sub!follo tunito x dom!gn!reader, orgasm denial w/ a praise kink
“Come on, Follo. Are you really struggling to count to twenty?”
The teary-eyed supporter sniffled, leaning on your shoulder to keep him from falling over. His vision was cloudy, but he could clearly see his dick in front of him, strained to a dark red, from the constant denial. And he was the only one to blame for the delay of his release.
“I was–was so–hic!–close!” Follo whined. “P-please, let me cum…hic!–I won’t–,”
As if sitting on your lap with his hands tied behind his back wasn’t enough, you told him his big brown puppy eyes wouldn’t work if he wanted a release. But you’ve spoiled him so, giving the pretty boy whatever he wanted, so easily, and now he’s struggling to last fifteen seconds of a hand job.
The hand you placed behind his back curled around, your fingers toying with his erect nipples until he whined.
“Counting is the only thing that’ll let you cum, pretty baby. I can’t believe I’ve spoiled you this much…”
You almost feel bad when you look at his face. His cheeks were completely flushed, drenched in tears, just from a few denied orgasms. Maybe you shouldn’t let him come so easily from now on…
“O-one.” Stroke.
“Good boy, that’s it.”
And that’s the problem. He’s at one, and the praise tightens the coil in his groin. Follo is actually working really hard right now! Just let him come once, and then he’ll count to twenty! Can you even understand him through his sobs?
content warnings… virgin!sub!follo, dom!reader, solo masturbation, spit, slight humiliation, hand job, power imbalance
note… this ended up just a tad bit longer than expected… we will spread his ass cheeks open next trust
No matter how sweet you were to Follo, he always knew you were a big bully. It was so easy to forget with your kind and encouraging words whenever Follo started overthinking, or when you simply prioritized his happiness and pleasure whenever you could. Only when Follo found himself trailing behind you like a lost pup, following every command you barked did he remember that your kindness came with a price—one he was willing to pay every damn time.
Just as he was flinging off the last piece of clothing he had, he spotted himself in the mirror a few paces away, a deep flush erupting on his face when he realized how bare he was in comparison to you… except the trapper hat you asked him to keep on. Did you even feel a little guilty? The poor virgin knew what he was getting into the moment he stepped into the bedroom; with how easily embarrassed he got, Follo knew you did this on purpose.
“You look so cute!”
The doe eyed cleaner scoffed, here they go again. It was never worth the effort trying to convince you that he isn’t cute, but cool, because of how earnestly you agreed that he was both. He’d puff his chest, but forget it all once he felt your warm hand cusp his cheek, nuzzling against your gentle touch as your thumb grazed his fresh scar. You’d never tell him, but the real reason you told him to keep his hat on was because of this exact scene. Follo looked just like a baby deer.
Anyone could tell he was a virgin just from the way he presented himself, not just from the time he rambled on and on about his pathetic attempts to impress his crushes just within the past few years. The evidence was undeniable–unsteady hands as he slowly reached down for his stiff cock, tip already sensitive from the cold air that breezed past. Luckily, you were behind him now, his bare back against your clothed chest, leaning against the bed frame with your hands rubbing his arms to keep him warm. It was comforting, to say the least, but it didn’t make the position any less humiliating.
“I hope this isn’t too much, Follo,” you said, noticing his hesitation.
“N-no, it’s okay.” Was it okay? Honestly, he couldn’t tell. Sat upon the bed, one of your hands rubbing his arm while the other rests on his thigh, legs spread wide giving you a full view of his abdomen if you peeked over. Follo’s usual white gloves were discarded, allowing you to admit his slender fingers, which were calloused from the constant training he put himself through–and he thought no one would ever notice.
“Follo, baby, you don’t have–,”
“Stop! That’s embarrassing to hear… I-I’ll do it, okay? I’ll do it for you, [N-name]...” His voice wavered at the end, but he meant every word. If someone asked him how he got into this position, it would remain a mystery to both of them. The heat that pooled in his lower abdomen couldn’t be ignored, he knew that his body wanted whatever this was as much as his heart wanted to be yours.
Shit, he could only ever be yours. The second he noticed you in any scenario his heart would rush into overdrive, mind stuck in a daze until you left his field of vision. And he blamed it on you–when you entered a room, your eyes never strayed far from his. Under your gaze, he was nothing but a deer stuck in headlights.
You lifted the hand that was holding his thigh and laced your fingers with his free hand, and he gripped tightly, breath hitching when his hand finally grazed his hot tip.
“..spit on it…” Follo mumbled.
“Louder, baby.”
“Spit–it’s not–I need–,” Follo desperately tried to find the words. Such a cherry boy he was, avoiding any sort of vulgar vocab because he wasn’t used to dropping the polite act.
You smiled. “You don’t have to be shy around me, Follo.”
Although by now the rush of blood passing his ears muddled his hearing, your faint promise crumbled the weak walls he still had up. That’s when it clicked. You were so close, the only barrier between the two of you were the clothes you’d probably take off if he just asked, because you wanted to be close to him too. All of those second glances, the small smiles you’d throw at him across the mess hall, that time you defended him against the harsh words of some acquaintance he knew before he could speak, or how patient you were with him when his emotions got the best of him—what reason did he have to be shy when you’ve already seen him at his worst?
Follo looked down, his movements suddenly displaying a bit more confidence as he reached for his aching member against his toned stomach. Steady fingers wrapped around the base, pushing it further before demanding what he asked once before.
“Spit on it… So it’s smoother.”
What he wasn’t expecting was to feel your soft lips against the nape of his neck, sending a shiver down his spine. The change was small, but you were already so proud of him, determined to make this night one he wouldn’t forget.
You wanted him to show you how he pleasures himself, but you decided another teaching method would be a better course. Without shame, you spit into your palm before cupping the top of his mushroom head. Follo hissed, his fist around his base dropping involuntarily. You squeezed before dragging your fist down to smear the gooey liquid around.
“Mmmfphh… [Nameeee]...”
His dick felt cold for no more than a few seconds, realizing your hand had disappeared only to be replaced by his.
“I still want you to show me how you like to cum, baby.”
Internally, he groaned. A part of him was relieved when you took over–it’s less embarrassing that way. Having someone watch him masturbate, on the other hand…
The newly made cleaner gathered his composure, taking the lead once more. Follo wanted to cringe at the sight of him pleasuring himself, but more than that, he wanted to make you proud.
“That’s my boy.”
Such simple praises, and yet the coil in his abdomen tightened without resistance. He stroked himself to the rhythm of your breathing, his own breathing increasingly mimicking that of an excited puppy.
“Fuckkk… nngh~!”
Whimpers fell from his lips at an unrivaled pace, the pre oozing from slit making the glide easier, forcing his strokes to become more and more uncontrollable by the second. You watched steadily, taking note of what he did subconsciously while jerking himself off, only to find out that Follo didn’t do anything special. Once he started it was clear he was only thinking about one thing, and that was how quickly he could get to his release.
His legs were beginning to shake, threatening to close in on himself. You held his thighs open, not wanting to miss a second of the scene in front of you. This wasn’t the first time you’d seen him naked, but Follo had never been this sensitive before, hurdling toward his orgasm with speed he’d never seen before. But something was off—even though he could tell he was near, it wasn’t enough. If something didn’t change, he’d continue chasing his orgasm and never reach the end. He let his head fall back, trapper hat slipping off to reveal his messy bed hair, tightening the grip his hand intertwined with yours had.
“Ahhhnn~[N-name]...” he whined. “I–I can’t—,”
Your eyes locked with his as Follo’s head rested on your shoulder, but he could barely think straight. Feeling your hand in his kept him in reality, just barely. More, he still needed more.
You.
He wanted—no, needed you to do it for him.
“[Name], I need your help…”
The words barely finished leaving his tongue before his eyes glossed over, and you knew he was slipping into a distant land. Nevertheless, his hold on your hand never faltered. Remaining close was a necessity for him. The pace he stroked himself with slowed, body nearly limping against you as he began muttering incoherent pleas.
“Didn’t know you’d be so needy…”
Lifting his hand off his dick, you pressed a finger into his tip, ripping a moan out of him. Your hand slid down his member at an excruciatingly slow pace, and yet, he could feel his orgasm building in his core more intensely than before.
Follo knew then that his hands would never be enough to pleasure himself again, unable to stop his hips from bucking into your fist to chase that intense feeling once more.
“Againnnn–please, please…”
You listened, adjusting your hand to slather the pre dribbling from his slit, even quickening your pace. But even so, begging words still fell from his lips—he no longer knew what was more or less. There wasn’t even a single thought in that mushy brain of his, the words he spewed out was simply a consequence of his mind going on autopilot the moment your hands were on him again, so he was completely unaware of the impending orgasm that would make him see stars.
“Cu–!”
With a useless attempt to warn you–or maybe himself–of his orgasm, white translucent liquid erupted from his cock, taut balls pulsating with every wave of pleasure that rolled over him. Follo moaned shamelessly right into your ears, showing you just how good you made him feel. Globs of cum stained the sheets, but it wasn’t until the last dribble of white was swiped away did you slow your pumps, watching the cleaner grow sleepy on your shoulder.
