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sapphicforsarahh · 1 year

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❤️REQUEST❤️

Character: Dr. Lilith Ritter x Fem!Reader

Lilith used to be readers Psychiatrist before reader moved. One night she’s (lilith) out for drinks, runs into readers and they catch up?

50/ smut (or smut implications) 50/ fluff

Ofc!!

The Reunion

Ship: Lilith Ritter x Fem!Reader

Word count: 640+

Warnings: smut implications

Synopsis: Reader runs into their old psychiatrist, Dr. Lilith Ritter, and they have a fun catchup.

“I’ll have a whiskey please,” Lilith politely asked the bartender, settling down her clutch on the table. He smiled and walked off, focusing on completing her order.

Lilith had decided to go out for a quiet glass of whiskey, nothing more. But everything changed when she say you walk in with a group of friends. She’d noticed you as soon as you’d walked in. You were wearing your tight, grey skirt that she always loved. It accentuated your hips and body perfectly. How she’d love to take it off you. She also saw that the top two buttons of your shirt were undone, provoking her to look at your breasts and teasing her. She forgot how much she missed you.

After you and your friends had sat down, you offered to get the first round. Standing up and approaching the bar, you noticed her. A long, silk cloak hung off her body, hiding herself. However her blonde hair was still as prominent as ever. Your knees buckled at the mere thought of her, you hadn’t even seen her face yet, no doubt she’d be wearing her red lipstick with a cigarette placed between them.

“Hello Dr,” you suggestively whispered, looking at her. You were right. She did have a cigarette and dark red lipstick. Her delicate fingers came to pull the cigarette from her lips and place it into a dish, letting the end burn out. “Well hello Y/N, long time no see,” she lowly returns. Even such a simple thing as her voice, had you on your knees. “Can I buy you a drink?”, she politely offers, raising her brow. “Oh no, it’s okay. I’ve come up here to buy some drinks for my friends,” you reply, trying to grab the bartenders attention. “How about I pay for your round and all your friends so you and I can talk?” She suggests, a slight smirk tugging at her lips. She knew the power she had over you. “Honestly, it’s oka-“, you’re cut off, “I insist,” her powerful voice overruling yours. You couldn’t fight back.

Quickly collecting the drinks, you walked back to the table and smiled at your friends. “Remember how I told you about my hot physiatrist? Well thats her at the bar,” you try to secretly point at her. Your friends laugh before promoting you to go talk with her.

“I got you a drink whilst you were gone,” she slides the drink towards you. A dry martini. “You really didn’t hav-“, you try to reply. “I wanted to, now tell me. How’s life been since you’ve moved?” She asks, genuinely interested. You begin to tell her about how much your life has changed over the past few months. Diverting your eyes mid conversation, you noticed how her painted fingertips stroked her glass, gliding up and down the side and around the rim. Christ. Lilith must’ve noticed how you stopped speaking to swallow, and she internally smirked.

After a few more drinks and stories, you began to grow more confident. “You know, you’re a really beautiful woman,” you say, the words slipping out. You could punch yourself. “You think so?” She smiled and took another sip of her whiskey, letting an ice cube slide into her mouth whilst doing so. You nodded and looked down, getting nervous under her gaze. “Sweet girl,” she places her hand on your chin and tilts it upwards, forcing you to look into her eyes.

“You know, you look quite cute when you look up at me,” she smiles and takes her hand off your chin and places it on your thigh, her fingers wrapping themselves around it. If that wasn’t enough to kill you, she leans over to your ear, and whispers, “I’ve always found you quite attractive also. Especially in that tight skirt when I can see every inch of you.”

You gulped.

———————

Taglist: @mllkw33ds @isle-of-earle @chillinftladygaga @cordeliaswife @aliensaurusrex @angelick1sses @gmtsu @mistysswampmud @thenazwife @ladysc @midnightlove30

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

#fanfic #gay #lgbt #cateblanchett #cate blanchett #dr lilith ritter #drlilithritter #nightmarealley #nightmare alley #anonask #anon reply #sapphicforsarahh #lesbian

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goodegrrrl · 8 months

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Hello everyone (who still follows this account),

I just wanted to let you know that I am getting back into writing ❤️ so if you have any requests - just send me an ask.

To be honest, I don’t really care for AHS anymore, but if anyone has a prompt that they’d like to submit I’m absolutely open to it.

Also, my new hyperfixation is Laura Peterson from The Morning Show (paired with Bradley obviously) - so if you have any requests for her I’d appreciate that!

I’ll put all the other characters I’d write for in the tags.

How’s everyone?

Lots of love!

#sarah paulson #all Sarah paulson characters #lydia tár #lou Miller #Carol aird #hela #dr lilith ritter #Laura Peterson #bradley jackson #the morning show #american horror story #nightmare alley #carol #thor: ragnarok #cate blanchett #oceans 8 #tár #ratched #ahs

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laura-de-milf · 1 year

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#lilith #caos lilith #caos #the chilling adventures of sabrina #lilith clawthorne #the owl house #cheers #frasier #lilith sternin #lilith ritter #nightmare alley #lilith weatherwax #discworld #supernatural #polls #actually. can i not vote in my own poll #how am i supposed to choose between madame satan and dr ritter. help #inflicting evil upon myself

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horror-aesthete · 1 month

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The Women of Nightmare Alley (1947/2021)

Joan Blondell/Toni Collette as Zeena Krumbein

Coleen Gray/Roony Mara as Molly Carlisle

Helen Walker/Cate Blanchett as Lilith Ritter

#horror aesthetic #horror movies #nightmare alley #god i am #so hot for all of these women #but especially the actresses playing dr ritter. because i realized i was gay watching lilith on cheers

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titleleaf · 2 years

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I know, I know in my heart that Dr. Lilith Ritter from Nightmare Alley (both versions) has some incredible lingerie coords. I know she does.

#ska watches a thing

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funeralmourners · 2 years

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Understanding is a predator’s tool

… but love is also predation.

[Spoilers for Nightmare Alley by William Lindsay Gresham, the Hannibal series by Thomas Harris, adapted for NBC by Bryan Fuller, and AMC’s Interview with the Vampire].

Who dares to understand us? Certainly, only someone who loves us would make that terrible effort. But what if love wasn’t the motive–or at least, not the only motive? What if understanding was a weapon? And what if it was a weapon pointed at both ends?

Monsters in horror or horrific tales have various tools at their disposal. Understanding is one of them. They use what they understand of you to manipulate, influence, or otherwise hurt you. This can feel like both a loving gesture and a violation. First, this monster is intimate with you; they have knowledge of you that you believed you’d hidden well, knowledge reserved for someone devoted enough to discover it. Second, this monster shows no kindness to you when they draw out this knowledge and use it to their advantage. The victim feels like their heart has been turned out to the air. It is an attack that is cruel because it is intimate.

What is the effect of this attack? Here’s how the victim of understanding experiences it in William Lindsay Gresham’s “Nightmare Alley,” as he’s being probed by the diabolical psychologist Dr. Lilith Ritter.

When she hounds him to reveal secrets he’s never given up to anyone, including himself, he feels hunted.

“Did he have a deep voice?” [Lilith asks.]

“Yes. How did you know?”

“Never mind. What was he to you?”

“Nothing. That is–”

“What are you thinking about?”

“Damn it, quit deviling me.”

When he threatens her out of weakness, saying he’ll sic gangsters on her, she gives him no face and continues to disarm him.

“I’ve been shouted at before, Mr. Carlisle. But you don’t really know any gangsters. You’d be afraid of them. Just as you’re afraid of me. You’re full of rage, aren’t you? You feel you hate me, don’t you? You’d like to come off that couch and strike me, wouldn’t you?–but you can’t. You’re quite helpless with me. [...].”

A young, handsome grifter who finds pleasure in duping others out of their money, he’s reduced to crawling blindly under her psychological assaults.

He was on his knees, one hand beating at his eyes. He crawled to her and threw his head in her lap. Dr. Lilith Ritter, gazing down at the disheveled corn-colored hair, smiled slightly. She let one hand rest on his head, running her fingers gently over his hair [...].

He worships her despite, or because of, the weakness she strikes into him.

[...] he felt the helpless wonder sweep over him again, the impotence at touching her, the supplication. Twice she had given it to him. She had given it as she might give him a glass of brandy, watching his reactions.

She, of course, enjoys all this immensely.

Dr. Lilith Ritter, at the moment in a very unethical but satisfying position in relation to one of her patients, laughed deep in her throat.

Throughout her manipulations, she refers to her victim as “lover.” But crucially, Lilith is not a lover. She is a “master of herself,” as Anne Carson refers to non-lovers in Eros the Bittersweet; untouched by the madness of love, she is cold, stingy, and eminent. She uses understanding perfectly, as a weapon only, to prey on her patient Stanton Carlisle. Nonetheless, he experiences it as maddening attention and intimacy, because understanding feels the same regardless of intention–it feels like love. It breaks down the desperate, lonely victim who craves even false gestures. It’s perverse because it’s a bastardized act of love, and it hurts because even when it’s bastardized, it feels good.

But let’s look now at monsters who are also lovers.

Dr. Hannibal Lecter, gourmand cannibal, also enjoys the rewards of being a diabolical psychiatrist.

I’ll start with the show by NBC. In Hannibal’s first conversation with Will Graham, the man who would eventually put Hannibal in prison, he speaks to him in words taken straight from Will Graham’s internal narration in the book series, specifically Red Dragon by Thomas Harris.

[Will’s] learned values of decency and propriety tagged along, shocked at his associations, appalled at his dreams; sorry that in the bone arena of his skull there were no forts for what he loved.

Compare this to Hannibal’s observation from 1.01, Aperitif.

HANNIBAL: I imagine what you see and learn touches everything else in your mind. Your values and decency are present yet shocked at your associations, appalled at your dreams. No forts in the bone arena of your skull for things you love.

The dialogue emerges as prose, a fully formed and massaged thought, and perfectly accurate to Will’s mindset—perhaps it felt like a person you’d just met repeating a line word for word from your diary. It’s a particularly effective attack because Will Graham is oversensitive toward the thought of people getting “inside his head.” As it turns out, there are many things in there he’s fearful of others seeing; dissection frightens and weakens him. At that moment, he’s thoroughly disarmed. This is purposeful from Hannibal Lecter’s end, who makes a habit of this attack.

In Hannibal by Thomas Harris, Clarice Starling puts this habit of his this way, when asked how Hannibal Lecter feels about her:

“I think it’s easy to mistake understanding for empathy–we want empathy so badly. [...] It’s hard and ugly to know somebody can understand you without even liking you. When you see understanding just used as a predator’s tool, that’s the worst. I…I have no idea how Dr. Lecter feels about me.”

Again, despite this ugly, predatory use of a human tool, it still feels like empathy and love. As another character, Barney, says of Hannibal Lecter’s elegant courteousness alongside his monstrosity:

“That didn’t mean he wouldn’t kill me any second if he got the chance–one quality in a person doesn’t rule out any other quality. They can exist side by side, good and terrible.”

The predatory quality of understanding exists alongside the tender quality, and this dual principle is demonstrated throughout Hannibal.

Hannibal Lecter, using his psychiatrist’s understanding, has influenced many of his patients toward his own aims–his own aims being chaos. In short, he lures out the chaotic, murderous urges in his patients, coaxes them to the surface, and allows his victims to destroy themselves or others, all in the service of terror and beauty. He continues this habit with Will, who he finds attractive because of his enhanced empathy and hidden urges.

Before Hannibal is revealed to be who he is, Hannibal and Will’s interactions operate on two threads. On the first strand, Hannibal is Will’s ideal intellectual and verbal companion. They are fond of each other’s company; they discuss horrific murder cases, enjoying the debate as if they were playing moves in chess; they are each other’s accomplices, making one other the fathers of a girl orphaned by their collective efforts. On the face, it’s the most profound intimacy: two men growing closer despite, or maybe because of, the horror they’re immersed in.

On the second strand, Hannibal Lecter is–at every turn–lying to and manipulating Will, destroying his ties to others, and planting evidence that will cause everybody Will knows to abandon him. Their friendship is a deliberate trickery and seduction which Hannibal has employed based on his understanding of Will, and it is successful because he knows Will so well. Beneath it, the violation is profound, whole, and entire; he even makes Will swallow the piece of evidence that will damn him, their surrogate daughter’s severed ear. Nothing he has done to court Will’s friendship has been without motive. In this way, he has used his understanding, which Will experienced as purest, greatest companionship, to victimize Will.

Perhaps he’s even pulled off this predation without attaching himself over much. But notice what happens throughout the story, and is even starting to happen here. Because Hannibal Lecter’s ultimate aim is not sadism–it is, as said, chaos. Will Graham wasn’t a plaything he’d decided to torment just to torment him. Will Graham had a quality that Hannibal wanted to expose in him no matter what, because he found it amusing or exciting: Will’s own monstrosity. Recognizing that Will’s defensiveness hid something Will found unspeakable, he set about ruthlessly exposing it–so that he could love it.

It’s not that he knew he would love it or Will. It began as his habitual whimsy to peel back people’s skin, dissecting them mentally and physically. But then Will exceeds his expectations in this respect. Every layer he exposes in Will, he experiences to be the most amusing, interesting, admirable thing he’s seen in another person. He begins to see a true companion in Will, just as Will falsely saw companionship in Hannibal before Hannibal revealed himself.

So the monster’s aims are complicated by love. He is fascinated beyond professional curiosity, and this blinds him to Will’s next act, who now employs “understanding” to harm Hannibal just as Hannibal harmed him.

This he accomplishes with aplomb. Like Clarice Starling in the book series, he uses his understanding to lure or catch Hannibal Lecter. Clarice does it by knowing him “better than anyone in the world knew him” (Hannibal, Thomas Harris), tracking him by his taste in fine wines and foods. On the other hand, Will does this by giving Hannibal his heart’s desire: the cultivation of Will’s horrific urges as “the inspirations they are,” and his transformation into a killer. Will baits the hook with himself; knowing precisely what Hannibal Lecter wants, he engineers it, pretending to be Hannibal’s heart’s companion in order to entrap him.

But the maddening influence of love makes this strategy imperfect. Will’s retributive manipulation should be cold and effective, even if it’s rageful. But in his plan there is a touch of irrationality, a lack of sensibility; he can’t master his own feelings well enough to use his “understanding” cold-bloodedly.

Nowhere is this lack of mastery clearer than when Will, having spent his efforts maneuvering Hannibal into a trap, frees Hannibal from the snare at the last moment. For example, when he cuts Hannibal down from the machine at the Verger estate before his enemy can be fed to man-eating pigs; or when he calls Hannibal before their “last supper,” during which he planned to arrest and imprison Hannibal, to warn him that the FBI “knows.” Just as Hannibal is compromised by love, which blinds him to evidence of Will’s manipulation, Will is also compromised, unable to entrap Hannibal despite the advantage of his intimate weaponry. Love interferes with predation but also feeds on it; they are only possible together.

Let’s look at one more example: vampires.

The vampire in fiction is a master of others’ desires, and Lestat de Lioncourt is no exception. His preternatural gift for reading the minds of humans makes it easy to understand them; understanding them makes preying on them effortless. Humans are reduced to their desires, which the vampire can easily appeal to or manipulate, often without the victim's knowledge. The tool is perfect. But again, there is the imperfection of love…

When Louis du Pointe du Lac, still human, was understood by Lestat de Lioncourt, it completely disarmed him. Louis was seen, appealed to, and seduced. He was loved so completely and tempted so successfully that he felt it as predation, as he describes it in 1.01, In Throes of Increasing Wonder.

LOUIS: I was being hunted. And I was completely unaware.

Because he feels himself to be prey, metaphors of hunting describe Lestat’s courtship well: pursuit, luring, stalking, hounding. But because he is being understood, and because everybody wants to be understood, it still feels like what it is: seduction. Lestat’s tender attention to Louis’ mysteries unravels him, and he can’t help it. It’s a weakness of humans and even monsters to feel “being seen” as “being loved.”

The metaphors of hunting are often divided, as they are in NBC’s Hannibal, into either “stalking” (as in stag-hunting) or “luring” (as in fishing). There, the distinction is made because Will’s methods are more “lure” than “stalk”: he is the bait, he wants to hook Hannibal. But it’s appropriate to say that every lover in these examples does both; it’s all part of romance, after all.

Lestat, for example, “stalks” by hounding Louis, giving him no peace at his brother’s funeral, filling his mind with enticements, and even pursuing him to a church of God, his last refuge. He is intent on flushing Louis out. He “lures,” however, with softer techniques. In one scene, all he needs to do is walk backward for Louis to follow him. He dangles Miss Lily in front of him in a humiliation and enticement that remains on Louis’ mind long afterward. He offers him gifts: the winning hand, true understanding, a dark gift—chosen at each moment to appeal to what he understands is Louis’ heart’s desire.

These pursuits and lures are effective in each instance because Lestat understands Louis’s plight. His understanding of Louis ensures his words and gestures are exactly right. But it goes beyond manipulation; it is, in fact, love. His ultimate aim when utilizing this vampiric tool isn’t Louis’ destruction, it is his companionship. He disarms Louis out of vampiric habit but is more tender with the vulnerability he exposes than he is with that of the humans he feeds on. He hounds Louis to the edge of his wits, then offers him a gift born of love. He taunts him with Miss Lily, then invites him up to share a night of intimacy together. He pursues Louis in his grief to the church, brutalizes his last resorts, then offers him exaltation and freedom in the form of vampirism.

If he disregarded him, this predator’s tool of his would be both more devastating and less hurtful. If he loved him less, he would hound Louis to the edge of his wits and beyond, leaving him no recourse whatsoever and devastating him completely—but here he pursues Louis to the point and no more. If he was a monster who only wanted to feed on Louis, he would betray him only once, kill him, and be done with it—here he hurts Louis often with his love. This push and pull is a torture that only a lover could invent.

Again, in the hands of the lover this understanding is a double-edged tool; in turn, the vampire Lestat is flayed by his own weakness, perhaps even more than Louis is. Having understood Louis’ heart, Lestat selects him as worthy of his love. If the goal is to hurt Louis without being hurt, this is a mistake. As a lover, Lestat has now put himself in the position of prey, and willingly. He wants nothing more than for Louis to understand and love him as he understands and loves Louis. He is inviting Louis to see him, which will arm Louis against him if Louis ever chooses to hurt him. He puts his habitual weapon, the weapon of understanding, in Louis’ hands. This willful disarming of himself is his only option; vampirism has made him lonely beyond words. He is backed into a corner by love, just as Louis is.

Loneliness makes being understood devastating, but it’s a loneliness that can’t be escaped, that both monsters and humans share. Even Hannibal Lecter and Lestat de Lioncourt are willing to weaken themselves, make themselves mortal for love.

The monster who is also a lover flays their victim out of tenderness, wanting to prey on them, but also desiring to better love and appeal to them. This love, then, ruins them. Even as they inflict understanding on their lovers, they are, in turn, betrayed and victimized themselves.

#iwtv #hannibal #loustat #hannigram #interview with the vampire #nightmare alley #meta #analysis #mine #i really should have worked on actual things today but this kind of consumed me tbh #...#bonafide

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rheo-tu · 2 years

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"Мы это проработаем". Cate Blanchett as Dr. Lilith Ritter.

#nightmare alley #movies #кино #cate blanchett

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gamerbulten · 4 months

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Nightmare Alley fragmanı Guillermo del Toro'dan ürkütücü yeni filmle dalga geçiyor Gerilim filminde Bradley Cooper, Cate B...

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amerrierworld · 2 years

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Nightmarish

No I haven’t seen nightmare alley. Yes I’m a massive simp for Cate B sultry noir psycho psychiatrist femme fatale. Here, have some manipulative sexy times inspired ENTIRELY by screenshots and trailer stills that may get me writing again ahahahahaha.

Summary: You have an appointment with your psychiatrist.

Characters: Dr. Lilith Ritter x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: omg smut

It was a dangerous game walking into her office, every single time. Your heels clicked and echoed in the halls until you reached her door. There was an electric tension running through your whole form as you looked at the gold letters that stood out to you.

Dr. Lilith Ritter

You went inside without thinking, expecting her to be seated and waiting for you, but instead the office was empty. It always felt so grand and cold without her in it.

So, you stayed just by the door, watching the clock with a twinge of nerves jittering along your frame.

“Who said you could come in here, darling?” a low, smooth voice said from behind you. You somehow had missed her approach and jumped in surprise. Lilith had the skill to sneak by without detection like a cat, much to your chagrin.

When turning to face her, her face and red lips were set in a cold expression, but her eyes were glittering. This is where the games began.

“You’re late,” you said firmly. “You’re never late.”

Her steely eyes glanced at the clock. Three minutes late. Practically tardy for her usual behaviour.

“I have more things to do than just wait on my nosy patients who come into my office without warning,” she replied, brushing past you and entering the room. Suddenly it was filled up again, like she was the last missing piece to make the whole space stand out. It caught you off guard every time.

“Have a seat,” she gestured to the large cushioned armchair, the leather looking menacingly sleek. You wondered if the marks of your fingernails digging into the material could still be detected now. It had been just a couple days, after all.

You did as she asked, and crossed your ankles with your spine straight and upright. Lilith glanced you with a hint of approval. It made your stomach flutter.

“What brings you back to my office then, hm?” She didn’t sit down in her chair behind her desk. Instead, she leaned against the edge of the desk, just a few inches from you. She was dressed in dark black and grey, every crease and fold of fabric falling into place like it had been meticulously placed that way.

“The medication you gave me hasn’t been working, Doctor,” you said. “Nothing has happened.”

“Well, it’s hardly been a week. You can’t expect every miracle to happen overnight, dear,” she said, leaning to grab a glass with a sliver of scotch left on the bottom. She drank it in one smooth motion before gesturing for you to get up. You did so silently.

“We may have to up the dosage,” she took a step towards you. “Your body may be resisting the medication until then.”

“Yes, Doctor,” you agreed. Lilith smirked, before a cool hand slipped under your blouse and pressed against the small of your back, pulling you into her. You breathed in sharply through your nose. Her hand was icy against your heated skin, and the thick perfume from the pulse point on her neck began to overwhelm you.

You could feel her against you, barely moving. You, on the other hand, were shivering and quaking with need and arousal. Your heart was racing a million miles per hour.

This was the game, and every time, you lost.

The recording of this session would be your favourite yet. Not that Lilith ever shared those with you, but the thought that she would listen back to your conversations when analyzing her sessions made you hot under the collar.

You had to be quiet. Every time in here, you had to be silent as a mouse when she touched you. Nothing suspicious was allowed to come up on those recordings. But Lilith liked to push you until you were close to breaking by having to hide your pleasure. You wondered if there were any tapes she had to destroy already because of your weak sounds and gasps.

“You seem a bit feverish, are you quite well?” Lilith continued, her voice booming by your ear.

“I’m a little warm, but nothing else, Doctor,” you replied with all the ease you could muster.

“Do you mind if I check? If your medication is causing fever or sickness, that could be a bit of a concern for your wellbeing.”

“Not at all.”

A second hand came up to press against your forehead as if checking your temperature. You were sure it was scorching, but not for any sickness-related reasons.

Then it reached down to your neck, the coolness startling your sensitive skin. You let out a small, breathy gasp at the feeling, and her eyes shot up to yours immediately.

“Why don’t you lie down,” she suggested, letting go of your body. “I don’t want you fainting in my office.”

You did as she asked, lying down like you had so many times. She would pull up a chair during your sessions and ask drawled-out questions related to your health, while she pressed against your cunt or made you play with yourself until you couldn’t bear it.

This time, she stayed standing, blonde curls falling loose into her eyes as she looked down at you.

“Take a few deep breaths for me,” she said, but that was impossible because her manicured nails were trailing up your legs.

“Good,” she pretended as if you had done as she asked, and now her fingers were deep under your skirts, pulling at your stockings and clasps to make room for her. They moved quickly and clumsily under the thick fabrics, and you could tell she was losing just as much patience as you.

Then a single finger tapped your clit and your body tensed as rapidly as a pencil snapping in half. Your mouth opened, but no sound came out.

“Why don’t you walk me through what your day has been like so far?”

Then three fingers slid in mercilessly and began curling and pressing against your frontal walls. Your jaw went slack and your eyes glossed over at Lilith’s grinning lips.

“Come now, are you really that forgetful?”

“Sorry, Doctor,” you managed to get out, because now her other hand was gripping your jaw and forcing you to stare at her. Her fingers inside of you were working at a faster pace with every passing second, with no intention of stopping. The way they were angled meant there was no unsavoury sounds from her pulling her hand out, which she barely did anyways. There was nothing to give you a break from her unforgiving presence.

You managed to tell her what you had for breakfast and how you went down to the shops in the morning, but a pathetic whimper from her rough hand holding your jaw made you cease.

“Don’t cry, my dear,” Lilith said, “I’m only here to help.”

“Yes, Doctor,” but it only sounded like another weak mewl.

Then her thumb pressed just by your clit, sending fire through your body and her fingers dug so deep that you didn’t think she would ever get her hand back. Your whole body went rigid. She fucked you through the orgasm, rubbing that sensitive spot inside you that made you quiver with overstimulation.

It was overwhelming every time. You were scrabbling for purchase on the bench below you, and then grabbed her skirt without looking. Your nails dug into her thigh, feeling smooth velvet under your hands as well as muscle and flesh that you wished you could see for yourself.

Lilith was smiling at your face as you tried so hard to keep it together. One day she’d get you to cry and scream on her tapes so she’d have something a little more substantial to listen to on her own time.

“Now wasn’t that helpful to let it out?” she released your jaw and you breathed heavily, not letting go of her.

“Yes, Doctor,” you could only say. Her fingers were still inside, moving slower and slower. Your legs were so tensed you didn't think you’d be able to get up again.

Then suddenly her presence disappeared, leaving you empty. She stepped away so you could get up and swing your legs over the side to stand up.

“Good girl,” she complimented, but not with a sultry tone. It was like she was praising a sweet pet for following a command. You didn't think it differed much.

You got up on your feet and brushed your hair into place. Your cheeks felt rosy and you rubbed them with your fingers to make it seem like you had just overdone it on the rouge.

There was a shaking of a bottle and Lilith held out a small dosage of tiny pills for you to take. You took them and stuffed them in your pocket, knowing you’d only bring them back to her later.

“Thank you again, Doctor,” you said, still feeling wetness between your legs. But that was the beauty of layered skirts, no one would be able to tell. Not on the bus, not on the sidewalk, not in the shops.

“Of course, dear. Take care. I’ll see you next week, the same time.”

And before you could leave the room her arm had wrapped around you and her mouth had hungrily kissed yours. You tasted the remnants of scotch and let her devour you. The waxiness of her lipstick would still be there later despite how much you would wash it off.

Her nails dug into your sides and your body arched back into hers again. Eventually, she wrangled herself away from you and gestured for you to leave through the door. You could barely hold yourself together and gave her one last glance to see her smiling at you with sated eyes.

On the way out, you passed a handsome, tall man with a hat and long brown coat that you had never seen before. You glanced down at the floor as you walked by and hurried away.

You watched from around the corner as he went into Lilith’s office, wondering who he was and hoping he hadn't noticed you were now both wearing the same lipstick.

A/N: yeah i’m gay

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