#therapist x you

[cookie-crumblr]

F!Reader x Therapist Yan OC Sheila~

Tigers in the Garden🐅✨

Her Info: 📋❤️‍🔥

Was a Drabble i swear… Part 1~

Next Part—>

!MINORS DNI!

CW: F!Reader, Reader has a vagina, reader referred to as she/her, use of strap on reader, fxf, strap in readers v, reader SH(Before it starts, not described, just mentioned and implied in convo), sub and slightly bratty reader, reader is a stoner, reader wears makeup, imbalanced power, DUB-CON(coercion and blackmail), reader has hair(not described), nipple play(a little), choking, not proofread, rough sex, rough with reader in general, spanking, lemme no if i missed any! :3 names for reader(brat, slut, whore),smut with barely any plot in this part, power imbalance

“Okay,” You shrug. “Whatever, i guess” The ‘good’ people in white coats guide you down a sea-green, sterile-smelling corridor.

Youre finally being let out of your mandatory three day stay at a mental health facility(more like prison). They’re letting you out on the condition you see the therapist they’ve set you up with.

Sheila Reichsgraf.

You’ve got nothing but the clothes you came in with in a plastic baggie with your phone, wallet, and keys. They gave you clothes that don’t quite fit or look good on you, and a piece of paper saying where you are to go tomorrow. For tonight? some well earned weed and munchies to go with. Maybe some masturbating too, you’ll see where the night takes you.

Now sitting in front of this woman(more like tigress), you slouch down into your seat. Her gaze is unreadable but scrutinizing.

“I’ve, of course, been informed of your admittance to Fir’s Rest. Would you like to talk about it?” She asks, while typing on her computer.

“Nope.” You sag further into the black velvet chaise lounge.

“I’d like you to talk about it.” She slides her keyboard out of her way, and folds her hands in front of herself.

“I’d like you to kindly shut it about that actually.” You snap.

“Take off your clothes.” Her voice is stern, but no louder than before.

“Ex-fucking-Scuse you!?” you exclaim, what the fuck is she on!? like sure you think she’s way too hot for this plane of existence but like ???

“Take off your clothes.” she interrupts your thoughts, repeating the same thing over again in the same tone. “Unless…” She continues before you can pipe back, “You’d rather go back to the facility.” she takes something out of a black leather padfolio before closing it, and sighing heavily.

You roll your eyes. “What, so you’re like, coercing me now? what’s next ?? threaten to tell my mother?” that would be terrible cause after all you’ve been through for that woman you at the very least want your share of the inheritance.

“Exactly that, darling~” As she walks toward you, you watch her in shock, or disbelief. She extends perfectly manicured, dark skin hands toward you, with a fan of polaroid photos of you in a mental hospital, butt hanging out of your polka dot gown, grippy socks and a trailing IV and all.

“Are you fucking serious right now? You’re sick! You’re a lunatic! If you even think that i’ll—” your voice is completely halted when she roughly grabs you by the cheeks and squeezes your lips into a fish mouth. You scowl up at her deeply. You think about spitting on her, but think better of it. thankfully.

“Listen to you, a brat like you needs to be put in her place.” A smile spreads across her cheeks, dimples pop out near the angled tips of it going into her cheeks.

She really is hot.

You swallow.

She roughly lets go of your face as you pull away. your hair muses and gets in your eyes but you don’t blink and lose eye contact for a second.

Sheila grips your arms to pull you up out of your chair, and throws you hands first into her desk.

Stunned by how fast this all happened, you remain there long enough for her to wrap herself around you.

You let out a cute little whimper as she pinches your nipple through the fabric. You weren’t expecting it, and the shock that got sent directly to your clit.

“Such a good whore under there, already whimpering for me~?” You hear the smile in her voice, as her head buries into the crook of your neck. It tickles and you jump, your ass slamming back into her body. she clings onto you tighter, to hold you still. Somehow you feel like she completely envelops you.

Your core is already hot as she quickly and roughly removes your clothes, feeling up your skin and grabbing everywhere she can as soon as it’s bare. From your hips, to your belly, down and even back up to your ribs, down your arms. Everywhere on you that enters the light, she roams. Her mouth isn’t far behind, kissing and biting you, devouring you fully.

Sheila spreads your legs, one at a time, and puts your hands back on her desk so that your leaning forward. You’re too out of breath and dumb right now to even think of moving. Your back is arched and your ass wiggles slightly on its own, beckoning her and her throbbing clit. She’s equally out of breath, dripping just like you are, her heels click on the wood as she removes her clothes, staring at your swaying backside all the while.

“You’re going to take all of this, aren’t you slut?” Her big beautiful strap on flings out to attention. Your head falls to one shoulder so that you can glimpse it… You swallow harder than before, your brows peaking as you start to imagine the stretch around that thing. You nod.

You don’t have to imagine for long before she’s grabbing your neck to pull your body up against hers. Hard nipples poke your back and you shiver. Delicious, you want those in your mouth, don’t you? “I won’t go easy.” She coos menacingly, and squeezes your throat gently until you see stars.

She rubs her cock against your entrance, prodding, and poking, slowly diving into your needy, wet hole. You’re already stretching around just her head and feeling so good at the same time, whining and whimpering until, she plunges it inside you. All at once and you bite your lip, unable to breathe anymore.

“FUCK!” You puff out the last of your air with one word.

“Soon you’ll be screaming Doctor…” She whispers into your ear before pulling away as far back as her arm will allow, so that she has a better vantage point. Watching your ass as she pulls her strap out, that looks like it’s as far in as your tail bone or further, her clit sends ripples of pleasure throughout her body.

She licks her lips and slams into you this time. She’ll have to savor watching it slowly get swallowed up by your tight pussy later. This time she pulls out faster and pushes back in just as fast. She sets a pace that’s both brutal and blissful to you, as the pain lessens the pleasure grows, and it grows exponentially.

Her nails dig into your throat and her other comes around to tweak your clit, it makes you start to shake and twitch, your arms wobble trying to keep you upright.. Her own orgasm building as the strap rubs her back with every thrust, she moans behind you, you tighten around her, and open yourself up more to take her better.

“D-Doctor!” You practically beg, not knowing what for; more, less, faster, slower! But she was right, and you yell, “Doctor!!” again. She gets faster and faster, your butt is hot from the force of her slamming into you. the slapping of skin against wet skin, combined with stuffed groans and more hoarse “Doctor”’s fill the office.

Blackened tears streak down your face as you cum around her cock you shake and convulse barley able to hold yourself up against the low desk, even with the help of her hand still wrapped around your throat. She keeps pounding you. Ruthlessly. Through your orgasm and straight into your crashing next two. “Who would have thought you’d be such a good girl under that attitude.”

Suddenly she pushes in deeper than ever before, stealing even more air from the depths of your soul. You swear you can feel her hitting there too. “Take all of me,” her hand runs down your hair and back. Then she slowly pulls out, letting you really feel the thick vein that twists around her length. You shudder around her, and whimpers keep falling freely from your open, puffy lips, you’re spent.

She plays with your hair gently, before spanking your already warm ass. You jump, “Wha-!” Your too dumb to even form one little word. Her hand rounds where she just slapped and you think she’ll slap you in the same spot when she pulls away, you brace for impact. You yelp! when she slaps your raw pussy instead.

The phone rings…

You don’t see her look at the caller ID, but you hear her sigh.

“This session is over. Come back next week.” She completely pulls away leaving you cold on the outside but still burning for her on the inside.

“What about—?” You start, before she interrupts.

“Session’s over.” she says while buttoning her shirt, then pats down her skirt, before turning back to you, and winks, “Like I said, come back next week” Your heart pounds. Can you even wait a week?

What are you even thinking right now!?

…

You glance back at her. She licks her lips.

She’s on the edge of her desk and watching you get dressed, you walk out the door with a slight limp and her eyes, practically ticklish on your back.

You have to catch your breath outside the thick wood doors.

Sheila groans before picking up the receiver.

“Hello, mommy dearest…” She makes her voice higher pitched and ready to please.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

lotus

a/n: this has been sitting half-written on my pc for i don't even know how many months (tbh at least half a year. i was living somewhere else when i started it wow). finally took a deep breath and finished it (though with an ending that kinda flies by a bit because just wanted it to get done. i was scared that the story would never see the light of day, so zooming through the ending was a better option)

summary: a nervous breath then escaped his lungs before he uttered, “you do know what kind of massage this is, right?” to which you only blinked back at him all the same, none of your shock evaporation at his words, “you know that I’m here to give you more than just a regular massage?”

warnings: massage therapist!bucky barnes x reader, smut, sex worker!bucky, bucky doesn't have the metal arm in this one, thinking that your friend just signed you up for a normal massage but then it turns out to be an erotic one, kissing, dirty talk, manhandling, fingering, toys, multiple orgasms, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, anal, double penetration

word count: 4000

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

With a hand tangled up in one of the ties of the robe you wore, you answered your front door after finally hearing the bells chime.

“Hi,” a soft smile swiftly warmed up the features of the man standing on the other side of the threshold, “are you miss Y/l/n?”

“Yeah, I am,” a tingle of nerves flickered through your body as your gaze washed over him, “you must be the masseuse.”

Why did he have to be so attractive? If it was this difficult to remember to breathe when he was standing completely out of your reach, then how were you going to survive a guy such as him touching you?

Following your gaze down to the folded-up table he carried, he nodded, “guilty,” before setting down the duffle bag he clutched in his other hand and extended it for you to grasp, “my name is Bucky.”

“Bucky,” you briefly shook it, “nice to meet you.”

“You too,” the touch faded, and he bent down to pick the supplies back up, “so, where should I set up?”

“Oh, in here, in the living room,” you gestured behind you and shifted to the side for him to enter. As he set up everything, you stayed at the perimeter and felt your heartbeat thump behind your ribcage, “is it weird that I’m a bit nervous?” you then quietly asked.

Briefly pausing his actions as he unfurled the massage table, he cast a glance your way.

“It’s not weird at all, it’s okay,” he stated in a calm tone, “but I assure you, this is a completely safe space, you’re in good hands.”

“I just–, this wasn’t exactly my idea, or even at all,” your hands fiddle further with the terrycloth tie around your waist as you began to ramble, “Nat, my friend, she told me that I needed to relax, so she booked this appointment for me as a treat. I don’t even know what it is she signed me up for, if it was just like a little five-minute long thing or what.”

“Oh no, she signed you up for the full package, 90 minutes.” 

“Really?” your eyebrows rose, “wow, that’s amazing.”

Once the table was set up and he rummaged through the bag for a towel as well as other supplies, his low timbre filled the room once more.

“So, before we start, I’d just like to ask if there’s anything off limits to you, anything you don’t like or that you’re not interested in? Or perhaps something in particular you’d like today?”

“Uh, I don’t think so,” your eyes narrowed slightly as you thought, quickly scanning through your body to get a good sense, “you can just be as rough with me as you want.”

“Alright, you like it rough, good to know,” you felt yourself suck in a silent breath at the way the phrase fell from his lips, “you ready to begin?”

“Yep,” you swallowed, hoping he didn’t notice how flustered he seemed to make you. 

He then lifted up the ivory sheets he’d sprawled out on the plush bench and held it up high, giving you a smidge of privacy as you dropped your robe to a nearby armchair, before laying down on the table and feeling the cotton drape over you. 

As you layed there on your stomach with your face comfortably nestled in the little nook, you sensed Bucky adjust the fabric, folding it down so that your entire back was exposed. 

A dull click found your ears as he pumped some oil into his palm. The very first touch conjured a brisk breath to fill your lungs as his hands slid along your spine, spreading the slickness around. 

Though when you finally managed to force yourself to relax into his touch, a soft moan slipped from your lips as his meticulous grip found a muscle particularly sore.

“Sorry,” you timidly apologized for the sound. 

But he simply zeroed in on the very spot that had made you groan and said, “don’t apologize, whatever bubbles up, please let it out.”

Your lips stayed half parted as his touch dug deeper, “it just feels really good right there...”

“Yeah, you seem to be holding a lot of tension in your back, especially right here between your shoulder blades.”

“Probably all the time on the couch,” you let out a pitiful chuckle, “I just kept on getting into uncomfortable positions and then stayed like that. Which, funnily enough, is pretty symbolic of how I ended up there in the first place, stuffing my face with Ben and Jerry’s and binging the most depressing of romcoms.”

“Bad breakup?” he guessed. 

“I don’t think you can call it a break-up if you never really were together in the first place,” you let out a sigh. Yet again had you fallen for a guy who’d turned out to be a complete and utter asshole, “men are just pigs,” you spat out, “no offence.”

“Oh, none taken,” he uttered, “you know, it’s actually very common for people to get this particular treatment after something like that.”

“Really? Your touch is on the same level as bawling your eyes out to Joni Mitchell?” you jested, “well, now I’m really happy that I let my friend talk me into this.”

Soon, when his touch had kneaded every inch of your back, it faded away and reappeared lower on your frame as you then felt him fold the sheet up to expose your legs, letting the thin fabric only drape across and cover the curve of your bottom. 

Once his touch had soothingly wandered up the length of your legs and as his broad palms dented your slightly parted thighs, you nearly didn’t notice through the trance-like state you’d drifted off to when his reach crept close enough to your core to feel the heat radiating off it. A gasp parted your lips as his fingers briefly ghosted against the very outside of your puff before retreating back down your thigh. 

“Is it alright if remove this for a bit?” he then asked as you felt his hand clutch the sliver of modesty that remained. 

“Oh, uhm,” you fought to comprehend his question through the haze you’d slipped into, both the haze of relaxation, though maybe more predominately the haze of sin, which was most likely what had swayed you to utter, “sure,” trying your best to stay calm as he removed the sheet completely. 

It became a difficult task to keep your quiet noises at bay and have them not seep through your heavy breath as he then began to massage the soft peak of your butt. 

You tried to remind yourself that it was the biggest muscle on the human body and thereby completely normal to be treated in this manner, but that truth would have been easier to swallow if it had been a less attractive specimen touching you in such a way. 

Eventually, Bucky’s lavish rubs came to spread you apart with each repetitive motion, surely granting himself a perfect view of just how mortifyingly wet you’d become. 

As he let his broad thumbs dig into your sitting points, you told yourself it was the slipperiness of the oil that caused his fingers to sweep closer to your core and not your own nectar that had leaked down towards his touch. 

It felt so good that your hips unconsciously tilted up and into his touch, as his thumbs slid close enough to caress your outer lips, nearly capturing them in a gentle pinch. 

You didn’t know how long it took, how long you essentially grinded into him as if you were in heat, but eventually, you snapped out of your fog and realized just where his fingers were. 

“U-uh… w-what are you doing?” your frame jumped slightly at the realization.

“Do you not like this?” his touch paused, though didn’t retreat. 

“Why–, uhm…” you nearly panted, “you’re just very close to somewhere else.”

And when he simply uttered, “yeah, I know,” in an almost amused and cocky tone. You swiftly propped yourself up onto your arms and glared back at him, successfully prompting him to rip his hands away.

Snatching the sheet back over your frame as you scrambled to a seat, you stared back at him in utter shock, “I’m sorry, but are you actually trying to sleep with me right now?”

His brows furrowed slightly as he blinked back at you, seemingly confused at your outburst, “I’m just doing my job.”

“I’ve had massages before, that was not–… that right there was something else. That was not you doing your job, that was your hands being persuaded by your dick.”

A nervous breath then escaped his lungs before he uttered, “you do know what kind of massage this is, right?” to which you only blinked back at him all the same, none of your shock evaporation at his words, “you know that I’m here to give you more than just a regular massage?”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh boy, I’m sorry, I thought you knew…” his glance fell to the floor as he then began to enlighten, “well, the lotus wellness center, where I work, specializes in the blend of not just physical and mental health, but also sexual health and satisfaction. An erotic massage, like the one you were signed up for, is one of the many services we offer.”

Your eyes had grown as wide as saucers during his explanation, “o-oh…”

“I totally understand if you wanna stop, if you’re not interested.”

“I–…” you tried to make heads or tails of the situation you found yourself in, “so you were gonna–, what? Fuck me?”

“I was gonna try and make you feel good, help you relax and unwind. You were signed up for the aurelia treatment which would involve me using my hands to pleasure you, as well as whatever toys you might be interested in.”

“Toys?”

“Yes, I have a generous collection with me,” he briefly gestured back to the duffle bag resting on the couch. 

“Okay, uhm…” one of your palms came down to brush over your features as you fought to comprehend it all.

“Do you want me to pack up and go?” you heard him ask. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, before you even realized it was moving, you shook your head. Letting your gaze flutter back up to find his, you exhaled lowly, “fuck…”

“I can also just give you a completely traditional massage if that’s what you want.”

“…and if I wanna try the other thing?” you nearly whispered. 

“Do you?”  

“I–…” you tried to speak, though couldn’t find the words and ended up just hazily nodding back at him. 

“Alright,” he gently mirrored the nod that still faintly rocked your head, “I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with, I promise. You just say the word, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathed, shivering slightly at the tingle of goosebumps that spread across your flesh. 

The way he held your gaze a moment longer before shifting it to the massage table you still sat upon made you feel as if you might melt off it entirely.

“Lay back down,” he faintly nodded to the bench. 

Your eyes stayed glued on him long after you now layed sprawled out on your back. 

Letting his touch graze the sheet you still absentmindedly clutched to your chest, he asked, “do you wanna keep this on?”

“No,” you shook your head faintly, “you can remove it.”

“Okay,” he gently peeled the fabric off of you, “just say if you get cold, alright?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, still having a hard time wrapping your head around the fantasy you found yourself in. 

He began by working at your arms, tenderly spreading some oil across them and massaging down the length of them, one at a time, till his skilful fingers descended to work at your palms. It nearly felt as if he was merely holding your hand before he tossed you into the deep end with how intimate the simple beginning sensed. 

You couldn’t command your gaze to leave his visage as you traced his every move as if he was made of stardust. 

When his warmth let go of your hand, he reached for the bottle of oil that didn’t have a pump and unscrewed the top. Your bottom lip got caught by your teeth as he then poured a bit out over your stomach, curving the s-waves of droplets all the way up and across your boobs, dripping over your pebbly nipples as they stared back at him. 

As Bucky began to rub it in, he first stared softly down at your belly before swooping up, only to skip over your tits entirely and instead yanking a disappointed whimper from your lungs as he then commenced massaging your shoulders. 

You felt a bit lightheaded as you blinked up at him, all tall and broad, looming above your head and digging his warm touch into the base of your neck. 

Though when his rough palms finally did swoop down to caress your soft peaks, he quietly checked in, “this okay?” to which you simply nodded your head, eyebrows knitting together at the intenseness of the built-up anticipation.

Your entire chest cage heaved beneath his touch as he finally massaged your boobs, even occasionally fleeting away to ghost across your nipples, only to capture them in a pinch the next moment. 

You felt as if you were floating down a calm stream, letting the river of sin take you somewhere new and wonderful. 

Eventually, his broad palms swept up and down your form, though each time his reach dared to near your core, he barely touched you at all, missing entirely the spots that throbbed for attention, which of course only caused the sensation to deepen and render you even more desperate from his teasing. 

When he then shifted to stand to the side of the patted table, his deep voice washed over you once more as his touch stayed warm against your skin.

“Everything okay so far?”

“Yeah…” you hummed as you lazily blinked up at him, and the soft smile that curved your lips caused a similar one to bloom upon his own. 

His slow stride then carried him further down till his fingers began to dent the softness of your thighs. 

After he’d made your eyes flutter at the way he worked at the muscles in your legs, focusing on one thigh at a time, slowing working his way up till his fingertips stretched to dizzily brush against your outermost petals, it was then, that his sweeps grew and blossomed till one fleeting tease to your centre morphed into more as he kept coming back, each fluttering time slowly transforming till the maddening pets had become everything you’d dreamed of.

Soft whimpers flowed out of your lungs as he gently folded each of your legs up by your sides and cracked you wide open for him.  

As he gazed down at you with such intensity you’d never experienced before, it only took one step for him to change his angle and stand tall next to your hips. 

Letting his palms run up your inner thighs, the edges of each of his broad thumbs then met and joined on either side of your pussy as he captured it in a light pinch, making you moan softly, “fuck….” as his touch rolled your clit through your glistening puff. 

You nearly didn’t catch it because of how hard your own pants were, but Bucky’s own breaths had picked up as well and with a few stray curses seeping through his teeth as he continued to pluck at the strings of your pleasure. 

But then, before you could truly lose yourself to the ecstasy you felt flicking in your periphery, his hands slipped away, a smirk fast on his lips as a whine escaped you and he returned his attention to the rest of your body. Though thankfully, his torture only carried on a short moment before he finally granted you the first of many treats.

“Oh, yeah,” you couldn’t help but moan as he rubbed your clit and carried you over the peak. 

“Right there?” he leaned down closer to you as he kept up his pace, his free hand coming to rest right beside your head as he loomed over you. 

“Yeah,” you breathlessly panted as your body trembled beneath his touch. 

“Yeah?” he huskily echoed, nearly sharing your breath as he drew out your orgasm for as long as he could, and even as your body began to squirm at the sensitivity that swiftly set in, his touch never left you, only lightened to make it bearable and tickle you back from the high. 

He studied your features fiercely as his fingers then came down to tease your entrance. 

“How about this?” your leaky hole swallowed up the two digits he swiftly filled it with, “how’s that? Is that what you want?”

“Oh fuck!” your back briefly arched and lifted you off the table, closer to him for but a moment as sloppy sounds of your want echoed at the slow rhythm he played you at. 

“Or do you need a little more maybe?” he sneaked another finger inside, “huh?” his frame then bent down till you could feel his hot breath fan across your face, “what do you want? You want something more to make you feel good right here?” his fingers slid back out of your pussy and fluttered up till they found your puffy pearl, “or here?” he briefly soared back down to plug up your cunt once more, but only offered you one messily rock before his digits slipped back out and drifted down much further than you expected, “or maybe even here?” you let out a gasp as the slick pads of his fingers glided over your little rosebud. 

“I–, I–,” you struggled to answer him, feeling so foggy that you might just fall off the table, “fuck…” 

“I have any toy you could dream of with me,” he purred as your grip found his shirt for support, “so, what do you want?”

“I want–, I want–”

“What?” he pushed as he continued to stare down into your eyes. 

And as blinked back at him, only one wish came to mind, one that you timidly whispered, “y-you…”

But as fear began to prickle at your nerves, they all dissipated as the masseuse wasn’t offended at all, your words somehow conjuring a dazzled smile to appear upon his lip before he then chuckled warmly, “roll over for me.”

You nearly gave yourself whiplash from the hast you tried to fulfil his command.         

As he soon kneeled down to be on level with where your head was now twisted and resting on its side, his hand drifted up for you to spot the dildo clutched in his grasp. 

Handing it off to your flicking fingers, his touch briefly lingered on your cheek, stroking it softly as he said, “then pretend this is me, will you? Get it nice and sloppy for me.”

When you began to plant pecks across the silicon, your eyes shadowed him as far as they could as he straightened back up and walked back far enough to disappear from your sight, only for you to know where he’d gone to once you felt his mouth begin to devour you whole. 

It became difficult to concentrate on the task he’d given you, so much so that he had to remind you each time his lavish tongue buried between your legs caused your own to forget itself. 

Arching your ass further up towards his efforts, he tilted away from your drooling cunt and instead nipped up till he lapped against your other hole. 

“Oh, that feels really good,” you moaned around the dildo as you tried to catch a glimpse of him, though only saw the edge of one of his hands and they dented your bottom. 

“Yeah?” he let a dollop of spit drop to your rosebud before he nudged the pad of a thumb against it, “you like having this little hole played with?”

“Uh-huh,” you nodded, then watched as he momentarily dipped away to snatch up a butt plug from the zipped-open treasure trove his bag was. 

Once the toy was snugly buried within your little ass, he snatched the dildo out of your mouth and a string of your drool chased the silicone as he brought it back to tap against the sloppy petals of your pussy. 

It didn’t take very long after he’d begun to fuck you with the toy that you tumbled over the edge once more, making you that much more malleable when he yanked at your legs and manhandled you down to the bottom of the bench till your unsteady feet were once again on the floor and he had you bent over the table like a needy whore. 

That was also when your weak pleas began to bubble out, begging for him to fill you up with something other than a toy. 

Even though you couldn’t see his face, you swore you heard a tinge of astonishment in his tone when he asked you to clarify, making sure it really was him that had you begging and not just the way he made you feel. 

Though once you finally managed to convey the sincerity of your words and convince him of the way he and not just the acts he was performing, drove you wild, it was in the middle of chasing your next high that he broke his pattern and traded out the dildo with his own hard cock. 

A low moan seeped across your spine as he buried his length completely and let himself melt down against your back. Letting himself savour the sweetness of your warmth clenching around his fat girth, it took him a while before he finally began to move and soon found a steady pace that had your toes curling against the floorboards. 

His fingers gently dug into the soreness still remaining all down your back as his hips repeatedly collided with the plush of your ass in desperate thrusts. Though as his digits worked their way down the length of your spine, they eventually found the little plug that still remained in your ass. 

Teasingly twisting the toy, you thought that was everything he had planned, though all of those fantasies fluttered away when he suddenly yanked the small plug out and switched it with the bigger toy still firm in his grasp, your little hole only managing to wink up at him before he stuffed it full once more. 

You lost track of the amount of times he made you cum as the remainder of the intense dance became a bit of a blur. At one point he had you flipped around and lying on your back, gasping up at him as he folded you in half and nearly broke the massage table beneath you from how hard his deep strokes were. At the next, the dildo he drove you mad with was traded out with his own fat cock and he conjured a vibrating wand to hold against your puffy clit as he watched your pussy leak from the bliss. But at the end, once you were nothing more than a puddle on the table, his load painted against your tits as he let his frame drape down atop of yours, a hazy question left your lips.

“Is that usually how that goes?” you asked as you both panted, plastered against one another. 

Raising himself up only enough for his eye to catch your own, he uttered sincerely, “no…” and his gaze flickered down towards your lips, “no, it is not…” before he let himself give you the thing you hadn’t dared to request. The kiss was so sweet it nearly caused you to forget the sinful acts you’d just wrapped up.

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[syoddeye]

someone's probably done this but,

you're six months into seeing dr. garrick on a weekly basis. you've made serious progress. setting firm boundaries with your family, managing work stress with more grace, and finally cutting ties with that incompetent, rude excuse for a boyfriend. you actually look forward to every session.

you know you're not supposed to project onto garrick. not supposed to think about him for too long outside of your appointments. picture what he's up to, imagine his life outside his office. but when he laughs at your jokes, soothes you when you cry, or, most devastatingly of all, praises you, that boundary in your mind blurs. you want more than you should. and that's something you really ought to bring up with him.

but you won't.

which makes it all the more mortifying when, as you gather your things at the end of a session, you casually let slip, "have a good rest of your week, love you," and nearly collapse on the way to the door the moment you realize what just left your mouth.

there's a beat of silence. an excruciating, long pause where your heart plummets straight to your stomach. you freeze, fingers gripping the strap of your bag like a lifeline. maybe…maybe he didn't hear you. maybe if you keep walking or break into a sprint, you can pretend this never happened and—

"well. that's certainly a first."  

oh god.

you squeeze your eyes shut, mortification hitting you like a freight train, and slowly turn to face him. "i didn't—i didn't mean–"  

he chuckles, warm and rich, and when you force yourself to meet his gaze, he's watching you with a knowing smile. still seated, relaxed in his chair, notebook in his lap. there's something to his eyes, though.

"slip of the tongue?" he muses, tilting his head.

your face burns. "oh my god, please let me leave with what's left of my dignity."  

he laughs at that, actually laughs, and the sound does dangerous, stupid things to your already frayed nerves. "no need to be embarrassed," he says, and the gentleness in his tone almost makes it worse. "it happens. and hey," he leans into his chair slightly, smirking just enough that you're afraid of melting into the floor. "at least i know i'm making an impact."  

you make an odd, strangled sound, yanking the door open so fast you nearly stumble through it. "yeahokaybye, dr. garrick."  

"see you next week." he echoes, sounding far too entertained. then, as you're halfway out, "we'll talk about this then. in depth!"

you slam the door and hope a sinkhole swallows you on the way home.

[raynewolferune]

Meta Jazz, the Arkham Intern Therapist Pt1

Update 5/16/2024: Congrats guys, gals, and others! You have planted the seeds and they have grown. Today I wrote another 46 pages on this story (the first section was only 9 pages ya'll). I'm working on splitting it up into smaller sections so I can post it now because tumblr said no to doing it as one piece. I'll be using the tag #Meta Jazz Arkham Intern Therapist if you want to follow it.

Original Note: I'm going to go ahead and apologize for how OOC Bane is in this. It originally was Joker but I couldn't see Jazz tolerating his proximity for more than a single millisecond so Bane it is.

~*~*~

The hardest thing about being a Meta in Gotham was responding appropriately during a Rouge's attack, Jazz mused to herself. Or perhaps that was just the hardest part about being a Meta intern at Arkham while studying psychology at Gotham University. Or maybe it was just her, she considered watching the guards and Dr. Rylie whom she'd been shadowing for the past 2 weeks wide eyed, pale, and shaking as theybstared at Bane behind her. It must just be her, Jazz decided, newbie guard Kyle Jennings was definitely a Meta after all. She should probably give him some tips on hiding his enhanced strength considering how often he broke mugs, door handles, and other delicate items used in daily life.

"Weapons down or I'll snap her skinny little neck." Bane growled out, shaking her slightly for emphasis. She very much doubted that. Liminials were built different than the standard Meta, stronger, faster, better endurance, and senses even if they could mostly appear to be standard humans on the outside.  As such, their bones and muscles were much were much denser than regular humans or even Meta humans. Technically, she could be considered "invulnerable" much like the Kryptonians are.

"Back up! Let him through!" Dr. Rylie  shouted at the guards. "She's my student! Let him through!" His voice was higher pitched than she could recall hearing it before.

Ah. That was panic.

Jazz sighed involuntarily and glanced over her shoulder at Bane. Why the man had grabbed the only person close to his own height nearby was a mystery to her - no, nevermind, he clearly meant to use her as a shield - but it made looking him in the eye more difficult than necessary.

"Mr. Bane, remove your hands from my person, please." Jazz stated calmly, channeling what Danny called her inner mom as she spoke. "I will give you to one to comply."

Bane looked stunned for a moment then laughed.

"Five."

The laughing continued. Jazz could sense a stir of uncertainty through her colleagues as they looked on.

"Four."

"Did you really think that would work?" Bane snorted out, arms tensing more around her.

"Three." She continued, indifferent to his words from her experiences raising her brother. Once the count down starts you mustn't respond to anything the kids do or say until they comply or the count is done.

"What cab you even do if I don't?" Bane asked darkly breathing directly in her ear. She kept her face expressionless despite the urge to express disgust.

"Two."

"Jasmine..."  Kyle whispered halfway across the hall from her looking on with a pained and horrified expression. Gun tilting towards the floor. Sloppy.

"One." She finished and Bane gave a derisive snort.

Then she was moving. Hauling the enormous man up and over her shoulder using the arm that had been wrapped around her neck. Bane hit the cold tile hard enough that the tiles, subfloor, structural supports, and part of the concrete foundation buckled beneath him. His shoulder popped out of joint, his wrist cracked - a hairline fracture by the sound of it -  and his breath was punched out of him from the force of impact. She released his arm as soon as his was embedded in the tiles and moved forward. Kneeling over him, support most of her weight on her left foot resting on the broken ground, her right knees pressed firmly across his throat without supporting any of her weight. The position put more strain on her muscles than she would've liked but at least Bane couldn't risk fighting back without crushing his own neck in the process. He could hardly throw her while flat on his back with a mangled arm.

"Now," Jazz began, looking directly into the behemoth's pained eyes. "Do you know what you've done wrong?" She asked like she would have done with Danny as a child.

"Yes, Ma'am." Bane choked out. Jazz heard movement and murmuring behind her. She didn't turn to look.

"What did you do wrong?" She asked. It was important to make sure children correctly understood why they were in trouble after all. There was a long pause as Bane appeared to cast around for the exact right answer as if he feared getting it wrong. A bad habit Danny still uses as well, Jazz thought to herself.

"I tried to hold you hostage," He choked out in a rush, words tumbling over one another as he tried to get them all out. "I scared you coworkers and it was very disrespectful."

So he'd gone for the grab-bag response. It wasn't wrong per sey but it did indicate a past history of abuse. The type of answer given by someone who expected to be harmed or ignored if they gave the "wrong" answer. Danny tended to use that method also and their parents had always been negligent at best.

"And are you going to do it again?" She asked giving him a Look as she did. Bane's eyes widened and he tried to frantically shake his head as much as possible with the pressure on his neck.

"No, Ma'am." He promised fervently.

"Alright then," Jazz said giving him a warm smile. She gestured vaguely towards the guards without turning to look at them. "Kyle here is going to take you to see the nurse and then back to your room then. I'm sure you'll behave for him?"

"Yes, Ma'am. I'll behave." Bane said. Jazz stood slowly asking sure not to put any additional pressure on his neck as she did. Kyle came and stood next to her as the giant of a man slowly pulled himself to his feet then led him away with 5 other guards.

Jazz heaved a sigh. Well, time to find out whether or not she could play all that off as normal, non-Meta human behavior.

[shapard]

Tantrum🕷️

Satan x Succubus!fem!reader

Tw: Smut, slow burn, therapist x client, Satan being Satan to the low life, p in v

6k

Satan is so Hot

Part 1 > Part 2

The story begins after the cut

You exhaled slowly, your breath shaky as your eyes scanned the list of today's clients. One name stood out like a drop of blood on pristine parchment: Satan. Yes, the Satan. You’d laughed when the receptionist first told you. Surely, it was some dark joke, right? But the chilling sincerity in her eyes told you otherwise. For the next month, the King of Wrath himself would be your client. His personal therapist—or "anger coach," as they called it—was conveniently on vacation, leaving the responsibility to you.

Your fingers hovered over the file, tapping lightly on the thick paper. His profile was sparse yet enough to send a chill down your spine. Anger issues. As if that needed to be stated. Brutal, cruel, unpredictable. Lies often. Has a dangerously short temper. And the last line, hastily scrawled like a warning, stood out the most: Approach with caution.

The note on your pad detailed when and where you were to meet him: Satan’s castle. Even the thought of it made your stomach churn. The clock on your desk screeched, breaking your trance. It was time.

Your palms were clammy as you left your room, dread curling around your spine. The limousine waiting outside was overkill, with its glossy black finish and an interior too luxurious for comfort. You sank into the seat, but even its plush softness couldn’t ease the knot tightening in your chest. Your fingers toyed nervously with the fabric of your shirt. "Why am I doing this to myself?" you muttered, your voice a hoarse whisper.

The drive stretched on, the limousine cutting through a landscape that seemed to grow darker, more twisted with every passing mile. Gnarled trees loomed like skeletal hands, their shadows dancing over the cracked road. The closer you got to his estate, the more oppressive the air became, thick with heat and a faint metallic tang that clung to your throat. When the car finally stopped, your breath hitched.

The castle loomed above you like a blackened wound carved into the earth itself. Jagged spires clawed at the sky, and the air was heavy with the faint stench of sulfur. The gates creaked open, revealing a procession of imps scurrying about with feverish purpose. Their glowing eyes briefly landed on you before darting away, like vermin avoiding a predator.

You swallowed hard, stepping out of the limousine. The ground beneath your sneakers radiated an uncomfortable heat, as if the very earth resented your presence. You hesitated, looking up at the fortress before you. Every instinct screamed for you to run. But you were a therapist—for Lucifer’s sake, you’d dealt with impossible clients before. Just not ones who could incinerate you with a single breath.

A small, hunched imp dressed in a tattered butler’s uniform approached, its head bowed. Without a word, it gestured for you to follow. You obliged, your legs moving stiffly as if weighed down by chains. The castle’s interior was worse. Shadows seemed alive, twisting and curling around corners like smoke. The halls were cavernous and eerily silent, save for the echo of your footsteps against the stone floor.

You were led through corridors that gleamed with wealth. Gold littered every surface, accompanied by piles of glittering jewels—rubies, diamonds, and sapphires, carelessly heaped as if they were nothing more than pocket change. It was suffocating in its opulence, but it was the odd details that unsettled you. A scorch mark on the wall, as if something—or someone—had been obliterated there. Deep claw marks gouged into the stone.

When you entered his chamber, the atmosphere shifted entirely. Heat rolled over you in waves, and the room smelled faintly of ash. Your eyes roamed over the space, catching glimpses of heavy iron chains, monstrous workout equipment, and a hulking throne that seemed carved from molten rock. And then, your gaze rose.

He was there.

The dragon loomed in the far corner, a creature of pure, terrifying majesty. His scales shimmered like molten obsidian, and his horns, wickedly curved and sharp, glinted faintly in the dim light. His golden eyes burned like twin suns, locking onto you with an intensity that made your stomach drop. His chest rose and fell with a deep, growling breath that reverberated through the floor.

"So," he rumbled, his voice a deep, guttural drawl that made the air vibrate. "You’re the replacement.”

You froze, your body rigid as his gaze raked over you. His tone dripped with disdain, his lips curling into something between a snarl and a smirk. You felt like a mouse under the eye of a serpent.

“A succubus?” he sneered, the word laced with contempt. His massive frame shifted as he lowered his head, bringing his razor-sharp teeth dangerously close to your trembling form. His eyes narrowed, a flicker of amusement dancing in their molten depths. “For a succubus, you look... innocent.”

You flinched as his claw moved, its sharp tip hooking under the edge of your buttoned shirt. With terrifying ease, he pulled you closer, the heat radiating from him suffocating.

“Sir,” you managed, your voice wavering as you fought to hold your ground, “this is… inappropriate.”

The dragon chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Inappropriate?” he repeated, his tone mockingly sweet. “Oh, little one, we’re far beyond ‘appropriate’ here.”

For a moment, the tension was unbearable, his golden gaze locking onto yours, unyielding and searing. Then, with a huff, he released you, his massive claw retracting as he settled back.

“Let’s see how long you last,” he muttered, his voice laced with dark amusement. “They always break, you know.”

Your knees felt weak, your breath shallow as you took a hesitant step back. This wasn’t going to be like any other client you’d dealt with. And as his gaze lingered on you, predatory and calculating, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were stepping into a game you didn’t fully understand—a game where the rules were written in blood.

“Let’s start with something simple—an introduction.” You tried to project confidence, raising your voice slightly to ensure he could hear you clearly. The weight of his molten gaze bore down on you, but you kept your posture straight. “Before we can trust each other, we need to know each other.”

Your words hung in the air, daring to challenge the suffocating silence. His golden eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his reptilian features. You forced a smile and continued, your voice steady despite the thrum of fear in your chest. “My name is Y/n L/n. I’ll be your therapist for the time being. In my spare time, I enjoy drawing. Now, would you care to introduce yourself?”

The room seemed to grow hotter. A deep huff escaped from Satan’s nostrils, the force of his breath stirring the papers on your clipboard. His head tilted ever so slightly, as though studying you from a new angle. “You know who I am.” His words were low and blunt, carrying the faintest edge of impatience.

You kept your expression neutral, though your heart thudded painfully in your chest. “Of course, I know. But I’d like to hear it from you.” Your tone was calm, measured, even as the edges of his form seemed to ripple with heat.

That caught him off guard. His brows furrowed, and for a moment, his eyes lost some of their predatory sharpness. His breathing, which had been fiery and erratic, grew slower, more controlled. “I am Satan,” he said at last, his voice still low but tinged with pride. “The Sin of Wrath. The first sin.”

You didn’t flinch, though the words carried a weight that pressed against you. Liar. The truth was well-known—Lucifer was the first. But you kept that observation to yourself, instead lowering your gaze to jot something down on your notepad.

The scratch of your pen seemed deafening in the charged silence.

“What are you writing?” His tone was sharper now, irritation bubbling just beneath the surface. You glanced up cautiously, noting the slight flare of his nostrils and the way his claws flexed against the stone floor.

“It’s nothing important,” you assured him, your voice soft but deliberate. “Just a few notes for me. Is that okay?”

His eyes narrowed further, glowing faintly as if testing your words for deceit. After a tense moment, he leaned back, the massive muscles in his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Yeah… I guess.”

You allowed yourself a small exhale, the pen trembling faintly in your grip as you made another note. “Thank you. So, tell me—what’s your favorite hobby?” you asked, keeping your tone light, almost conversational.

Satan blinked, clearly caught off guard again. “Hobby?” he repeated, as if the concept were foreign to him. A pause stretched between you, and then he shrugged. “Uh… I like working out.”

Internally, you groaned. Great, you thought, suppressing the urge to roll your eyes. A gym bro with anger issues. But outwardly, you smiled, though your fingers tightened slightly around your pen.

As you scribbled his answer, you felt a subtle shift in the air. His gaze hadn’t left you, and there was something unsettling about the way he watched you now—curious, calculating, like a predator studying its prey. The edges of his mouth twitched, as if he were amused by something only he understood.

“Do you always write so much?” he asked suddenly, his voice a little too casual.

You froze for half a second before looking up. “Only when it helps me understand my client better,” you said evenly.

Satan’s lip curled faintly, exposing a hint of razor-sharp teeth. “Interesting,” he murmured, leaning forward slightly. His massive frame seemed to loom larger, casting a shadow that swallowed the light around you. “You seem… different. For a therapist. For a succubus.”

The word dripped with disdain, but there was an odd curiosity in his tone as well. Your throat tightened, but you forced yourself to hold his gaze.

“I don’t think I fit the usual mold,” you replied lightly, though the words felt thin against the heavy atmosphere.

Satan chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “No, you don’t. But we’ll see how long that lasts.”

The way he said it felt more like a warning than a casual remark. And as the room grew unnervingly quiet again, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had just stepped into something far more dangerous than you were prepared for.

“Anyway,” you began, trying to dissipate the strange tension in the air, “what do you usually do to calm yourself?” Your voice was steady, professional, but you were acutely aware of the weight of his golden gaze lingering on you.

Satan tapped his claw against his chin, the sharp tip glinting faintly in the dim light. “I work out,” he said simply.

You nodded and placed your notepad down. “Have you ever tried anything else? Something less… physical?”

He shook his head, leaning back with a nonchalant shrug. “No.”

“Interesting.” Your pen hovered over the page, a faint smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Bingo. A potential breakthrough, something to work on next week. “Maybe you should try something new,” you suggested, glancing up at him to gauge his reaction.

Satan raised an eyebrow, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Something new?”

You nodded, maintaining your professional tone. “Yes. There might be situations where you aren’t able to work out. Finding an alternative that brings you calm can help—something you enjoy that doesn’t rely on strength or exertion.”

You could see him thinking, his gaze becoming distant for a moment before snapping back to you. Then, he said it, blunt and unapologetic:

“Sex.”

Your pen slipped slightly, leaving a faint mark across your notepad as your head shot up to meet his gaze. “Excuse me?”

“Sex,” he repeated, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder. “I enjoy it. Specifically, I love to dominate. It brings me a sense of calm, of control.”

The heat in the room seemed to spike as his words hung in the air, heavy and electric. You felt your breath hitch slightly, your professionalism faltering under the weight of his admission. Your teeth caught your bottom lip, a subconscious reflex as your mind betrayed you with images you hadn’t invited.

Satan, towering over you, his claws dragging possessively over your skin. His deep growls vibrating against your neck as his body pressed you into the bed like prey. The way his molten gaze would devour every inch of you, a predator savoring its prize.

The thought was dangerous, forbidden—and utterly intoxicating.

“You’re quiet,” Satan observed, a faint smirk curling at the edge of his lips. He leaned forward, resting his massive claws on the table between you. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to sit straighter in your chair, though the heat creeping up your neck betrayed your inner turmoil. “Not at all,” you lied, your voice wavering slightly.

His smirk widened, the sharp tips of his teeth glinting faintly in the low light. “Liar.”

Your breath hitched again as he stood, the sheer size of him making the room feel smaller, more suffocating. He stepped closer, his movements slow, deliberate, predatory. His shadow fell over you, and you tilted your head up to meet his gaze, your heart pounding furiously in your chest.

“Tell me,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, velvety growl. “Have you ever let someone take control of you? Completely?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. His presence was overwhelming, his golden eyes boring into you with an intensity that felt like it could strip you bare.

“Let me guess,” he continued, his voice smooth and teasing. “You play the role of the confident therapist. Always in control, always composed. But I wonder…” He leaned closer, his claw tipping your chin up slightly. “What would happen if you let go? If you surrendered—for once?”

Your pulse raced as his words sent a shiver down your spine. The air between you was charged, thick with tension that felt ready to snap at any moment.

“I—” You barely managed to speak before his smirk deepened.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” he purred, his voice dripping with dark amusement. “I can see it in your eyes, feel it in the way your body reacts to me.”

Your breath quickened, your mind a blur of conflicting thoughts. This wasn’t supposed to happen—this wasn’t professional. But the pull of his presence, the raw magnetism of him, was impossible to ignore.

As he leaned back, giving you a moment to catch your breath, his smirk softened into something darker, more sinister. “We’ll see how long you can resist,” he murmured, his voice like a promise—a challenge.

You swallowed hard, gripping the edge of your notepad like it was a lifeline. Whatever line had just been crossed, there was no going back now. And the worst part? Some small, treacherous part of you didn’t want to.

You glanced at the clock on the wall, the ticking seconds echoing louder in your ears as you realized the session had come to an end. It felt like both a relief and a punishment. You cleared your throat, trying to regain your composure. “Our time is up for today.”

Gripping your notepad tightly, you rose from your chair, the slight tremble in your legs betraying the inner conflict you fought to suppress. “I’ll see you next week?” you asked, your voice carefully measured, though the second heartbeat between your thighs throbbed mercilessly, reminding you of how thin the line was between professionalism and raw, unspoken desire.

Satan leaned back into his seat, his massive frame exuding power and ease as his ever-present smirk stretched across his face. “You’re quite interesting, you know that?” he said, his golden eyes glinting with something dark, something dangerous.

The way his words curled in the air, dripping with molten heat, sent a shiver down your spine. And then he said it—your name.

“See you next week, Y/n.”

The sound of your name, as it rolled off his tongue like a lazy threat, like a predator marking its prey, felt like fire licking at your skin. It wasn’t just the way he said it—it was the way he owned it, as if your name wasn’t yours anymore but his to use, to savor, to command.

You swallowed hard, your throat dry as you fought to maintain control of yourself. His gaze lingered on you, heavy and consuming, as if he could see every thought, every reaction you tried to bury. The room felt smaller, hotter, as if the very air bent to his will.

You took a deep breath, willing the flush creeping up your neck to subside, and bowed your head slightly—a courteous gesture, but also an excuse to break free of his burning gaze. “I’ll… take my leave now,” you managed, your voice steadier than you expected, though your body betrayed you with every trembling step toward the door.

The silence stretched, but you could feel him watching you, his presence looming even as you turned your back to him. Each step felt heavier, your legs weaker, as if some invisible tether pulled you back to him.

“Y/n,” he called softly, his voice low and dripping with amusement. It was enough to stop you in your tracks, your hand hovering just above the door handle.

You turned slightly, not enough to meet his gaze but enough to let him know you were listening.

“I’ll be looking forward to it,” he said, his smirk audible in his voice. “Next week… I expect us to get much more personal.”

Your breath caught, and you didn’t trust yourself to respond. With a hurried nod, you pushed open the heavy door, stepping into the hall as quickly as you could without outright running.

As the door closed behind you, the weight of his words lingered, wrapping around you like a vice. Each step away from his chamber only made the ache within you stronger, and the echo of his voice—dark, commanding, possessive—played on repeat in your mind.

When you finally reached the outside air, you exhaled deeply, pressing a hand to your chest as if to steady the wild beat of your heart. But no matter how much distance you put between you and him, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were still trapped—bound not by his hands, but by his voice, his gaze, his presence.

And the worst part? You weren’t entirely sure you wanted to escape.

______________________

Your mind drifted to Satan again, as it often did these days. His golden eyes, the low timbre of his voice, the weight of his presence—all of it lingered with you like an intoxicating haze. It was wrong to think of him this way, wasn’t it? You're the therapist. A being of ancient power. Yet his words from the last session whispered through your mind, sending a shiver down your spine: “Next week… I expect us to get much more personal.” What did he mean? The thought left you breathless, your lip caught between your teeth as you tried to push the memory away.

With a sigh, you turned your attention to the mirror, pulling yourself together. Today was a new session, and you needed to remain professional. No room for fluttering thoughts or the heat that crept up your neck every time he said your name. After all, you had a job to do, and you’d prepared exercises meant to calm, not... whatever this was. You brushed out your hair, adjusted your outfit, and gave yourself one last look. You could do this.

The drive to his mansion felt longer than usual, the limousine’s quiet luxury giving your mind too much space to wander. By the time you arrived and stepped out, your palms were clammy despite the crisp air. You gathered your supplies—a palette, brushes, a canvas—and headed to the imposing doors. They opened with a creak, and there he was, standing tall, his figure sharper than usual in a tailored outfit that clung just enough to his form to make you notice. Was he doing this on purpose? The thought made your cheeks flush.

“Satan,” you greeted, keeping your voice steady as you stepped inside.

“Y/n,” he said simply, his golden eyes locking onto yours. He always said your name like it was a secret, something sacred.

You set your supplies down, the clinking of brushes breaking the charged silence. He tilted his head, his gaze flicking over the items with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. “What is this?” he asked, his tone edged with intrigue.

“Painting,” you said, smiling softly. “It’s something that can help channel emotions. I thought it might be worth trying with you.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly, but the flicker of interest in them was unmistakable. “You think this will calm me?”

“It’s worth a shot,” you replied, your tone light. “But first, I need you to… shrink a bit. Your current size might make it tricky.”

He arched a brow but complied without argument, his towering form diminishing to something more manageable. Even so, he still loomed over you, his presence filling the room in a way that made your breath catch.

You handed him one of your favorite brushes, your fingers grazing his. The brief contact sent a spark through you that you tried to ignore. “This one’s precious to me, so don’t break it,” you said with a teasing smile.

His golden eyes darkened slightly, his gaze lingering on you. “Why would you entrust me with something so valuable?” he asked, his voice low, almost reverent.

“Because I think you’ll manage,” you said simply, turning to demonstrate. The truth was, you trusted him in a way you couldn’t explain, and the weight of his gaze as you worked was almost palpable.

You dipped your brush into the paint, your movements fluid and purposeful as you applied color to the canvas. You explained the process, your voice calm, almost hypnotic, as you encouraged him to let his emotions guide him. “It doesn’t have to be perfect,” you said, glancing at him. “Just let it flow.”

Satan watched you intently, his focus shifting between your hands and your face. There was something mesmerizing about the way you moved—graceful, confident, entirely at ease. He tried to mimic your strokes but grew frustrated when his didn’t have the same beauty. Fire flickered briefly at the corner of his mouth as his grip on the brush tightened.

“Take your time,” you said gently, your voice softening. “You’ll manage.”

Those words seemed to echo in his mind, silencing his frustration. Slowly, the tension in his shoulders eased. His golden eyes settled on you again, and this time, there was something softer in them—something that made your heart skip a beat.

“Pretty,” he murmured, the word so quiet you almost missed it.

You glanced up, assuming he meant his canvas. “It’s not bad for a first try,” you said, smiling.

But when your eyes met his, you realized he wasn’t looking at the canvas at all. He was looking at you. The intensity of his gaze made heat rise to your cheeks, and for a moment, you were lost in it.

“I… meant your canvas,” he said quickly, the faintest hint of a stammer in his voice. He turned away, focusing on his painting as if the moment hadn’t happened. “I suppose this isn’t for me,” he added, his tone returning to its usual steadiness.

You sighed softly, setting your brush down. “That’s okay. We’ll find something else to try next time.”

When it was time to leave, you gathered your supplies, his lingering gaze following you to the door. “Till next time, Y/n,” he said, his voice softer than usual.

You smiled, bidding him goodbye before stepping into the limousine. As the car pulled away, you stared out the window, your reflection blushing faintly. “Cute,” you muttered under your breath, thinking of his fleeting shyness.

And maybe, just maybe, you were starting to think of him a little differently too.

As the limousine glided down the winding road back into the city, Y/n leaned their head against the cool glass of the window. The world outside blurred into streaks of light and shadow, but their mind was too preoccupied to notice. Their chest tightened as they replayed the day's moments, each interaction with Satan etched into their memory with vivid clarity.

His golden eyes watching them, the way his brows furrowed in frustration only to soften when he heard their encouragement, and that one unguarded word he’d uttered—“pretty.” Y/n sighed and closed their eyes, the image of his intense gaze surfacing unbidden. He had said it so quietly, yet it echoed in their ears, lingering like a secret between them.

Why am I letting this get to me? Y/n thought, shaking their head. Satan was their patient. A being to be studied and guided, not… admired. And yet, there was something about him—something magnetic and impossible to ignore. His raw power was undeniable, but beneath the towering presence and occasional flashes of anger, there was a vulnerability that Y/n couldn’t help but find fascinating.

When the mansion’s doors had first opened to reveal him, standing there like some otherworldly figure carved out of the very shadows of the underworld, Y/n had been struck by how human he seemed despite his demonic origins. He was capable of humor, of curiosity, and, at times, even shyness—like when he stammered over his compliment and turned away. That brief flash of awkwardness had been disarming, endearing even, and it left a warmth in Y/n’s chest that refused to fade.

_______________

The past few weeks had been a blur of trial and error as you and Satan searched for a way to calm his tempestuous nature. Every method—meditation, physical exercises, even music—had ended in failure. Yet, with every attempt, the two of you had grown closer. Comfort had crept in between the boundaries you’d initially set, a warmth that softened the edges of your professional relationship. Perhaps it was too much comfort.

Frustrated, you ran your hands through your hair, tugging slightly as you let out a groan. “What’s left?” you muttered, mostly to yourself. You hated admitting defeat, but the lack of progress was wearing on you.

“Are you okay?” Satan’s deep voice broke through your spiraling thoughts. He leaned against the edge of his desk, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as they scanned your face. Concern lingered in his tone, though there was something else in his expression—something darker, more intent.

You sighed, leaning back against the wall, your shoulders sagging. “Yeah, I’m just… out of ideas,” you admitted, rubbing your temples. “Nothing seems to work. Maybe you were right all along—this isn’t going to change.”

A low growl escaped him, and he moved closer, the space between you shrinking with every step. “There’s one thing we haven’t tried,” he said, his voice a seductive rumble. He reached out, his clawed fingers brushing along the curve of your neck with a gentleness that sent a shiver down your spine. The ruby necklace he’d given you weeks ago caught the light, glinting like a drop of blood between you.

You swallowed hard, your breath hitching. “I’m open,” you replied, though your voice wavered. You weren’t sure what you expected him to say, but the tension in the air was thick enough to drown in.

His lips curved into a slow, wicked smile, and his eyes seemed to glow brighter. “Let me please you,” he said, the words both a question and a command.

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

His hand slid lower, taking yours in his. His touch was firm but surprisingly warm, and you couldn’t ignore the way your pulse quickened. “For weeks, I’ve been thinking of you. Not just as a distraction from my anger, but as something—someone—I want to consume. Every thought I’ve had has been about how to lure you in, how to make you mine.”

Your heart thundered in your chest, your body tingling with the weight of his confession. He slipped a delicate, shining ring onto your finger, the smooth metal cold against your skin.

“I’ve never felt this way before,” he continued, his voice dropping to a near-growl. “I’m throbbing for you, aching to show you what it means to be claimed by me.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. His clawed hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

The first touch of his tongue against your neck made you gasp, the sensation sending a jolt of electricity straight to your core. His other hand cupped your jaw, tilting your head to the side to give him better access as he traced slow, burning lines along your skin.

“Satan…” His name fell from your lips in a breathless moan as his claws found the waistband of your pants, the sharp tips grazing your skin without breaking it.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmured against your throat, his voice raw with need. “Tell me you want it too.”

You didn’t trust your voice, so you nodded, your hands clutching at his shoulders as if to ground yourself. That was all the confirmation he needed.

With a growl, he lifted you effortlessly, pinning you against the wall. His lips crashed into yours, the kiss rough and demanding, leaving no room for hesitation. His sharp teeth grazed your lower lip, and the pain mingled with pleasure in a way that made your head spin. His hands roamed your body, one clawed hand tangling in your hair while the other gripped your hip, holding you firmly in place.

You gasped as he tore open your shirt, the fabric giving way like paper under his strength. His golden eyes roamed hungrily over your exposed skin, and the heat in his gaze made you shiver. “Perfect,” he growled, his lips descending to your collarbone as his claws worked your pants down, leaving you bare beneath his burning gaze.

He pressed his body against yours, his skin hot like fire but not unbearable. The sensation was intoxicating, his power and desire radiating off him in waves that left you trembling. His mouth found your chest, his tongue and teeth teasing sensitive skin until you were writhing beneath him, your nails digging into his shoulders as you fought to keep some semblance of control.

But control was the last thing Satan allowed. “Let go,” he commanded, his voice a low snarl as his hand slipped between your thighs. His touch was rough but precise, drawing sounds from you that you’d never made before. He smirked against your skin, clearly pleased with the effect he had on you.

You couldn’t hold back anymore. Your hands roamed over his chest, tracing the hard lines of his muscles, the heat of his body searing into your palms. His growls deepened as you touched him, and when you whispered his name again, it seemed to drive him over the edge.

He latched onto your nipple, his hot, eager tongue swirling around the sensitive peak as though it held the key to quenching a deep, unrelenting hunger. The heat of his mouth sent a surge of pleasure coursing through you, your back arching instinctively to press closer to him. Each flick and tug of his tongue was deliberate, rough yet skilled, and it drove you wild with every second.

Your hands found his horns, gripping tightly as a loud, unrestrained moan tore from your lips. The sensation of his horns beneath your fingers—solid, commanding, and so uniquely him—only heightened the intensity of the moment. He groaned in response, the vibration of it against your skin adding a tantalizing edge to the pleasure.

As you opened your mouth to say something—perhaps to beg, perhaps to curse his name—his massive hand moved swiftly, covering your mouth and silencing you with an almost possessive dominance. His palm was warm, his claws just barely grazing your jawline, a silent reminder of his power.

“Shh,” he growled against your skin, his voice thick with desire and control. “No words. Just feel.”

The command sent a shiver down your spine, your muffled protests turning into needy whimpers against his hand. His golden eyes flicked up to meet yours, the intensity in them making your pulse race. He didn’t need to say more; the look alone spoke volumes. You’re mine, and I’m going to show you exactly what that means.

His free hand trailed down your side, the sharp edge of his claws leaving ghostly trails that tingled with a mix of anticipation and pleasure. He shifted slightly, his lips abandoning one nipple to lavish attention on the other, his teeth grazing it just enough to make you gasp against his palm.

“Such sweet sounds,” he murmured between kisses, his voice a deep, sinful growl that left you trembling. “I want to hear every single one.”

He claimed you fully then, his movements powerful and relentless as he pushed you to your limits and beyond. The roughness of his touch, the possessiveness in every kiss and thrust, sent you spiraling into a state of pure bliss. He was consuming, overwhelming, but it was everything you hadn’t known you needed.

When it was over, you were both breathing heavily, your bodies tangled together on the floor. His claws traced lazy circles on your skin, the sharp tips surprisingly gentle now.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, his golden eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that left no room for argument.

You smiled, brushing a hand through his tousled hair. “Yours,” you whispered, and for the first time in weeks, you felt completely at peace.

“I need to take you fully,” he growled, his voice rough with restraint, though his burning gaze made it clear his control was hanging by a thread. His golden eyes bore into yours, aflame with desire and something deeper—possessiveness, perhaps, or the primal need to claim you completely. His hot breath fanned across your face, each exhale like a spark threatening to ignite you from within.

You swallowed hard, your body trembling beneath him as you nodded, unable to form words. He stood, towering over you even in his "smallest" form, and the sound of his belt buckle clicking open made your heart skip. His hand gripped the base of his shaft, his claws brushing lightly against his skin as he stroked himself. His movements were deliberate, slow, as he smeared the slick arousal you’d already left on him along his length. The sight of it was utterly mesmerizing.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, his voice a rumble of raw need. His eyes darted to your smaller frame beneath him, the contrast between your softness and his powerful figure making his jaw tighten. Your body trembled under his intense scrutiny, and the way you shuddered only seemed to spur him on.

“You’ll take all of me,” he promised darkly, his lips pulling into a feral smirk before he positioned himself at your entrance. Slowly, he began to press in, the stretch almost overwhelming as he filled you inch by inch. The thickness of him made your breath hitch, your fingers clutching at his shoulders as your body struggled to accommodate him.

When he was fully seated inside you, he let out a guttural groan, his head falling forward as if savoring the way your body gripped him so tightly. “Perfect,” he muttered, his voice laced with awe and lust. “You were made for this. Made for me.”

He started to move, his thrusts deliberate and forceful, his pace building with every stroke. The wet, sinful sounds of your body meeting his filled the den, mingling with the guttural sounds he made as he lost himself in the rhythm. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you, his rough movements perfectly hitting every sensitive spot.

“Look at you,” he growled, his voice thick with pride as he watched your body arch beneath him, your moans spilling out freely. “Taking me so well—every inch of me.”

His hands gripped your hips tightly, claws digging in just enough to leave marks as he pulled you into each thrust. His pace quickened, his breathing harsh and uneven, a symphony of raw need that filled the space around you.

Your moans turned into cries of ecstasy as he pounded into you harder, the force of it making your head spin. The pressure building inside you was unbearable, each stroke bringing you closer to the edge. He growled your name, the sound reverberating through the air as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear.

“You’re mine,” he rasped, his voice breaking slightly as he thrust even harder, his control finally snapping. “Say it.”

“Yours,” you gasped, your voice trembling with pleasure and submission. “I’m yours.”

The words seemed to ignite something in him, his movements becoming even more relentless. His growls deepened, and the way he pounded into you left you utterly breathless. Every nerve in your body was aflame, and as you reached your peak, the intensity of it shattered you completely, your cries echoing through the den.

Moments later, he followed, his movements faltering as he let out a deep, primal groan. You felt him shudder above you, his body rigid as he spilled into you, marking you in a way that felt both physical and otherworldly.

For a moment, the only sounds were the two of you catching your breath, the heat of his body still pressed against yours. He leaned down, brushing a surprisingly tender kiss against your forehead, a stark contrast to the ferocity he’d shown moments before.

“You’re mine,” he repeated softly, almost as if reassuring himself.

And as you lay there in his arms, thoroughly claimed and utterly sated, you knew he was right. You were his. And you didn’t want it any other way.

Saw no one making shit about him so here I am your savior. Damn y'all.

💫

Masterlist

[2-dsimp]

Sneezes aggressively

Therapist who fucks reader after manipulating them(I need like something with a therapist and smut PLS)

࿇ ══━━━━✥◈✥━━━━══ ࿇

Cw: NSFW MDNI bimbo fem reader! Oral m! Receive, hypnotism, manipulation, unhealthy relationship dynamic, abuse of authority, slight degradation

Synopsis: You were struggling on keeping yourself together. Having no way to hire the best of the so called best to help out with your deteriorating doormat mindset. You found an a lifeline, seeing an old ad trashed up in the garbage bin. Where you discovered the man that would undoubtedly “fix you”

࿇ ══━━━━✥◈✥━━━━══ ࿇

Yandere therapist! that hypnotizes his darling bimbo into thinking the healthiest outlet to vent out her feelings is to worship his cock.

“Feeling sad? Awe don’t you worry sweetheart I’ve got your favorite lollipop right here! If you suck all of the filling out you’ll feel so happy I promise you”

Yandere therapist! Hummed in a sickeningly sweet tone, unzipping his fly to present his precum covered meat for his darling to binge on. Like you do for every session you guys had together.

Yandere therapist! Who tosses his head back with a low groan as he tangled his fingers into your hair. Looking down at his patient with a half lidded glowering stare. Letting out small pants as he stutters his hips into your open maw.

He couldn’t believe how adorably stupid you were to put your trust in him. He wasn’t even a credible therapist after he had lost his license from dabbling in questionable experiments.

But you, oh poor dumb you, decided to ring up his old business card at seeing the old ads of how affordable his “services” were. And he couldn’t possibly turn such a desperate pretty thing like you away. Not when he’s got a taste of having a little obedient doe eyed slut. Ready to drop on their knees ready for their dick treatment in lowering their stress levels.

Yandere therapist! Who rams his shaft down your throat holding your head so he could spray spurts of his cum down your tender throat. Loving hearing you choke on his length to the point you were clawing at his thighs. Tears welling in yours eyes at the fact that you couldn’t breathe.

“Shh, I’m almost there, breathe through your nose sweetie. Fuck— keep tightening around me. Atta girl~ you wanna be happy don’t you? I know you do. Make me cum and we can both be happy together yeah?”

That day you left the office feeling better than ever at the treatment Dr. Wesly gave you. Of course you don’t remember what happened after he snapped his fingers. As he told you that his methods are a sacred practice. But you couldn’t help but feel how sore your mouth was and roll your tongue at the faint taste of something tangy and bitter stuck in the back of your throat.

Shrugging your shoulders you overlooked it since you were gonna see him again next week. He truly is a miracle worker and you couldn’t have been any more grateful to have him as your aide.

[yeyinde]

thinking many thoughts about a therapist reader stuck with price after he gets himself written up for mandatory anger management sessions by laswell…

he'd fight that on every level imaginable. poor reader. in storms this burly bear of a man who is uncommunicative (at best) and aggressively pacing around the room like a caged tiger, ripping apart the fundamentals of your profession (at worst).

i see Price as a mix of his traditional upbringing and someone struggling to circumvent some of the uglier aspects of these values that he doesn't believe in. on one hand, he can respect therapy as a whole. but on the other, when it comes to him and his problems, it's pseudoscience. a man of many, many contradictions. he's very much a "respect is earned, not given" kinda guy in my head and i don't think he really holds any love for what he sees as someone trying to change him (even if it's for the best).

but also. i love pairing him up with smart, ernest people. i think the juxtaposition between him (eternal grump) and them (burgeoning sunshine) is just spectacular. and his therapist having that easy-going, i'll split my hard earned cookie in half so everyone gets a piece/yes, i did bring enough gum for the whole class i'm so glad you asked! temperament would be impossible for him to deal with. anyone else and he'd just blow up. leave. throw his impressive weight around to get what he wants.

but then he's faced with this competent person (which he respects) who is just genuinely trying to help him because they see something in him that he doesn't want to admit is still there, and ahhhhhh. i'd love to see him flustered. uncomfortable. and i think that'd do it. (plus. i love throwing a person at him who is the model of his speech he gave Gaz, which i 100% believe was ALL bullshit. i think he felt Kyle slipping away and needed something to reel him back in, and also; it's Cope. he prescribed himself a serious dose of Cope, and it's so obvious. UGH. what a dumb, emotionally stunted, manipulative man. gimme him RIGHT NOW. and then you pop up and it's a slap in the face against everything he pretends to believe in!!!!)

anyway!!!! the first thing he says when meeting you would be some eclectic mix of disrespect and grumpy old man yelling at clouds.

"this might work for other people, sweetheart, but it won't work for me." and you just sit, stunned, and try to wrap your head around that.

[inlovewithquestionablecharacters]

Hannibal X Reader: An ethical issue

Summary: you wanna fuck your therapist thats it thats the plot

Warnings: smut, sex, penetration (p in v), fingering, pet names, making out, light choking, light bitting, hickeys, patient x therapist, unprotected sex, pet name (dear), not proof read (got lazy)

Word count: 2,9K

“It's unethical, you know?”

You raise your head to look at Hannibal, eyes making contact with his. He can see the questions swimming inside your head. You’d been deep in thought when he’d spoken and he had managed to break your train of thought . You placed your cup on the table, wiping your hands on your legs before focusing on Hannibal once more.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

“It's unethical.”

“What is?”

“Wanting to fuck your therapist.”

Your eyes widen at Hannibal's words. His eyes bore into you, observing the way your face flushed the more he maintained eye contact. You should probably refute him but it's no use. Dr Lecter has seen into the deepest parts of your mind. He knows who you are. And now he knows your secret. The truth is the sessions had really been helping. It wasn't until recently that you’d found an ulterior motive for coming to every session. 

You had a crush on your therapist. 

You focus your gaze on the wall in front of you, trying your hardest to avoid looking directly at him. Your mind races to try and find something to say but you come up empty. From the corner of your eye you see Hannibal stand. He stays standing for a moment, looking at your frame. You close your eyes as you hear his shoes begin to move against the floor. A nervous sigh leaves your mouth as you feel his body move closer to your position. He stops a couple steps before you, causing you to bite the inside of your cheek. You wish the floor would open up and swallow you whole. Maybe you should just apologize to him. Tell him he was right and that you would figure out a way to get over him but that would be a lie. And if there was one thing you could never do to Hannibal was lie. He knew you too well. He'd be able to call you out immediately. 

Hannibal watched you squirm slightly, observing your nails scrap against your skin as you rubbed your arms nervously. You still hadn't looked at him. He had already begun to miss the eye contact. Hannibal called out your name.

“Look at me.”

“I can’t.”

“Of course you can, my dear. I want to see your eyes.”

His voice sent shivers down your arms. He was always soft spoken with you but the deepness of his voice as he spoke seemed to have shifted. Slowly, you turn your head to look at him. You have to raise your head a bit to see him properly due to the position you were in. Hannibal stared down at you tenderly. He looked at the doe eyed look that had made its way into your features. A smile spread across his face, a silent way of trying to calm you. Unfortunately it did quite the opposite. His smile seemed to stroke the fire that was already burning in between your legs. You shifted in your seat, trying to conceal your desire for him. Hannibal noticed the way you shift under his gaze. It made him feel powerful. He enjoyed it but he also couldn't help but reach out for you. 

“I can help you. If you ask me to.”

You watched Hannibal sink to his knees, allowing him to be face to face with you. You stare into his eyes, head tilting to the side as you do. He reached out for you, one hand moving to caress your thigh as the other made its way to your face. He’s trying his best to hold on, not wanting to go too fast and scare you off.

From the moment he’d first seen you you’d intrigued him. Despite everything you’d been through you were kind and trusting. Maybe even a little too trusting. It made Hannibal feel protective over you. He saw himself as your knight in shining armour and despite you not knowing it he would do anything you asked of him. 

“Hannibal…”

Your lips part as his name slips through them. It sounds almost like a moan which causes blood to go rushing down to Hannibal's groin.

“Yes dear?”

“I…I hum-”

“It’s okay. Tell me what you want.”

“You. I want you.”

A satisfied sound left Dr Lecter's lips at your confession. You shut your eyes expecting him to finally close the distance between you two but he doesn’t. Instead he rises from the floor and begins to walk away from you. You give him a puzzled look. Had he just been toying with you? Was this some sort of experiment? If it was you were sure you’d failed. But if that was the case why had he given you a hum of approval? 

“Come back to the real world dear. Don’t get stuck inside your own head.”

You forced your brain to focus on what was really happening instead of dwelling on negative thoughts. You’d been exercising your focus ever since your first session with Hannibal and you’d gotten pretty good with coming back to reality. Hannibal could tell by the way you looked at him that you'd managed to silence your mind. He gave you a proud smile.

“That's the fastest you’ve ever focused. Well done dear.”

“Thank you.”

“Come sit with me.” 

You rose from your chair, making your way to the blue loveseat Hannibal was sitting in.  You left a small amount of space between you too. The appropriate amount of space you thought there should be between a patient and their doctor. Hannibal couldn’t help but shake his head.

“Always so formal.”

“You’re one to talk. I don’t think I've ever seen you without a suit on.”

“Do you think about that a lot? Me without a suit I mean.”

“More often than I should if I'm being honest.”

It was strange. Despite everything that had happened moments ago this whole conversation still felt extremely professional. You felt like you were in one of your regular sessions. The only difference was the change of topics and the sitting layout. 

“You can come closer. I won't bite.”

Hannibal paused for a moment, turning his head so that he was looking directly in your eyes.

“Unless you want me to.”

He’d expected you to be shocked, perhaps even to get up from your spot due to his bluntness but to his surprise you didn’t. Actually you did quite the opposite. You began to laugh. He’d never heard the sound of your laugh before but he enjoyed it thoroughly. He’d have to make you laugh more often. 

Once your laughter died down you went back to looking at Hannibal. He watched your eyes shift over his face before you lifted your hand. Your fingers grazed against his cheek as you traced his skin. He never broke eye contact, eyes glued to yours even as you caressed his face. 

“I don’t think you have any idea how handsome you are.”

Your statement caught him off guard.  Your soft touches and loving gaze combined with your tender words had managed to make his head spin. For the first time in a while Hannibal felt his stomach bloom with what he could only describe as butterflies. He’d started off this conversation with the intention of touching on a sore subject, your infatuation with him, and had ended up discovering something about himself. It was unethical for you to want him but what was even worse is that he wanted you too. 

He’d moved so quickly that you hadn’t had time to react. Before you knew it Hannibal's lips were crashing into yours. Your body fell down onto the loveset at the force of Hanibal’s kiss, causing you to find yourself trapped beneath him. Your legs widened on instinct, allowing him to slot his large frame between them. Hannibal’s kiss was rough but caring. He nipped at your lower lip as his hands guided you to wrap your arms around his neck. You did as he asked, fingers digging into his shoulders as he pushed his tongue into your mouth. His mouth may have muffled your moans but it couldn't stop you from bucking up into him. You felt the outline of his dick against your thighs causing you to whine.

Hannibal loved the way you felt against him. He loved how your fingers clung to his hair as he kissed you. He loved the feel of your breasts pressed against his chest. But most of all he loved how desperate you were for him. You decided to wear a dress today. You didn’t  even really known why but you were glad you had. 

And so was Hannibal. 

One of his hands traveled down to your clothed cunt his fingers moving to the edge of your dress. He broke the kiss for a moment, leaning his head down so that he could see what he was doing. You watched him push your dress up allowing him to see your underwear. Hannibal’s head snapped up to look at your face. He gave you a small grin.

“Lovely color.”

“Shut u-hum!”

Hannibal’s fingers moved over your lips spreading them open before beginning to insert a digit inside. Your mouth fell open at the feeling, a broken moan slipping from your lips as it did. Hannibal watched your face fill with ecstasy as he continued to finger you. He’d orignally planned on bending you over his desk and fucking you from behind. But now that he’d seen the angelic look that came over your face as he pleasured you he knew he wanted to watch you cum on his dick. He’d fuck you on your back like a gentleman. 

Well, perhaps not like a gentleman. 

He’s barely done anything and you're already babbling nonsense beneath him. 

“Hannibal i-i fuck- there please there.”

“That feel good?”

“Yes please i wanna… i wanna-”

“Tell me what you want dear.”

“I wanna cum. Please make me cum.”

The way you beg for him makes him think the men you’d been with before hadn't really cared about your pleasure. The thought angers him but it also motivates him to show you how good you can feel. He enters a third digit and you can’t help but latch onto him as you cry out.  You pull his body closer to yours and he lets you. He feels your hardened nipples rub against his clothed chest making him want nothing more but to rip off his shirt. Later though, right now he needs to focus. His hand moves expertly against your pussy thumb moving to caress your clip as his fingers continue to penetrate you. You sigh out his name making him lift his head from where he was looking so that he could stare into your eyes. 

“Hanni… I'm gonna cum.”

“Go on then, cum for me.”

It was as if a verbal command was all that you needed to let loose. The second the words had left Hannibal's lips he felt your cum begin to coat his fingers. He watched your lips part, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you spasmed against him.

What a sight you were.

Hannibal removed his fingers from inside you placing a kiss to your temple before he rose to his feet. Your head lolled to the side, trying to follow him despite your blissed out state. Through blurry vision you saw Hannibal remove his suit jacket placing it carefully on his desk chair. He began unbuttoning his shirt slowly. As he did so he watched you come back to earth. Once you’d gained feeling in your body again you turned over, lifting yourself up so that you could watch Hannibal undress. He felt your eyes on him turning to face you. You gave him a smile which he returned.

“How are you feeling dear?”

“Wonderfull.”

“I’m glad. Tired?”

“Not really. Why?”

Hannibal tugged down his pants in one quick movement allowing his dick to spring free. You watched his member bob for a moment before turning your attention back to his face. 

“Because i’m going to fuck you. Take your dress off for me.”

You tugged at the edge of your dress pulling it off your body with ease. Once you’d gotten it off you threw it to the side before moving to unclasp your bra. Hannibal watched you throw your bra in the pile along with the rest of your clothes. 

“Stand for me dear.”

You did as he asked, hands moving to fidget with each other as he made his way back to you. Hannibal placed his hands on your cheek, cradling your face in them. His eyes trailed over your naked body before he gazed into your eyes once more.

“You are magnificent.”

Your lips latched onto Hannibals in desperation, legs moving backwards  towards the love seat. You crashed down onto a small couch once more tugging Hannibal down with you. You thought maybe he’d scold you for your desperation but by the look in his eyes and the feeling of his hard on against your thigh you could tell he needed this just as much as you did. You spit in your hand moving to stroke Hannibal's dick. He groaned against you, allowing you to caress him for a moment. He rested his face against your neck breathing in your scent as you stroked his member. His teeth grazed against your collarbone making you bite your lip. He sucked at your shoulder enjoying the small gasp that left your lips. Hannibal maneuvered his hand so that he could wrap it around your wrist stopping you from moving. 

“That's enough dear. I want to be inside now. Do you want me inside?”

“Yes Dr Lecter.”

Hannibal grined down at you as you gave him a cheeky smile. Without any warning he plunged into you making your body move backwards at the force. He fucked you with incredible speed, hips moving in a pace you didn’t think was possible. You dug your nails into his back as he continued to ram into you.  His hand moved to your throat, fingers wrapping around it with a gentle squeeze. Once he saw you didn’t flinch away from him he tightened his grip around you, not enough to stop your breathing but enough to give you a bit of a thrill. It was embarrassing how fast you reached your orgasm. Before you even realized you had begun spilling your juices around Hannibal's dick. You’d been so high on your own plesure you only noticed when Hannibal let ou a small “fuck” against your ear. Your body sagged into the loveseat as Hannibal continued to pistol into you. For someone whose job consisted of sitting for most of the time he had a lot of stamina. You drifted off into your head only realizing Hannibal had finished when you felt his body fall into yours. He wrapped his arms around you pulling you as close into his as physically possible. You moved to stroke his hair instinctively, the need to touch him consuming you.

“You did so well for me dear. Rest now.”

Hannibal placed a kiss on your chest. You felt him pull out of you making you feel empty. But you didn’t feel that way for long because before you knew it you had drifted off into sleep. 

You woke up on the loveset. Your lips part as you stretch, a yawn escaping your mouth. You could feel something soft surrounding you causing you to open your eyes. A blanket that hadn’t been there when you had fallen asleep was carefully wrapped around your naked frame. You pushed yourself onto your elbow, rubbing your eyes as you gazed around the room. 

“Sleep well?”

Your head snapped at the sound of his voice. Hannibal was standing on the other side of the room with his back turned to you. He was still completely naked. When you didn’t respond to his question Hannibal turned on his heels to face you. Instinctively your eyes trailed over his naked body, your mind going to last night's events. You moved to look at the clock on the wall. It read 9 o’clock.

“Don’t you have any appointments today?”

“I canceled.”

“Why would you do that?”

“So that we could have breakfast together.”

Hannibal moved away from the table he’d been working on giving you a clear view of the breakfast he’d laid out. You rose from the loveseat moving towards him. Hannibal watched you make your way to him, admiring the beauty of your body as you moved. He could see the hickeys he’d left on your neck last night. The sight pleased him greatly.

You looked over the contents of the table. Everything looked delicious. You shifted your gaze to Hannibal, a smile spreading over your face. You wrapped your arms around his waist giving him a hug. Hannibal's arms wound around your body, his hands moving to hold your head. 

“Thank you.”

“No need to thank me. Now sit. Your food is getting cold.”

The two of you sat down and began to eat. The room was quiet as you ate. It was a sort of quiet you’d become accustomed too. The quiet that came when your mind decided it needed to jump into action.

“What are you thinking over there?”

“What are we gonna do? About us, I mean. We clearly crossed a line yesterday.”

“Do you regret it?”

“No, of course not. Do you?”

“No. I do not.”

“Someone could find out. It could ruin your job.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t. It’ll be our little secret. Patient confidentiality and all that.”

“Our secret huh?”

“Is that alright with you?”

“Yeah. It is.”

“Wonderful. Now drink your coffee and finish your eggs.”

[cookie-crumblr]

holy shitholy fuck holy SHIMT

🥵🥵🥵 OMyGoodness Drabble i just nneddd to get OUT rn

F!Reader X Yan Therapist OC Sheila DRABBLE

!MINORS DNI!

cw: Fem reader, reader referred to as she/her, reader has a vagina, v short, oral on fR!, fingering on FR!, reader is submissive, somewhat rough(not even the actual sex part tho) not proofed at ALL. like i’m just a monster rn, ty for coming ;3 have fun! g on g? like obv XD light biting, power imbalance usage?

She pins you to the hard, paneled wood wall of her office, hands griping your arms tightly, as they roam upwards to your throat. They squeeze as they pass by on their way to your chin. Her hands are so tightly pressed to you, you think you may actually be melding into one. She grips your chin up to look at her, the desire for your eyes to be on her, and her alone showing in every action she takes.

Your heart pounds, so loudly that it defens you. and your cunt throbs, you’re so wet already. Her skin on yours, her lips on yours, her bare tits against yours. Her’s are popped out over a beautiful business appropriate blouse, and her dark nipples flick against your own with every movement.

She kisses you skillfully, her tongue perfectly edging yours, she bites your lip, and sucks on it gently. it tickles more than anything, and makes you burn up even more.

She’s had you naked for hours now. Forcing you to do your session like that. Your nipples are so hard, and so sensitive, they’ve been that way since the start of it all an hour ago. Now they’re so ready for contact it almost hurts. “Doc-” You’re shaking, your whole body convulsing, as your edged to another peak, but not yet getting there.

Earlier, her teasing had gotten to be too much, and you came on her chaise lounge without even touching yourself.

Now, her skin slides down over yours, as she lowers herself to your pussy. Her tongue finds your hood instantly and plays there, she gazes up as you shake over her. Her grip tightens on your hips digging into your bones, (so fuckinggg hot). Your guts are roiling with too much heat and hunger for release!

Finally her manicured fingers find your clit and your entrance together, her thumb presses hard and slowly circles around your precious nub. While her index and middle finger curl into you. Your body twitches hard everytime she passes over the center with her thumb!

Finally, you let go. Her fingers slide in easier now, coated in your juices and cream. she curls them and twists them as she pumps them almost agonizingly slow inside you, gently teasing you on your way to starting back up that clime instantly aafter.

“Doctor!”, you let out before her lips are on you once more, stealing your breath away. her fingers are still deliciously feeling your perfect squishy insides. You’re shaking even more now, every part of you becoming too hot to handle, she rips her mouth away and latches onto your left nipple, her free hand grabbing your right. “Fuck.” you breathe out.

You cum again. Blissfully so, and she pulls away to give you a well earned break. You still feel horny somehow, and the look in her eye as she licks her fingers says she isn’t done with you yet.

[rieamena]

your touch is all around me, i can't let you go

—kenji sato

kenji sato & physical therapist!reader

content warnings: fem!reader, friends to lovers, reader calls kenji a whore (i SWEAR THATS THEIR DYNAMIC PLEASE BELIEVE ME)

wc: 2.6k

it's common practice for athletes to have a physical therapist by their side, just in case. though for ken, you were more of a friend; being a licensed physical therapist was just an added bonus. knowing him since high school and watching him grow up into the amazing player he is today, it's safe to say ken went to you a lot. especially when he got hurt. you couldn't say too much though, he let you practice on him while you were busy getting your license and jobs wouldn't take you due to a lack of experience. but kenji? he always believed in you, even bringing you to japan with him, saying "i'd rather have a therapist i'm comfortable with." he rented out a cozy two bedroom apartment for you, making sure that it wasn't far from the clinic you'd be working at once you settled. but that's the thing, he rarely visited the clinic, only coming around to see if you were in that day. ken definitely prefers at home visits for no specific reason. (he loves loves loves the closeness and familiarity you have with each other).

a knock at your door took you from the comfort of your room. shuffling out in the dress you had on, the heels that matched so perfectly with it clacked on the hardwood floor. opening the door and seeing kenji, you immediately closed it shut. taking a deep breath, you reopened it, feigning innocence. "oh hey! didn't see you there!" ken deadpanned, face immediately changing once he took in your figure, "who're you getting all prettied up for?" shoving himself through the door, ken's eyes dragged painfully slow over your body, "could it be…, me?" "i'm gonna slap that stupid smirk off your face." "you know i'd like that." "ugh! whatever!" you closed the door, locking it. "if you're here for a consultation, i regret to inform you that i'm not feeling up to it, ken." "oh. so, i can't visit my best friend when i feel like it? darling, you hurt me…"

you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. "don't you have better things to do than annoy me, kenji?" kenji chuckled, taking a step closer. "not really. besides, what kind of best friend would i be if i didn't check up on you?" "the one who needs checking up on is you," you huffed, turning away from him and heading back to your room. kenji followed, his footsteps echoing yours. "oh, come on. i bring some excitement into your life, admit it." you glanced over your shoulder at him, a smirk tugging at your lips. "more like a headache." "same thing," kenji shrugged, leaning against the doorframe of your room as you stepped inside. "why are you really here?" you asked, smoothing down your dress and looking in the mirror. "you never just 'drop by'." "maybe i missed you," he said, his tone softer. "we haven't hung out in a while." you paused, meeting his gaze in the mirror. there was a sincerity in his eyes that made your heart skip a beat. "you could've called, like you usually do." kenji smiled, pushing off the doorframe and walking over to you. "yeah, but then i wouldn't have gotten to see you in that dress." he reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "you look stunning, by the way." your cheeks flushed, and you quickly looked away. "thanks. it's nothing special." "it's special to me," he said softly, his fingers lingering on your cheek. "so, what do you say? want to hang out for a bit?" you stared at yourself in the mirror, considering his offer. "fine. but only if you promise not to be a pain." kenji grinned. "no promises."

"hi [name], could you come over? uhh, bring your med kit too. thanks! see you soon!" ken got off the phone before you could even say hello. you called him back after exiting your state of shock, "let's try that again." "please don't make me." kenji groaned before choosing his next words carefully, even though he knew deep down that you would come anyway. "hey sweetheart. do you think you could come over with your med kit? i would pick you up with my bike but i kinda broke my arm so…" "you what—?!" "yeah…, anyways! bring some pajamas! you're staying over. and we're baking tonight!" "with what able arm??"

you finished applying the stockinette, handing a roll of padding to ken so that he could make himself useful while you scolded him, "i swear you get injured so much, i wouldn't be surprised if you were ultraman or something." after winding the padding around his arm, you took the roll back, stopping your motions when you realized, he never responded. you looked at ken, only to find him already looking at you, a dejected look on his face. "you're fucking joking."

"so you're telling me that ever since we landed here, you've been saving japan?" you wheeled your suitcases into the living area, crossing your legs as you sat on the couch. "well it's really not a big deal. a little saving my team here, saving japan over there. what's all the stuff for?" ken motioned to your luggage with the drink in his hand, the necklace he always kept on him now sitting against his bare upper body. getting up, you walked to his room, picking up a shirt and throwing it at him. "put that on." watching kenji struggle to complete your request, you thought out loud, "you know it all makes sense now. the unexplained mystery injuries, why you wouldn't pick up my late night calls when there was a kaiju attack— if you need help just say that." ken kept quiet, looking at you with those eyes of his. you hated how you could never resist them. reaching over to him, you put the shirt on for him, patting his chest. "what would you do without me, hm?" staring into your eyes, kenji gulped loudly, feeling his face heat up like a teenage boy in love. "thank you, miss physical therapist." well, the in love part is right. "so…, you're moving in?" ken cleared his throat, glancing at your suitcases. "just staying until your arm is fully functioning again, so for…" your eyes scan over his wrapped arm, "six months?" kenji's eyes widened. "six months? are you serious?"

"yeah," you replied, smiling. "you need proper care, and i'm the best person for the job."

every morning started with you helping kenji out of bed. he tried to be independent, but you insisted on being there for him. "come on, ultraman, let me help you," you teased as he struggled to pull his shirt over his head. he sighed but smiled. "shut up. you just like telling me what to do."

"and you just like making things difficult," you retorted, carefully sliding his casted arm through the sleeve. "there. all set."

breakfast became a ritual of its own. you prepared his meals, ensuring they were easy for him to manage with one hand. sometimes, you even fed him when he was too stubborn to ask for help. "open up," you said, holding a spoonful of cereal to his lips. kenji chuckled but complied. "i could get used to this."

"don't get too comfortable," you warned playfully. "this is just until your arm heals."

the first few months were over and it was safe to take of kenji's cast. not long after, you settled into a routine with kenji. each morning, you helped him with his exercises, ensuring his recovery was progressing well.

"all right, let's do the stretches," you said one morning, guiding his arm gently. kenji winced but followed your instructions. "you really enjoy bossing me around, don't you?" "only because you're such a terrible patient," you teased, your fingers brushing against his skin. kenji's eyes met yours, a playful glint in them. "maybe i just like the recognition." you rolled your eyes. "what an attention whore."

one evening, you found yourself sitting on the couch, watching a movie with kenji. his arm was propped up with pillows, and he looked more relaxed than you had seen him in a while. "thanks for staying with me," kenji said softly, his gaze fixed on the screen. "i don't think i would've managed without you." you turned to him, "you would've been fine, kenji. you're stronger than you think. you're literally ultraman." kenji laughed at your comment and shook his head, his eyes meeting yours. "no, really. you've been amazing. i… i don't know how to thank you." "you don't have to," you whispered, leaning in slightly. "just get better." kenji's hand reached out, gently cupping your cheek. "i will. for you." your breath hitched, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still. then, slowly, kenji leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a tender, tentative kiss.

the next morning, you both tried to act as if nothing had changed, but the air between you was charged with a new, unspoken tension. "okay, let's try the resistance band today," you said, your voice a bit shaky. kenji nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "sure. let's do it." as you guided him through the exercises, your hands lingering a little longer than necessary, you couldn't help but wonder how long you could keep pretending that nothing had changed between you.

the high school gym was dimly lit, the only sounds being the soft echoes of your footsteps on the polished floor and the distant hum of the vending machines. you and kenji had stayed late, practicing for the upcoming sports event. he was a star athlete even back then, and you were his number one supporter. "you really should take it easy," you said, handing him a towel as he sat down on the bleachers, panting slightly. kenji grinned, wiping the sweat from his brow. "you worry too much. i'm fine." you rolled your eyes but couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips. "yeah, well, someone has to keep you in check." he chuckled, his eyes twinkling. "thanks for sticking around, sweetheart. it means a lot." "of course," you replied, sitting down next to him. "what are friends for?" kenji turned to you, his expression suddenly serious. "yeah, friends…" there was a moment of silence, the air thick with unspoken words. you looked at him, your heart pounding in your chest. his eyes, those deep, expressive eyes, seemed to draw you in. "kenji, i—" you started, but your words were cut off as he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a soft kiss. for a moment, time stood still. the world outside the gym faded away, leaving just the two of you in that quiet, intimate space. his hand found its way to your cheek, his touch gentle yet firm. you melted into the kiss, your heart racing as you wrapped your arms around him. when you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless. kenji's forehead rested against yours, his eyes closed as he whispered, "i've wanted to do that for so long."

kenji woke with a start, the memory of the kiss still vivid, his heart pounding. he laid there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, trying to make sense of the emotions that had resurfaced. the feelings he had pushed aside for years were now impossible to ignore.

the house buzzed with activity as you prepared for the small celebration. you wanted everything to be perfect for him. you moved around the kitchen, arranging snacks and drinks, a smile on your face as you thought about how far he had come in his recovery. kenji watched you from the doorway, his heart heavy with the weight of unspoken words. he knew he had to confront the feelings that had been bubbling up ever since you two met. taking a deep breath, he stepped into the kitchen. "hey," he called softly. you looked up, smiling brightly. "hey! just in time. can you help me with these decorations?" kenji nodded, but his mind was elsewhere. as you handed him a string of lights, he couldn't hold back any longer. "so just like that. you're forgetting about us?" he asked, his voice low and serious. you froze, the lights slipping from your fingers. "what are you on about now?" he stepped closer, his gaze intense. "that kiss. back in high school. it meant something, didn't it?"

"there was never an 'us', kenji," you replied, your voice steady but your eyes betraying your uncertainty. kenji moved even closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "don't lie to me. don't pretend like we never had something. like we don't have something right now." your back hit the nearby wall, and you felt trapped by the intensity of his words and the closeness of his body. "i don't know what you're talking about…" you stammered, hands fiddling with themselves. "yes, you do," he whispered, his hand resting gently on your arm. "that kiss, it wasn't just a moment. it was the start of something. and everything we've shared since then—don't tell me you don't feel it too." you swallowed hard, your heart racing. the memories, the lingering touches, the stolen glances—they all flooded back. "kenji, i…" he moved even closer, his breath warm against your skin. your hands pushed against your best friend's chest. "just tell me the truth, baby. do you feel it too?"

"you want the truth? fine." you took a deep breath, your eyes locked on his. "the truth is, i've never stopped feeling it. not since that kiss in high school, not since your out of the blue visits to do stupid shit, not since our late night calls, not since i started helping you heal. every touch, every glance, it all means something to me." you pushed through his cage, walking over to the kitchen island to continue setting up for the mini celebration.  kenji's eyes widened in surprise and relief, but you couldn't stay there, wrapped in the intensity of the moment. you pushed through his cage, walking over to the kitchen island to continue setting up for the mini celebration. your hands shook slightly as you arranged the decorations, trying to focus on anything but the whirlwind of emotions inside you. ken watched you for a moment, processing your words. then he followed, his presence a comforting warmth behind you. his hands caressed your shoulders, his touch gentle yet firm. "so how about it, babe? go on a date with me?" you chuckled softly, trying to mask the tremor in your voice. "i'm a busy woman. you'd have to pick a day i'm free." kenji leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "you got it, princess. you know i'd wait forever for you." you turned your head slightly, catching his gaze with a playful glint in your eyes. "yeah i know, you'd be a fool not to." he grinned, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "then call me a fool, because i've been waiting a long time." you sighed, a mix of exasperation and affection. "just don't keep me waiting forever, okay?" kenji's smile widened, his eyes filled with a mix of determination and adoration.

"i won't. i promise." "you make a lot of promises ken, makes me wonder if you can keep up with them all." "oh you wound me so~" "need another consultation for that?"

not gon hold yall... writing this tired me out.... i shouldve done hcs or a drabble but i hope you all liked it still!!!

taglist <3

@mochminnie @despacito-uwu16 @yellowheartz @ririkacchi @ifharbingerbad--whyhot

@reit0o @heavenlyraindrops @lovingyeet @stickypaperstarlight @raee-dreeaaamz

@rreasonablydumbb @bandolls @gingersnap126126 @automalvo @spiderboogie

@shellspider @blogscach @nightingale047 @deadbydad @deadbydad-writes

@phantomface @spencerrxids @moonjellyfishie @optimisticladysalad @tsumimimi

@purplegobrrrrrr @sillybillyp9 @cyberpsiko @swaggyv1v1 @l-charl

[kiss4tell]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐄, simon riley.

summary: you, a therapist devoted to mending fractured minds, finds yourself drawn to simon, a man who refuses to be saved. cw: slight psychological themes, inaccurate portrayal of therapy, dom!simon, unprotected and penetrative sex (wrap it before you tap it), porn with slight plot. wc: 1.2k

The first time Simon Riley steps into your office, you know you won’t be able to fix him.

Not because he’s too far gone, though the weight in his shoulders tells you he might be. Not because his trauma is impenetrable, though you suspect he believes that it is. But because he does not want to be saved.

He sits stiff in your chair, his broad frame swallowed by shadow. The balaclava remains on. He watches you in silence, his presence a force rather than a shape. You’ve had difficult patients before, men and women unraveled by things they could never speak aloud. But Simon—he’s different. He doesn’t unravel. He resists.

You take your notes. You ask your questions. He answers in clipped, calculated words, giving you only what he deems necessary. There’s no attempt at healing. No trust extended. His jaw ticks when you probe too deeply, and though his voice is quiet, you can hear the warning in it.

But you’re patient.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

The days pass in small, careful increments.

At first, Simon barely speaks, his replies brief and methodical, his posture rigid in the leather chair opposite your desk. But then, as the weeks wear on, the silences between his answers grow shorter. He begins to linger after sessions, his eyes sweeping over the bookshelves, the worn rug, the city skyline just beyond your window. He studies you, too, his gaze lingering a little too long, his presence stretching just beyond the professional.

It begins in small moments.

The first time your fingers graze his wrist as you pass him a glass of water, he stills beneath your touch. The first time you say his name without the weight of professionalism, his head tilts ever so slightly. The first time you hold his gaze and refuse to look away, his breath comes just a fraction sharper.

Simon’s not a man who yields. But you see it—the way his hands curl into fists, the way his body tenses when you come too close, as if torn between pulling away and holding you there.

And then, one night, he stays too long.

The office is dim, the lamplight flickering against the mahogany desk. He stands at the threshold, his body a looming silhouette against the doorframe. You don’t ask him why he hasn’t left. Instead, you rise from your chair, your steps slow, deliberate.

“Simon,” you murmur, just his name, letting it settle in the thick silence between you.

He exhales sharply. “I don’t want to be saved.”

You reach him then. Lift your hand, press your palm to his chest, feel the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. His breath catches, his body rigid beneath your touch. But he doesn’t stop you.

“Then let me ruin you instead,” you whisper.

Something in him breaks.

His hand comes up, grips your jaw—not gentle, not hesitant. His fingers press into your skin, tilting your face up as he looms over you. The heat between you is unbearable, thick with something dark, something hungry.

And when he lifts his balaclava over his nose and kisses you, it is not sweet. It is not soft. It is raw, desperate, filled with the ghosts he never speaks of.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

Simon has you pressed against the edge of your desk, his fingers gripping your waist with a possessive intensity. His body is solid, unwavering, and when he finally pulls back just enough to look at you, there’s something unreadable in his gaze.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, voice low, strained.

You don’t. Instead, your hands find his belt, your fingers unbuckling the leather with measured intent. “I won’t.”

A low sound rumbles from his chest, something between a growl and a sigh. God, the things you do to him without even trying. 

He undresses you with an aching slowness, peeling away each layer as if memorizing the sight of you—every curve, every breath, every shiver beneath his touch. By the time you’re left in nothing but your black lace lingerie, the very set you’d worn with a thought buried too deep to admit, his fingers are already mapping the softness of your skin, rough palms tracing reverent paths along your body.

His mouth follows the path of his hands, teeth grazing your pulse, lips pressing against the sensitive skin of your collarbone. He takes his time, drinking in every sound you make, every shift of your body beneath him.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice thick, fingers ghosting over your thighs before he shoves his jeans and boxers just low enough. His cock springs free, heavy and hard, slapping against his stomach. You barely have time to take in the sight of him—thick, flushed, slick with pearlescent pre—before your breath catches, tongue flicking out instinctively as your lips part.

His hands find the backs of your thighs, and in one swift movement, he lifts you onto the edge of your desk like you weigh nothing, the wood groaning under the shift. You gasp, reaching for purchase, but before you can form his name, his palm presses firm over your mouth. The look in his eyes is all the command you need. No words necessary. Your body melts into his, pliant, yielding.

His hand lingers for a moment before sliding down, fingertips teasing the band of your panties before slipping beneath, dragging them down your legs with deliberate patience. When they hit the floor and his hands part your thighs, a quiet sound rumbles from his chest—a dark, hungry thing that settles deep in your core.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he breathes, forehead pressing against yours as he takes himself in hand, guiding his swollen tip through the slick heat of your folds. The drag is slow, torturous, catching at your entrance with every pass. A soft whimper spills from you, need curling tight in your belly. Hardly any foreplay, and you’re already trembling, already half undone.

“Such a pretty little cunt,” he mutters, dragging his lips over your jaw, his grip tightening on your thighs. “Y’gonna take me like a good girl, yeah?”

Your breath hitches, a moan slipping past your lips when he finally sinks into you. He moves slowly at first, savoring the way you arch against him, the way your fingers dig into his back. But when you whisper his name—a plea, a prayer—his restraint unravels.

He fucks you deep, hard, like he needs this more than air. His breath is ragged, his grip bruising, his body pressing you into the desk as if trying to brand himself into you. Every thrust drives you further into bliss, each snap of his hips forcing moans from your lips that he greedily swallows with every stolen kiss.

When you come, it’s with his name spilling from your lips, your body tightening around him, pulling him deeper. And when he follows, it’s with a low, broken groan, his body tensing as he buries himself in you, his weight pressing you against the polished wood.

For a long moment, neither of you move. His breath is hot against your skin, his chest rising and falling heavily.

And when he finally speaks, it is not a confession. Not an apology. Just a quiet, desperate truth.

“Don’t fix me.”

[corneredcopia]

Incoming spoilers!!! I just wanted to ramble a bit about that stone scene:

I think the scene besides the final speech that broke me the most was definitely when Stone called Ivo to warn him about Gerald. (Keep in mind I’m paraphrasing some parts here bc I didn’t have their entire dialogue memorized and it’s 2am so I apologize if some of this is just incoherent lol)

Desperately pleading with Ivo to think twice about Gerald was a tricky play because I think Stone knew Ivo most likely wouldn’t listen to him and stubbornly ignore his warning. And yet…he still poured his heart out to him in the most heartbreaking way.

There were no “please, I need you’s,” and there were no attempts to get Ivo on his side by boosting his ego in that moment.

Stone had crawled through the mud, out of a giant mech submerged in the water nonetheless, just to say a few choice words to Ivo, “I’m not there to protect you,” and “I almost lost you once I can’t lose you again.” (Again, I’m paraphrasing)

Both of these lines have been eating at me for the past few hours because it’s so surreal to be able to see how much Stone cares for Ivo unfiltered. We hear him use ‘I’ instead of ‘you,’ not telling off the doctor but making his own needs clear in an attempt to get Ivo to realize what he can’t on his own.

If it wasn’t obvious to Robotnik from Stone’s delighted reaction to his return in Sonic 2 and the months they’ve lived together, Stone is making it obvious now. (Where Rob will realize later on) His loyalty is a bond beyond professionalism and sycophancy to the point where Rob’s safety is more important to Stone than anything else in the world. Even dissatisfying him.

Yes, he craves affection from Ivo and clearly knows how much Gerald means to him, though I think Stone would much rather have Ivo hate— absolutely despise the agent’s existence—than to ever know the doctor was in pain again.

And leading up to the ending, when Robotnik finally snapped out of it and had a few seconds to think over the entire past decade of Stone’s service to him, is where I believe Lee’s words fit.

“I think Robotnik needs Stone more than Stone needs Robotnik.”

In his “final” moments Robotnik’s increasing need for Stone was so apparent it melted down his own selfish core, and I believe that this was the driving factor to push him to save the planet.

So if Robotnik is now gone, Stone served his purpose for the man up until the very end. Sure he’ll live out Rob’s legacy as the doctor bestowed upon him, but he would do so as a changed man. A changed, lonely, man.

Their relationship ended up saving the world, yet, the world couldn’t end up saving their relationship.

[ekat-fandom-blog]

Batman acts as a secondary parent mentor to all the young justice members, so when a mentorless Dani Phantom joins it was only natural that he tried to be a parent mentor to her as well.

Because she's never had a parental mentor figure, Dani's very confused about what Batman's doing.

[sky-high-standards]

Yandere therapist x reader

Warning: mild smut murder mentions of gaslighting and manipulation

Yandere therapist who is intrigued and confused you came for therapy you where perfect what could possibly be wrong

Yandere therapist who falls for you once he hears your problems and he was so happy you could open up to him totally not cuz that's the whole point of paying for therapy

Yandere therapist who loves everything about you taking in everything you tell him making notes about your body language and micro l expressions just getting lost in you

Yandere therapist who hates that your dates sessions are only 30 minutes.

Yandere therapist who claims you're not well emotionally and mentally begging recommending you arrange longer lessons

Yandere therapist who manipulates you in every way he knows how which is a lot since he's a professional therapist.

Yandere therapist who gaslights you on your trauma and always has you crying in his arms at the end of every session.

Yandere therapist who adores how submissive you are he can't wait to see how fast you'll crumble once he has you moaning underneath him.

Yandere therapist who finds out you're in therapy because of your previous partner and is furious knowing what they did do you how they tried to stain your pure soul and kills them in the most brutal ways.

Yandere therapist who's jaw drops to the floor when he sees you're feeling better and say you don't need him anymore what!? this wasn't supposed to happen you were supposed to stay forever or at least until he made you his lover.

Yandere therapist who emotionally and mentally breaks you making all your hard work go down the drain.

Yandere therapist who claims you need a stress reliever to help with your trauma like a lover perhaps and nominated himself as the perfect fit and manipulates you into agreeing

This Is for the best my dove~ I'll take great care of you no one will harm you ever again…I'll make sure of it ~

[ameliora-j]

I’d love to hear what you think about some more therapist remus! I can’t get the idea out of my head of him sharing you with james and/or sirius😭🫠

mmmm… therapist!remus 🤤

content → smut, oral (f!receiving), foursome (ish), DARK CONTENT, 18+ BLOG MDNI

𐐪𐑂 it’s twisted tuesday ! send in ur requests ᵕ̈

"dr. lupin, are you sure this is okay?" you ask as remus is leading you up the stairs to your apartment. "like really okay?"

"well... are you okay with it, puppy?" he hums, smiling darkly as you nod. "then it is more than okay, sweet thing" he winked as he unlocked his door. he let you step in first, blushing as you saw two men sitting on the couch.

"well hello..." the one with long, dark hair greeted with a smirk. "mooney... you've brought us a new toy?" he asked.

"don't be such a mutt, pads" remus rolls his eyes, wrapping a protective arm around you. "this is one of my patients. she needs some... extracurricular assistance" he smirked, and the faces of the men on the couch matched his. "go on and have a seat on the couch love." he instructs, nodding in approval as you sit between the two men.

"yn here, is ashamed of the filthy thoughts that she has running through her pretty little head. she has trouble with tingles... she can't make them go away on her own" he explained to the two men. "james and sirius are two of my best when it comes to cases like these. i want you to be good for them. let them help you, and i will be right here taking my notes, okay?" he asks with a small smile, now turning his attention to you.

"okay, dr. lupin" you nod softly. remus murmurs a small 'good girl' before leaving james and sirius to their vices. the long haired one is the first to touch you, his hand on your thigh, rubbing in small circles.

"are you feeling the tingles now, darling?" the one with glasses asked. james and sirius... but who was who? suddenly, it didn't matter anymore as the long-haired one was pulling your leg over his thigh and rubbing your cunt over your panties.

"oh, i'd say so, prongs... she's ruined these frilly little panties" the long haired one answered for you, snapping your soaked-through panties back down against your sopping cunt. you moan, and the men share a smirk. "i need to taste this little cunt" he mutters, quickly kneeling on the floor. "hold her open james" sirius grunts, and you're finally able to discern the two. sirius kneels between your legs as james pulls you over his lap, using his own thighs to spread you open for the three men.

sirius lets out a soft moan as he peels your panties from your sticky cunt, throwing them behind him for remus to catch. the former hummed, lifting the flimsy fabric to his nose and inhaling deeply, causing you to blush. "don't get shy now, puppy... they know what you are" remus teases as sirius licks a bold stripe up your sopping little cunt.

that's the only warning you receive before sirius is licking at your cunt like a starved man. james pushes up your shirt, squeezing at your tits and playing with your nipples. your back is arched as your eyes close, grinding on sirius's face as your cunt soaks his beard with your juices.

he doesn't stop until you're cumming, and even then he's still going, moaning and slurping lewdly at your sopping cunt as your eyes roll back in your head, unable to do anything but take it as james holds your legs open.

[2-dsimp]

Would it be possible to peg Wesley? Asking for a friend.

No, it would not be possible to peg the butterfly 🦋 (=^▽^)σ.

Cw: 🔞NSFW, MDNI, manipulation, brainwashing, corruption, Wesly being a sleazy bastard.

Your yandere therapist is on the dominant side and would rather have his brainwashed patient in a trance doing spread eagle on his lap. Where his long tube like tongue delves deep into their core that was pressed against his face like an unwrapped present. Meanwhile he bucks up into their maw using their throat like a proper jerk off tool. Gotta make sure you swallow your dose of happiness after all! Via oral injection.