, slowly sliding down into it as he tried to figure out what on earth to do with you.

“sorry,” paul mumbled after a moment, “he didn’t hit you, did he?” he asked, voice hesitating for a moment before he ended his question, clearly unsure if he was overstepping or not by prying into your personal life despite how little the two of you knew each other. 

you let out another breathy laugh at his concern, shaking your head with a sniffle, “jus’ cheated on me,” you managed to get out, a heavy sigh leaving your lips as you pulled your legs up to your chest and wrapped your arms around them, still not meeting paul’s gaze. 

every ounce of dignity you had was just shredded thanks to the current state you found yourself in but paul didn’t seem to mind your emotions too much, “you wanna talk about it?” he asked softly, his frown deepening when yet another round of tears came spilling over your waterline and down your cheeks. 

shaking your head, you finally worked up the nerve to peek up and meet his gaze for a moment, “not really no,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper, “i hate that fucker,” you added after a moment, both you and paul letting out quiet laughs at your comment.

“can’t say i like him too much either,” paul reassured, cracking the tiniest bit of a smile which had you letting out a heavy sigh of relief. something in you just felt unbelievably better knowing that someone was able to sympathize with your pain.

“you want some water?” he asked after a moment, offering you a small smile when you nodded. while you attempted to dry your cheeks of your tears, paul got up and quickly got you a glass of water to stop you from crying even more and hopefully lessen the severity of the headache both of you knew you’d be getting in a few short hours.

he handed you the glass, your fingers brushing for just a moment too long, “thank you,” you whispered, taking the glass and sipping on it to give yourself a moment to shake the insatiable feelings you were now realizing you’d definitely been having for the poor boy for months now. 

paul gave your upper arm a gentle squeeze before he was grabbing his phone, “you wanna sit down in the living room? emily’s got the pullout couch in there if you wanna get some sleep,” he asked as he quickly responded to whatever text he had just gotten a few moments prior. you thought about his proposition for a moment before humming and nodding.

“with you?” you asked, raising your eyebrows at him as you looked up at him, your small smile coming in stark contrast to you puffy, tear-stained cheeks.

paul rolled his eyes, “won’t make it weird,” he reassured, “just don’t want you getting all worked up again,” he added, and this time you rolled your eyes, hardly able to contain the small smile on your face as you got up and made the incredibly short trek into the living room. 

while you grabbed your phone to see if leah had responded to any of your texts, paul got the pullout set up so the two of you could sit down there and hopefully just throw on a movie or something, “emily said leah is gonna be back in a few hours,” paul broke the silence with after a few moments as if he’d read your mind or something. 

you hummed and nodded, smiling softly when he offered you his hand so he could help you onto the makeshift bed. your hand slid into his as you got into the pullout, pausing for a moment when he slid his hand onto your lower back to help steady you. 

paul noticed your pause, gently squeezing your hand when you peeked over your shoulder to look at him, “everything okay?” he asked, watching as you finally allowed yourself to actually look at him.

your boyfriend or ex or whatever the hell he was must’ve clouded your vision way more than you thought because you’d never really paid any attention to paul or the way he looked at you before. but today, you finally saw how he’d been watching you this whole time, something much softer in his gaze than anything you’d ever seen with your boyfriend.

you’d never seen a man look at you like that before and weren’t looking to lose it anytime soon. before your mind could catch up to what your heart was planning, you were tightening your grip in his hand to pull him closer to you and smashing your lips against his.

paul must’ve seen it coming from a mile away because he didn’t waste any time before he was melting into you, untangling his hand from yours so he could slide both hands down to your hips and pull you closer to him. 

your hands were on his chest, desperately running them down until you found the hem of his t-shirt so you could slide your hands underneath, “fuck,” paul groaned against your lips when he felt the way your palms flattened out against the expanse of his abdomen, your hands sliding up his chest so you could tug his t-shirt up.

paul already understood what you meant, parting his lips from yours for a moment much to your dismay. he let out a breathy laugh as he pulled his shirt up and over his head when he saw the pout that had quickly formed on your face, “c’mere,” he murmured as soon as he had tossed the shirt to the side, sliding his hands back down to your hips so he could pull you closer to him and press his lips against yours again. 

his fingers toyed with the thin material of your t-shirt, “can i take this off?” he murmured against your lips, letting out a breathy laugh when you quickly nodded pulling back so he could help you take your shirt off. 

in your haste getting out of the shower earlier, you’d apparently neglected to put a bra on which left your bare chest exposed to him. paul sucked in a sharp breath when he saw the way your nipples were already hardening as they were exposed to the cool air, “fuck me,” paul groaned, “lay down-” paul ordered, not giving you a moment to process what he was saying before he was manhandling you down onto the squeaky pullout mattress, conveniently wedging himself in between your legs so he could have better access to you.

he didn’t waste any time, latching his lips around your nipple, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud while he massaged your other boob with his hand. “paul-” his name fell off your lips so easily, moaning and whining as he rolled your nipple between his finger and just barely grazed his teeth over the other one, “paul please-” you whimpered, desperately reaching down to pull him up so you could touch him in all the ways your body was begging you to.

“‘s wrong?” he asked with a breathy laugh, already knowing you were definitely more than okay but the sudden whining from you had him a little bit concerned he was being too rough with you.

you just shook your head, desperately reaching down to his sweatpants, “i need you-” was all you were able to make out as you dipped your hand below his waistline, immediately wrapping your hand around his now fully hardened cock. 

paul dropped his head against your collarbone and let out a low groan when he felt your fingers wrap around his length.  “i’ll fuck you in a minute,” he reassured, sliding his non-supporting hand over yours to gently pry it off of him so he could finish prepping you for him.

you let out a disgruntled sigh which had paul laughing again, shaking his head, “you got it,” he mused, dropping down to press a soft kiss to your lips. you were happily reciprocating the action against his lips, running your fingers up his chest so you could snake them around his neck and knot in his inky hair to pull him closer to you.

paul was all too aware of just how you needed him, making quick work of sliding his hands down to dip below your sweatpants, toying with the thin material of your panties for a moment, the frustration leaving you whining against paul’s lips.

he paid little mind to your whines, taking his time dancing his fingers along the outline of your panties, barely brushing his fingers over your covered clit, chuckling to himself when he heard the mewling that left your lips at the sensation, “paul-” you whimpered, tightening your fingers against his hair so you could hold him closer to you.

paul allowed you to hold him close, pressing his lips to your neck, “‘m comin’” he reassured, dipping his fingers below your panties so he could swipe them through your slick folds. you were muffling your whines against the crook of his neck, untangling your fingers from his hair so you could wrap your arms around his neck, a rather loud moan leaving your lips when he finally pressed down on your clit.

“there you go,” he murmured against your neck, slowly circling his pointer finger around your little entrance while his thumb continued to toy with the sensitive bundle of nerves between your thighs, “breathe princess,” paul reminded as he lifted his head from your neck so he could get a better look at you, hardly containing his laugh when he heard just how fast your heart was beating from your lack of oxygen.

you nodded, sucking in a deep breath as you ran your fingers across his shoulders, dancing them along his chest while paul allowed you a moment to catch your breath, “there you go,” he mused, slowly dipping his pointer finger into your canal, the muscles immediately fluttering around him as you took the intrusion. 

“deep breaths for me princess,” paul murmured as he began curling and uncurling his finger inside you, working at stretching you out for his cock, “such a good job,” he cooed as he watched the way you followed his instructions, your little whines and moans as he continued to toy with your clit letting him know all he needed to know.

once he felt your walls beginning to relax around his finger, he slowly added a second finger to your channel, dropping his head down to press a soft kiss to your lips when he heard the low whine you let out at the stretch, “breathe princess,” paul reminded, his lips leaving yours for only a moment before he was melting into you again, slowly scissoring his fingers as he stretched you out. his thumb gently rolled your clit, the pleasure and paul’s lips against yours serving as a pleasant distraction from the stretching. 

once he’d decided you were no longer tense, he began curling his fingers inside your delicate walls, smiling to himself when he felt the spongey tissue of your g-spot, the sudden hitch in your breathing followed by a low moan letting him know he definitely needed to continue the action. 

he continued curling his fingers against the sensitive tissue, parting his lips from yours to pepper your neck and shoulders with delicate kisses. as soon as he felt your walls beginning to tighten around his fingers, he began working at marking up your collarbone.

“paul-” you whined, flattening your palms against his biceps, a heavy sigh leaving your lips as your head dropped back into the pillows as you felt the coil in your belly beginning to tighten. you had never cum with your ex before, always finding yourself needing to take care of yourself on your own time because he couldn’t be bothered with it. so paul managing to have you nearly cumming on his fingers within just a few minutes was forcing you to rethink why the hell you hadn’t gotten with him sooner. 

“cum on my fingers princess,” paul murmured against your collarbone, continuing his steady pace as he stroked your g-spot and rolled your clit.

you whimpered, desperately working to meet your orgasm and come undone on your imprinter’s fingers, “nice and easy,” he murmured when he felt your walls tightening around his fingers, well aware of just how close you were to cumming, “there you go kitten, let go for me,” he encouraged, keeping all of his actions steady, his words sending you right over the edge as you finally complied and let go.

your orgasm washed over you, your walls desperately throbbing around paul’s fingers while he continued to lighten his touches, helping you work through it without overstimulating you too much. you were sucking in heavy lungfuls of air, eyes fluttering open as you worked at getting your heart rate down to a reasonable bpm. 

you wrapped your splayed palms around paul’s shoulders to pull him down for a tight hug. a soft laugh left his lips at your action, slowly pulling his fingers out of your soaked channel, “deep breaths princess,” he cooed, pressing his lips to your hairline while he allowed you a few more moments to compose yourself. 

“there you go,” he chuckled when he finally heard your breathing and heart rate even out to a reasonable level, “you think you can take my cock?” he asked as you loosened your grip on him a bit, allowing him to lift his head so he could get a better look at your expression.

you nodded, “please,” you whispered, running your hands across his shoulders and biceps before sliding them down his chest, looking down to the ever-prominent tent in his pants from you. your cheeks were heating up to a bright pink when you realized what an effect you were having on him, quickly lifting your gaze away from the bulge to look back up at him.

paul chuckled, “i’m all yours,” he reassured, failing to hide his smirk when he saw how flustered you got at the thought of him being yours. you’d been so oblivious to him for over a year now, too invested in your own problems to ever realize just how he looked at you or see how he always managed to be there for you at the perfect time. 

you slowly nodded as you processed his words, blushing an even deeper red when he got out from in between your thighs to get up and tug his sweatpants down. his hardened cock was quick to stand at attention, the tip a fierce red with droplets of precum pooling.

paul smirked again when he saw the way you were staring at his cock, leaning down to hook his fingers around your sweatpants and panties to he could tug them down and toss them to the side as well, “all mine?” you asked after a moment, finally pulling your gaze from his cock to look up at him.

“all yours,” paul confirmed as he got back on the pullout, “get on your hands and knees for me, yea? gonna show you who you belong to,” he added, barely holding back his laugh when he saw how flustered you continued to get every time he spoke to you. 

as you processed his words, paul slid his hands down to your hips so he could help you get onto your hands and knees, the poor pullout bed making all sorts of pathetic squeaks as it desperately tried to stay up while you and paul fucked. 

“such a good girl,” paul praised once you were settled on your forearms and knees, one of his hands remaining on your hip to steady you while he spit into the other one, quickly spreading the saliva across his cock to help lubricate him so you wouldn’t have too much difficulty taking his length. 

paul was by far the largest man you’d ever been with, something paul had managed to figure out by himself when he felt just how tight you were clamped down on his fingers a few minutes prior, “deep breath for me princess,” paul ordered as he slid his hand in between your thighs, dipping his finger into your channel for just a moment to make sure you were still ready to take him before he was pulling it out and replacing it with the tip of his cock.

at the feeling of his cock prodding at your entrance, you reminded yourself to breathe, letting out a slow exhale, and relaxed your hips so paul could pull you back onto his cock, “so fuckin’ pretty,” paul groaned, both hands tightly gripping your hips as he tugged your hips back to impale you on his cock, “keep breathing princess,” he reminded, keeping a firm grip on your hips as he felt the way your walls were desperately working to accommodate the intrusion that was your imprinter.

you were whining, resting your forehead against your hands as you tried to relax yourself enough to make room for paul, “‘s really big paul-” you whimpered, moving to pull your hips forward but paul’s hands remained firm.

“breathe princess,” paul reminded, “i’ve got you, yea? not gonna hurt you, just need to stretch you out on me, okay?” he added, gently rubbing his thumbs in circles against the fatty flesh of your hips.

you slowly nodded, peeking over your shoulder to look up at him, immediately feeling way better when you saw how confident he looked in his promise, “you want me to hold you? might help you feel better,” he suggested, smiling when you quickly nodded.

“c’mere,” he cooed, sliding his hands down to your ribs, slowly pulling you up. as he helped you up, his cock pushed further into your channel, “you’re okay,” he reassured when he heard your whining. he wrapped his arm around you, coming to rest just under your breasts as he pulled you up so your back was flush with his chest.

“just a little more,” he murmured, wrapping his other arm around your abdomen so he could hold you steady as he pushed himself the rest of the way into you, “such a good girl,” he mused, pressing his lips to your head when he felt you finally relax into his arms, allowing your head to rest against the crook of his neck.

while he allowed you a few moments to process the feeling, he pressed gentle kisses to your hairline, murmuring quiet praises. once your walls stopped desperately clenching around him, relaxing just enough to accommodate him comfortably, you were letting out a soft sigh, lifting your head up to peek over your shoulder up at him, “feels okay?” he asked, pressing his lips to your temple when you hummed and nodded.

“that’s my girl,” he praised, muffling his chuckle against your hair when he felt your walls flutter around him at the praise, your heart skipping a few beats as you processed just what you were doing with him. you nuzzled your nose into the crook of his neck in a weak attempt to hide your blush from him, your hands hooking around his forearm to hold yourself steady.

paul decided against teasing you about it, suddenly becoming much more aware of just how badly he wanted to cum inside you when he felt your walls clenching down around him, “you let me know if you want me to slow down, okay?” he asked, waiting for you to nod before he was drawing his hips back, his cock dragging along your walls in the most delicious way possible before he was plunging himself back inside you, not wasting a moment before he was setting a rough pace, one hand holding you up while the other held your hips in place so he could snap his against yours.

you let out a loud whine at the first thrust, dropping your head back against his shoulder again, eyes closing as pleasure began flooding through your system yet again, “just needed my cock in you didn’t you?” he asked with a chuckle when he saw the way you were desperately nodding, loving how much pleasure you were so easily able to provide each other.

he slid one hand down to your abdomen, splaying his palm across the smooth skin so he could keep you steady but also drop his thumb down to toy with your clit. “oh my god-” you whimpered when you felt the pleasure coursing up your spine, forcing your brain into a fuzzy mess as you tried to comprehend all the sensations and emotions spilling through you.

“my cock feel that good? makin’ you feel better, isn’t it?” he gritted out, his thrusts getting rougher when he saw just how quickly you were coming undone on him. he held you up, supporting you as he continued to fuck you as you desperately nodded.

“so good-” you whimpered, “all yours,” you added softly, just loud enough for paul to pick up on it. hearing you admit he owned you just as much as you did him snapped something inside him, suddenly every fiber of his being telling him to make sure everyone knew you were his.

“this pussy is all mine, yea? all mine,” paul repeated, his grip around your chest tightening when he felt the way your walls were suddenly desperately fluttering and clenching around him, both of your emotions going haywire at the connection.

you hummed, squeezing your hands around his forearms in a weak attempt to stabilize yourself, “not giving it to anyone else, you understand? you’re mine now,” paul ordered, pinching your clit between his fingers when he realized you weren’t responding to him. 

a loud moan escaped your lips at the sudden jolt, “not giving it to anyone else-” you breathlessly repeated back, able to form a somewhat coherent response by some grace of god. you weren’t used to being made such a mess from a cock, desperately trying and failing to keep some shred of control as paul continued his ruthless thrusts. 

“that’s what i thought,” paul pushed his hips into yours, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix to send his point home, the action taking away any control you might’ve had as you fully surrendered in his arms, trusting him to support you, “gonna fill you up so everyone knows just who owns you and you’re gonna take it all like a good girl, aren’t you?” he asked, his rhetorical question sending your brain into a tizzy as you desperately nodded, not trusting yourself to form a coherent response.

paul let out a dark laugh when he saw your nod, your approval being all he needed to pick up the pace until he had your breasts bouncing atop his forearms with each thrust, your moans and heavy breaths filling the silence of emily’s living room as your orgasm rapidly began approaching.

“paul i’m gonna-” you started, gasping when he rolled your clit between his fingers, the action having you dangerously close to cumming without his approval and, based on how dominant he had been with you tonight, you’d imagined he wouldn’t take too kindly to you cumming before he let you.

“such a good girl,” paul praised, “make a mess on my cock for me,” he added, rubbing circles against your clit while his cock continued to stretch you out with each thrust, the small bulge in your belly with each snap of his hips sending him over the edge at the same time as you.

the knot in your belly snapped as paul shot his release into your walls, both of you holding each other as tight as you could as you rode your highs. paul’s thrusts stuttered as his cum spilled into you, the feeling of your walls throbbing around him as you came having him pushing his hips as close to yours as he could, “paul-” you whined when you felt the way the tip of his cock was prodding against your overstimulated cervix. 

“not yet-” he responded breathlessly, “let me fill you up,” he added, holding you close to him as he spilled his release in you. you nodded, relaxing back into him as you came down from your high, both of your breathing heavy and ragged as you came back down to earth. 

you gently squeezed paul’s forearms, lolling your head to the side so you could nuzzle your nose against his collarbone, “there you go,” paul murmured after a few moments, slowly loosening his grip on you so he could pull his cock back enough so he wasn’t overstimulating you to the point of annoyance, “you’re staying here for the night, yea?” he asked, pressing his lips to your hair as he waited for your response.

you let out a soft laugh and nodded, “you can have me in the morning if you want,” you added teasingly, squealing when paul snapped his hips back against yours at the comment, a lewd squelching sound from all the fluids pooling between your thighs. 

“i’ll be holding you to that,” paul agreed, giving you one more squeeze before he was slowly letting you go and pulling himself out of you so he could get you cleaned up. as he helped you lay down on the couch, you intertwined your fingers with his hand, tugging him down so he could lay next to you.

paul complied, allowing you to pull him close to you, “still gonna have to clean you up in a minute,” paul reminded, opening his arms so you could get between them wrapping them around you to hold you close once you got settled. 

“just wanna lay with you for a minute,” you whispered, tossing your leg over his hip to hold him even closer to you as paul got a blanket over your naked figures. your comment had his heart doing all sorts of things he’d never felt before so he settled for just pressing his lips to the crown of your head while you cuddled up with him.

before paul’s mind could get the best of him, you peeked up at him, “i’ll break up with him,” you reassured, smiling when paul let out a heavy sigh of relief, nodding. 

you snuck a quick kiss against his lips, smiling when you saw how flustered you managed to make him over the action, quickly burying your face in the crook of his neck so you could get comfortable and allow him a moment to get it together.

paul gently ran his hand up and down your side, holding you close to him as the two of you just soaked each other in. before he could come up with a response to your promise, he heard your breathing begin to even out, quickly realizing you’d definitely fallen asleep in his arms.

“just a few minutes,” he mumbled to himself, holding you close as he also let the fatigue take over him as well.

bonus: leah, emily, and some of the boys coming back to find reader and paul’s clothes thrown all over the house with the two of them passed out on the pull out couch - all of them can’t stop laughing about it and never let reader and paul live it down.

[chillian-murphy]

Experimental Treatment

SUMMARY: after numerous failed attempts to treat your anxiety, you enroll in an experimental drug trial run by Dr. Jonathan Crane (OR: how you became Dr. Crane's bimbo fuckslave)

WORD COUNT: 5.4k

WARNINGS/ADDITIONAL INFO: Smut 🔞, dub con, drugging, mention of anxiety disorders, bimboification, brainwashing kinda??, breast/nipple play, oral sex (m receiving), piv, Jonathan is manipulative and possibly a nevernude

beta'd by @pawnsong

You shifted nervously as you sat in Dr. Crane’s office for the first time. You’d tried numerous treatments for your trauma-related anxiety, but nothing seemed to work. It had been about a year since you had been beaten, tied up, and left for dead in a supply closet by one of Gotham’s many aspiring criminals, and you haven’t been able to eat, sleep, or generally care for yourself since. When you heard about an experimental treatment study happening at the local university, you enrolled as quickly as you could, moving faster than you’d ever moved in your life. You knew there was no one therapy or pill that could fix everything, but at this point, you were desperate for any sort of relief that could be offered.

The man that entered was much younger than you expected; you always pictured the doctor running a drug trial to be much older, maybe even a bit weathered from the stress of working in such a nightmarish city. Instead, he was small, slender, and had an almost angelic baby face.

“Tell me about what brings you here today.” He sat down without looking up from his chart.

“It should all be there, but to summarize: about a year ago I was assaulted and have been experiencing extreme anxiety, depression, and nightmares since. I can’t eat more than a few bites of food at a time without vomiting, and can’t remember the last time I’ve had a few night’s sleep. I’ve tried talk therapy and a slew of medications, including SSRIs, SNRIs, and benzodiazepines, but nothing seems to work.”

By this point, you’ve gone over your symptoms and previous treatments so many times that you had a well rehearsed script you relied on when recounting them. You worried that listing everything off in such a matter-of-fact way would lead people to think you’re just seeking drugs for recreational reasons, but fuck, what didn’t you worry about these days?

“As I’m sure you were told when you were applying for the trial, my background is in pharmacology and I’ll be putting you on an experimental drug of my own creation. I won’t bore you with the specifics of how it works, but you’ll receive a fast-acting injection once a week, and it should calm your nerves and improve your sleep. The exact effects aren’t well documented as of yet, which is why you’re here. All of the proper consent forms should be in order, so if you like, I can start you on the injections here and now.”

“Yes, please, whatever gets me my life back the soonest.” As nervous as you were to be injected with something you knew almost nothing about, part of you was almost giddy to be given something that might finally work.

“The drug can have some sedative effects, so no driving, at least for the first 24 hours. Do you have someone to pick you up? Family, a roommate? A boyfriend, perhaps?” Dr. Crane continued to inform as he prepared a syringe.

“I took public transport. Not a lot of people in my life.” you chuckled nervously.

“All alone. What a shame.”

Before you could mentally register his comment as odd, you were startled by the coldness of an alcohol wipe rubbing against your arm and the sharpness of a needle being inserted.

“You should start feeling the effects in about 5-10 minutes. I’m sending you home with a packet detailing what you should expect, as well as my phone number if anything unusual happens. It might be difficult, but I want you to take detailed notes on everything you experience, and we’ll review them when you come in for your next dosage.”

It proved a bit difficult to make your way home as the medication’s effects set in. Your body felt heavy and sleepy, and you had trouble concentrating; even reading the familiar train schedule felt impossible. Thankfully, some sort of muscle memory kicked in and you made it home safely, letting your brain turn off and follow your usual routine out of habit alone. The mindlessness felt weirdly comforting, you barely realized that you had moved from your spot on the subway until you were at your front door, fishing around for your keys in your bag.

The rest of the night went by pretty uneventfully, following your usual routine, with the addition of writing down your response to the medications in the journal included with Dr. Crane had provided you with. For the first night in as long as you could remember, you settled into a deep, dreamless sleep that lasted the full night.

*********************************************************

A week had passed since your initial meeting, and you were in Dr. Crane’s office again to go over how the medication had affected you and to receive your next dosage. You brought the journal you had taken notes in, although you were unsure how helpful it would be since you had mostly jotted down bullet points instead of writing down your experiences in-depth. It was the most you could do, since you were having trouble concentrating after you were dosed. Shit, that was another thing you should’ve written down.

The doctor entered quietly and greeted you with a tense smile, the kind of polite grimace you’d make upon accidentally making eye contact with a stranger in public. He motioned for you to hand over your journal of notes as he sat, and you passed it to him while trying to avoid looking at him as much as possible. He had never done anything to make you uncomfortable aside from being a bit terse, but he still gave you an uneasy feeling. 

“Let’s look at what you’ve written down. Your notes are brief, but at least they’re organized.”

Once again, terse. It was tempting to want to interrupt and explain how hard it was to focus on writing every little thing down when you kept forgetting where you were or what you were doing, often wandering into a room only to realize you couldn’t remember why you went there, but speaking up felt like too much trouble all of a sudden. After all, wasn’t Dr. Crane being soooo nice, offering to help you with your anxiety?

You had no idea where that thought came from. Weird.

“Grogginess, that’s to be expected, the drug was designed with sedative qualities. Forgetfulness, once again, not uncommon. Sleeping through the night? Good. Breast growth? I’d like you to elaborate.”

“I started getting my appetite back and gaining weight—“

“Weight gain is typical if you’re eating more regularly than you were before,” he interjected before you could finish. God, did he think you were fucking stupid?

“But I only seemed to gain weight around my breasts and hips.”

“Are you saying you’d rather have a double chin and beer belly?”

“Well, no…”

“Then I don’t see what the problem is.”

“I can’t fit into any of my old bras. Bras are expensive.” It really felt like talking to a brick wall.

“Understood.” He scribbled a few quick notes before looking back up at you. “Is there anything else?”

“Not that I can think of.” Relief sank in when you realized this meant that your meeting was wrapping up.

“Then I’ll give you your next dose and let you go. Please continue to take notes, even if they are brief. Any information you can give me is immeasurably helpful.” He gave you what must’ve been his version of a reassuring smile, tight and forced, before motioning for you to roll up your sleeve and receive your next shot. A cold jab in the arm was administered, and you were on your way.

*********************************************************

The next week passed largely without note, the intense brain fog from the first dosage had lessened into a sort of ditzy forgetfulness, which was still inconvenient but easier to live with. You misplaced things, forgot what you were doing, and lost track of time regularly, but somehow it all seemed easier to just laugh off. Had it not been for a reminder on your phone, you probably would’ve forgotten all about your weekly meeting with Dr. Crane.

The usual unease you felt around him was gone; you were almost looking forward to talking to him. He was the only one you could really talk to about everything that had happened since starting the trial, and how good you’ve been feeling, how your racing thoughts have slowed, and how sometimes you didn’t seem to think at all. It was a relief you never knew existed.

You were so caught up in thinking about not thinking that you hadn’t noticed Dr. Crane entering, sitting down, or speaking to you until he cleared his throat impatiently.

“I said, do you have your notes from this week?”

“Oh, right, here.” You casually tossed over your journal, even though your notes were even more scant than the first week. You had written just three things: 

boobs keep growing

really sensitive

really horny!!

thoughts not happening

“This is the second time you’ve mentioned your breasts.” It didn’t take long for Dr. Crane to skim your brief notes. “Would you mind showing them to me?”

Despite his relaxed posture, his stare felt about a thousand times more intense as you squirmed in your seat.

“That feels inappropriate.”

“I’m a medical professional. I assure you, I’m only trying to verify what you’ve reported.”

Cautiously, you pulled the front of your top down, exposing yourself to him. To your surprise, doing this didn’t make you feel nervous or vulnerable, despite always feeling rather timid about being seen naked in the past. Showing off for the doctor felt weirdly <i>right</i>, like the best thing you could do in any situation would be to do what he says.

He scooted forward on his wheeled office chair, leaning in to examine you closer, never losing the icily neutral look on his face. It’s not that you wanted him to leer, but something, anything other than stony professionalism would’ve gone a long way, especially as he reached out to touch you.

“You’ve gone up… two, maybe three cup sizes? Have you taken any measurements?” He cupped your round, heavy breast lightly, as if to evaluate it. His hand was surprisingly warm, you always assumed that his cold personality would extend to his touch, and that being handled by him would be like being prodded by a metal instrument.

“I dunno… enough that men have started being nicer to me.” Measuring hadn’t even occurred to you. A lot of things stopped occurring to you. It was so much easier just letting yourself not think.

“And you said they’re sensitive.” Gentle cupping had turned into squeezing, firm enough to make you aware of just how strong his hands are. You wanted to moan and lean into his touch, but you didn’t want to make things any more awkward than they already were.

“Yes” you squeaked out. “Really sensitive.”

“You also wrote down that you were, in your own words, really horny. Now, I’m going to need some elaboration, is that an increase in sex drive, or more like constant arousal? I need you to be as descriptive as possible.” He rolled your nipple between his fingers before turning his attention to your other breast, giving it the same treatment.

“It’s both. I’m just… always horny, and I come so much harder now. Sometimes I sneak off during work to rub myself in the bathroom. I can’t help it, it just feels so good, so much better than it did before.” You knew it was for the study, but telling him this much, especially while he touched you like this, felt… weird, like it shouldn’t be happening. But you didn’t want it to stop.

“Are you aroused right now?” If your brain wasn’t clouded by how much you were turned on, you would notice the subtle smirk on his face. Instead, you just nodded eagerly.

“Now, I’ll have to stop touching you so I can write all this down. You’ve given me some crucial information, and as a thank you, you’re welcome to grind against my shoe and get yourself off while I record everything you just told me.” He casually extended his leg as an invitation.

You dropped to your knees promptly, bare breasts bouncing with every movement, and stared up at him dumbly as you straddled his foot. He barely glanced at you while he jotted notes down, even as you rubbed yourself against the shiny black leather of his shoe. It didn’t take long at all for you to climax, and when your orgasm hit you, it hit you so hard that it was honest-to-god disorienting. It took you a moment to remember where you were as you shuddered and fell backwards to the floor.

This was enough to finally get Dr. Crane’s attention. You stared back up at him with big, doe eyes as you finally realized how bizarre and even <i>wrong</i> it was for a doctor to grope you and encourage you to masturbate in front of him.

“Good girl. Cover yourself and let me give you your next dose.”

The faint bit of praise sent shocks down your spine as you pulled your top back over your breasts and climbed back into your seat, and the way Dr. Crane touched you as he administered the injection felt gentler than usual, almost tender. As soon as the drug entered your bloodstream, any apprehension you had about what just happened quickly disappeared.

*********************************************************

“These… aren’t notes in any way, shape or form.” Dr. Crane rubbed his temples in frustration as he looked at the page of doodles you handed him, mostly hearts, stars, and smiley faces.

“I couldn’t think of anything to write. I thought I would make it pretty instead.” you shrugged as you sat with your legs folded in a criss-cross on the couch in his office, not noticing or caring that the position hiked up your already short skirt in a way that revealed your lacy panties. It was true, you couldn’t remember a single thought, new effect, or even what you did from day to day over the past week.

“If you can’t record and report how the drugs are affecting you, you won’t be of any use to the trial and we’ll have to take you off the drug.” he chided, as if explaining himself to a small child. “Because right now, you’re just wasting my time.”

“But I like the drug! I feel better!” you whined, rocking back and forth and pouting for emphasis. “I’ll be good. I promise. Just tell me what to do.”

“Can you tell me anything? Anything at all?” His tone was becoming more condescending, to the point where it got through to even your druggy little brain. He stared at you, daring you to say something, but all you could do was stare back at him dumbly. “That’s what I thought.”

“I’ll have the nurses prepare the outtake forms. I wish you could have been more useful to me.” He spoke curtly as he stood and gathered his belongings, not even dignifying you with eye contact. You were nothing but a broken tool to be discarded.

“But I need this!” You desperately attempted to stand and follow him as he left, but were unable to unfold your legs and spilled on the floor, catching the leg of his pants and staring back up at him with big, pleading eyes.

You were desperate, you were pathetic, you were suddenly useful again.

“I’m surprised you’re this determined to stay in the trial. I suppose we do have one last option: since you’re unable to record your own data, I will have to watch you and take notes myself. I have a spare room in my apartment that you can move into, which should be more comfortable than being committed to the hospital and allow me more access to observe you. Is that something you would consent to?”

You nodded eagerly, although you’d agree to anything as long as it meant not going back to the anxious, overthinking mess of a person that you were before. It was so much simpler being simple.

“I’m taking a big risk on you. I need you to do something for me, to show you’re serious about wanting to continue with the trial.” He gestured towards the growing bulge in his pants, which was mere inches from your face. You stared silently, not sure he was inferring, but your mouth instinctively watered and dropped open when he nudged your head towards his clothed dick.

You pawed at his tented trousers until he got impatient and undid the zipper himself and freed his erection from his boxer briefs, and you quickly got to work bobbing your head over his length, lavishing the head with your tongue. Your eyes watered as you pushed as much of his cock down your throat as you could, making yourself gag lightly but never enough to deter you. You didn’t care that drool was dribbling down your chin, Dr. Crane’s cock was all that mattered.

He grasped a fistful of your hair, reinforcing the rhythm of your movements, and shoving you further down on his cock. No matter how visibly uncomfortable you were, you never pushed back or struggled, you just accepted your place as a living fucktoy. Mascara was running down your cheeks and your skin was flushed and glassy with sweat, almost looking like the plasticky sheen of a blow-up doll.

Dr. Crane grunted as he came in spurts down your throat, still tender from the rough treatment. You didn’t waste a single drop of what he gave you, and ran your tongue over his slit to collect any remaining seed. Once you swallowed everything, you wiped the saliva from your face and smiled up at him sweetly.

“Can we go home now?”

*********************************************************

You had lost count of how many days it had been since Dr. Crane brought you home, in fact, most of your life outside of the past few weeks had been something of a blur. It didn’t matter, though, as being his pretty little pet didn’t require you to think much. You spent most of your days lounging about, watching porn, staring out the window, or oohing and aahing over the pretty clothes he brought home for you. It took him a while to settle on a style when he replaced your wardrobe, dressing you in everything from latex minidresses to 1950s housewife apparel, but eventually found that he favored soft, feminine babydolls in light colors like pink and white.

You were admiring the ruffled hem of the slip you were wearing when you heard him unlocking the door to his apartment, and you immediately rushed over to greet him. Seeing him was the best part of your day, and you couldn’t wait to sit in his lap and talk to him about your busy day of watching yourself edge in front of the mirror.

It had become something of a routine, he would settle into his favorite recliner after coming home from work, and you’d straddle him with your breasts in his face while he felt you up and vented about whatever was bothering him. His job at the university was soooo stressful, apparently conducting experiments on unwitting students is “frowned upon,” whatever that meant. You were always happy to make him feel better.

“…and the dean can’t even appreciate the validity of my work. Opening up the skull of a live subject is the most reliable way to observe changes in the brain, regardless of whether or not the ethics board likes it.” You had no idea what he was even talking about, but you did your best to seem sympathetic, hugging his neck and pulling his head into your chest.

“My day was hard, too. My vibrator stopped working and I had to rub myself by hand.”

“Did you try changing the batteries?”

You thought about what he said for a few seconds and fell into a fit of giggles.

“Duh! Batteries go in the vibrator! You’re so smart, you always think of the best things.”

“That’s why I do all the thinking in the relationship. You just look pretty and keep your holes ready.” He frowned at you in faux concern, as if you were capable of having thoughts of your own.

“I do keep my holes ready!” You bounced excitedly in his lap. You were so, so good at having holes and keeping them ready. Dr. Crane even told you so.

“Wanna show me how nice and ready they are?" his hands skimmed over your body, from the top of your waist down to your thighs and then around back to your ass, which he squeezed firmly, making you gasp softly. You raised the hem of your slip and pulled your panties to the side, revealing your pussy, which was wet from edging all day. You were never allowed to let yourself come while he was gone, that was a special privilege that only he was allowed to give you.

“Beautiful. And your ass?”

You rose from his lap, turned around, and bent over to show him the plug you’ve had in for the past hour.

“I started with the small one and put the bigger one in when you texted me, just like you asked." The plugs always felt weird and you didn't like the bigger ones, but if Dr. Crane wanted you to wear them, then obviously there was a good reason. He’s so handsome and smart, you’d do anything he said.

“Good girl." His praise made your heart sing as he fucked the toy in and out of you. He knew anal play frustrated you, and it was so cute to watch as you tried not to squirm as the bulbous plug disappeared in your ass. Maybe he’d lock your pussy away in a chastity belt and make you masturbate anally all day instead of your usual edging.

Dr. Crane could hardly believe how much his little experiment had changed you. When he started the trial, it was mainly to indulge his curiosity about how the antidote to his fear toxin would affect people with no fear toxin exposure, and most of the other participants reacted to it the same way they would to any other common anxiolytic, save for one particularly unfortunate person who had their fear response reduced so drastically that they walked into oncoming traffic without realizing it was dangerous. But you? You turned into the perfect fuckdoll: always aroused, eager to please, and too oblivious to notice the strange hours he kept as both a professor and as Scarecrow.

Of course, there were some down sides: he had hoped to mold you into something of a stepford wife, not only taking care of his needs in the bedroom but other domestic duties as well. Yet after your third time nearly setting the kitchen on fire while trying to cook a simple meal, he had to accept that you had simply become too airheaded to trust with anything but sex.

“Can we fuck now? My pussy needs you." You whined, interrupting the train of thought that had pulled Dr. Crane’s focus away from you.

“Good girls don't whine like that, sweetheart. I could fuck you, but for that I think I’ll make you wait until after dinner.” He chided. You were so much fun to toy with when you got desperate.

"But I am a good girl! Let me show you.” You pouted and begged.

“If you’re an extra good girl, you’ll be quiet while I’m cooking dinner and then we can fuck.” His tone was equal parts syrupy and condescending, “if not, you can spend the rest of the night gagged and locked in your cage. The choice is yours.”

Not wanting to spend the night locked in a dog crate, you crossed your arms and sulked, but nevertheless obeyed as you sunk into the couch. Your needy little pussy was aching, but you had to be a good girl for Dr. Crane. Even if it was mean and bad and unfair and… Oh? There’s a plate being placed in front of you, dinner must be ready already.

As soon as Dr. Crane sat down beside you, you snuggled into his side. Physical affection wasn’t something he was used to before bringing you home, and it took him some time to come around to it, but now he was actually starting to enjoy the amount of cuddles and kisses you desired from him. Spooning on the couch while trying to eat wasn’t the most practical thing in the world, although you were determined to find a way to bury your face in his chest while also stuffing it with mashed potatoes.

“Someone’s needy tonight,” he teased as he stroked your hair.

You just hummed contentedly and nuzzled your face into his neck. He was warm and smelled nice, like everything in the apartment. The one time you tried opening the window, it smelled like rot and gasoline, and made you sad and scared as it filled your head with vague memories of your old life.

Dinner passed comfortably and quietly, even as you squirmed to find a position that let you eat and snuggle at the same time. Dr. Crane’s attention was largely on the nightly news playing on the television, nodding along with the crime report. The news was mostly boring to you, except for that one weird time that a woman who looked like you and had your name was reported missing. Dr. Crane told you not to worry about it, though, so you didn’t.

“I’d say you’ve been a very good girl this evening,” Dr. Crane shifted to face you. “Would you like to join me in the bedroom?”

“What’s in the bedroom?” You stared blankly.

“Sex, sweetheart. I’m asking you if you would like to have sex.” Dr. Crane rubbed his temples. Perhaps drugging your brains out but leaving you just smart enough to talk was a mistake.

Sex! Sex was exactly what you wanted! Sex was what you dreamed about all day, edging your pussy and thinking of Dr. Crane. Your face lit up, which he took as a sign to lead you to the bedroom.

As you approached the bed, he toyed with the strap of your chemise, gliding it off your shoulder so it hung suggestively.

“I want this off.” His voice was soft, but his unblinking gazes held all the authority in the world over you.

“Yes, sir.” You made quick work of the garment, pulling it over your head and flinging it to the floor.

“Panties, too.”

Those silently slid off next, leaving you completely nude while he remained fully clothed.

Dr. Crane’s breath stilled for a moment as he took in the sight in front of him. It only took a few weeks of being dosed for your body to reshape into a bouncy hourglass, with full breasts, a slim, defined waist, and a round ass with thighs to match. A soft, trimmed patch of hair adorned your pussy, just above the lips, with everything else kept bare. Occasionally you’d have your pubic hair waxed into a heart, which he found ridiculous, but was easy enough to overlook if it kept you happy.

Once he was done drinking in the sight of your body, he gently shoved you onto the bed and guided your legs open, settling in between. His hand made its way to your eager little pussy, spreading the lips and pressing inside, making you shudder in pleasure.

“Have you been this wet for me all day, baby?” His voice now a low rasp, thick with desire.

“Mmmhmm,” you hummed in affirmation, too lost in the sensation to form words.

“God, you’re good for me.” He growled as he dived on top of you, kissing your neck and fondling your breasts. You couldn’t help but moan when he rolled your nipple between his fingers, tugging lightly. You were always responsive, but especially when he played with your tits.

He trailed soft bites down from your neck to your nipples, gently nipping at any skin he could grasp between his teeth. Once he got to your chest, he got more aggressive, sinking his teeth into you until you whimpered in pain. Your breasts were his favorite. He had never given much thought to the “tits or ass?” question before, but now that he could come home to a soft, inviting pair to play with and suck, he knew where his preference lied.

Feeling satisfied that your nipples were now swollen and pink from both arousal and abuse, Dr. Crane removed himself from on top of you to once again admire your needy body and tease your cunt. Even when he was just fucking you with his fingers, you moaned and rolled your hips as if it was the best thing you’ve ever felt. Some nights it could drag on for hours, he would stimulate you with just his hands or a toy only to withdraw before you could climax, giving pleasure and taking it away over and over to see just how desperate he could make you. It was no secret that Dr. Crane was a sadist, and watching you squirm, cry, and beg was almost as good to him as coming inside of you.

Tonight was different, though, he wanted to fuck. He pulled his fingers out of you and freed himself from his trousers and underwear, making a show of rubbing his cock with the wet essence covering his fingers as he lined himself up with your tight, eager hole. He pushed himself in slowly, savoring how hot and slick you felt around him.

Your life revolved around his cock. If you weren’t sucking on it or being filled by it, you were fantasizing about the next time you would have it inside of you. And now that you were being given exactly what you were craving, you couldn't get enough, grinding back against Dr. Crane every time his hips met yours.

No longer satisfied with the languid pace he had set earlier, Dr. Crane pulled back slightly, helping to lift your hips and push your legs towards your chest, essentially folding you in half so he could penetrate you deeper and harder. His new rhythm was merciless as his fingers dug into your thighs, pistoning his hips and fucking you like his life depended on it. Whatever frustration he felt with his job, his colleagues, and his extracurricular activities, he was now taking out on your pussy and all you could do was grip the sheets and take it. 

Between the powerless feeling reinforced by his rough treatment and the way his cock was hitting your g-spot, you couldn't help but let your eyes roll back in ecstasy. You were fulfilling your ultimate purpose as Dr. Crane’s pet: a pretty toy to play with and look at, and an inviting set of holes to fuck. You could come from the thought alone if you were allowed to orgasm without permission. You met each of his thrusts with short, staccato moans as you arched your back beneath him, sticking out your chest as your breasts bounced with every hammering movement.

Dr. Crane’s breath grew ragged as he approached his own climax, and his motions changed from a fluid rhythm to jerky, rough thrusts.

“Play with your clit. Come for me."

Finally given the permission you’ve been needing all evening, you began rubbing yourself vigorously as he continued ramming his cock into you. It didn't take much to push you over the edge, and as your orgasm hit, you moaned so loud and luridly that it would make most seasoned pornographers blush.

Dr. Crane wasn't nearly as noisy as he joined you in orgasmic bliss, panting heavily as he filled you with his seed. Once he found himself thoroughly drained, he collapsed next to you and silently attempted to catch his breath as you rolled over and snuggled up to his chest.

“Let's go again!" you excitedly chirped while reaching for his softened cock.

“Later, sweetheart, I need to rest.” He had no idea how you recovered so quickly. "Why don't you play with yourself while you're full of my come? I know you like that.”

"It's not the same,” you begged. "I need your cock.”

"How about this,” Dr. Crane's clinical doctor voice was back. "You can warm my cock in your mouth while I grade papers, and once I'm good and ready, I’ll fuck your throat while you ride one of your dildos.”

You made a happy little squeal as you smiled and hugged him tightly. He took such good care of you, keeping you so well-fucked. You had everything you could ever want: you were safe, you were loved, you were happy. And all you had to do was let your brain be turned into cotton candy.