#how to correct prostatitis

[justluxy]

Freaky Boyfriend

Freaky Boyfriend x Bottom Male Reader

Where your boyfriend gets freaky at Christmas night

Tw: Gay smut, public kinda, nipple play, and fingering (english is my second language so feel free to correct me)

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Freaky BF↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ 1:35

Imagine it's Christmas and you're celebrating it at your boyfriend's house, eating, talking, and laughing with him and his family. Happily chatting and putting presents under the tree while it snowed outside

But then you feel a hand on your thigh under the table, it was your boyfriend. He looked at you with a smirk and said to you, "Let's go to my room, I need to do something~" then he excused himself from the table and took your hand to guide you to his room

When you guys get there he asked to sit down on his bed, then he sat next to you and started kissing you passionately while his hand was resting on your waist. Then he pushed you down softly and got on top of you, still kissing you

Then he started kissing your neck while he said softly, "You looked so irresistible there... I just wanted to take you and fuck you..." you blushed hard but you let him kiss you

Then he started taking your shirt off, "You're so beautiful...", he said kissing you while to with his hand he pinched your nipples while you moaned between kisses, "Shh... you gotta be silent... or do you want my family to hear how I make you mine baby?"

You shook your head while covered your mouth while he kissed your chest and tummy. Then he went lower to your pants and looked at you, his eyes asking for permission to take them off and you only nodded. He lowered your pants and chuckled as he saw the tent in your boxers

"You're excited aren't you?" He said while smirking while his finger pressed the tip of your cock, then he took off your underwear and started jerking you off while you moaned in your hand, not wanting to be heard

He continued to jerk you off, his hand faster and faster each time. You wanted to moan loud but you couldn't. Then you came in his hand while your breath was heavy. He smirked, "I love when you cum like this love... it makes me want to fuck you more~"

Then he turned you around, smirking as he saw your back and ass, while you were hiding your face of embarrassment. Then he spread your ass cheeks and said, "What a beautiful sight darling~" Then he took a bottle of lube from under his bed and poured a bit in his finger and introduced inside your hole

"Fuck baby... you're sooo tight... imma have fun tonight~" He said as he introduced his second finger, both hitting your prostate while you moaned in the pillow. Then he added a third finger, you wished you could moan but you couldn't

"I think that's enough" He said while pulling out his fingers making you whine as you felt empty. Then he poured a big amount of lube on his cock, stroking it a few times before introducing the tip in your hole and with just the tip, you were already a mess

Then he introduced it all in, the tip already hitting your prostate, "Fuck... I love this" he said while did slow thrusts, enjoying how your back arched with each thrust. Then he placed his hand on your hips to keep you in place

Then he pressed his chest against your back and nibbled in your ear. His thrust were hard and fast and you wished you could moan but you didn't want to get caught by your in laws. Then he started kissing your back and neck, gosh he loves you so much

Then he started playing with your nipples, he knows you're really sensitive, he knows you so welk, all your sensitive parts and he always do them while you only moan in the pillow and see stars of how amazing he is

He loves to fuck you in the doggy position, he loves seeing your ass when he thrusts into you and how you arch your back everytime he reaches your prostate. You could feel he was close and he realky wanted to cum inside of you but he controlled himself and pulled out, coming on your back while you pathetically came on his bedsheets

"God... that was amazing baby, let's get cleaned up and get back with my family" He said while reaching for a towel to clean both his mess and yours

"I forgot we are still here" you said while he cleaned your back. The rest of the night you were trying to act normak with his family, but your legs felt like jelly but you couldn't deny it, you enjoyed it

[delopsia]

Happy birthday!!!

I'd like to request nebula bronc riding. Prompt: Pegging Robert Reynolds, Rhett Abbott

Thank you! ^^ I'm sorry that it took me so long to get to this one. I was saving my favorites for last 😔

Nebula Bronc Riding — Give me a prompt for your rider(s) and I'll write a drabble with it

Bob Reynolds

"There," pretty blue eyes widen like saucers. "There, there, there, ah—!" His head falls back onto the pillow once more, legs shivering as you hoist them back over your shoulders. It's hard to believe he's even this flexible, knees to his chest, drooling cock trapped between his thighs. And somehow, all six feet of him manages to look tiny.

"Are you sure you don't want the smaller strap, baby?" Tracing your fingers over his rim, stretched around a too-thick silicone cock. "You cute little ass can hardly take it." He's whining before you've finished talking, his cock twitching. Your newfound theory is proving to be a little more correct than you initially thought. "I want..." Bob gulps, squeezing his knees closer to himself, as if to try and fold himself in half. "I want it." A shiver visibly ripples through him, meek little whimpers dissolving into something louder. Now that you've found his prostate again, you're not leaving it alone, even for a second. Purposefully angling your hips to strike it, sacrificing the strength of your once carefully measured strokes. If the precum spilling onto his plush thighs is anything to go by, you reckon you can get him off from this alone. But you're dying to see just how far your theory stretches. Hooking your hands beneath his knees, you draw them apart. "Look," you coo, and there's something else you're about to say, a sweet little something to get him going, but Bob is already lifting his head. You can see the moment his eyes land on it. The obscene sight of this thick pink toy, sinking into his cute ass, stretching him so fucking wide. You don't know how he's even gonna walk to the kitchen in the morning, let alone anything else. A pitchy whimper falls off his tongue, and he's cumming without even a hint of warning. So he does have a size kink.

Rhett Abbott

"Shit, shit," his hips buck like those bulls he rides for fun, damn near causing your strap to slip out of him entirely. "Just like that, fuck!" Wind rushes past, your only reminder of where you are right now. Out here in the closed-off west pasture, miles upon miles of flat land and wire fences. There's nothing here to hide you. Just one person coming over that distant horizon is all it'll take to get caught. But Rhett's babbling like he doesn't care if half the town is watching. "Keep fuckin' me like that," his boot audibly kicks at the ground, stirring up another plume of dirt. "Keep...keep...oh." "You're gonna get us caught, cowboy," squeezing greedy handfuls of his thighs, you lean forward, as close as you can get to his ear. Taunting. "You're supposed to be working, remember? Or do you want someone to see you getting bent over your own truck?" Rhett glares at you from over his shoulder. Your hips snap back into him, and it dissolves, his eyes rolling as his mouth all but falls open. The groan rumbling out of his chest ought to be heard for miles. His arms crumble out from beneath him, collapsing into the hood of his truck. He's clawing at it, searching for leverage that isn't there. The only thing it does for him is make more noise, a dull squeal of palms gliding over cool metal. You draw yourself back, eager to get another look at the pale blue toy disappearing into his shaking ass. His favorite. Always a sucker for the long, oversized toys that leave him sore for days. Something possesses you to seize one of his arms, forcing it back and between your bodies. And Rhett already knows what you're trying to do, sliding two fingers around the silicone, feeling where it disappears into him. "I'm gonna cum again," he blurts, and his fist strikes the truck so hard that you worry it might leave a dent. "Fuck. Keep...keep..." When did he cum the first time?

[mistyyyy]

Omg hiiii!

Uhhhh this is my first time requesting anything so sorry if I’m coming off too direct but idk any other way to do this. ✌️✌️

Can I request a pegging fic w/ Aizawa, where you’ve folded him in half are holding his legs down while his hands are bound. I’ve found little to no fics with a sub!aizawa, nonetheless fics that really hit the nail on the head for this mans character 😩😩😩.

Like- he’s trying not to give you a reaction.. but those strokes you’re giving him 🤭.

My boys having a really really tough time, twitching and shaking involuntarily. Biting his lip to try and muffle the sounds while he squirms for some sort of leverage but he can’t do anything because you’ve folded this man like paper. He’s trying to fight against the leather cuffs but to no avail. He would be wondering why tf he let you do this to him but he can’t think of anything other than you ramming that dildo up his ass- SORRY IM GONNA STOP NOW ✋✋✋ WHEWWWWWWWWWW

Resist.

Heyy….yall 👀 *clears throat.*

CW: Condescending reader, soft dom reader, pegging, bottom Aizawa, sub Aizawa, slight feminization, slight mean reader, forced edging, restraining

Words: 940

"Come on now baby you can take this dick..." You breathed out, warm breath fanning into his blushed ear as your strap slammed in and out of his hole. His moans were whiny and guttural, his breath and body strained as you forced his thighs against stomach. "M-mngh- fuck you..." he cursed out, pretty eyes squeezed shut as he tried to get a hold of reality, trying to ignore how good you made him felt. He was so stubborn, not wanting to fully submit even if you had him folded like this

You couldn't help but to grin down at him, the grip on his hairy thighs tightening. You found it amusing that he was suffering, that he was trying so hard not to enjoy the way you thrusted into him, the tip of your strap repeatedly thrusting into his prostate. "Cmon baby don't be like that... shit, you're dripping like a girl." You chuckled eyes peering down towards his throbbing red tip, pre cum drooling down to his toned belly, sliding down his angry shaft.

Your words only added more embarrassment to his situation, sun freckled skin flushing red, arms flexing behind his back as he wanted to so badly touch you, to place his hands underneath your ass to help you fuck him. His body twitched and arched, his lips red and swollen as he pulled them into his mouth to keep his nasty sounds at bay.

It didn't work of course. Not when you were fucking him like this, not when your nails dug into his muscles to hold his thighs in place, his ass and your hips angled just right. "Mmnhg-mmsofuckinclose," he whines, voice fast, throat raspy and raw from his muffled groans and grunts-rambles falling from his swollen lips, repeating how close he was to releasing.

Then you did something unexpected, a sharp gasp leaving his mouth-he almost choked and cough. Your hand left his thigh to grip onto the base of his dick, your grip tight, holding onto him like a vise. "Don't fucking cum yet, don't you dare... not until you admit it," you spoke, your hips slowing, letting him chase the orgasm he couldn't quite grasp.

This was fucking torture for the man, his face scrunching up from the uncomfortable feeling of his balls and stomach tightening from the edge, from how tight you were holding him. Why why whyyy did he let you do this? Why did he agree to let you play with him like this- why... his thoughts soon turned into mush though as he desperately wanted that high, to feel that fuzzy feeling in his brain when he came.

“P-please..” he gritted out, hoping if he begged you for release he wouldn’t have to admit how good it felt, how much he enjoyed being folded and manhandled like this. Little did he know this was more pathetic than him just admitting how good it felt.

You didn’t let him get a pass. As much as you loved to hear his rough pleases and begs to cum- you didn’t let him. So with a corrective slap on his thigh, your hips continued to move relentlessly, your hand fisting his cock tightly, not giving him a chance to forget his place. “Come on baby, you know what I want to hear. Tell me how good I make you feel, tell me how good your wife is fucking you,”

Your tone was cocky and condescending, a smirk on your face as you listened to his pained whines and whimpering, watching as his stomach caved in, his plump pecks vibrating with every thrust you gave him. He couldn’t even speak coherently anymore, his deep voice replaced with something more feminine and rough as he tried to explain how good you made him felt. “I-oh god-I- I can’t, please- you make me-“ he swallowed thickly, his voice a gasp as you kept hitting that spot, his balls throbbing and red as you restricted his base, “feelsogood,” he continued, eyes barely opened as they stared up at yours.

You felt a pang of satisfaction once he finally gave you what you wanted, a low hum leaving your throat. You could feel the way he throbbed and pulsated in your palm, his body reacting to your noises, your voice, your movements. When you finally released his shaft his mind couldn’t even keep up with the way his body reacted, how fast his orgasm came, how hot and twitchy his body felt as a white heat filled his body.

You watch as his heavy load squirted and shot onto his stomach, his chest, how it lazily dripped down his red cock until it dropped near his navel. “Mm~ good job baby… you look so good like this.” You praised your husband, your sloppy thrusting slowly down into a lazily hump as you let him ride through his orgasm.

His tanned lined body stained red, his abdomen covered in his sweat and arousal, black hair sprawled on y’all’s mattress like a dark halo. He huffed out air as he slowly caught his breath, his body felt like jello and his thighs twitched against his body as he felt your gently thumbs draw circles on the inside of his muscles. “Fuck… where’d you learn that…” he asked, voice raspy and tired as his eyes came to a close.

You chuckled, a cocky grin on your face as you continued to stare down at his fucked state. “Twitter.”

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

❝KIM HONGJOONG❞

➾In Which: All of my hard thoughts about Hongjoong.

❥Kim Hongjoong x fem reader

➯a/n: written as fem reader but applies to gn reader as well !didn't put the taglist cause i didn't want to spam people (one post for each member coming). hongjoong is my bias so this is maybe a tiny, a smidge, a biiiit way overboard ➯other members versions here <3

(>ᴗ•)genre: smut, headcanon / rant style

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: not grammatically correct i'm just yappin, rough and soft sex, praise and degradation, name calling, creampie + pull out, bondage, sex toys, pegging, wearing the captain arm band during sex (HHHHH WHERES MY CLOTHES-), kind of age play but not really at all ? (calling reader little girl / hj dumb boy), cock warming, regular slapping aaaand pussy slapping, orgasm control, cock + ball torture aaaand worship, choking, dacryphilia, head locking, nipple play, spit, french kissing + tongue sucking, extremely possessive, fat cock joong — i don't make the rules

♡masterlist + navigation !♡

18+.MINOR FREE BLOG.

❝KIM HONGJOONG❞ is a dom leaning switch. i have an unbelievable amount of things to say so let's break it up by when's he's a sub + when he's a dom

➾calls you pretty no matter what. dom or sub, "pretty" is leaving his mouth (literally the first fic i ever posted on here is abt this). when he's a sub, he can't really say much more than that cause you're effectively shutting down his brain with a flood of pleasure. when he's a dom though ? you get called his: slut, whore, little girl, fuck toy, good girl, the list goes on and on and on... and he mixes it up, too ! pretty slut, sweet dumb baby, perfect fuck toy, silly whore, cum hungry angel, i'm gonna stop myself now-

➾kissing hongjoong always involves tongue ! even if it's a quick peck, he slips between your lips and kisses your tongue with his. before you both even start undressing in the bedroom, he's putting his tongue in your mouth and letting you suck on it as he trails his hands all over your body; getting you all hot and bothered with only his tongue flicking at yours and his hands over your clothes

➾when he's submissive he's almost as much a brat as wooyoung — which is to say, veryyyy fucking bratty. begging for more even when he can't take it without crying, telling you he wants your pussy on his cock and not some stupid toy in his ass even though he's cumming the second you hit his prostate while simultaneously jerking him off. he's very rough with you when he's dominant, so he lets to do the same to him when you are:

➾lets you pull his hair, slap him, pinch his nipples until he's begging, he doesn't know why; but he goes crazy when you tie him up and tease his cock and squeeze his balls until he's crying. likes it when call him all sorts of filthy things. his favorite might have to be dumb boy, because he cums the second you say it — especially if you're wearing his armband while domming him, mocking him by saying how is he really the captain ? he's such a weak, dumb boy right now, letting you fuck him in the ass.

➾if he's had a particularly rough day, he wants to just forget everything and you can help him do just that by tying him down and making him cum until he physically cant anymore. he'll beg you to slow down but he won't do anything to actually stop you because it's making him so pleasantly stupid how you jerk him off, how you ride him, how you thrust the dildo into him like you know exactly where to aim.

➾he's so clingy afterwards when he's been subbing, hugging you tight and nuzzling his face into your chest like an overgrown house cat while you rub his back and run your fingers through his hair while telling him how amazing he is (because he truly needs to hear it <3)

➾all of that above, though ? semi-rare occasions. hongjoong is mean and rough a good 70% of the time. he pulls your hair, pinches your nipples, slaps you while he's pounding every drop of his cum into you all while telling you that you'd better not cum unless you want him to slap your pussy for disobeying him.

➾puts a spreader bar between your legs and yanks you into his thrusts with it. chokes you in a headlock with his arm band chafing your skin as he fucks you from behind. holds a vibrator against your clit until you sob. bends you over the bed and shoves your face into the sheets while calling you his perfect, pretty, dumb little slut who's made to take his cock —

➾his cock !! i'm fucking drooling. thick more than long, four fingers isn't even enough to stretch you out for him. it always stings a bit and you always love it. he asks you if anyone else will ever fill you out like he does, or is this little cunt all his now? fucking goliath girth, and he knows it:

➾he pulls all the way out just to quickly fuck back into you and make you gasp again and again. all while saying how your cunt was made to take his fat length and how he's the only one who's ever gonna fuck you again especially after he's remolded the shape of your cunt to fit him — and only him — perfectly

➾he loves choking you, especially when he's cumming. wrapping both hands around your neck and spitting in your mouth and looking in your eyes as you beg for his cum, makes his entire body tingle. if he doesn't cum inside of you while saying how youre his — and only his, is that clear, little girl? — cum dump, he's spilling his release all over your stomach after pulling out at the last second so he can see you covered in him.

➾soft sex with hongjoong is soft. like a fluffy cloud or a pillow of cotton candy type soft: fingers laced together, slow and deep strokes, bodies molded together like you're snuggling and not fucking, he sucks on your skin and kisses your neck. quiet, breathy claims of "mine" as he fills you up and circles your clit slowly.

➾aftercare involves cock warming no ifs, ands, or buts. he stays buried inside of you while he rubs your head and whispers how much he loves you and how he means that you really are all his and he's all yours ♡

[angelsfat3]

ꮩ. [𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗌...]

ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴀᴄᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: @foschiamara

⢀⠀⠀.   ⋆ ･˳ . ⋆  ⭒ ✿ ⭒ ⋆･. ˳ . ⋆ ⠀⢀⠀⠀.   ⋆ ･˳⠀.   ⋆ ･˳ . ⋆  ⭒ ∗

C/w: bottom Mreader, curses, mentions of: spanking, hickeys and bites + EVERYTHING is consensual. ㅤ－ㅤTw: none. (Correct me if I'm wrong.)

Genre: smut drabble, h/canons.

A/N: I no longer have the @ of the person who requested it, but after half a month, here it is. (I did it this way because I didn't have much imagination. 💔)

𝗹𝗲𝗲 𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗎𝗇𝗀 ⓘ𝒶𝓈 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖺𝗀𝗇𝗂𝖺. ！ 💌

⒈ “You don't know how bad I want to break you, put your head on the mirror and leave your ass red from so many spanks...”

⒉ “My cock would look so good inside you, nothing better than seeing your ass swallow my entire dick.”

When you received the notes, your head was completely blank, your eyes traveled from the small sheet of paper to your boyfriend's face, noticing how he didn't take his eyes off of you. His eyes traveled through every corner of your body, undressing you in his imagination.

He was a boy of word and he wouldn't miss the opportunity to fuck you hard when the cameraman gave them a half hour break (this was for changing outfit and makeup). After all, you were the one who helped him get dressed and also the one who did his makeup.

𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝗷𝗼𝗻𝗴𝘀𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗴 ⓘ𝒶𝓈 𝖾𝗑𝗁𝗂𝖻𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗆. ！ 📷

Today was the 21st ecological film festival in Seoul and your boyfriend had invited you, nothing nicer than an outdoor date. When you two arrived, he alone guided you to the highest part of the place, with the excuse that both of you would have a better view.

At first everything was very calm, you two watching a comedy movie, laughter here and laughter there. Now you were spread wide open, without pants, with your eyes closed and your lips forming a single line, preventing any moan from coming out.

“Hey, my love... you're missing the best part of the movie.”

One of his hands was busy, or rather, his fingers were busy moving inside you, smoothly caressing your prostate. With the other he caressed your glans with the help of his thumb, exerting firmness with his palm.

“If you want this to end, watch the fucking movie, love.”

𝙨𝙞𝙢 𝗃𝖺𝖾𝗒𝗎𝗇 ⓘ𝒶𝓈 𝖽𝖺𝖼𝗋𝗒𝗉𝗁𝗂𝗅𝗂𝖺. ！ 🎭

"You're crying? Aww, poor thing. Keep doing it."

His hands were buried on your waist as he continued to hit every sweet spot inside you with his veiny cock, his pace increasing the more you cried and begged him to give you a break.

Although Jake used to (almost) always be a very energetic, sweet and tender boy, he was also someone who, just by seeing you cry because of the way he played with your body, could feel his cock getting even harder, causing bearable pain throughout his phallus.

He loved fucking you in the missionary position, as it allowed him to get close to your face, lick your tears and leave marks everywhere possible, inflicting pain (on purpose) every time he sucked on your skin.

𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗸 𝘀𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗵𝗼𝗼𝗻 ⓘ𝒶𝓈 𝗈𝖽𝖺𝗑𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗀𝗇𝗂𝖺. ！ 🩸

All your early mornings always started the same way, a couple of wet kisses that threatened your neck, with tickles that little by little lifted you up. You avoided at all costs that he could continue advancing, so you tried to move slightly, but everything was in vain. His hands always ended up surrounding you.

“Come on... a little fun won't hurt, plus I'm kind of stressed. Don’t you want to help me, baby?”

A sneaky smile always formed on his face when he saw how your chest swelled quickly every time he moved his hand to your thighs and how quickly he placed himself on top of you, continuing with the initial plan, the kisses that eventually led to bites.

Over time, the entire room was drowned out by your moans, which were generated by the bites that were mostly always on your shoulders, belly and neck. Your vampi-boy's fangs were the cause of the pain, but it was compensated by the blowjob he was giving you.

메모 ! 📌ㅤ⸻ㅤ I FINALLY HAD INSPIRATION (it took me half a month). I really hope you liked this, although English is not my native language, I do my best.

ㅤㅤ아이디어 !ㅤ⸻ㅤI'm very short of ideas lately, so feel free to ㅤㅤㅤ leave me any requests! <⁠(⁠￣⁠︶⁠￣⁠)⁠>

[elsecrytt]

Kinktober Day 5

Prostate Massage | Blindfold | Cages

Pairing: Satoru Gojo X Reader

Warnings: noncon/dubcon, yandere/controlling behavior, drugging, captivity, panic attack

He’s missing again.

This is more surprising than one might think – Gojo, for all his whimsical tendencies, doesn’t typically slack on exorcizing curses.

It’s why they think he’s just going off the grid for a bit to take care of some other business – goodness knows he drags in enough sorcerer children to the school.

But it’s been a while, and no one’s heard from him.

If he had meant to defect, he would surely have done it when Suguru Geto was still alive. So this must be another fit of arrogance, running off and doing whatever he pleased. It was annoying, but who could stop him? He was, after all, the strongest sorcerer in the world.

Certainly, no one was expecting to find Satoru Gojo in a cage inside your basement.

You’re not a sorcerer, after all. No one Satoru knew or had ever known would even know your name, much less where you live and that Satoru was with you.

You don’t even bother visiting him for the first few days. There’d be no point. He’d try to convince you this was a bad idea (it probably was) and to let him go (you absolutely could not, not under any circumstances). He probably wouldn’t lie – you never thought him to be the type, even if his life were truly on the line – but nothing he said would be of any use to you.

He’d already said enough when under the influence of those helpful substances you slipped him. You’d gone through a few before you found one that made him pliable enough to repeat the words you needed.

A binding vow. One that would keep him here, and keep him tame, for as long as you wanted.

Oh, you’re sure he was terribly confused for those first few days. Wondering what kind of curse or curse technique had him trapped in there. Poor baby was probably bored to death, too, if anything you knew about him was correct.

But it would take a while to get to him, to get him to the place he needed to be. And you had all the time you needed.

After all, good things come to those who wait.

You open the door, a thrill in your heart at the thought of just how excited Satoru Gojo is going to be to see you.

The worst part is, you’re right.

Satoru’s been stuck in here for three days now. He is, frankly, bored. Worse than bored. He’s sort of going insane.

It’s not like he needs to use the restroom, or even eat. Sorcerers – anyone who could use reverse curse technique, really – had ways to suspend bodily functions and stuff like that, for use on long missions, in extreme environments, or domains with weird effects.

So, no. He’s not hungry, or thirsty, he doesn’t need to use the restroom. That’ll catch up with him eventually, of course, but it’s not a problem right now.

The problem right now is that someone was powerful enough to trap him in here, had some weird power that stopped him from escaping, but they just. Left him.

All. Alone. In the dark. Even with the six eyes, it was dark in here. He can tell where the door is, but the light level is far beneath what a normal human could see. There’s almost no sound. No cursed energy at all. Nothing interesting in the room to stare at, nothing moving.

It was a weird, surreal sort of experience, for about ten minutes. Hard to tell even how much time was passing. Just the sound of his breath and the thoughts knocking around in his head. He didn’t get time like this often, didn’t just sit down and think. It cleared his head in a strange way – no more migraines, no more constant analyses from his six eyes, no more reverse curse technique constantly healing his brain.

Like taking off a weight he hadn’t noticed was there to begin with. He felt lighter, so many physical demands suddenly lifted from his body. A breath of fresh air.

Fresh air got old pretty fast, when most of his thoughts kept coalescing on Why can’t I use my curse technique and What the hell is going on? At first, there was even fear, too – he wasn’t totally crazy – but after that?

This is just boring. He’s never been so bored in his entire life. His brain feels like it’s rattling in his skull, waiting to drop out the next time he tilts his head. Satoru is about ready to start banging it against the bars just to have something to listen to.

So when you open the door, light suddenly flooding in from a crack (it’s bright enough to make him wince, with his eyes), Satoru Gojo is entirely focused on you, in an instant. Taking in every single detail about your body, your voice, your cursed energy and cadence.

It’s amazing, how much you can learn when you pay attention.

He learns that you’re not a sorcerer. That he’s not kept here by any curse technique or tool – rather, it’s by a binding vow. One that only you can release. You’d drugged him through his infinity using a knockout gas and gotten his half-conscious self to repeat specific words to make the vow.

He learns you think you’re doing this to help him, save him.

“I just don’t think you’re that strong. I mean, it was easy enough for me to get you like this, right? And I’m not a sorcerer at all.”

His eyes are fixed on you like shattered sapphires. You’re insane – you must be – but it isn’t every day some insane person manages to get one over on him.

Maybe the reason you were able to get this far with him was because you were so crazy.

“For your whole life, you’ve had to be strong.” Your eyes soften; he can discern your features on a microscopic level, the tiny flecks of warmth and concern, “But you aren’t. And you don’t have to try anymore. I’ll protect you.”

Something weird twists in his guts.

There’s lots of kinds of crazy in Jujutsu sorcerer. He’s no stranger to it. But this kind of crazy? He’s never seen it before.

Love is the most twisted curse of them all.

And that is what you tell him, that you love him. You continue by telling him all sorts of funny things – that you’re taking care of him now, getting him back on track, this is for his own good, yada yada.

It’s definitely crazy person speak, but it’s new and refreshing that it’s directed towards him. And maybe because it’s so novel and fun, he goes ahead and sits back and enjoys it.

Like, he tries to tell you he’s important. People to protect, students to teach, all that stuff. You just dismiss him, tell him he’s weak, tell him he doesn’t know what’s best for him. He wasn’t meant for sorcery – his life will be better, now.

(Somewhere in the back of his head, he realizes with a belated horror, that this is what he sounds like to other people.)

 It’s funny, though, it is. He laughs at you (you smile, though, because you’re delusional like that, even if you can tell he’s mocking you), at the thought that he could be meant for anything but sorcery.

And hey, it’s not like he’s got anywhere to be. Anywhere he can be. He’ll give it a try.

Although it’s not so much a try as endure the very carefully calculated daily plans you lay out for him. You’ve got a lot of free time – probably some work-from-home position – and a lot of money, too.

(Great taste in body wash also. Amber and honeysuckle or something. He’ll have to remember it when he gets out of here.)

The room he’s in is special in that it’s painted a gentle off-white color, and sparsely decorated. His little cage is large enough to fit him just sitting down, tall as he is, and it’s large enough for a cot in the corner. It’s kind of cozy, he’ll admit, in a camping kind of way.

When you send him to bed – yes, like an actual child – he finds out the cot is a lot softer than he’d expected, some kind of memory foam he’s never tried. The sheets are extra cooling, the pillow feels like a dream, the room is pitch black and chilly. It only takes him a few minutes of moody contemplation to start drifting off after he lays down.

Sleep training, you’d called it. Satoru’s pretty sure he’d be offended if he actually knew what it was.

“You have your healing powers, sure,” (when he’d interrupted you to tell you it was reverse curse technique you’d paused and waited out his explanation like a champ), “But there’s no substitute for a good eight hours of sleep, Satoru.”

Your voice is stern and laden with something he can’t quite get, but it doesn’t matter anyways. He’ll be out soon.

It’s interesting, lying down inside the cage. This room is so small. It’s all fitted just for him, perfectly sized to leave neither empty space nor squeeze him too tight. His world is reduced to this cage and the things you choose to put in it.

He’s quick to complain about the boredom, but you don’t mind his whining. You actually hook up several game consoles to a small TV set carefully placed at head height for him, sitting up, with controllers you hand him through the bars.

“I’ll have to limit your screen time – it’s not good for your eyes. It’s probably even worse for the six eyes. So I’ve got a collection of books here, and an e-reader, so you can get anything you want. Oh! I’ve also brought some puzzles.”

Yaaawwwn. You don’t even flinch at his exaggerated expression of boredom, promising instead to find more complex puzzles online to entertain him. Rubik’s cubes, jigsaws – these things bored him. He put everything together right away.

You find a puzzle made in braille, one that has to be put together by touch. Brain teasers that required out-of-the-box thinking… you’d even brought him a jigsaw puzzle with a mixed up image printed on it, one that couldn’t be put together by the visuals at all. He had to hand it to you, that was neat.

There’s almost an amusement in watching how diligent you are about finding things to entertain him with. The video games, the books, the puzzles, some TV, too. He’s half worried that you stole his collection of movies, but it turns out you just have some streaming services. It’s fun enough to kill time. Human Earthworm 4 really was garbage.

You laugh when he tells you so. Your defense of the dumb movie is that it was half-parody (you are correct), and he tells you with a sniff that you have no taste, and you laugh, and his stomach feels funny.

Clearly the isolation is getting to him, if you feel like decent company.

He takes meals with you, too, and you’re particular about them. No more mochi for breakfast and dinner, no more coffee at all actually – “It’ll interfere with your rest,” – instead, you make him eat ‘real food’.

Complete, home-cooked, admittedly delicious meals. They’re all way more palatable than most things he eats, all foods he likes, he ends up liking… at first he didn’t want to try, but you’d dangled so many sweet looking deserts over his head – specially made mochi, fresh souffles and macarons, carefully crafted crystal candies.

Ugh, you know way too much about him. And you look so pleased with yourself, too. He wonders if you make them yourself – so he asks, and watches your face blush lightly, watches you smile, eyes softening as you look at him in that way he doesn’t get.

Isolation. It’s getting to him. Definitely.

“And of course, I’ll be here to allow you socialization time. We could play games together, or if you want, we could read the same books? Or just talk, if you like. I’m not letting you out, but I’d be happy to hear about your life from before, your likes and dislikes. You can make requests, too!”

Normally he’d be all like “No way, creepy kidnapper,” seriously. But to be honest, he’s kind of looking forward to a chance to pick your brain.

You seem all too happy to oblige. Delighted that he’s taking an interest in you, which is kinda cute and pathetic, since it’s totally not what’s happening. He just wants to know how the hell you got to be so fucking weird.

“I think love makes us all a little crazy, don’t you? As for why I love you, Satoru… well. I couldn’t pick only one reason. Suffice to say, I’m really happy to be talking to you now. It probably sounds weird to you, but being around you just these past few days has been awesome for me. Being around you just brings me so much joy. I want to make it good for you, too!”

Yeah, to be honest, it’s really weird how accommodating you are. You let him out for bathroom breaks at regular intervals – he’s still not sure why you put him in the cage at all –

“Oh, the cage? That’s for your benefit, not mine. Obviously this room is locked. But I think you… it’s difficult to explain. But your awareness of the space around you is warped somehow. I constantly see you nap in awkward places, sit or lean in positions that would stress your body out, zone out from your surroundings. I think it’s important to reset your senses.”

It’s creepy at this point. Or it would be, if it hadn’t blown wayyy past that part.

He likes that you don’t press him much. You just confess your love and go on about your day. No expectations, no freak outs. You’re crazy but you’re obviously not so crazy you think he loves you back. You just think you’re trying to do the right thing by him, which is like, really sweet, in a super weird and demented way.

Satoru had already decided that he doesn’t want to go after you once he gets out of here. You’re not malevolent, even if some distant part of his mind knows that people are dying while he’s chilling out in here.

No, you’re just lonely, and you’ve somehow attached yourself to him with this completely delusional idea that you understand him on a deeper level, and you wanted to protect him. Wasn’t that sweet? The cutest thing?

He can’t really bring himself to be mad at you. Not when you’re probably the only person on earth who’s ever thought this about him, who tried to do something about it. And it’s a damn good try, he’ll give you that.

The cage really isn’t that small. It’s comfortable in here, actually, it’s nice. It’s simple and easy in a way that would be boring if you didn’t give him company, entertainment, meals. The bed is so easy to fall asleep in, he has more energy waking up, he’s happier,

He gets where you’re coming from. You’re still totally insane, of course, but he sees the idea behind it. It’s not the space that he’s in. It’s what’s happening in that space.

It’s his time. And you seem to have so many ways to occupy it.

He starts thinking about you more and more. It gets weirder. He runs into you fresh out of the shower, no clothes on, watches the blush on your face and feels himself –

No. No, no no. It’s not a big deal. It’s whatever. He knew you were crushing on him. You’d made absolutely no secret of your feelings, and he knows the attraction is there, he can tell.

So maybe he sneaks in a hand job or two during these lonely nights. Purely for fun. It’s your fault for not stimulating him enough!

Are you watching on camera? That’s what all the stalkers do. You’re totally a stalker, you know way too much about him. You have all his skincare, shampoo, and conditioner in the bathroom.

You’re totally watching him. He licks his lips while he jerks himself. If he listens hard enough he can hear your breath in the other room.

(Turns out you’re all the way down the hall, but he’s got the six eyes, not the six ears.)

He could put on a show for you, even. His dick gets harder at the thought. He wonders if you’ve thought about this. If you watch him in the cage touching himself. If you want to be in here with him. In the room, or in the cage.

Would you want to touch? The thought absolutely tickles him, has him twitching in his hands, licking his lips. Would you want him so badly? You’re so dedicated, so diligent about his welfare. He could just imagine your pretty lips opening right up, how hot and wet your mouth would be, how those eyes of yours would look at him, always so full of care and affection.

Your hair looks soft, silky even – what would it feel like in his hands? Are you so crazy for him you’d let him fuck your face, or would you guide him through it, like you guide him through everything?

A pulse, another pulse, throbbing in his fist. Your hands would be smaller, softer. What would they feel like on his bare skin? He’s gotten more skin-to-skin contact these paste few weeks than the past ten years. What would you feel like on him? How would you touch him, where?

How would you look at him? He thinks of your face – of your eyes when you smile at him – he feels a squeeze –

When he cums, he does it with an exaggerated moan, head tilted back, lips wide and open. Spurting all over his hand as he makes a little blissful sigh.

He looks up, where he imagines a camera might be, eyes half-lidded. Smirk fighting to tear his lips as he closes them around his fingers, licking them clean.

Maybe you weren’t watching, but that doesn’t stop him. Not from giving you looks the next day.

There’s something in his chest. Wobbling around. Something knocked loose. He finds himself waiting for you to visit, impatient between meals. Demanding. You give, and give of course, but you never give any indication that you’ve seen what he did.

Actually… that was probably his way out.

He tries to proposition you, of course. Lays it on thick. But you hesitate to accept. You blush, and he thinks cute, he thinks he’s got you, but you act like you’re too good for him or something, like you’re not sure if you really want to be with him.

Like you’re too good to be seduced by him? When you fucking kidnapped him in the first place? You don’t want to come in here in the cage you put him in?

It makes him acidic. The rattling in his chest feels like the rattling in his head, only, his tolerance has gotten so much lower.

It’s not long before he snaps at you.

“What?” He says cruelly, words escaping him without his will, “You didn’t think I liked you or anything, did you?”

There’s something mean in his voice, something awful that curdles in his chest. He brandishes it like a sword. Swinging at you, carving sorrow over your features.

“You fucking kidnapped me.” The words come as a surprise even to him, but it was true, wasn’t it? “I’m not here willingly. You’re keeping me here against me will, you’re not helping me. Did you think I’d forget?”

(He can’t even convince himself of that lie. He knows he’d forgotten.)

You look at him, something strange in your eye.

“…If you want to leave, then leave.” You say, and he feels it, like the click of a lock, the crunch of a shackle. How the Binding Vow unwinds in an instant. “I’m not going to drag you back. It’s pointless to keep you here if you hate it so much.”

He tells himself he darted straight out. He didn’t hesitate for a single moment.

But he can’t tell himself that he didn’t look back. That would be too blatant a lie.

He tries not to think about the look on your face, empty and indifferent. He tries not to think about how it felt like a knife to his chest.

And just like that, he’s back. And –

“Gojo? About time you showed up. There’s several special grades waiting for you to exorcise. Where the hell were you? Okkotsu has barely been able to help out your other students.”

His students. His precious students, the ones who needed him, the ones he was preparing to take over the Jujutsu world –

God, the world is so big, isn’t it? It feels so vast and massive now, like he’s suddenly stepped into the shadow of a terrible monolith, blocking out the sun. It doesn’t feel like the first daylight he’s seen in weeks. This light is blinding, like a shadow convalesced.

“Gojo, do you hear me? I’m sending Ichiji over with the car.”

And there’s a sinking feeling in his chest, dragging him down in a way he normally doesn’t feel. This isn’t something that bothers him. For the life of him, he can’t figure out why.

He likes fighting. He likes sorcery, and he’s good at it. Exorcizing curses, beating curse-users to shit. It’s fun. He’s so strong that it’s not a risk anymore, just something to do with his overpowered abilities, and that’s cool. He’s not afraid, not in any universe.

So why does the voice asking him when he’s going to go kill these curses fill him with a sudden, inexplicable nausea?

Why does the thought of having to do this again, all over again, always on repeat, have the pit of his stomach burning? Like there’s a pressure on his shoulders that he knows he can’t relieve.

Satoru knows he has to do this. He’s the only one who can. Other sorcerers are weak – many of them would die. For some of these special grades, it’s him or nothing, with the lives of regular civilians on the line.

Each thought sends his stomach churning. He has to. He has to. He has to do it he has to go he has to he can’t avoid it. Today and tomorrow and the next day, too, over and over and over again.

The sky – it’s so big. So massively big, so wide and yawning, he feels like he’s falling into it. His head is pounding, information flooding back through his senses. One special grade, two, three or four – he has to teleport to them, exorcise them. He has to teach his students. He has to report to the elders. He has to – he has to – there’s so much, so much to do –

The six eyes are screaming at him, the sky is screaming, light burning into his retinas it’s too bright. Too fucking bright out here.

His legs carry him to a nearby wall. He’s leaning against it, now, breaths coming heavy and labored.

And then, it comes. He’d only been half expecting it – part of him still probably thought he was invincible, untouchable.

And he’s right. Nothing is touching him. It just feels like his skin is crawling for no reason. Pins and needles, electric adrenaline racing through every last nerve fiber in his body.

He’s simultaneously too strong and feverishly weak, collapsing against the wall. Gravity feels like it’s pulling harder, off balance, only it shouldn’t be. He should be fine, he should be able to move his limbs however he wants, they shouldn’t feel gangly and overresponsive and desperately twitchy.

His heart shouldn’t be trying to beat itself out of his chest. His lungs shouldn’t feel like they’re on fire. He shouldn’t have alarm bells going off his head, his limbs burning hot with too much energy and not enough.

Between ragged breaths he catches a faint, familiar scent, warm like sunlight –

“Satoru?”

It’s – it’s – it’s you, you’re back, and something awful in his chest jumps with irrational delight, a weight shifting on his shoulders, almost lifted. He tries to control his racing pulse, stammer through your name –

A mind, indifferent gaze meets his eyes. It freezes him in place. All his anxiety swinging on a precipice.

“Is something wrong?” A voice that betrays no emotion, no affection, no hidden longing. No I missed you, or I’m happy to see you, or I hope you weren’t lonely while I was gone.

He’s going insane, he must be going insane, but with all the adrenaline shooting through him, limbs trembling, he’s barely able to keep himself upright against the wall.

“Don’t – don’t you – ” Insane, insane, he knows he’s delirious while he’s saying this, why is he saying it, but his body is acting on his behalf, mind paralyzed with fright, “Don’t you want me?”

How could he sound so – needy? So forlorn? You’d fucking kidnapped him, he should be afraid, he should be angry, if anything.

(Maybe that was his fault from the beginning. He’d never really been quick to anger. Never been one to fear others, either. Deep down, the only thing that had ever hurt him was being left behind.)

Even the six eyes cannot discern your tone, “I don’t want someone who doesn’t want me. I tried to make things work with you. You didn’t want it.”

He didn’t, of course he didn’t, you were keeping him fucking captive. He knows this, the information is there in his mind, but his body won’t stop shaking. The sky is too big, the street is too broad, too many bodies, too much cursed energy, every object in every direction overwhelming his senses.

It feels like a migraine. It feels like his legs are about to give out under him, no solid earth to be found. Too big it’s too big he wants to go –

“Unless… you want to come back?”

Satoru knows he doesn’t. He knows the answer is no. He knows that you fucked him up, that this is a consequence of your captivity directly, that he should be able to overcome this if he just bears with it –

I don’t want someone who doesn’t want me. I tried.

“Please,” His voice says without his permission, “I want…” To go home. Take me back. Don’t leave me.

Relief floods the entirety of his quaking form as soon as you smile.

“Of course, Satoru,” Your eyes soften, and against all rationality, he feels like he’s made the right choice, “Take my hand. Let’s go home.”

He’s messed up, this is messed up. He’s better than this! He isn’t stupid, he knows what you’re doing! He has the six eyes, for fuck’s sake, he’s the strongest sorcerer in the world!

You’re not strong, Satoru. You only think you are, and I understand why. The whole world has been telling you this forever. But you aren’t, and that’s okay. I’ll protect you.

He doesn’t have to be the strongest sorcerer. Not if he doesn’t want to. He can go back where it’s dark and comfortable and warm, and he can be Satoru Gojo, your cherished pet.

He looks at you, six eyes blinding him, headache burning though his skull. He thinks of how close and soft and safe that place was. How you stayed with him for hours and hours on end. He never had to be alone.

Nothing has ever felt as right as your hand clasped with his own.

[ghostgirl-22]

Art deciding he wants to prove he can do more than just hit a ball with a stick so he decides to go to online medical school and hes practicing on patrick, doing all the routine ones,touching each other all over, soft spoken and intimate, putting sticks on their tongue like a slow burn leading up til he has to do a prostate exam, theyre practicing everything on each other. Art cant find pats prostate and he helps him, its all very awkward and sweet, after patrick says he can show art where to find it as he has more experience with men, so he gets art on his back

"This isnt even the correct position patrick" "do you want help or not? Im just showing you where it is"

Theyre so gentle with each other and patrick gently slides his fingers inside art, curling up into his prostate "you see there, you feel that?"

I thank you anon for this prompt. Sorry it took me so long. I took tons of liberties. Rearranged it in my head a lot. Also didn’t proofread much at all. Also it probably gets too into the weeds on the medical office stuff but we have fun 🤗

CW: 18+ !NSFW!

—-

I’m going with Art’s uncle is a urologist and Patrick and Art are staying with him over a college break and he hires both Art and Patrick as “medical assistants” to help him with stuff in his office. So they’re messing around all summer, cleaning the exam rooms in between patients, scheduling appointments. Art is vaguely interested in studying medicine, Patrick is mostly bored by all of it except when they’re messing around with the office tools and Art’s pretending to do exams on Patrick whenever they get a free minute.

It’s oddly erotic. Patrick’s sitting on the exam table swinging his feet while Art tells him to open his mouth, wide, wider. Art’s standing too close, pushing the tongue depressor onto Patrick’s tongue, light shining in Patrick’s mouth. “Can you open wider?” Art whines anxiously, “I think I see something.”

Patrick opens as wide as he can. Art is so close, lips parted, eyes shiny, looking deep into Patrick’s mouth. Patrick squeezes his hands between his thighs. Getting hard for this is so ridiculously and pathetically down bad.

Art pulls the tongue depressor out. “I think you have strep throat,” He says, grinning.

“That’s the third time this week,” Patrick smirks.

Art puts the tongue depressor in his own mouth and starts chewing on it. He does stuff like that all the time. Putting stuff in his mouth after it’s already been in Patrick’s. It makes Patrick crazy. Art rubs Patrick’s knee idly and then picks up the reflex hammer. “Don’t kick me,” he says.

“Don’t hit me then,” Patrick says.

Art ignores him and swings the hammer at Patrick’s knee anyway just to watch him reflexively twitch. “Okay I guess you’re alive,” Art says.

“Is that your final diagnosis?” Patrick pulls at the tongue depressor and Art opens his mouth to let Patrick take it.

Art looks around for the stethoscope. “Better check your heart, just to be sure.”

Art’s uncle takes Art’s med school aspirations much more seriously than Patrick does. “You boys want to sit in on my next patient?” He asks, interrupting them.

“Yes please!” Art says excitedly.

Patrick doesn’t love watching Art’s uncle give prostate exams to a bunch of vaguely homophobic geriatric men but it does help break up the day. The next patient is relatively young though. He looks like he’s not even 40 years old and he’s actually kind of really hot. Patrick’s curious about why someone so young (and hot) would need to see a doctor like this.

“This is my nephew and his friend, he’s premed at Stanford. Do you mind having them sit in?” Art’s Uncle asks.

“Yeah, sure,” the guy shrugs and smiles at them, like he could care less. Art’s uncle shuts the door of the exam room and starts asking him questions, and the guy is talking about how he’s afraid his prostate is swollen because of how he’s felt. “I was actually having sex with my boyfriend and he started to get worried because of how large it felt.” The guys says.

Art and Patrick exchange glances. Patrick doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the way people will just blurt all their personal information in here. Art’s uncle doesn’t miss a beat though. “Is it painful?” He asks.

“No that’s the thing doc it feels really good, I end up having so many orgasms, once three times in a row,” the guy says. “But I’m just scared that it’s not normal?”

“Well that is normal, prostate stimulation can feel good and does often lead to ejaculation.” Art’s uncle says clinically, he’s distractedly typing away on the computer. “How about frequency? Have you had to pee a lot?”

”Not any more than normal, no.”

“Alright, well lets get it checked out for you. Take down your pants,” Art’s uncle says professionally. Patrick presses his lips together and looks up at the ceiling as the guy starts to undo his pants. He really is too attractive. Patrick knows now he could never do this job, the idea of a really hot guy walking in and not being able to flirt is just devastating to him.

He chances a glance at Art and he’s just watching the patient undress, a little bit of color in his cheeks. Patrick wonders if it’s because he’s embarrassed or if it’s because he’s aroused. Or both. Knowing him probably both.

Thankfully Art’s uncle is just talking generally about various conditions that usually don’t affect young men as a distraction so it doesn’t feel awkward in the room. The patient bends over the exam table and Patrick considers bolting from the room but he knows that would make him seem even more awkward. He balances on the balls of his feet hoping there’s no way anyone can tell that he’s got a chubby.

“Yep it feels healthy,” Art’s uncle says as the man sort of moans a bit. Patrick swallows.

“I’m sorry doc,” the patient says quickly.

“It’s no problem, happens all the time,” Art’s uncle says, taking his gloves off and tossing them in the trash. “Yours is just a little large, but seems to be perfectly healthy and functioning normally.”

”So it’s okay to— that it feels so— so good?”

Art’s uncle just laughs. “Yes, enjoy it,” he says with a wink. “And just come back to see me if there’s ever any pain.” He adds as he washes his hands.

“Oh I will, thank you,” The guy says, letting out a sigh of relief.

”Come on boys, let’s let him get dressed,” Art’s Uncle ushers them out of the room. He goes straight to a hallway computer to continue typing notes. His actual medical assistant is triaging another patient.

Art’s chewing on his bottom lip. Patrick’s trying to recover from the whole… thing. He’s not ever thought of prostates outside of old guys and dumb jokes. Never even considered the idea that it feels that good. The hot guy leaves the exam room a moment later and offers them a warm smile. He then goes to the front to take care of his bill.

“Lighten up boys, there’s all kinds of lifestyles, we don’t judge in here” Art’s uncle says, patting them on the shoulders. “Clean up the exam room and then you can take lunch.”

”Uh okay,” Art says.

“Yeah,” Patrick says, distractedly. They go back in the room and Art tears off the wrinkled exam paper from the bed and pulls some fresh paper down.

“You know what’s crazy?” Patrick asks him.

“What?” Art says, crinkling up the old paper and putting it in the trash.

“I don’t even think I know where my prostate is,” Patrick says.

“You don’t?” Art asks, pulling his gloves off and dropping those in the trash can too.

“No but I mean… could you imagine? Like what that guy was saying. Three times in a row. I could jerk off a thousand hours and never… you know…”

Art laughs a little. “Yeah, that’s um… that’s crazy.”

“Yeah,” Patrick agrees. They’re quiet for a minute.

Art takes a breath and then goes to the sink and washes his hands. “Maybe…” he says and then trails off.

”What?” Patrick asks, he picks up the disinfectant cleaner.

“Maybe I could find it for you?”

Patrick raises his eyebrows. “Seriously?”l

“What? I mean— you see how fast my uncle does it? It’s probably easy.”

Patrick laughs.

“Come on, seriously, be my patient,” Art says, determinedly. He pulls on a new pair of gloves. Patrick takes a breath, remembering he’s still mildly aroused but he decides to play along anyway. If Art really wants to be a doctor he’s gonna have to get used to bodies being in all kinds of weird states. That guy had definitely moaned, Patrick hadn’t made that up and he’d definitely almost touched himself because of it.

“Okay Dr. Donaldson,” Patrick says smiling as he starts undoing his slacks. He rubs the outline of his dick idly through his boxers.

Arts chewing on his bottom lip, watching Patrick, his eyes linger on the place where Patrick was rubbing and he shifts on his feet, antsy. “You’re not supposed to be…to be hard,” Art says quietly.

“Sorry, I think that last patient was my type,” Patrick says, smirking and rubbing it one more time just to watch Art squirm.

“That’s so… so beyond fucked up,” Art says, softly.

“Well I didn’t do anything, and whatever just revoke my license then,” Patrick shrugs with a grin.

Art shakes his head, a little smile on his lips. “Be serious okay um—- I think my uncle uses some kinda… this,” Art pumps some liquid out of an industrial container of lubricant. “Okay um… bend over,” he says lightly. But it doesn’t feel light at all. It feels… loaded. Like all the years they’ve spent dancing around a quiet longing are now simmering just below the surface.

Patrick eases his boxers down exposing his ass and he rests his elbows on the exam table. He can hear Art breathing in his ear, this hot feather light sound. He feels the cold, wet of the lubricant and Arts fingers behind the gloves and he shivers. Arts pressing into him. Patrick holds his breath, the intrusion isn’t completely unpleasant. Arts using two fingers, snaking them around.

“Can you feel it?” Art asks, breathlessly.

“I mean, I feel your fingers,” Patrick says, lightly. “Do you feel my prostate?”

“Um…” Arts starts pushing deeper. “Do you know what it feels like?”

“Well no,” Patrick says, “you said you could find it. He’s your uncle. This is your legacy after all.”

“I can find it,” Art says. “But this isn’t my legacy. I want to be a cardiologist.”

“Tomayto, tomahto… oh—wait oh—Art,” Patrick breathes. “What was that—“

“Here?” Art asks, excitedly. And Patrick sees stars for how sensitive it feels.

“Oh fuck,” Patrick groans as Art rubs his fingertips along it. Patrick’s dick reacts immediately by filling out.

“I wish I could see it, it feels… different…” Arts voice is pitchy. He won’t stop rubbing it.

“Fuck, fuck… Art. Oh my fuck… take it easy, sweetheart,” Patrick gasps.

Art takes a breath and eases his fingers out.

“Shit,” Patrick whispers. “I didn’t mean you had to stop.”

“Patrick,” Art says quietly.

“What?”

“Please, Patrick, can you find mine?” His gaze is dark, his skin flushed and he looks so needy. And yeah… yeah okay. Patrick would probably give him anything right now.

He licks his lips and nods. He’s so horny he’s not exactly clinical about it, doesn’t even bother with the gloves, just wets his fingers as Art presents himself and presses them deep inside the heat of him. Art is clenching around him immediately. Patrick starts scissoring his fingers back and forth listening to the delicate sound of Art catching his breath.

Patrick searches for what he was feeling when Art was doing it and lands on something smooth. He rubs his fingertips along it gently and slowly Art begins to moan.

“That’s it,” Patrick whispers. “Feels so fucking good, doesn’t it?” He pumps his fingers in and out, sliding them along the smooth muscle.

“Oh my god, ohmygod Patrick,” Art cries. He’s pitched so much higher than usual it makes Patrick’s teeth ache. He takes his free hand and starts stroking himself, all the while playing his fingers along Art’s prostate.

“Mm, my god,” Art sighs a litany, lying across the exam table, moaning and pushing back.

He’s so selfish, Patrick thinks, amused. He saw how good it felt and stopped fucking Patrick two strokes in because he just needed to have it for himself. And Patrick’s stomach hurts because he just loves that about him. That and he’s addicted to the way Art’s voice sounds right now… moaning so much that if the rooms aren’t soundproof… which Patrick is almost certain they aren’t…then they’re entirely fucked.

“Oh… oh Patrick I’m fucking…. Oh no… no. Oh shit,” Art cries and then he’s wetting up the table, ribbons of it spilling everywhere while he’s clenching on Patrick fingers, in deliciously tight spasms. “I did it on—I made a— a mess….” he groans breathlessly. Patrick still has his fingers inside because he’s kinda curious if he can make him come again. Art is just shivering for it.

”Patrick,” he whines.

“Yeah?” Patrick breathes. “Just relax, baby. It’s okay. You’re just making me crazy baby. Wanna fuck you.”

”Fuck,” Art groans.

“God. I really wanna fuck you.” Patrick whispers up against his throat. “I just wanna push my dick in here instead and fuck the shit outta you.”

“Oh fuck,” Art cries out again. More starts spilling out of him and Patrick just thinks, fuck it.

He slides his fingers out and Art is leaning heavy on him, pressed up against him with all his weight… he lets out a startled sound when Patrick presses the head of his dick right up against Art’s entrance.

“Patrick, wait,” Art says, a slight tremor in his voice, Patrick kisses the back of his neck and he settles down almost instantly. Patrick presses just a little more and hears the smallest little intake of breath. There’s barely any give there, his fingers are one thing but his dick is…Patrick has to wait for that. Art is so fucking virgin tight it makes Patrick want to scream. He’s had so many dirty dreams about this.

“God Patrick,” Art says, he sounds scared and turned on at the same time. His voice all airy. “You gonna— you wanna— fuck me s-so bad huh?” He whispers, his voice breaking a bit when Patrick presses in just the tiniest bit more. Patrick lifts his hand and realizes, in a detached way that he’s shivering. He starts jerking himself off. Rough and tight into him, while Art is clenching, virgin tight at the head of his dick. He’s not even inside, not even a little bit and they’re both panting like they’re actually fucking. Patrick finishes embarrassingly fast, spilling all over Art’s bottom as Art whimpers.

“Holy shit,” Patrick breathes.

”Mmhm,” Art sighs, contentedly.

”I think your uncle is gonna kill us.”

“Oh no… fuck,” Art whines, suddenly panicked. “We have to… we shouldn’t have fucking done that.”

Patrick grins, slowly pulling his boxers back up. “It was your idea doc.”

“Yeah but— I said I just wanted you to try and find my prostate not—“ he sighs. “Never mind. Help me clean up.”

They get dressed and clean up the mess they made in the exam room. Art’s still a bit of a mess when they leave. His shirt is all wrinkly and his hair is everywhere. Not to mention the way he’s flushed.

They go to his Uncles office and he’s sitting at his desk eating lunch, he takes in the sight of them, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Hey uh— so um— funny story— we were cleaning up and—” Art stammers.

His uncle raises a hand interrupting him. “I’m not one to judge,” his uncle says, his eyes crinkling with mild amusement. “But next time at least wait for me to close the office first.”

“I’m really, really sorry,” Art says weakly.

“Don’t worry about it. No damage done this time. We had the last patient at least two exam rooms away. Didn’t hear a thing.”

“Well that’s a relief,” Patrick says. “I was so scared everyone could hear him.”

Art glares at him and he shrugs.

“So I’m guessing you found it then?” Art’s Uncle asks.

“Uh, found what sir?” Art asks.

He shrugs. “The prostate. That’s what you were looking for, right?”

And Patrick can’t help it. He just starts laughing.

(I ask that y’all forgive any ethics violations against poor Mr.hottie patient. Whose only crime was being hot in front of Artrick with a sexy medical problem. No I don’t generally think medical problems are sexy. I also don’t condone fucking during office hours. Even if your uncle owns the place and you’re not a “real” employee. Especially then. Also now that I’m aware Patrick’s doing the sweetheart thing I’m doubling down 🙂‍↕️)

[cheekycheesecake01]

While I'm doing that Salesman request, how about some Submissive James Sunderland headcanons to hold you over? (I desperately wanna finish this game but I have no time and am too much of a pussy)

Sub!James Sunderland Headcanons:

Minors, do not interact...18+

Never bratty, like at all. He might say something that is unintentionally bratty. But correct him, and he'll be a lot more mindful of what he says to you.

Loves serving you in any way possible. Cooking, cleaning, laundry, massaging you, pleasuring you, any way and every way.

Still, don't yell at him or degrade him. He's pretty sensitive, especially after Mary's verbal abuse. That, and he's also lowkey insecure himself. He hasn't had sex in a long time, and when he did, it was very vanilla. He knows he isn't exactly young, and he's even more insecure about taking supplements to get it up.

He likes being spanked, but only with soft impact, and don't ever slap him, choke him, or spit on him.

Lives for your praise. He has a very big praise kink and will do anything to hear you say those two special words. His dick gets hard just from hearing you call him a good boy. He'll put away grocceries and do the dishes, only to glance at you from the side. Breath clutched before releasing a euphoric huff when you praised him.

I've mentioned this before (and that post inspired this one) but he's got a mommy/daddy kink.

It's not to the extent of ageplay, but it's to the extent where he loves calling you mommy or daddy (depending on you) and relying on your judgement to make some (trivial) choices for him. For example, he might ask you to pick out his clothes for the day or ask you what he should eat.

"Mommy, what should I wear to go to work," "Daddy, what should I eat for lunch? Do you want some?" Things like that. (I'm researching gender neutral terminology for this right now, so please bear with me)

He has a thing for being quiet, but full-on gagging makes him panic, so he opts for sucking on your fingers, breasts, or whatever you have to offer him, depending on your body.

Extremely needy as a sub. He wants to be near you at all times, he wants your attention, he craves your praise, and sometimes your voice alone gets him off. Premature ejaculation is a curse (or a blessing in disguise...?) For him. Sometimes when you praise him, he loses all sense of control and cums on himself involuntarily without a single touch from you.

But you've trained him a little with some edging and orgasm denial, and now it's almost impossible for him to cum unless you give him explicit permission to. If you get a call from him late at night, just know he's whimpering and pathetically begging you to let him cum. And yes, he always thanks you profusely after cumming.

He doesn't verbally whine or complain if you deny him, but he whimpers. A lot. He whimpers like a puppy that had his paw stepped on. He'll cry a little, too. He's a soft masochist; he only wants soft punishments and soft belittlements. Instead of degrading, he wants to be talked to like a pet, sweet and a little condescending at times with a stroke of his hair. Instead of spitting and slapping, he wants kisses and excruciatingly pleasureful denial.

With that said, he's a dacryphilliac to a degree. He doesn't want to sob, but he doesn't mind shedding a tear or two; especially if you express satisfaction for it.

He's interested in light pet play. Padded collars and leashes, and could either bark for you or meow, depending on what you want. He's fine with either or some other pet except pony or pig.

He's shy about it, but he's very curious about prostate play. The first time he tried a prostate massager, you were watching him as he twitched, whimpered, moaned, and grinded against the soft mattress, hoping to angle the toy deeper all while he looked at you with a pout of embarassment and arousal. You could see his gaze, craving your approval and praise, as always. He fantasizes about you buying a remote-controlled one for him.

He started dipping his toe in the sissification pool. James doesn't like the extreme end of the spectrum. He's still new to this, and he isn't too fond of the idea of crossdressing to his knowledge as of right now. But if you put girly clips in his hair or a feminine ribbon around his wrists, he'll like it.

[laswells-ashtray]

Nik and Ale sex please please please please-

Alejandro isn't sure when he breaks. It's somewhere between Nikolai purring in his ear about how nice his cock looks when it's hard and leaking. And the growl of approval as he took a third finger, grinding back down against the Russian's thick digits massaging his prostate.

That's when he concedes and stops trying to play a game, taking the experience for what it is. Dizzying pleasure.

In the back of his mind, he wonders how much use Rudy is getting out of the panties he left their hotel room in. He doesn't spend too long pondering it as another moan is grasped from his throat.

"Ahh, fuck-"

Nikolai raises an eyebrow at him, and suddenly Alejandro feels like a field mouse under the eye of a hawk.

"I expected more talking, perhaps you aren't the one in charge. How is your sergeant in bed?"

He'd correct the title if the memory of leather polish on his tongue didn't throw him over the edge, back arching until he feels his limbs cramp as he cums under the unrelenting hands of the pilot.

[little-annie]

NSFW STEDDIE & STOBIN TEXT CHAIN

Steve normal text. Robin’s Bold. Eddie's Italicized Bold

---

___Bird Brain___

Rob

Bobby

Bobin

What? Im literally right next to you

And were at work Dingus get off of your phone.

No.

I'm. Uh.

?

You know the shop across the street???

?

The mecanic

Mecanic

Fuck

Mechanic

Okay.

They have a new guy

Okay.

And?

Gay.

Literally, what?

I think I'm gay.

Steve

Cuz like he's just so pretty

Steven

And that Haut

Stephanie

Hair

Hey whore

Wut

Bathroom talk. Now.

Were working.

You and I both know no one rents movies on a Tuesday at 10am

Bathroom.

Now.

To the porcelain thrown

You know sometimes I forget youre an idiot 20 something

then you go and say shit like that

…

Bitch.

Whore.

---

How do I tell if a mans gay or whatever its is that I am,

,

Fuck

?

Bi schedule

Bi sexual

Ducking auto correct

Babe. I hate to break it to you but your auto correct is as dyslexic as you are. You basically train it

I-

Huh.

Well ghen.

Anywho.

Gay.

Whats he wear? Any piercings? Tattoos? Whats his hair like?

Oh! This is important. DOES. HE. HAVE. A. HANKY. IN. A. BACK. POCKET???

black overalls and a black shirt. Lots. I think. His ears literally look shiny from across the street. Lots of tattoos too.

And yes??? What's that have to do with anything? My papa had a hanky and I'm pretty she he wasn't gay

He probably was. Being Bisexual is genetic.

Actually?

No Dingus.

But like the man was in the navy? Right?

Ya

Gay.

Stfu

ANYWAY

HANKY.

YES.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

FUCK YEAH.

WHATS IT LOOK LIKE AND WHAT POCKET?

???

it's black

Oh hes kinky

What side pocket

It switches.

I bet it does

Gay.

That is a gay man Steven.

Go get your dick sucked or your booty bumped or whatever it is the kids are doing these days.

Eating ass

EXCUSE

yeah. It's a thing.

:0

Robin you literally munch so much carpet. whats the difference if its the rug at the back door.

Never.

Ever.

Say.

That.

Again.

Bubble bath privileges revoked.

You whore.

---

The bath is sad with no bubbles Bob.

Make your own.

…

Okay. Ew. Stop. Stink ass. I can hear you. And the neighbors probably can too.

Are you sorry?

Not really.

Well pretend to be.

Kay.

IM SO SORRY

…

:’(

better

Your bubble bath is under the sink

:D

---

Eddie

Wut.

Thats your new lovers name.

WUT

ROBIN.

WHAT DID YOU DO.

---

*1 new message* Hi -the weirdo with long hair who works across the street (Eddie)

---

I hate you

BTW babe you have a date on Tuesday

ROBIN IT IS TUESDAY

oh ya.

Well you have a date today gay boy

…

I need to leave

The fuck you do

Yeah. I fucking do.

I need to shower

And shave

And

I dont know

What do you do before a gay date

Prep?

For what?

Oh honey

---

Should this hurt?

8⁰

Don't tell me

Are u?

Yes.

Shut up.

…

Does it hurt

Like.

Kinda?

Lube. Oh my god. LUBE. Steve I swear to Dolly, if youre prepping your fucking asshole right now, IN THE FUCKING WORK BATHROOM

I

WILL

END

YOU

:*

Youre a whore. Oh my god.

STEVEN I CAN HEAR YOU.

STOP.

This is nice.

Why havent I done this before.

Where's the protest

Prostate

Rob?

Brain me. Educate me please.

…

Nvm

Oh fuck

Found it

Definitely found it

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME

like good for you babe. I love you and support you but OH MY GOD YOU WHORE GET YOUR FINGERS OUT OF YOUR ASS WERE AT WORK.

…

You really think Id do that

Obviously

Im fucking with you

Im just googling shit and well taking a shit.

Fuck you

Love you

---

*2 New messages.* um. So. Im Eddie. Your coworker. Robin? Gave me your number and said we're going out tonight???

---

Dingus have you answered your husband yet

FUCK. NO. WHAT DO I SAY.

well you could send him a picture of your ass

Or your tits

Or your weeeen

Or all of the above

Like a package deal

Hehe. Package.

Robin.

Ugh. Wut.

Be serious.

Fiiiiine. Introduce yourself. Tell him youre excited for tonight. Make a plan for your date. (Other than the reservation I booked you at Enzos) and then tell him you thi know hes pretty and you want to have his babys.

He is pretty.

And like. Id definitely let him try to get me pregnant

ANSWER HIM.

FINE.

---

___Future Husband___

um. Hi. First of all I'm so sorry for my friend. She likes to get her nose into my business. Second.

…

Ithinkyourereallyprettyandimexcitedfortonight.

At the risk of being too forward. I like literally saw you my first day at the shop and have wanted to talk to you since. Cuz. Yeah. Pretty doesnt even begin to explain what you are. Like. Bro. Have my babies.

FUCK

I CANT BELIEVE I SAID THAT

disregard the baby thing

I dont know about getting pregnant. But Im up for practice.

Like.

If you are???

8⁰

… like

Now?

My breaks in 20

Fuck

Really?

Meet me at the van across the street

:*

---

___Bird Brain___

STEVE

STEVEN

YOU WHORE

ARE YOU GETTING YOUR BACKDOOR RUG MUNCHED ???

OMG

YOU ARE

THE VAN ACROSS THE STREET IS SHAKING

AND ID BET YOUR LEFT NUT THAT YOURE IN IT

…

GET IT I GUESS BABE

DONT GET PREGNANT

OR DO

YOU DO YOU BOO

…

youre on your own for the rest of the day Birdie

And where the fuck do you think youre going

Eddies

…

Boo you whore

But like. Get it babe.

But I also hate you.

I dont want to work in this shithole alone

Steven

Answer me

Hi Robin

This is Eddie

On Steves phone

Steve's a little… preoccupied

OH MY GOD

WHAT HAVE I DONE

YOU TWO ARE GOING TO BE DISGUSTING

BUT BRO. ILL END YOU IF YOU BREAK HIS HEART

STRAIGHT UP DIG YOU A GRAVE IN THE DITCH AND BURN OFF YOUR FINGERPRINTS AND BREAK YOUR TEETH SO NO ONE CAN IDENTIFY YOUR BODY.

COLD CASE BRO

what would you do about my tattoos

Fuck you

Sorry. Positions taken.

Id burn your whole body. No skin = no tattoos

I like the way you think

But in all seriousness

Mmmm imma gonna marry this boy

Hopefully before the end of the week

Fuck yeah

I call best man

[queenshelby]

Massage Therapy (Part Two of Two)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Smut, Prostate Massage

The following week , you found yourself waiting anxiously for Cillian's arrival. You were eager to see him again and test your boundaries further but, as he walked in that day, you could sense his nervousness.  His eyes darted about and, despite his confident demeanor, he didn't seem entirely at ease.

"Hello, Mr. Murphy," you said warmly, taken aback by the expression on his face. "Are you feeling okay today?"

"Yeah, I am," he replied quickly, a forced smile spreading across his chiseled features.

You exchanged pleasantries as usual as you showed him to the massage room and it was then when he spoke up quietly.

"I, uhm, just so you know, I have not done this kind of thing before," Cillian admitted, a hint of vulnerability creeping into his voice. "I am curious though...how does it work? I mean, what will you do?" he reiterated, fidgeting with his hands.

You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts as you prepared yourself for this intimate session.

"Well, I will start by having you lay down on your back," you began to explain, trying to steady yourself and ignoring the heat rising to your cheeks. "And I'll need to put a pillow underneath your hips to tilt your pelvis at the right angle," you went on to say. "I will then start by massaging your thighs and intimate regions, just like I did last week. This will help prepare your body for the internal massage. Once you're nice and relaxed, I'll proceed to using my finger to gently find and massage your prostate."

Cillian gulped, visibly taking in each word you said. The thought of being touched there was nerve-wracking yet thrilling all the same.

"I understand that it may feel a bit unusual at first," you continued soothingly. "But, believe it or not, it's actually an incredibly pleasurable experience, once you get past the initial weirdness."

"Alright," he nodded, taking another deep breath before he commenced to undress while you prepared the massage table.

You put a soft, clean sheet onto the bed, warmed the massage oil and adjusted the lighting to make the room feel more relaxing.

Once Cillian was ready, lying down on his back, he looked at you expectantly. You took a long moment before meeting his gaze, feeling the anticipation grow thick in the room. 

You placed a pillow  beneath Cillian’s hips, tilting his pelvis at the right angle as he took a deep breath and sighed loudly.

"You are erect already and I haven't even touched you yet," you smiled, your voice low and soft as you looked at him, lips slightly parted.

Cillian blushed, looking away for a second before muttering, "Yeah... I can't help it... you have this effect on me."

"It's okay," you reassured him, placing your hand on his thigh. "I feel flattered," you said with a smirk and, with that, you started massaging his thighs again, using long, slow strokes that seemed to make Cillian groan in pleasure. 

"I am going to massage your intimate area now,"  you whispered to Cillian, not expecting the shiver that coursed through his body as he nodded in agreement. You didn't waste any time before wrapping your hand around his thick shaft, as a bead of precum formed at the tip.

You were becoming increasingly turned on by the sight of the famous actor lying before you, submitting to your every touch. A fierce desire to pleasure him even more intensely took hold and your movements became bolder and more sensual with each stroke.

Your hand slid up and down his shaft like a well-oiled machine, making him shudder and moan with every movement before you eased his legs apart to gain better access to the netherspace.

Using some lubricant , you first began massaging his perineum with your free hand, applying pressure to the correct spots while your other hand kept pleasuring his manhood with slow but deliberate strokes.

"Jesus!" he grunted, head tilting backwards and jaw clenched as pleasure racked through his body in never-before experienced waves.

Your lubricated finger then found his entrance and gently probed in and around the tightly puckered muscle while you continued to stroke him with your other hand.

"I will insert my finger now," you murmured, feeling him tense slightly as you slowly pushed past the initial resistance. "Deep breaths. There is just a little pressure," you told him, as you gradually sank your finger deeper, seeking out his prostate gland.

Cillian let out a low groan as the pad of your finger glided across the slightly ridged surface. "Holy fuck," he swore under his breath.

You stifled a grin, and instead focused on exerting the right amount of pressure, maintaining an erotic tempo of strokes on his shaft and massaging his most intimate spot with the pad of your finger.

Cillian's chest was heaving, the fine muscles of his stomach contracting and releasing as his pleasure intensified. He started panting heavily, throwing his head back while clenching the sheet in his fists. You could see goosebumps of arousal rippling over his skin.

A clear liquid  was steadily leaking from his tip, glistening in the soft light seeping through.

Your grip on him tightened in response, causing him to buck his hips upwards into your hand and gasp in pleasure.

"Oh god, keep going," he groaned, almost pleading. 

You complied without question, knowing that the end result would be worth the effort. The prostate massage was going well and Cillian was both visibly and audibly into it. His muscles were twitching as you circled his sweet spot with with your finger.

You could sense that he was close, his moans becoming increasingly louder.

"Do you want to come?" you asked in a heavy tone, already knowing the answer.

He nodded emphatically and bit his lip as an expression of pure delight took over his face. The question was just for formality's sake as you knew he was about to explode.

Without another word, you sped up your stroking on his shaft, focusing more attention on his tip as salty pearls of pre-cum oozed out for your grasping touch.

His hands gripped the table edges tightly, clearly struggling against the inevitable.

"Oh god, fuck!" he groaned, hurling his pelvis forward to push himself further into your grip.

For a moment, Cillian closed his eyes, and his mouth gaped open, letting out a series of throaty growls that sent shivers down your spine.

He was trembling uncontrollably as the final wave of pleasure coursed through him, and then it happened.

Cillian's orgasm erupted from the tip of his cock in thick, ropy strands that splattered your hand, his stomach, and the sheets below. You weren't prepared for the sheer volume of his release, and there was something inherently erotic about the primal way it unfolded. It was as if a dam had burst.

"Oh god!" he cried out, squeezing his eyes shut as his hips jerked spasmodically beneath you.

His cock was still leaking cum, that warm, wet sensation coating your palm as the last of his orgasm spent itself over your fingers.

Panting and flushed, he opened his eyes to find you smiling down at him, satisfaction radiating from your gaze. "Feeling good?" you asked, your voice dripping with satisfaction as, slowly, you pulled your slick fingers away from Cillian's sensitive prostate. He was still breathing heavily, eyes clenched shut, sweat glistening on his forehead. 

He flinched slightly when your finger left his tight cavity  , letting out an involuntary gasp as you gently rubbed the tip of your finger over his pursed hole, spreading the warmth outside.

"Are you okay?" you asked, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips.

Cillian opened his eyes and shook his head as if to clear it. "Wow," he breathed, still sounding stunned and amazed. "Definitely okay."

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter @smailaway @sophiaaguirred @blondie-22

[tearsofcalamity]

handsy p2

⊹ character(s). satoru gojo ⊹ genre. n/sfw ⊹ tags. gn!reader (reader has a pussy/uses a strap but no pronouns used), dom!reader, sub!gojo, dacryphilia, pegging, toy usage (gojo receiving / vibrator, strap, onahole), degradation and praise (gojo receiving), hair pulling, overstimulation, face sitting, 69, cunnilingus, potentially unrealistic numbers of orgasms (gojo cums a lot), you ruin this man ⊹ part one here

teehee enjoyyyy

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI PLEASE!

"so, satoru, is it everything you hoped?"

you stared down with disdain at the man on your bed, raising a brow as he let out a small whimper.

drool trailed down the side of his lip, tear tracks freshly dried on his cheeks as he tried desperately to catch his breath. even as he spoke his next words, his hips continued to buck into the air.

"n-no more... hah... c-can't take it..."

you clicked your tongue, sliding the remote to his favorite vibrator up to the max setting once more.

satoru sobbed, fresh tears wetting his cheeks as he jolted, the toy buzzing just right against his abused prostate. a glob of precum leaked out of his tip, his fingers twisting the sheets beneath him as he squirmed.

his cock was red, sensitive beyond belief from the sheer number of dry orgasms he'd suffered through. you'd only granted him the mercy of touching his cock once, and he'd cum on the spot then—a mistake, clearly, since you refused to stimulate him there beyond that.

"ah, ah," you tutted, pushing his thighs down. "keep still. we're not done yet."

"please!"

"please what, 'toru? use your words," you scolded.

the man bit down on his lip hard, trying to stifle his noises. "c-can't—"

"now, you keep saying you can't, satoru, but you were the one who asked for this. 'make me cum ten times over', you said. well, what's the problem?"

you punctuated your chastisement with a sharp tug to his snow white hair, watching his mouth fall agape as he bucked his hips into the air again. you smacked his thigh.

"I told you, none of tha—"

"please touch me!" satoru wailed, cutting you off short. "fuck me, please, please— hah, ah! please! please, touch me, fuck me—"

you cut him off next, grabbing his chin and yanking him towards you. "how many times have you cum so far, 'toru?"

blue eyes filled with a pathetic gleam as he stared back at you, lip wobbling as he tried to sort through his fucked-out thoughts. you'd had him here for hours, and he wasn't even sure if his count was correct any longer.

"e... eight...?"

"very good," you purred. "so two more to go, right?"

his eyes blew wide, clarity filling them as your hand reached down to tug gently at his weeping cock, your other hand yanking the vibrator out of his ass.

satoru's mouth fell open in a silent scream as he flailed, broken moans escaping him as you touched his dick at last. he was conflicted between moving towards and shying away from your touch, body shaking like a leaf as your hand moved slick thanks to his abundant precum.

between his sobs, the man suddenly found your cunt right above his face. he hadn't even noticed you shift positions.

even in his stupor, he stuck his tongue out, lapping at your juices eagerly as he resisted the urge to grab onto your thighs and pull you down onto him.

you bit back a moan as his tongue writhed against your clit, sucking up everything you had to offer as he keened with abandon. you made sure to show him how good he was being as you ran your fingertip along his cockhead, swiping up his pre and using it to ease the slide of your hand.

you cupped your fist, hollowing it around his cock and glancing back at him, still going at your pussy like a man starved.

"haha... s-satoru, can you even breathe?"

"haahhnnn..." the man exhaled a loud whimper as he continued eating you out, trying so hard to keep his hips still. trying so hard to be good, just for you.

he had gotten his fair share of orgasms already, but he might actually die if he didn't get to cum while lapping up everything you had to give.

you moaned, pleased, smirking back at him.

"dumb little slut," you hummed. "thrust up into my hand like a good little whore. let's see you work for your orgasm."

satoru practically howled with pleasure at your affirmation, his hips thrusting wildly as he used your hand to get off. each mild touch sent him into a frenzy, and at last he couldn't help it, grasping onto your thighs to pull you closer as he thrust his tongue inside of you.

to his surprise (though he didn't have many thoughts going for him at the moment anyhow), you allowed this, only giving his thigh a warning squeeze as he continued thrusting and thrusting.

"hnnn! hhnngh!"

his whines were getting louder, muffled by your pussy as he continued his pleasurable ministrations. his tongue flicked your clit, and you bit your lip.

"g-good boy, 'toru, very good... go on, now, make me cum. you want to cum too, don't you?"

"hnnngh- hnn! haaah— ah!" you tried to ease your pressure, give him some space to breathe, but he refused to let go of your thighs until you came all over his face. a few muffled words, your name and 'please's escaped him from beneath your smothering weight.

after so many orgasms, it was clear it wasn't going to take much for the poor man to shoot his load this time. a warning whimper left his lips, and immediately following it, satoru latched onto your clit with his lips and sucked hard.

you let a moan of your own loose into the air, covering your mouth with your free hand as you felt that delightful little knot coiling in your belly snap. your juices gushed all over his face, his tongue flicking over your clit to prolong your release as he kept his mouth open so as to not let a single drop go to waste.

at the same time, satoru keened, ropes of cum shooting out of his cockhead with each thrust into your hand. his hips stuttered pathetically, trembling violently as he came down from his high.

you had to take a shaky exhale as you came down from your climax, reaching back to wrench off the man's hands. he whined softly as you moved away from his face, donning a completely fucked-out expression as he huffed and panted.

"one more to go, satoru."

"n-no... can't..."

satoru's tongue lolled past his lips, your slick still covering his face as he lay in a daze. he didn't even protest when you pushed your hand towards his face, licking weakly to clean his own cum off your fingers, driven solely by instinct.

his eyes were trained on the ceiling, focused entirely on the fuzz in his brain, the lingering pleasure from his ninth orgasm fizzling out just as your two fingers slid inside of him to check if he was still slick.

satoru's sudden scream was music to your ears.

"nice and loose, looks like all that work we did earlier really helped, hmm, 'toru?"

"yesss— hnghh— no! hurts, t-too much, w-wait—"

you pressed down right where his sweet spot was, his back bending into a pretty arch as you did so.

"aah! ah! p-please, more, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me—"

"greedy whore."

"y-yes!" he sobbed, eyes blown wide with pleasure as he felt a very familiar pressure against his rim, replacing the feeling of your fingers. "p-plea— oh!"

you practically took his breath away as you slid into him all in one fluid motion, the strap filling him to the brim and putting a delicious pressure on his g-spot.

but that wasn't all. the man froze up as he felt another sensation around his cock, a slick, tight, and erotic sort of sensation.

his eyes filled with tears at the sight of your wicked smirk, his cockhead sinking right into the fleshlight you had carefully prepared for him.

he didn't think it was even further possible after all he'd been through tonight, but one look at your eyes and he knew — he was going to get ruined.

you immediately began moving, shoving his cock into the onahole with vigor, slamming your hips against his ass.

the tears broke past satoru's eyes, slipping down his cheeks as he wailed into the air, fingers tearing the sheets as your strap pounded his deepest spots.

"y/n! y-y/n! too much! too much!" he sobbed, screaming, mouth agape as his tongue lolled. drool was beginning to pool on the pillow his head rested upon.

"look at you. moaning like a bitch in heat. you're such a pathetic little whore."

satoru was too far gone, your words muffled by the haze over his mind as his dick was thoroughly massaged by the toy, his prostate taking the steady pumps of your cock. each slam delivered a jolt of pure pleasure that caused him to tremble from head to toe.

"s-so good! ah! ah! hurts! more! aahhhnnn~!"

he didn't even have it in him to be embarrassed at the high-pitched keen he let out, his squeals and whines so loud that anyone in the next town over could likely hear him, even from the comfort of your bedroom.

you sped up both motions, the schlick, schlick, schlick of his cock in the toy accompanied by the smacking of skin on skin as you bottomed out inside of him.

"s-so deep— uhhnnn! fuck! fuck! g'na— please— deeper— harder!"

you complied, of course, gripping satoru's waist with one hand while your other squeezed the onahole, intent on wringing his cock dry.

satoru's jaw went lax, eyes glazed over. every pound to his prostate brought him closer and closer, the jelly-like material of the fleshlight rubbing right over that sweet, sweet spot beneath the head of his cock—

"g'na cum, g'na cum, y/n, y/n please, n-need it, need—"

"shhh, shhh. dumb little sluts don't need to think," you cooed, huffing out a laugh as you moved to pinch his tongue, watching as he instinctively began sucking on your thumb.

he only broke free from his suckling haze as his eyes went wide, a choked gasp leaving him as you pounded him harder, deeper, faster.

"c-cumming! cumming! g'na— c-cum, cum, cumming, please!"

you squeezed again, bullying his prostate just right, stroking his cock in just the way you knew drove him absolutely wild.

"go on, 'toru. cum for me."

"ah— aaaahhhh, fuck! fuuuuck!"

satoru choked on air, a broken wail echoing off the walls as he spurted into the onahole, hips bucking and trembling violently as you gradually slowed your thrusts. his thick, creamy cum overflowed the toy, flowing down over his cock and onto his tummy as he fought desperately to catch his breath, little spurts escaping his dick as he tried to regain control over his bodily functions.

you pulled out gently, drawing another whine from his lips, removing the onahole from around his pretty cock which caused yet another weakened noise.

"did so well," you cooed, brushing his sweat-slicked bangs away from his eyes. "look at you. so pretty when you cum, 'toru. did that feel good?"

all satoru could do was nod, his breathing ragged and irregular, his body still trembling minutely. you kissed away his tears, rubbing his hip as you lay down next to him.

"feel good?" you asked softly. "everything you wanted?"

the man whimpered a bit, tilting his head to bury into your neck, nodding gently again.

you trailed your fingers over the various bruises and marks you had left along his neck and shoulders earlier, smiling fondly.

"I'll call us out from work for tomorrow, mkay?"

when he pulled back with widened blue eyes, you chuckled.

"to give you a day to rest, satoru, not to fuck your brains out again. sure your cute ass is all sore now."

satoru pouted a bit, looking away.

"...I could handle it."

"oh, is that a challenge?"

at once, his pout dissipated into a sweet smile as he turned back to you, nerves causing his brow to twitch. he knew damn well he wasn't up for another 10 rounds.

"I didn't say anything at all~"

"right, right..."

"mmmm..." regaining a bit of his mind, satoru adjusted himself so he was cuddled right into you, a catlike grin on his face. "love you. thank you. felt really good."

you only laughed.

"love you too, satoru."

[catboybiologist]

Do you see a future where we can give a trans person a shot and have their body start making the correct sex hormones (eg testes change to make E, or ovaries change to make T)? How far off? What things need to be accomplished to achieve it, and what tools do we already have?

Disclaimer that none of this is gonna be all that scientifically robust, the terms used are gonna be descriptive rather than technical, and that I'm just woke up and these are the ravings of a woman gone mad.

A single shot is ambitious, but I could see a course of several months or a couple years that, after those several months, lasts a lifetime.

How far off? I mean, wildly dependent on funding and focus. Unfortunately, nothing related to trans healthcare is gonna see a serious push I would think. With an actual, serious push, I would give it a few decades of research (if that)(this is blisteringly fast btw) until it's punted over to the FDA. At that point it's outside of my knowledge to know how far things would move forward.

But honestly, it's part politics, part luck of the draw on what people research and push forward. Might happen in our lifetime, but don't hold your breath. Research is grindingly slow.

This is mostly based around the possibility of inducing transdifferentiation. Tldr:

-stem cells are exciting bc they can become any cell type. They haven't "locked in" their cell fate yet.

-most research on cellular differentiation centers around deprogrammed differentiated cells, reverting them to stem cells, and then reprogramming them into something else. The deprogramming is actually well studied (shoutout Yamanaka factors) but I don't see something like this reaching a medicinal, in vivo use soon.

-in extremely rare and induced cases, however, you can force a fully differentiated cell type to become another fully differentiated cell type *without* that intermediate. This is likely way easier to pull off in vivo, even though the initial molecular triggers are much, much rarer and more difficult to study.

Which brings us to the two theoretical dots that we can use here: prostatic metioplasias as a result of testosterone (for transmascs) and the role of DMRT1 for transfemmes.

Broad tldr of each of these points:

-there was a study that studied vaginal lining of transmascs who had been on T for several years and gotten hysterectomies. They found some prostate tissue intercalating the vagina.

-removal of a particular gene (DMRT1) allowed testes to slowly become ovarian tissue and produce estrogens. This gene is responsible for maintaining testes cell fate- keeping the lock, locked.

Neither of these provides a direct basis for actual medication. They show avenues for what will work, however. What's necessary here is to understand the upstream signals that control the expression of genes like DMRT1, which can then be exploited to force expression or stop expression in vivo, in a human.

Basically, the way transdifferentiation would work here is blasting the appropriate cells with enough of these signals, over enough time to ensure that everything actually undergoes TD, to reprogram everything you want to reprogram.

(yes, I know about the crispr transfemme who targeted DMRT1. No, I don't think that's real. I've posted about that before.)

You don't have to bother reading these, but here's the primary sources I'm talking about for anyone interested:

[alittlebitofloveliness]

The outsiders as people in my human sexuality class

Ponyboy: the guy who still can’t say 'penis' without snickering even though he makes some really good contributions to classroom discussions

Johnny: the dude who just. Straight up gagged when the prof first showed a picture of a vulva on the slides (he has since become desensitised but for a while he truly did look ill and it was. So fucking funny)

Darry: my absolutely lovely but long, long suffering TA

Dally: the girl who never directly mentions her own specific kinks when asking questions but who very obviously has some interesting ones just based on what she says

Sodapop: the guy who took fifteen minutes and a lot of follow up questions to understand that seminal fluid (precum) is a different liquid than semen/ejaculate (cum) 

Two-bit: the guy during the midterm who kept looking down at his crotch with great hope and confusion and who went to the bathroom twice, presumably to get a better look at the goods (for context we had to label a diagram of the external anatomy of the penis. I don’t know why this guy thought looking at his own would help him. If you can’t label a diagram a real flesh and blood weiner isn’t going to help you know the name for the penile raphe any better)

Steve: the girl who was a little too interested in the professor's ‘collage of dicks’

Sylvia: the lesbian who was very interested in how stimulating a man’s prostate could cause orgasm and had a very in depth discussion with the prof trying to figure out the specifics. When she asked what motion would stimulate it, and the prof replied that it was ‘kind of a come hither motion’ and demonstrated with his own hand she exclaimed ‘OH like fingering’ and was satisfied, suddenly completely understanding what she’d initially been confused about

Angela: the girl who asked "ok but some hoes don't know they're hoes, right?" when we were discussing societal attitudes towards promiscuity, and who, when the prof tried to gently steer the conversation in a more politically correct direction followed up with "no hate to them though, I just personally identify as a slut and don't get how they aren't self aware"

[sleepingdeath-light]

cassandra kiramman + segmented smut alphabet ; 18+

requested by ; disney anon

letter prompt ; o / oral

pairing ; cassandra kiramman x gender neutral reader insert

masterlist ; here

part of my valentine’s day event

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

O — Oral

anything about oral

Cassandra loves giving and receiving oral equally and, as one would expect from a woman of house Kiramman, she has very particular preferences about how she goes about both.

When receiving oral she much prefers to be sat upright or leaning against the wall while you’re perched on your knees in front of her. Her hands are either placed firmly on the arms of the chair she’s on or resting at the back of your head/the nape of your neck, and she generally has enough control over herself throughout to be able to talk you through what you’re doing: encouraging you to go a bit harder and to be a bit messier, praising you when you do well, telling you what she likes, and correcting you when you make a mistake. Of course the closer she gets to orgasm, the breathier and huskier her voice is going to get and the more difficult it will be for her to huff out more than a single word at a time (good, there, yes, close, fuck, etc.) but she still manages to get her message across before her thighs are slamming closed around your head and she’s stuttering over your name as she cums all over your face — squirting, even, if you overstimulate her through a second and third orgasm immediately afterwards.

When giving oral she prefers to lay on her back with you straddling her face — but if you’re a bit too shy to sit on her face then she’ll settle for laying on her stomach with you sat up at the head of the bed. She’s very deliberate about everything she does, keeping her pace leisurely and slow while also expertly targeting each of your most sensitive spots with her fingers and tongue in a calculated rhythm that’s sure to have your chest heaving and your thighs trembling around her head before long. Cassandra is also big on eye contact when she goes down on you, especially if you’re the type to get flustered by it — she just loves watching you fall apart for her, that’s all.

Additionally, if you’re amab then you’ll find her to be exceptionally skilled at deepthroating and that she has a habit of playing with your prostate and balls intermittently when she goes down on you. And if you’re afab then she always tries her hardest to get you to squirt all over her face, potentially even multiple times in one go if she’s really caught up in the moment, and don’t even think about being embarrassed about it because she will be very explicit about just how much she loves it.

[slippinmickeys]

Ok, I am finally taking up my courage to send in a prompt. I really don’t want to bring any boring stuff to your desk. However, I will never be over how Existence handled William‘s birth and the aftermath. So could you give us your version? 🥺What happens in Funfetti Universe when Mulder enters the cabin and sees them for thr first time? Does William show his gift right away? Did he lead Mulder to the right place? Could he change his haircolor an hour after his birth just like Tonks did?

Thank you so much for sharing your work with us. I just reread The Unseelie Court, such an intense casefile.

Monica at the foot of the bed, Scully prone and vulnerable on top of it.

There was much Scully wished to forget from that day—the pain—pain from which there was no escape—but some things she always wanted to remember; Monica’s stalwart encouragement, her concerned but steady confidence.

And William. She would always remember William. How he came roaring into the world at full volume, if not at full speed.

Mulder came not much later, in what Scully dully remembered from the aftermath, the oxytocin wearing off, the searing, aching pain of a burning tear. Her audience had left and Monica had delivered the placenta but there was bleeding, bleeding. Blood.

Still, Mulder stumbled into the room—dazed, amped up on adrenaline, eyes scanning for the threats that had witnessed the boy’s birth and exited in deference, in respect. Prostate, with lowered eyes and humbled hearts—beings that had once been people, flawed and complicated people.

“Scully,” he said, pulled up short next to the brass daybed, the room smelling intensely of blood and dust.

Whatever he’d expected to find, it wasn’t two dozen human replacements driving away, it wasn’t Scully with a warm bundle on her chest, it wasn’t Monica’s wide, concerned eyes.

Scully had found it difficult to find her voice, but her hand found his, warm and firm and unyielding.

“I have a helicopter,” he’d said, breath wafting over her face. He moved to let go of her hand, like he would go out and fly it himself, like he’d be right back with her ticket.

“You have a son,” she said, correcting him.

When he looked down at the hot little thump of flesh, the baby stared right back at him. He knew enough that the boy’s eyes should be sightless and unable to track, but they followed his father’s movements, and they were bright and sharp and knowing to a degree that Mulder shuffled uncomfortably on his feet.

Then Scully’s eyes fluttered shut and the baby began to wail and Monica Reyes grabbed Mulder by the shoulder and gave him a look so pinning and serious that he stumbled out the door and under the rotor wash and the Ray-Ban-wearing, gum-snapping chopper pilot said “Yes, sir. Yes, sir.” And an hour later Scully was in surgery and William was temporarily in the NICU and Mulder sunk to his knees in a hospital chapel and prayed to a god he didn’t believe in.