Content: You (f!reader) Go In For Your Annual Physical.

Content: You (f!reader) go in for your annual physical.

Content Warnings: Medical malpractice (sexual misconduct), questionable consent, praise.

“Hi, I'm Dr. Lee and I'll be giving you your physical for today.” He introduces himself with a polite smile. “I'm going to break this up into 3 parts, okay?” His voice is warm and thick like honey while still maintaining a sense of professionalism. “First I'm going to do an observation, looking at your eyes, ears, nose, and throat. Then I'm going to do an auscultation, listening to your heart, lungs, and bowels. After that, I'm going to need you to undress so I can do a percussive test and a palpation, using a little hammer to check your reflexes and my hands to locate and check the size and shape of your organs and feel for any abnormalities.” Dr Lee speaks slowly, making sure you're able to keep up with every word. “Do you have any questions, comments, or concerns before I get started?” He begins the physical when your answer is no.

Observation:

He uses a small black tool attached to a silver handle to check your ears and a small light to check up your nose and your eyes. “You're doing so well for me so far.” He praises you gently before using a flat, wooden stick to hold your tongue down, parting his lips slightly as he checks down your throat.

Auscultation:

“Do you mind if I reach underneath your shirt for a moment?” He asks, warming his stethoscope with the palm of his hand, waiting for you to nod before reaching up your shirt to place the cool metal against your bare skin with a hand lightly resting on your shoulder. “Very good.” He purrs, listening to a few spots on your torso. He has you take deep breaths as he listens to your lungs. “Such a good girl for me.” He murmurs behind you.

Percussion and Palpation:

He watches as you remove your clothes, undressing down to your underwear, before placing them on one of the guest chairs and sitting back on the exam table. He checks your reflexes before tilting the table back so you're lying flat. His hands are cool against your skin as he runs them over your abdomen.

“You're so beautiful.” He moves down to your thighs, kneading the squishy flesh. He groans after parting your legs, finding the spot your arousal had begun to seep through your panties. “I'm going to need to check beneath your underwear for any lumps or discoloration. Is that alright with you?” He waits for your nod to continue, pulling your panties down to reveal your slick folds.

He starts at your waistline, talking his time over your pubic mound before making his way to your cunt. “You're so wet.” He slides his fingers between your folds. “Shhh. It's ok. I'm just checking to make sure everything's alright.” He coos as you begin to show some resistance. He rubs your abdomen and slides two fingers into your entrance.

“So tight.” He shudders, watching you squirm. He continues to slowly scissor his fingers in and out as you whimper. “You're adorable.” He groans, curling his fingers to make you arch your back. He stands at the side of the table pinning your hands above your head with one hand while fingering you with the other. “Shhh. It's ok. Everything's going to be just fine.”

“You're close aren't you?” He pumps into you with three fingers, groaning at your whimpered response. “I'm gonna need you to keep being a good girl for me ok? Can you do that for me?” He smiles at your nod, removing his hands from your wrists to undo his pants and pump his cock.

“I need you to do one more thing for me and then I'll let you cum. Can you do that?” He lowers the exam table. “Open your mouth.” He pulls his fingers out of you just for a moment to jack off into your mouth. Now that he's got both hands free, he can put some elbow grease into sending you over the edge.

Content: Porn-addicted reader

Content Warnings: Compulsive masturbation

Context: Something I typed up during my absence

You touched yourself, hand rubbing your crotch over your clothes in hopes of getting your brain to respond with just a drop of dopamine, staring blankly at your phone in search of something to light that flame in your abdomen. You couldn't tell if your barely increased heart rate was due to the butterflies you could just barely feel fluttering in your stomach or your growing frustration at your inability to please yourself. If the underwhelming experience was doing anything, it was putting you to sleep. You had no interest in orgasm. You just needed the dopamine.

Content: A little misunderstanding regarding Lucas's feelings about his boyfie in a skirt: Part 2

Content Warnings: N/A

Context: https://www.tumblr.com/satyric7nymph/755589204794376192/content-a-little-misunderstanding-regarding?source=share

It was a long work shift. Some spoiled mama's boy insisted Lucas personally follow him through the store and carry what he wanted instead of just grabbing a fucking basket as the mama in question talked shit about him on th the phone. Her son would ask him which compression shirt he'd look better in and she'd scoff at whatever Lucas picked and bitch about how long Lucas was taking to get her precious little fully-grown shit what they came in for. Lucas sighed as he unlocked the door to his house, locked it back behind him, and let himself collapse over the arm of the couch and land face-first into the cushions. "Lucas?" The voice of his partner was music to his ears. Quiet but stern and unwavering. "Hmm?" Lucas asked, raising his head as he rubbed at his face with a hand. "Is this a bad time?" He heard Jude ask. "A bad time for wha-" Lucas froze as he opened his eyes to find his partner standing across the room. "I figured I'd show you now rather than later so I could return it if needed." He asked, feeling his face get warm under Lucas's stare. "No it's-... you look nice." Lucas said, eyes wide and face flushed.

It was nothing special. Just a simple black skirt that stopped at the knee with a simple, white t-shirt and some socks that stopped over the ankle. But, with the way Lucas was looking at him, you would've thought it was some fancy ball gown lined with 24k gold.

Lucas hadn't realized how hard he had gotten until his body moved on its own to grind into the couch. Jude must've noticed it with the way he tugged the front of his shirt down, shaking Lucas from his spell. "A-ah, I- sorry." He apologized, face growing redder as he scrambled to sit up, grabbing a pillow to cover his hard-on and smiling sheepishly once he had gotten settled. The couch was too easy to grind against but this wasn't much better as he felt the pillow rub against him with the smallest movement. "You know what? I'm gonna go to the bathroom real quick and then I'll get a good look at you when I come out." He excused himself as he stood, deciding it was better if he took the pillow with him. Jude placed himself between Lucas and the hallway leading to the bathroom. "I could... help you with that. If you want me to." Jude's voice trailed off as he avoided eye contact. He didn't need to see Lucas's face to know the look of fading restraint. A look that never failed to get him... he tugged at his shirt again. It wasn't long before Lucas caught on to why and, suddenly, he had made up his mind. Tossing the pillow to the side, he scooped Jude up into his arms and carried him to the couch. Jude didn't quite understand why he was the one sitting on the couch until Lucas kneeled between his legs, spreading them apart with his body. "Do you want a blowjob?" He asked, looking up at Jude who's flat expression had taken on an adorably embarrassed look before he nodded, too flustered to speak. Lucas pulled the atra's boxers out from the waistband of the skirt and pulled them down, leaving the skirt. "You look so... nice." He breathed, taking in the view. Jude cursed his dick for the way it visibly twitched under Lucas's gaze. Leaking pre-cum and as it stood uncovered by the light fabric it had pushed aside. And fuck was it throbbing. Jude let out a needy whine, bringing Lucas back down to Earth.

I started this last month and just ran out of steam for it. Not very eventful but I wanted to post it anyways just to get back into the swing of things.

I completely forgot my color-coding process for the little divider. I was thinking about writing something about the reader being a dumb little slut but the only dumb little slut here is me 😔✊🏾

Content: Rambling about my “wife”.

Content Warnings: Degrading names and insults, questionable ability to consent, rough sex.

Context: I love stupid characters so much. They aren't very smart but it's ok because I love them for it.

I love my wife. She's so fucking stupid. There's not a single thought behind those big, dumb eyes and there doesn't need to be. I do the thinking for her while she sits and entertains herself. I keep her happy, fucked, and fed and there's not a single worry in that pretty little head of hers other than when I'm coming home from work. And sometimes I want to take her with me because, just when I don't think she can get any dumber, she goes and proves me wrong. I need to keep an eye on my precious girl to make sure she doesn't hurt herself.

It's like the only things she's capable of are being cute and taking my dick and she does such a good job. She doesn't do anything but lay there and take it but she takes it so fucking well. Her pussy is so fucking tight and she gets so fucking wet for me. As if her only purpose in the world is to be bent over and fucked until she's sobbing. And she's so cute when she sobs. And when she's on her knees and looks up at me with my cock down her throat, tears streaming down her face and droll rolling down her chin, I just don't know what to do with myself other than grab her by the head and skull-fuck her.

She's so fucking pathetic but it's ok because she don't need to be anything more. Such a stupid, worthless little whore that makes up my entire world. She's so precious to me.

Content: Trying to escape your depression through masturbation.

Content Warnings: Compulsive sexual behavior, slight degradation

Context: Taking inspiration from my depression again.

You touched yourself. Hand rubbing your crotch over your clothes in hopes of getting your brain to respond with just a drop of dopamine.

You stared blankly at your phone in search of something to light that flame in your abdomen. Unable to tell if your barely increased heart rate was due to the butterflies you could just barely feel fluttering in your stomach or your growing frustration at your inability to please yourself.

If the underwhelming experience was doing anything, it was putting you to sleep. You had no interest in orgasm. You just needed the dopamine. Nothing else satisfied you like the mind-numbing pleasue of creeping up on your orgasm and just holding yourself there. The thought made you throb slightly. The sudden sensation motivating you like a carrot on the end of a stick.

The realization causing a sense of hopelessness in you. Pathetic and at the mercy of your compulsion. A feeling of weakness that finally sent shivers through your spine.